Proclaim051522JustPeacemaking – Gloucester
Rev. Art McDonald
After graduating from college, I served in the US Army Reserve from 1969-1972, receiving an honorable discharge 3 years early, being released from what was a 6-year commitment, to enter seminary. The 3 years began with a 6 month active duty term, which I served at Ft. Jackson, in Columbia, SC. Thankfully my unit was never activated, though many reservists were, although the Vietnam War was raging. The last 2 ½ years I did weekend meetings and 2 week summer camps.
During those 6 months I had a kind of mystical experience one day while doing training exercises with an M-16 automatic rifle and bayonet, while simulating we were in hand-to-hand combat with a Vietcong and we were to hit the enemy in the head with the butt of the rifle, knock him down and thrust our bayonet into his chest while screaming KILL. When we did that in a platoon of 400, strangely, I couldn’t yell the word. It just didn’t come out as I heard all around me KILL. I didn’t consciously not yell, it’s just my voice somehow froze? Upon completing the exercise, I went back to the barracks and wondered what am I doing here learning to kill? It made me think of Catholic pacifists, Daniel Berrigan and Dorothy Day, whom I knew of but never read what they wrote, so I went off to the base library and, remarkably, found Dorothy Day’s auto-biography, The Long Loneliness. If I’m a serious Catholic Christian, I began to wonder, should I be a pacifist, following Dorothy?
After 8 weeks of basic training where I learned to be an expert sharpshooter on the rifle range with an assault weapon, an M-16, I advanced to job training as an office clerk and truck driver. During that time I met three draftees, one a graduate of Harvard, one from Princeton, and one from Tulane, the Ivy League of the South, I was told. They were all very smart college grads from some of the best schools in the world, and here I was from a little Catholic College in Rhode Island, Providence College, which we lovingly referred to as Practically College, wondering how we became friends. We met every day after work and often talked about the war. All three were against it but allowed themselves to be drafted. They educated me. I mostly listened. With Dorothy Day’s thoughts on Catholic pacifism and my three friends’ analysis of an ill-begotten war now firmly lodged in my head and heart, I left my 6-month tour of duty, an anti-war member of the U.S. Army. Later I joined the Veterans for Peace.
When I entered seminary a few years later, I did a lot of study in Christian ethics, especially on the question of war and peace. I joined the anti-war movement and participated in marches and demonstrations in Washington, DC, as my convictions deepened. The debate in Christian ethics was mostly between pacifism, was it required by Christianity, and what has been called the Just War Theory, which was first articulated in the 4th and 5th century, with a theologian named Augustine. I went back and forth, though I read everything I could by Dorothy Day and Jesuit priest, Dan Berrigan, both Catholic pacifists, both incarcerated many times for their anti-war activities. Yet I was still intrigued by the just war theory, mainly because I think it has always been misunderstood as trying to justify war. On the contrary, I discerned, if one were to apply its very specific elements to any situation, it would be nearly impossible to justify any war, at least that’s how I read it. I once asked a Catholic ethicist whether or not he thought any war in the 20th or 21st century could satisfy the just war theory and he answered: I’m not sure, maybe WWII, but probably no others. Pacifism and just war were not that far apart.
More recently, the argument between pacifism and just war has been expanded to include a new category, i.e., just peacemaking. That is, what we are really called to now is to be primarily peacemakers and social justice advocates, doing all we can to create conditions that will avoid war at all costs. In other words, don’t wait til the war begins to choose between pacifism and just war, but work in every way to avoid war to begin with, as so many did in the lead up to the U.S. invasion of Iraq; we knew it was based on lies.
Over these few months, our local North Shore peace coalition and our local Veterans for Peace chapter have had a lively, somewhat contentious debate about this current, tragic war in Ukraine. Some of the debate has been about why the war started and who is most at fault for the war? But another key debate point has been around the role of the U.S. and NATO, the mostly European coalition, but heavily funded and directed by the U.S., founded after WW II to defend member nations. Most in the two groups, of course, sharply condemn Russia and President Putin, for initiating this horrendous war and, more recently, for war crimes in targeting civilians and hospitals, but a minority in the two groups mostly blame The U.S. and NATO for continuing to expand over the decades, thus threatening and provoking Russia, most especially after the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991.
To me, ethically speaking, the most challenging part of the debate in the two groups has to do with the U.S. and NATO countries, which Ukraine is not part of, supplying massive amounts of weapons for the Ukrainians to defend themselves. Some argue this only escalates the conflict and will lead to a stalemate and ongoing deaths – likely true. Others argue that without these weapons’ transfers, Ukrainians will be slaughtered. Of course, all of us agree we prefer negotiations and an immediate ceasefire. Ukrainian President, Zelensky has, at times, called for such. It appears Putin has little interest in dialogue at the moment, despite apparent dialogues with leaders from Germany, France, Israel and Turkey.
In an op-ed piece in the Boston Globe, written by an Afghani, the writer opined it was a mistake to “arm Ukraine,” arguing it will only lead to endless bloodshed and a likely stand-off, just like what happened in Afghanistan. He pleaded for stronger attempts at negotiation. Who could disagree with the latter sentiment?
In a recent dinner with friends, we all pondered what would Gandhi do? I reminded folks that Gandhi many times said the only thing worse than a resort to violence was cowardice. During Holy Week and the celebrations of Passover and Easter, I wondered what would Jesus do? One dinner participant wondered if the Ukrainians should not resist, thus avoiding a blood bath; he reasoned they will lose eventually anyways. That, now, is not so clear, as the Ukrainians are defending their country remarkably. Yet, many have died and the devastation is horrific, with no end in sight.
As we celebrated the Jewish celebration of Passover, and Christian Holy Week of Maundy/Holy Thursday – Jesus’ Last Supper with his friends, Good Friday and the brutal crucifixion, and Easter Sunday, the resurrection of Jesus and the slow and painful separation within the Jewish community between the traditional Jewish community and the Jews around Jesus, and after reading an excerpt from the Beatitudes, I am reminded that the Jesus I was introduced to in my early years was a very kind, gentle, peace-loving Jesus, a story-teller and healer, unjustly charged and executed. When I got to seminary and studied more seriously the Gospel texts and the life, as best we know it, about Jesus, I became more aware that Jesus could be pretty confrontational, in your face, especially with the Jewish hierarchy and those that worked for the Roman government, such as Herod. They oppressed the poor and marginalized and Jesus was their hero. He became hated by the religious and secular leaders and was executed by the State as an agitator. Jesus had a gentle, loving side, with children and the poor, but he had no patience with corruption and oppressive behavior and he confronted it directly. The scene in the temple where he overthrew tables and condemned the money-changers was a clear indication of his inclination to speak truth to power. He was a threat. The Romans understood this, as did the Jewish clerical hierarchy. His execution was political, as he challenged the structures of power in his day. On the cross, above his head was written, Jesus Christ, King of the Jews!
Regarding the tragedy of the war in Ukraine, one of the public intellectuals of our day, and a friend who has preached in the Essex Church, retired Colonel and Vietnam veteran, Andrew Bacevich, although he has sharply condemned Russia’s invasion and has acknowledged the war crimes of Putin’s army, he has also laid blame on this situation on the United States and NATO. NATO agreed not to expand after the Soviet Union collapsed, and they have reneged on that promise, he reminds. With President Gorbachev, there was a clear opening in his mind to develop a different kind of relationship with Russia and to work on peaceful coexistence, despite differences. But our policies betrayed that possibility. We must accept some responsibility for what has happened, he concludes.
In a book entitled: The Limits of Power: the End of American Exceptionalism, Bacevich, who lost a son in the war in Iraq, a war he completely disagreed with and begged his son not to go into, he shares views on how the U.S. should engage in international politics. Bacevich is a serious Catholic and he begins by quoting the Old Testament, the book of Kings, when the prophet Isaiah says to the King Hezikiah, as he is preparing to die, “set thine own house in order.” Bacevich’s hero in 20th century United States is a Christian theologian and ethicist, named Reinhold Niebuhr, who though a pastor and seminary professor, actually served as a consultant to a number of Presidents about U.S. foreign policy. Niebuhr described his ethical thinking as Christian Realism. Niebuhr was “clear-eyed” and a “prophet” in his honesty about the human condition and had “few illusions about the nature of man,” suggests Bacevich. Look what has happened in the last 120 years, he goes on. How many wars? How many stockpiles of nuclear weapons do we have? What about Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan? “Realism and humility formed the core of [Niebuhr’s] worldview, each infused with a deeply felt Christian sensibility,” reminds Bacevich. “Realism … implies an obligation to see the world as it actually is … [and] humility imposes an obligation … [for] Americans to see themselves without blinders … the enemy of realism is hubris …,” writes Bacevich, and “ the enemy of humility is sanctimony,” i.e., that we know best and our values are somehow exceptional. Two concrete realities come to mind that make his point. One, we are justifiably calling out Russia and President Putin for war crimes that he should be tried at the International Criminal Court, yet neither Russia nor the U.S. recognize the ICC and have not submitted to it. Secondly, we have condemned Russia as we should for using horrendous devastating weapons called “cluster munitions,” which burst open and spread over a wide area. Many countries have signed a treaty banning cluster munitions; neither Russia nor the U.S. has signed on. The prophet Isaiah’s words ring in my ears: “set thine own house in order.”
Is it ethical for us to be transferring weapons to the Ukrainians, I keep asking? Will it only lead to endless bloodletting? Or do they have a right to defend themselves, as they have chosen, and is it only right be help them out to save their country? I find myself in the camp of saying they have made the choice not to surrender in the face of an unjust attack and, ironically, though many, even the Pope, have argued that the just war theory has no longer any usefulness, i.e., there is no such thing as a “just war,” says Francis, I find myself invoking the just war theory in defense of sending weapons to Ukraine. It’s a defensive war they didn’t start and it’s their only resort, I reason. Sadly, tragically, knowing it will lead to more bloodshed, I still think it is ethical to help them defend themselves and their land, knowing there is no end in sight, yet praying every day for a ceasefire and serious negotiations. And I must ask: have we negotiated seriously enough for a ceasefire and honest negotiations? Could we be talking more; seeking compromise?
But, ultimately, I am convinced we are called beyond the pacifist/just war debate to become just peacemakers, committed to ensuring, as best we are able, that no such wars ever happen again, however utopian that may seem. So, in these last years, I’ve become more active in the Veteran’s for peace local chapter, and I recently joined the Massachusetts Peace Action, which has lobbied to re-instate arms’ control measures abandoned by President Trump, and lobbied to cut 10% from our Defense Budget, and direct that money to human needs. With realism and humility we are called to say together No to war as a solution to our disagreements.
As I look back on my time in the Army, ironically, which served as the beginning on my own serious ethical reflections on issues of war and peace, and express gratitude for that time, as unpleasant as it was, I am grateful for my mystical experience of going silent as others yelled KILL, and ever so grateful for my friends George (Harvard), Harry (Princeton) and Theriot (Tulane), three Ivy – Leaguers who took this Practically College graduate under their wings and helped me understand the importance of resisting any and all calls for war. In the words of the beatitudes of Jesus, Both from Mathews more gentle and mild version, to Luke’s sharper and more harsh version, I pray we may all have the courage to speak speak truth to power when the need arises; I pray may we truly experience liberation from oppression and all forms of slavery; and finally, I pray may we all experience resurrection and transformation in our lives. And may peace come to our lives and our world as we commit together to becoming just peacemakers, making the beatitudes central to our daily lives.
