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Peace! The Perfect Word
October 13, 2002
"Peace! The perfect word is sounding,"The peace not past our understanding falls like light upon the soft white tablecloth." Thus begins John Holmes's lovely hymn which we sang this morning. In an earlier hymnbook, the hymn had a title: "The People's Peace." As we sing on, we realize that the people's peace is to be described by homey images: houses lighted late, light upon a tablecloth, doorways worn at sill.
like a universal hymn
under oceans, over mountains,
to the world's remotest rim."--Odell Shepard
Abstractions such as "peace" are always difficult to define, and so in order to define it Holmes turned to simple images that even a child can all understand. The biblical image of peace is also one of home: "And they shall sit every one under his vine and his fig tree; and none shall make them afraid."
In peace, then, one shall not be afraid. Fear, as we know, is an awful thing. It is the opposite of what we mean by peace. Fear can make a hell out of heaven, just as being at peace with oneself can sometimes make a heaven out of hell.
Terrorism's central weapon is fear itself. It is very effective. Rushworth Kidder once wrote that "[Terrorism] consists of an attempt by the weak to gain dominion over the strong. . . .It's ultimate target is not the victim but the public at large." The message the terrorist hopes to communicate is fear. I will leave it to you to consider how successful the terrorists have become at communicating this message.
Given the reality of terrorism, what should be our response? Some years ago, an anonymous writer in the New Yorker magazine wrote that "a fully effective counter-measure is another, opposite state of mind--courage. If a nation, mustering its courage, refuses to give in to the terrorist's implicit demand that it change particular policies, then--no matter how much violence they unleash--they have, in the fullest and most precise sense of the word, been defeated. . . . Pure resolve, pure steadfastness--" said the writer, "can fully defeat terrorism."
But then the writer went a step further: "The challenge posed for us by terrorism is how, in the face of it, to remain true to our ideals. . . . The requirements of honor are that we value our ideals more highly than our own lives, and act accordingly [my emphasis]."
I believe that these words are more challenging now than when they were written twelve years ago. But I am not sure that we are prepared to heed them. "The right balance between the need to prevent terrorism and the need to remain true to our ideals would not be easy to strike," concluded the writer in the New Yorker. "But it is a task that free people, who know that there is always a cost in efficiency for adherence to moral standards, are well equipped to address, for they can be confident in the knowledge that against a nation abundantly armed with courage terrorists can never win."
The problem, I believe is that our policy at present is not being driven by courage. It is being driven by fear. And as a consequence, we are in grave danger of compromising not only our freedom, in the form of our precious civil liberties, but our moral superiority as well.
Taking the stand of courage toward terrorism would not mean that we become passive. On the contrary: it would mean that we actively seek to understand the root causes of terrorism--simply attributing it to Muslim fanatics like Osama Bin Laden is not enough--and that we actively begin to address those causes. It would not mean giving in to terrorists, nor, especially, would it mean stooping to their level of indiscriminate violence. We know that terrorist acts cannot be justified, because we believe in respecting innocent human lives. The terrorist can only "win" by tempting us out of our decency, and causing us to act like him.
My greatest fear is that in winning the battle against terrorism, we may ultimately lose the war.
A fundamental respect for the individual, which is totally absent in the terrorist, is central to our conception of what it means to be an American--indeed, of what it means to be human. While it can be negative when carried to selfish extremes, our individualism is also at the heart of our belief in freedom and tolerance. Compared to most places in the world, the United States is still "the land of the free." Here a person is guaranteed a certain amount of privacy and personal freedom. Your right to be different is--at least for the moment--guaranteed by law.
But as I said in my sermon a couple of weeks ago, freedom and fear do not make good bedfellows. In fact, I don't think they can co-exist at all. My concern is that out of fear we are about to sacrifice the very freedoms that make us who we are, and that out of fear we are about to sacrifice any claim we might hold to moral superiority. I leave this question, too, for you to ponder.
As I consider the proposed incursion into Iraq in light of traditional just war criteria, I am troubled. A "just war" must be defensive in nature. Perhaps an attack against Iraq can be justified as defensive; that certainly seems to be the President's position. I am still not convinced that he has made his case. I wish I were not, but I am skeptical about our true goals in attacking Iraq.
Will the cause be just? Certainly, putting an end to terrorism is just--if that is the cause we are pursuing.
Will there be right intention? If terrorist centers of activity and so-called "weapons of mass destruction" are the only targets, again perhaps yes. The removal of Saddam Hussein is a more troublesome challenge to international law. Should we become a law unto ourselves? How will this prevent others from hating us?
Is there a reasonable chance of success? We are told that from a military point of view, the chances of success are very good. Of course, it depends greatly on how one defines success.
Will the situation be better than what prevailed before? For me this is the greatest unanswered question. It is difficult for me to see how an attack on Iraq will improve the terrorist situation in the Middle East, even if it is "successful." There is great danger that it will only make the situation worse in the long run. And as I have already suggested, the terrorists do not have to win the battle to win the war. By instilling fear they have already scored a huge victory and threatened the foundations of our freedom.
Will the use of force be proportional to the objective sought? If the Gulf War of 1991 is any indication, the use of force will be vastly disproportionate and thousands of Iraqi people will be killed.
Finally, will non-combatants be spared? No, because civilians, among them children, are always certain to die in such a war. Even smart bombs are dropped by dumb human beings.
While it may be quite easy in the short run to achieve a degree of revenge, it will be very difficult in such a war to maintain any moral high ground. It always is. And there is no guarantee about the long run.
I pray that if the United States takes such action, it will do so aware of these doubts and possible consequences. I find myself in the strange position of praying that our fears are justified. Of course, I also pray that we as a people discover a better way.
As a religious person, I must advocate for that better way, the way signified by my sermon title this morning. War is always a failure, even when its intentions are for the best. War is always terrible. The aftermath of war is always a question. I believe that that question should only be posed from a position of courage and sacrifice--never from one of fear. It is easy to destroy old worlds; will we have the courage to build a better one?
In our concluding hymn, Odell Shepard wrote,
Peace! The perfect word is sounding. . . .Those hopes and dreams are our greatest challenge. Amen.
All the hopes of subject peoples,
all the dreams of the oppressed,
must be ours, our hopes, our visions.
We can never stay or rest.
The Rev. Harold E. Babcock
