And Why Not?
Dee,
Let’s start an argument. Not a discussion, certainly not a debate—that suggests rules, fair play. No, let’s start an argument; that way I won’t have to fight fair.
We’re not pacifists. But we ought to be. Even now. Shirley Guthrie once said that the problem with the radical wing of the Reformation, the Mennonites, the Brethren, the Quakers—the peace churches—was that they took the gospel seriously. Do we?
We do swim, I agree, quite happily in the stream of Bonhoeffer, Niebuhr, and Barth, and who am I to argue that they didn’t take the gospel seriously? But I can wonder if they didn’t take western culture more seriously still. There is no doubt, from the point of view of western culture, that we live in a sin-soaked world. But is that the truth of the world? “Maybe not the final truth,” you may want to say, “but it is the truth now.” Is it?
We do not, I agree again, take Matthew 5:39 literally, nor Matthew 5:44, or 45 or 46, for that matter, or much of the Sermon on the Mount at all. (We leave that to our radical wing.) But do we even take them seriously? I also preached the Sunday after 9-11, and after that, I moderated a “town meeting” at Chapel in the Pine in Birmingham. And I listened to the doves, and then—because they waited, because they knew they were right; you’ll agree: they were—I listened to those who said, “Sure, sure. We can pray all we want for our enemies, but sooner or later, we’re going to have to do something,” meaning something military, something violent, because this enemy needs killin’, as you put it. Prayer is all well and good, but by itself it doesn’t work in these kinds of situations. And I wondered (and I wonder): How do we know? Have we ever tried it?
In other words—your words—have we ever had the guts to stick to our “first impulse,” which is peace. Here is where I’m going to ask you about “instinct.” Sometimes, you say, and last week you cited Bonhoeffer as an example: “Sometimes the body has to act instinctively . . . outside the boundaries set by the mind. Sometimes feelings, both intuitive and visceral, must take the lead.” But if our “first impulse” is peace, why would our instinct lead us to violence? In fact, we don’t wage war “outside the boundaries set by the mind,” not at all; the reasons we give for war are always of the utmost ingenuity. What we do instead: we act outside the boundaries set by the heart.
I have been thinking more than a little about patriotism these days, partly because in a weak moment I agreed to preach in the July 4th service (July 2nd) in the park. I say I agreed at a weak moment, but I’m not sure that’s entirely truthful. I believe our nationalities are, or at least can be, instances of secondary grace. We can love wholeheartedly—and still not idolatrously—the place we are born to, or that we choose to come to. But you are right, we cannot impose these secondary things we love on others that are born to or come to a different place. That is a form of idolatry.
And we can’t countenance striking another’s cheek first, even if we can’t quite turn our own. You’re right about pre-emptive war as well. But then . . . here is where, I think, the heirs of Barth and Niebuhr and Bonhoeffer fall victim to culture . . . then you say, “If we thought a war were just and necessary, then we would gladly join in and send our sons and daughters . . . .” And I will ask, “What would make—what could possibly make—a war ‘just’ or ‘necessary’?” I know you have answers to that question, and they come from the tradition we swim in; we have contributed significantly to that conversation. But do they come from the gospel?
Let’s start an argument. Not a discussion, certainly not a debate—that suggests rules, fair play. No, let’s start an argument; that way I won’t have to fight fair.
We’re not pacifists. But we ought to be. Even now. Shirley Guthrie once said that the problem with the radical wing of the Reformation, the Mennonites, the Brethren, the Quakers—the peace churches—was that they took the gospel seriously. Do we?
We do swim, I agree, quite happily in the stream of Bonhoeffer, Niebuhr, and Barth, and who am I to argue that they didn’t take the gospel seriously? But I can wonder if they didn’t take western culture more seriously still. There is no doubt, from the point of view of western culture, that we live in a sin-soaked world. But is that the truth of the world? “Maybe not the final truth,” you may want to say, “but it is the truth now.” Is it?
We do not, I agree again, take Matthew 5:39 literally, nor Matthew 5:44, or 45 or 46, for that matter, or much of the Sermon on the Mount at all. (We leave that to our radical wing.) But do we even take them seriously? I also preached the Sunday after 9-11, and after that, I moderated a “town meeting” at Chapel in the Pine in Birmingham. And I listened to the doves, and then—because they waited, because they knew they were right; you’ll agree: they were—I listened to those who said, “Sure, sure. We can pray all we want for our enemies, but sooner or later, we’re going to have to do something,” meaning something military, something violent, because this enemy needs killin’, as you put it. Prayer is all well and good, but by itself it doesn’t work in these kinds of situations. And I wondered (and I wonder): How do we know? Have we ever tried it?
In other words—your words—have we ever had the guts to stick to our “first impulse,” which is peace. Here is where I’m going to ask you about “instinct.” Sometimes, you say, and last week you cited Bonhoeffer as an example: “Sometimes the body has to act instinctively . . . outside the boundaries set by the mind. Sometimes feelings, both intuitive and visceral, must take the lead.” But if our “first impulse” is peace, why would our instinct lead us to violence? In fact, we don’t wage war “outside the boundaries set by the mind,” not at all; the reasons we give for war are always of the utmost ingenuity. What we do instead: we act outside the boundaries set by the heart.
I have been thinking more than a little about patriotism these days, partly because in a weak moment I agreed to preach in the July 4th service (July 2nd) in the park. I say I agreed at a weak moment, but I’m not sure that’s entirely truthful. I believe our nationalities are, or at least can be, instances of secondary grace. We can love wholeheartedly—and still not idolatrously—the place we are born to, or that we choose to come to. But you are right, we cannot impose these secondary things we love on others that are born to or come to a different place. That is a form of idolatry.
And we can’t countenance striking another’s cheek first, even if we can’t quite turn our own. You’re right about pre-emptive war as well. But then . . . here is where, I think, the heirs of Barth and Niebuhr and Bonhoeffer fall victim to culture . . . then you say, “If we thought a war were just and necessary, then we would gladly join in and send our sons and daughters . . . .” And I will ask, “What would make—what could possibly make—a war ‘just’ or ‘necessary’?” I know you have answers to that question, and they come from the tradition we swim in; we have contributed significantly to that conversation. But do they come from the gospel?
Peace to you, too. I mean that.
Rick
posted by Rick at 4:44 PM
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