War And Peace, November 11, 2012

WAR AND PEACE

Genesis 4:1-10

Matthew 26:47-54

Micah 4:1-1

St. Andrew’s-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

November 11, 2012

Remembrance Day, November 11th, infrequently falls on a Sunday.  And so, it feels both strange and right to be gathered here for worship on such a day, when normally we would find ourselves at the cenotaph, reflecting on sacrifices made by so many, from our own country, from around the world.  But this is a day, no matter where we find ourselves, to remember, to offer respect and gratitude to all our veterans, old and young – “Lest we forget.”  

On such a day as this I find myself wondering, not just about our Canadian soldiers who gave their lives, but also about those from so-called “enemy countries.”  I wonder what memories and feelings cenotaphs would evoke if the names of the fallen inscribed on monuments included not only Canadians, but also Germans, British, Japanese, Koreans, Italians, Americans, Vietnamese, Afghanis.  A different kind of remembering, perhaps, one that might heighten our yearning for a world at peace, where no one will practice war any more, where people shall “beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more….”

On such a day as this, Remembrance Day, November 11th, I find myself caught up in a lot of pondering – why do we humans seem to delight in killing each other?  What drives us from one war into another?  What’s wrong with us?  It’s a day to hear again the story of Cain and Abel, which names the problem, honestly and sadly, though with more questions than answers.  

The first murder/fratricide occurs very early on in the unfolding myth of Genesis: creation, goodness and beauty; first humans and then disobedience, expulsion from Eden, however you understand the story – and then it happens.  Chapter 4, abrupt, in your face, with minimal explanation.  Two brothers bring their offering to God, and for some unknown reason, Abel’s is preferred, Cain’s, rejected.  Cain is hurt, angry – and kills.  A little sibling rivalry goes a long way.

Though truth be told, I remember some tense moments with my younger brother.  I was the first born, used to being the only star in my parent’s universe --- and suddenly I had to share the love, the attention, the praise, the hugs.  Not easy; often tempted to go “Bam!” and eliminate the problem.   It wasn’t until years on that I realized that my brother felt the same way, and spent years trying to “catch up,” trying to establish his place.

Rivalry, jealousy: for position, status, love, wealth, influence.  The Biblical story doesn’t really talk much about motive, the “why” of murder, although the rabbinical tradition of Midrashic interpretation is more expansive.  Long ago Biblical commentators noticed a gap in the story line, a missing phrase at verse eight, where the original text simply says, “And Cain said, …” followed by a blank.  It’s hard to catch this in the English translations, for we have been swift to complete the unfinished sentence by simply assuming that Cain said, “Let us go out into the field,” since that’s the action that immediately follows.  But that’s not actually in the Bible.  “Ahhh” said the Rabbis, and they let their imaginations go off in many directions, as they suggested possible conclusions to that fateful phrase, “And Cain said to Abel….”.  Depending on which rabbi you read, you might discover that the key problem between the brothers concerned wealth or sex or power.  Any one of which could easily spark a murder, a war.

There’s an honesty in this story of Cain and Abel that I appreciate.  The capacity for violence seems to be part of our human make-up, and it helps to acknowledge this potential, instead of glossing over our propensity for greed and murder.  As Harvard psychologist, Steven Pinker points out, we are murderous apes, with a driving territorial imperative, linked with a thirst for blood and death, our genes hard-wired for aggression.  However, Pinker has actually entitled his book, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Is Declining,” for he also believes we are a species with the capacity for reason, empathy and self-control.  He suggests that we can choose to not express our violence – which sounds a bit like God’s warning to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen?  If you do well will you not be accepted?  And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.” (I love that image of sin lurking at the door.  You know how it is – my brother has only to say the wrong thing, and “Bam!”  I’m all over him.)  Pinker cites many statistics that point to a decrease in violence among humans, even while he recognizes that it’s a dicey proposition. 

I would like to believe Pinker’s  argument, that violence is declining.  Perhaps it is, but still, on such a day as this, Remembrance Day, November 11th I cannot help but recall the statistics of war – two hundred and thirty-one million people killed in the wars of the last century; two hundred and fifty major conflicts in the world since WWII, and, depending on you who read, those conflicts have added  between twenty-three to fifty million names to the death toll – but hey, what’s a few million between wars.  Another disturbing statistic --in WWI ten per cent of the casualties were civilians; by WWII the proportion had climbed to fifty per cent.  And in our time, up to ninety-five percent of those who die are civilians, three quarters of whom are children and women.  Just ask the people of Gaza; of Sudan, or of the Congo; of Viet Nam, Iraq, Afghanistan.  And then, on top of these statistics, add the names of the bereaved, injured, raped, or simply traumatized.  Then add fifty million refugees.  I’m not sure I am fully convinced by Pinker’s arguments; I might stick with the Cain and Abel story. 

But before getting stuck there, let me add to the mix a few Jesus stories, like the one we heard today, where Jesus is arrested by the Romans and religious authorities, late at night in the Garden of Gethsemane.  One of Jesus’ disciples draws his sword and attacks a servant of the High Priest, slicing off his ear.  And Jesus’ response? – “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”  This is the Jesus who said, “When someone strikes you on one cheek, turn and offer the other.”  Who said “Judge not, less you be judged.”  This would be the same Jesus who said, “Let the person who is without sin throw the first stone.” and “Blessed are the meek, the gentle, and the peacemakers.”  This is the Jesus who was determined to break the cycle of scapegoating and revenge with his own sacrifice, his own willingness to suffer and die. The one who said, “Love your enemy,” – don’t kill 231 million of them.  

So, the story of Cain and Abel, and then, Jesus; the murderous ape, and the love and compassion.  I have been moved by a poem y Boris Novak, a Slovene, who has seem much ethnic violence, his homeland being one of the arenas of war and killing.  He writes:

Between two words,

choose the quieter one.

Between word and silence

choose listening.

Between two books

choose the dustier one.

Between the earth and the sky

choose a bird.

Between two animals

choose the one who needs you more.

Between two children

choose both.

Between the lesser and the bigger evil

choose neither.

Between hope and despair

choose hope:

it will be harder to bear.

Choose two children, choose both—and I find myself thinking of Israeli and Palestinian; of Serb and Kosovan; of Sunni and Shiite. And how not to choose between the greater and lesser evil other than to choose self-sacrifice, suffering; to choose, perhaps, crucifixion. And always, between hope and despair, choose hope – despite the statistics, and Cain’s bloody blow and our hard-wired genes.  Choose hope even though it’s harder to bear.

Christians have been trying to figure out how to live with such choices for a long time. For the first three centuries after the death of Jesus, his followers did their best to hold to the way of non-violence.  A Christian could not be a soldier, could not be a member of the Imperial Roman army.  Which was a big problem for the Empire – as more and more people began to convert to this new faith, the military recruiters were in danger of running out of candidates for battle.  Just imagine what might have happened in 20th century Europe if every Christian had said, “Sorry, I won’t go to war; it’s against my faith.”  Imagine what would happen today if the worlds’ two billion Christians simply refused to fight?

Well, around the beginning of the 4th century, the Empire changed tactics – if you can’t beat ‘em, then join ‘em, co-opt them.  When Christianity suddenly became the official state religion, it was soon just fine for Christians to enlist and fight battles for king and country.  Warfare became “holy,” with God on our side, although no one stopped to think much about the fact that our enemies were just as loudly claiming that God was on their side and blessing their battles.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a government say, “God’s not on our side, but what the heck, let’s go to war any way.”

In the face of this new reality, Christian thinkers began to develop the theory of the “just war,” trying to establish criteria for deciding when war might be justified – in self-defence, for example, in the face of aggression; or when all other means of response had been tried and had failed; when so-called collateral damage (read death of non-combatants, civilians), would be minimal.  The list was expansive and  helpful.  Indeed, it was this theology of the “just war” that was invoked by 

Christians to confront the dark power of Nazism in WWII. 

But the dream of peace never disappeared.  It drew on Old Testament roots – the vision of Micah where swords become plowshares, and spears, pruning hooks; and it was deeply influenced and inspired, over and over, by the words and example of Jesus.  When the Protestant Reformation burst upon Europe in the 16th century, once again a vision of the “Peace Church” became embodied in the Anabaptist movement, with Quakers, Mennonites and Amish  -- people of non-violence, who would not use weapons or force, who would turn the other cheek; and when the state came knocking at the door with draft documents, they claimed the role of faith-full conscientious objectors.  There are folk within the United Church who believe we should become such a Peace Church – that might be one way to give honour on such a day as this.

Recently, a new response to this eternal Cain and Abel question has arisen, called Responsibility to Protect, which raises questions about our obligation to intervene in the affairs of our neighbours when all hell is breaking loose.  Case in point – in Rwanda, the genocidal slaughter of 700,000 Tutsis by the Hutu people, aided and abetted by the government – and no one stepped up to the plate before it was too late.  Another example, the massacre of Kosovans by Serbia – and this time, Nato planes stopped the carnage early on.   R2P – a moral obligation to react and intervene, even if that means using the tools of war.  There has been a recognition that R2P can easily be misused, to justify an imperial invasion, but once again demanding criteria have been developed, including such issues as right intention, just cause, right authority, last resort, proportional means, reasonable grounds for success all become very important.  On such a day as this do we rejoice over the fact that the United Church has committed itself to participate in the Responsility to Protect movement?  

Over and over the Christian community has struggled to discover an appropriate response to the reality of war – how do we follow Jesus and yet recognize the truth of the Cain and Abel story, of crucifixion, of the darkness… in our human hearts, in the world?  On such a day as this let me raise up one final pathway, made famous in our time by Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., -- the way of non-violent resistance, which says “No!” to violence and injustice, but refuses to pick up arms, weapons, that chooses to suffer rather than kill.  As Gandhi once said,

To recognize evil and not oppose it is to surrender your humanity.

To recognize evil and oppose it with the weapons of the evil-doer is to enter your humanity.

To recognize evil and oppose it with the weapons of God is to enter you divinity.

Enough!  Let me tell you three stories.  Last month I had a visit from two men from the Democratic Republic of Congo, They desperately wanted to talk about what was happening in their country, where war has been raging off and on for twenty years, where over five million people had been killed, where countless numbers of children have been forced to become soldiers, where thousands of women have been raped, where hundreds of thousands of people had become refugees in their own country.  Over and over these men said, “Moderator, please help us.”  And I did not know what to say.  They said, “Moderator, the world has forgotten us. Why?  Do we not matter?  Moderator, help us.” 

Second story – Isadeen Abuelaish, whose family fled to Gaza as refugees when they were driven from their home in what became Israel during the war of 1948; who became a doctor, a gynecologist and obstetrician, whose practice crossed the Israel-Palestine borders; a man committed to a life of healing, helping others give birth, Jew and Muslim alike.  And then, On January 16th, 2009, Israeli bombs destroyed his home, killing three of his daughters.  But instead of giving into an understand able anger and a desire for revenge, he proclaimed, “I shall not hate,” – and committed himself to a journey of forgiveness and reconciliation and peace; a journey of public-speaking and writing.  He now lives in Toronto; he has spoken in Vancouver; his book I Shall Not Hate is in our library.  On such a day as this – sign it out!

Final story – Leyman Bgowee, who chose the path of non-violence in a fourteen year struggle against the murderous regime of Charles Taylor in Liberia, speaking on behalf of the women and children of her country, refusing to be silenced, but refusing also to pick up a gun.  And the result – peace in Liberia with the Accra Accord of 2004; the first woman elected as president of an African country, Ellen Johson Sirleof, in 2008; and Leyman receiving the Nobel Peace Prize last year, in 2011.  

I share these stories as a declaration that the way of Jesus is a possibility, so on this November 11th, this Remembrance Day, let us remember, and  let us become blessed peacemakers.  

And no matter what happens,

Between hope and despair

Let us choose hope

Even though it will be harder to bear.