Ethics was an interesting class.
I'd only had Randy Harris one other time, and that was for my wide-eyed, "I thought I knew a lot about the Bible because I did well in Bible Bowl but now you're blowing my mind with new ideas!" phase. By the time the fall of 2011 had rolled around, I was still having my mind rocked by new ideas, but a lot of the earth-shattering new beliefs were in the rear-view mirror, even if that meant that I had invited them to pile into the backseat for my journey.
Randy presented us with an outline of the different things we'd be working through in class: the first half of the semester would be examining different ethical models to better understand from which we operated, while the second half was more built around learning by debating about different issues of the day. Randy would present both sides of an issue to the best of his ability for a class period, then had two groups debate it back and forth the next class period. He would moderate those debates, sometimes soothing tempers if things got too testy, sometimes ripping into a group who were winning too easily to keep us on our toes. (He's quite talented at that.)
I had my preferences for what I really wanted to argue for when the topics were named, and I had some topics that I wanted to avoid like the plague. For instance, I was watering at the mouth to debate on the side of Affirmative Action, but would have been crestfallen to be on the opposite side. With the decision not up to the students, however, I could only hope that I would be debating on the side of something I believed in strongly.
Flash back to 2004 for a moment. I had recently turned 18, and I had a deep sense that it was my duty to vote in the presidential election. (Part of me still wrestles with why I'm so willing to vote for someone to work in Washington, D.C., but so often I'm apathetic towards local elections. I'm working on it, though...) Being young, I wasn't very well practiced at parsing the nuances of issues or candidates, so it all came down to two factors when I went to the polling place: I thought that George W. Bush was more likely to do a good job of taking care of Texas than John Kerry, since Bush was from Texas, and I thought that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan could end up being a positive if once they were won, Christian missionaries would have more ability to evangelize there.
Looking back, I'm pretty ashamed of my reasons for that vote. Sure, there were legitimate reasons to vote for Bush and for Kerry, but I didn't search very deep for those reasons, I just went with the easiest answer. That frustrates me, especially that I so easily justified war in my mind.
Within the space of a few years, I watched several friends go to war. I feel eternally blessed that most of them have returned alive so far, but through my conversations with them, I have begun to realize what a heavy burden war is to so many. In my heart, I began to believe that the reasons I held in 2004 were not justification enough for the horrors of war.
I have continued to look at my own justifications of war and those of others. Though it was a long and slow journey, the list of reasons I could accept as reasonable shrank considerably as the years progressed.
Suddenly, Randy Harris called my name. I was a part of the group advocating for peace without the use of violence.
SCORE!
I feel like every group project in school has either that one person who goes all out, the person who doesn't contribute anything or both. Confession time: I was the non-contributor at times during my extended college career. But not this time.
We were required to debate as if we held the views for which we were advocating, so we divvied up the different topics for our paper. As the resident Ministry/Sociology major of our group, I was assigned writing up the Biblical and social aspects of our "Pro-Peace" debate. (If you're just a glutton for punishment,
feel free to read the paper here. The parts I wrote are the introduction and page 3 and 4.)
One of the most persuasive arguments against our side had already been laid out in three simple words: "What about Hitler?" We knew, without a doubt, that our classmates would be tossing that question at us, hoping that we would be unable to squirm around the uncomfortable truth that if a raving lunatic or truly evil person gains power, something must be done. Their position was that just war was not only allowable, it was necessary at times. How do you argue against fighting Hitler?
We had arrived at our answer to that question well in advance, since we knew it was coming, but I happened to be strolling around the Bible building an hour before our debate, when I ran into Dr. Chris Flanders. He's a professor in the Graduate School of Theology, a friend, and something of a mentor to me, or at least someone who cares about me. I casually mentioned the debate, and he said, "You got a minute? I've got something you might find helpful." I quickly agreed, and he led me to the campus bookstore. There he pulled a book from the shelf and handed it to me as my eyes got wide. He smiled as I hurriedly thanked him and purchased it immediately.
I found the rest of my group preparing for the debate, and beamed as I lay the book down on the table. It was entitled "
What about Hitler?"
We flipped to one of the last chapters, because authors rarely just get right to the very best part, and found our position articulated beautifully, much more eloquently than we could have pulled off on the spot.
"At this juncture it is time for me to respond to the Hitler question: how should Christians respond to the kind of evil Hitler represents if just war theory and supreme emergencies are precluded, and if we live with a different measure of success?
We must live faithfully; we must be humble in our faith and truthful in what we say and do; we must repay evil with good; and we must be peacemakers. This may also mean as a result that the evildoers will kill us. Then, we shall also die.
That's it. There is nothing else-- or rather, anything else is only a footnote to this. We are called to live the kingdom as he proclaimed it and be his disciples, come what may. We are, in his words, flowers flourishing and growing wild today, and tomorrow destined for the furnace. We are God's people, living by faith.
The gospel is clear and simple, and I know what my response to the Hitler question must be. And I desperately want to avoid this conclusion. When my time comes, I may well trot out every nuanced argument I can develop, or seek a way out in St. Thomas Aquinas or Paul Ramsey. This would serve me and my fear, my hypocrisy, and my faithlessness very well. But I would not be telling the truth or living as I ought and as I am called to live.
I've had a hard time justifying killing under any circumstance for a while now, but my problem with that has been the lingering question of, "If not violence, then what?" While war feels wrong to me, I don't feel right about standing against something without offering a viable alternative solution. Yet that alternative had been taught to me my whole life without me realizing it.
Jesus was innocent, and had every right to use violence, but chose a different path. He did not hurt those who we would call his enemies, but he also stood up peacefully against them. He found a third way to deal with those who used violence and intimidation to hurt others, like when he disarmed the crowd who sought to stone the woman caught in adultery. He did not run from the soldiers who came to arrest him, neither did he allow his disciples to fight them. His words, "Put your sword away, for he who lives by the sword dies by the sword!" ring in my ears when I try to rationalize the losses of war as necessary. Jesus affirmed the humanity of Peter and Malchus in the garden.
So, as a Christian who has long struggled with violence and what could be an appropriate alternative, I would like to submit Jesus' example to those who might be feeling the same as I have, and even to those who have no problem with waging a "just war." Below is a potential way that non-violence could be used to mitigate between two warring sides, whether both are aggressors, or one side is attacking a peaceful group.
Imagine Canada suddenly broke out into a civil war. Eastern provinces vs. Western provinces. Instead of choosing a side that seems most right and fighting with them or staying out of the entire mess, imagine ten thousand Christians standing between the two groups. No weapons, just people. The Christians send word to both sides with a simple message:
"We believe that you are worthwhile, because you are a human, and thus we cannot suffer the thought of you dying or being ravaged by war in your body, mind, or heart. In the same way, we believe that our brothers and sisters with whom you are at war are just as worthwhile. We will not stop you from fighting, but you will have to fight through us. We are willing to die on this ground, but we are not willing to allow violence towards any human. If you choose to fight those you call your enemies, do so knowing that to kill them, you must kill us first."
It's certainly not a popular vision of how to mediate conflict. I'm sure that there are some glaring issues that would have to be worked out (Like how to stand between factions in a time of guided missiles, where are you going to find that many people willing to die for the sake of others, etc.). This vision is not easy, by any means. It's so radical that it seems impossible. But we have glimpses of those who lived in such a way, like Jesus, Gandhi, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It's a standard I don't know if I can live up to.
But it also helps my faith to see an alternative to war. I have a hard time believing that God desires war. Certainly there are passages in the Old Testament that point to a bloodthirsty God, but in Jesus, we see God's best representation on Earth of what God desires for a human to be like. In Jesus, we see someone who is radically peaceful.
I do not want to belittle or invalidate Christians who feel called to join the military. My voice is just one of many in a chorus of believers who are trying to figure out how best to follow Jesus. And while the conclusions I have drawn are right for me, I do not pretend to speak for the entire spectrum of Christianity, nor can I with any certainty say that I've figured out what God wants. I can only express what I have learned and believed based on my own experiences and studies.
This isn't the last time the blog will feature this topic. Next time it comes up, I'm looking forward to sharing some ideas about how this ideal could be lived out daily. Shane Claiborne has some good stories that speak to that, so be looking for it in the future. Until then, feel free to discuss your own thoughts in the comments section.
