Norman Stolpe
June 24, 2018
For the
Church’s first three centuries, Christians did not participate in war or the
military with very few exceptions. Since Constantine made his distorted version
of Christianity the religion of the Roman Empire, Christians have debated how
to respond to war and the military. In Romans 14:5, Paul wrote about how to
handle debatable issues. “Let all be fully convinced in their own minds.” I
have written how and why I became fully convinced to declare myself a
conscientious objector to war in 1970. I respect those who are fully convinced
of a different opinion and do not intend to criticize or change their
convictions, but I would like to have that same respect extended to me and other
conscientious objectors by those who disagree with us.
The script from with Ray Gingrich and I made our presentations in worship for Milwaukee Mennonite Church is available at http://ndsworshipmessages.blogspot.com/2018/06/gods-redemptive-love-vs-myth-of.html
The script from with Ray Gingrich and I made our presentations in worship for Milwaukee Mennonite Church is available at http://ndsworshipmessages.blogspot.com/2018/06/gods-redemptive-love-vs-myth-of.html
My Conscientious Objector Journey
My
conscientious objector journey is integral to and inseparable from my journey
to follow Jesus as his faithful disciple. Though I grew up in and always valued
church, I mark the beginning of my adult faith with the reading of the biblical
book of Job and Archibald MacLeish’s
play JB in World Lit as a high school
senior in 1964. I began to see that God understood and cared about the
seemingly insoluble struggles of human experience that I had been pondering
through literature but did not find help from the church.
I had thought
of the draft and military service as a somewhat benign rite of passage into
adulthood, either before or after college or interrupting or delaying a
personal future. But my new awareness of God’s perspective on human reality and
my growing aspiration to follow Jesus converged with the escalation of the war
in Vietnam. Five years of student deferments during my college years gave me time to study and ponder how I would respond as a disciple of Jesus. By the
time those deferments ran out, I had become convinced I could not live out my
discipleship in the context of military service.
In the summer
of 1968, I was ordered to appear for a pre-induction physical in Oakland,
California. I had been working at youth summer camps in a couple of Midwestern states,
so by the time the letter caught up to me I had only a few days to make
arrangement to get to California, and no, I had missed the deadline for requesting
a delay or change of location, so I was required to appear. Though they were
processing huge numbers every day, each individual’s exam took several hours.
For me, spending the better part of a day wearing only undershorts and carrying
personal items in a drawstring sack in crowded passageways felt utterly
dehumanizing and reinforced the conviction I had already settled, though I
still hadn’t determined what to do about it.
My wife, Candy,
and I got married on January 25, 1969 and I headed to Wheaton Grad School and
began my ministry in Christian education curriculum development and consulting.
I began researching and composing my letter to the draft board requesting
conscientious objector classification. Then in December 1969, the first lottery
was held for the Vietnam War draft. My lottery number was 315, making being
drafted in 1970, the only year of my liability after that, highly unlikely. My
first reaction was that this made my letter and convictions moot, irrelevant. I
wouldn’t be called anyway, so why go through the hassle?
At the time I
was working on a Christian education youth curriculum project that was based on
Elton Trueblood’s book The New Man for
Our Time which had just been published in 1970. (Please remember than a
half-century ago we didn’t have the gender sensitivity that is common today, so
don’t dismiss it because of Trueblood’s use of “man” to include women and men.)
The Quaker “saint” John Woolman (1720-1772) was the model of someone who could
think, act, and pray. This prompted me to read John Woolman’s Journal a decade before I had any idea I would live
and minister in Mt. Holly, New Jersey, his home town 1980-1997. Two centuries
later, John Woolman’s testimony coalesced the thinking I had been doing about
what following Jesus implied for all sorts of issues of justice and peace, and
confirmed my growing conviction that expressing that to the draft board was
essential to my discipleship.
I had grown up,
been educated, and was ministering in revivalist, pietistic evangelicalism.
Conscientious objection to war was known but not widely affirmed in my circles.
In the course of my investigations, I learned that Dwight L. Moody (yes, of
Moody Bible Institute, Moody Press, Moody Church) had been a conscientious objector and refused
service in the Union Army during the Civil War, describing himself as “a
Quaker” in this respect. Under the auspices of the Christian Commission of the
YMCA, Moody made nine visits to the battlefields as a chaplain/evangelist to
the wounded, insisting that Confederate soldiers be as well treated as Union
soldiers. This anchored my conscientious objector convictions solidly in the
evangelical tradition, of which I am an heir.
As a teen, I
remember being challenged with the question, “If you were put on trial for
being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” I wrote my
letter requesting conscientious objector classification to the draft board with
a sense of establishing solid evidence that I was following Jesus. Also, coming
at the height of the Vietnam War, I had to sort out whether I was objecting to
this specific unjust war, or to all war – as was required for conscientious
objector classification. I concluded that the classic principles of “just war”
(paralleled in Deuteronomy 20) precluded participating in any war as a disciple
of Jesus. The reply I received was that since my lottery number was so high,
they would not process my request as they were fully occupied with other
responsibilities. Thus, I was never asked to defend my convictions in that
arena. That was both a relief and a disappointment. I knew of those who were
not from historic peace churches whose conscientious objector requests were
denied, and when they refused military induction were sent to prison. Just into
the second year of our marriage and hoping to start a family, I struggled with
the prospect of prison before submitting my letter and concluded I had to
accept that as a possible consequence of acting on my convictions.
When I was
ordained for ministry in 1975, I wrote a paper for the ordination council
presenting my faith journey and sense of call to ministry. I included my
conscientious objector request in that paper. I also described the profound
impact my father had had on my faith and sense of calling. Only after he died
and I received his Navy discharge papers did I learn that he had a desire for a
ministry career, that probably was impeded by my birth limiting his education
and economic options. At my ordination service, my father embraced me with
tears in his eyes to tell me how wonderful he felt reading of his influence on
me in my ordination paper.
Yes, my father
served with the Navy in World War II. He used the terms “corps man” and “medic”
to describe his role as a “pharmacist mate.” When I was 10 or 12, I asked him
if he could tell me anything heroic so I could brag about him the way some of
my friends bragged about their fathers. He told me that he never handled a
weapon during his time in the Navy (except one boring afternoon spending some
time with his buddies at the firing range). He proudly described his role as
“helping to heal the wounds of war.” Back in 1970, before I sent my letter to
the draft board, I talked over my conscientious objector request with my
father. Though he did not consider himself a pacifist, he affirmed and
supported my decision to express my Christian discipleship in this way.
The Baptist
General Conference (once known as the Swedish Baptist Conference) in which I
grew up was not an historic peace church. However, at the beginning of the 20th
century, many young men from “non-conformist” (meaning non-Lutheran)
backgrounds came to the United States to avoid being drafted in the European
turmoil that became World War I. My father’s father was among them. He and
others like him were not necessarily pacifists per se, but did not want to do
military service in what they saw as an unholy alliance between the state
church and the government.
Though my adult
church life and ministry career led me out of the Baptist General Conference, I
did not worship with or serve as pastor in historic peace churches. In those
years I have learned, at least to some measure, how to have dialog with those
who do not embrace my pacifist convictions. I respect and do not judge those
who sincerely live out their Christian discipleship in military service. I hope
that they have been able to respect without judgment my conscientious objection
to war and military service as an expression of sincerely following Jesus. I
know I have been strengthened in dialog with these folk and would like to
believe they have found our conversations nurturing of their faith in Jesus as
well.
In this I
believe I am following the example of my mother’s mother. Like Dwight L. Moody,
she often expressed respect for Quakers and might well have described herself
as a Quaker in regard to violence and war. I do remember her once being
dismissed from jury duty because she did not believe in capital punishment.
Yet, as many military people were coming and going in the San Francisco/Oakland
Bay Area during World War II, my grandparents practiced hospitality, hosting
for Sunday dinner military service personnel who came to Lakeside Baptist
Church for worship, with a view of helping them in a difficult time in their
lives. Of course, one of them was my father. Since he was stationed for an
extended period of time at Oak Knoll Navy Hospital, he was at that table long
enough for a romance to blossom with my mother.
I must confess
that this has been more challenging in my family than in the congregations I
have served. My brother-in-law Max still suffers with PTSD from his time in
Vietnam. My nephew Tom is a career Navy officer and in my estimation is an
admirable example of living as a disciple of Jesus in his marriage, family,
church, and yes his Navy career. Some of the issues here are so sensitive, we
all are cautious to put priority on loving relationships in the family.
You of
Milwaukee Mennonite Church all know David and his commitment to peace and
justice. Our oldest son Jon does not consider himself a doctrinaire pacifist.
However, after his sophomore year as a mechanical engineering major at Grove
City College, he was offered a Navy nuclear scholarship – a high academic honor
and financially substantial. Before making his decision he spent an evening
with a retired career Navy officer in our church. Much to the surprise of the
engineering faculty and fellow students, Jon turned down the scholarship saying
that he could not relinquish making his moral decisions to the Navy or the US
government. I don’t know that our youngest son Erik has had occasion to
consider this the way his brothers have, and his personal spiritual journey is
still very much in formation. Nevertheless, he does have an acute sensitivity
to issues of peace and justice.
While I have
necessarily focused on my conscientious objector journey, I hope you can see
how this is inseparable from my intent to live in such continuous awareness of
the presence of God that my heart and character are in increasingly congruent
harmony with Jesus Christ. I resonate with the prayer of Richard of Chichester
(1197-1253) which some of you may know from the musical Godspell.
Thanks be to thee, my Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.
My Conscientious Objector Witness
Since at least
the fourth century many others have studied, pondered, and written about how
Christians can and should respond ethically to war. A wide variety of positions
have been expounded and critiqued by those who are far brighter and more
academically and spiritually qualified than I am. I will not argue for a
position to debate with those who disagree with me. Rather, I see this as my
witness and testimony to what convinced me, that as one who aspires to follow
Jesus as his faithful disciple, to publically and officially declare myself a
conscientious objector to war. I will also explore my responses to a few areas
of problematic understanding.
On June 24,
2018 Ray Gingrich and I rehearsed our conscientious objector journeys as the
worship reflection (sermon) for the people of Milwaukee Mennonite Church. Ray’s
story comes from within the Mennonite historic peace church tradition. Though
my family and church background brought some precedent to my convictions, I
made my journey without the guidance and support of an historic peace church.
The United States requires men to register for the Selective Service System
after their 18th birthday, even when there is no active draft. I
have 18 and 16 year old grandsons and 20 and 11 year old granddaughters. I
respect and celebrate that our society recognizes they those over 18 have
adequate maturity to vote. At the same time, my retrospective on my own journey
suggests that whether and why to go or refuse to go to war was way beyond what
I was prepared for at 18. I had five student deferments and used those years to
study in preparation for the time I would be compelled to decide on my path. As
it turned out I was 23 when I officially requested conscientious objector
classification. I was certainly better prepared then than I had been at 18.
Having said that, now at 71 my convictions are both stronger and more
sophisticated. I am not going to try to reconstruct my thinking at 18 or 23
years of age, as though I could. Rather, I am presenting my lifetime of
reflection on my journey with Jesus in our violent world.
The Bible is a
diverse collection of writings by a number of different people in a wide
variety of cultural contexts and diverse ethical challenges. It is not a
handbook in which a reader can look up a topic or issue and find step by step
instructions of exactly what to do in any and all circumstances, as much as
that might seem more comfortable for us. Understanding and applying the Bible
to our time and place requires responsible scholarship, prayerful study, and
sensitivity to the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Please understand, I don’t
think that means it is subjective and we can make of it whatever we want. I
affirm most vigorously that I consider the Bible to be inspired by God,
reliable in what it teaches, and authoritative for our lives as disciples of
Jesus. Living by faith embraces this apparent ambiguity with confidence that
the Holy Spirit guides us even when we are uncertain, and that Christ’s grace
sustains us even when we stumble and wander on the journey.
Jesus in the Gospels
Even before I
formulated the specific statement in 2003, my life has been guided by my intent
to live in such continuous awareness of the presence of God that my heart and
character are in increasingly congruent harmony with Jesus Christ. As I said in
the reflection I shared with Ray Gingrich and Milwaukee Mennonite Church, I
experienced a sort of spiritual coming of age as a high school senior in 1964.
Though I know I have not always been as fervent or consistent about it as I
wish, my aspiration for the past 53 years has been to follow Jesus as
faithfully as I could depending on the Holy Spirit for both strength and
guidance. Thus, my conscientious objector convictions depend on and are a
direct expression of my longing to follow Jesus.
Through those
years I have had a daily soak in the Gospels with the hope of becoming so
saturated with Jesus that I will increasingly think and act as he did. Military
service would not have been even available to Jesus as a Galilean Jew in Roman
occupied Palestine. Not only is imagining Jesus in a Roman military unit
unthinkable, he certainly would not have participated in the Jewish temple
police and their harassment of sincere worshippers. This may be dismissed as an
argument from silence that makes Jesus’ example irrelevant to our society and
world. Nevertheless, Jesus’ teaching and the way he treated even those who
opposed him, is incongruous with Jesus using lethal force on another person who
was the legitimate recipient of his love as one bearing the image of God.
I find the
beatitude of Matthew 5:9 to be a controlling mandate for all of us who follow
Jesus. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
I know that centuries of military propaganda has attached the word “peacemaker”
to various weapons and campaigns, which seems tantamount to blasphemy to me. If
I am to follow Jesus, I must pursue peacemaking in daily personal
relationships, in the political debates of our country, and by my conscientious
objection to war. This is more than just doing what Jesus told us to do; being
peacemakers grows from and expresses being children of God. Peacemaking is both
at the core of Jesus’ identity and the heart of the character of God.
Peace echoes
through Jesus’ life from birth to resurrection. The prophecy of Isaiah 9:6 that
is applied to the birth of Jesus (Luke 1:32-33) calls the child to be born “the
prince of peace.” Zechariah’s prophecy at the birth of John the Baptist affirms
that the one John will introduce, Jesus, will “guide our feet into the way of
peace.” (Luke 1:79) Paul used the phrase “way of peace” in Romans 3:17 alluding
to Isaiah 59:8. When the angels announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds,
they proclaimed peace on earth. (Luke 2:14). The angels’ words are echoed in the
praise of those who welcomed Jesus on Palm Sunday, “Peace in heaven.” (Luke
19:38) Luke recorded Jesus weeping as he approached Jerusalem that day,
lamenting, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that
make for peace!” (Luke 19:42) When Jesus sent out the Twelve (Matthew 101ff;
Mark 3:13ff; Luke 9:1ff) and the Seventy-two (Luke 10:1ff) they were to bless
each house where they stayed with peace, and if the peace was not accepted,
they were to move on apparently without confrontation. To prepare his disciples
for his crucifixion, Jesus gave them the blessing of his peace. (John 14:27;
16:33) When the risen Jesus greeted his disciples he blessed them saying,
“Peace be with you.” (Luke 29:36; John
20:19,21,26)
Perhaps the
most challenging of Jesus’ teachings is that we are to love our enemies.
(Matthew 5:43-48; Luke 6:27-35) Jesus’ explanations not only gave this mandate
an extraordinarily high profile, but he made it congruent with the character of
God. If we are going to grow toward becoming like God, we must love our
enemies. The Apostle Paul affirmed this in Romans 12:17-21 “If it is possible,
so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never
avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance
is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed
them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you
will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but
overcome evil with good.” This is clearly not a clever means of magnifying
revenge, but relinquishing revenge to God. I know some would like to limit this
to personal enemies and suggest it doesn’t apply to a nation’s military
enemies. For me, I must affirm that I cannot seek to injure or kill even the
most heinous enemy in the name of Jesus.
In Matthew 8
and Luke 7 a Roman centurion sought Jesus’ healing for a servant/slave whom he
valued and apparently loved. Jesus did the healing at a distance, commenting
that even in Israel he had not seen such faith. (Matthew 8:10; Luke 7:9) But
Jesus made no comment on his keeping a slave nor did he suggest he should get
out of the Roman army. Sometimes those silences are interpreted as approval of
slavery and military service. My own understanding is that this is an amazing
window into how Jesus practiced his own teaching of loving enemies. Keep in
mind that the Roman soldiers, including this centurion, were a foreign army
occupying Palestine as a captured territory. They were roundly hated and
feared. Jesus did not lay out criteria required before he would heal. He loved
this enemy and commended his faith.
A similar
concern arose when Peter was sent to Cornelius in Acts 10. God gave Peter a
vision and a calling to go to the home of Cornelius. Not only a Gentile whom
the Jewish Christians considered unclean, he also was a hated soldier of the
occupying Roman army, clearly an enemy. Peter’s sermon is not just a
proclamation of the Gospel to these Gentile enemies, it was also a message to
himself and his companions that Jesus’ mandate to love their enemies was going
to be more radical and far reaching than they imagined. Once again, Peter made
no mention of getting out of the Roman army. A careful reading of the story
reveals that the Holy Spirit had already been working incognito on Cornelius,
so he and his household were primed and ready for the Gospel. The ones who were
being transformed and taken to a new level of loving their enemies, even
acknowledging them as equal disciples of Jesus with them, were Peter and his
companions. This encounter could not have helped but change the way Cornelius
responded to all of the Jewish folk he dealt with every day. He would no longer
be able to think of them as enemies either.
In Luke 3:14
some soldiers came to John the Baptist and asked him what they should do. These
were probably not soldiers of the Roman army but Jews recruited, perhaps by
Herod, to maintain internal security. They might well have been hated, not as
occupiers but as traitors. Again some commentators point out that John did not
tell them to quit being soldiers. Instead he gave these rather demanding
instructions. “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation,
and be satisfied with your wages.” Apparently these sorts of soldiers had a
reputation for what we call police brutality (nothing new under the sun),
abusing their power in violent ways for their own profit, which connects with
being satisfied with their wages. Again I would contend that by giving them a
gentle response with reasonable expectations, John was living out the love of
enemies even before Jesus spoke it.
In contrast
with the instructions to the Twelve and the Seventy-two, before leaving for the
garden where he will be arrested, in Luke 22:36 Jesus told the disciples to buy
a sword. When they show him that they have two swords, Jesus said, “It is
enough.” (v. 38) Presumably it was one of those swords with which one of them
cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. Jesus responded, “No more of this!”
(Luke 22:51) “All who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)
and Jesus touched the ear and healed it (Luke 22:51) While the context here
makes interpreting Jesus instruction to buy a sword difficult, that he said two
were enough and then rebuked its use and healed its harm prevents justifying
military violence by this incident.
Sometimes Jesus
driving the money changers out of the Temple (Matthew
21; Mark 11; Luke 19) is also used as a justification for the use
of force. Only John 2:15 mentioned Jesus making a whip out of cords, and even
then he did not use it on people but for driving the animals out of the Temple.
Since John records this at the beginning of his Gospel while the synoptics put
it right after the Triumphal Entry as a trigger for his crucifixion, there has
been debate whether Jesus did this once or twice, with the whip only the first
time. John is the least chronological of the Gospels, and he too connects this
incident with opposition to Jesus associated with his death. In all of the
accounts Jesus goes on teaching the people after driving out the distractions
of sales and animals. Jesus clearly did not organize his disciples into a
vigilante militia to clear the Temple, but did this so he could teach, most
provocatively to be sure.
For me, Jesus’
responses to those who arrested, tried, and crucified him are the ultimate
expression of his teaching and example of loving enemies that underlies my
conscientious objection ethic of non-violence. Jesus’ prayer as he was being nailed
to the cross speaks volumes. “Father, forgive them; for they do not
know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) Even more directly pointed at the
military service of human governments is Jesus’ answer to Pilate in John 18:36.
“My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this
world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the
Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” John the Baptist had
announced that the Kingdom of God was near, (Matthew 3:2) which Jesus picked up
on to introduce his teaching (Matthew 4:17). He had been teaching and living
this kingdom and now he would die as the climactic manifestation of that
kingdom. So as Jesus’ disciple, I will not be fighting in the realm of human
kingdoms.
New Testament Church
As the Gospel
spread and the Church grew beyond the Jewish environs of Palestine, the
encounters with the Roman Empire increased and the interaction with the Jewish
Temple and synagogue authorities waned. The Church became a community in which
not only Jews and Gentiles lived together, but people of all levels of
hierarchal Roman society were welcomed into a single, egalitarian community. As
Paul wrote, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or
free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ
Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28) “There is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and
uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in
all!” (Colossians 3:11) The powerful theology behind this is expounded in
Ephesians 2:14-17. “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups
into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between
us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he
might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making
peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the
cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and
proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.”
Christ has made peace through the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:20) The
Church was a society of peace in which enemies are reconciled and unified in
Christ. Thus, every enemy is a potential sister or brother, which whom I live
in peace as Jesus’ representative.
Peter
introduced his sermon to Cornelius’ household saying they were “preaching peace
by Jesus Christ,” (Acts 10:36) which Ephesians 6:15 describes as “the gospel of
peace.” The Epistles repeatedly urged the pursuit of peace. While a direct
concern was peace among themselves in the Church, the pursuit of peace was
clearly broadened to include the outsiders with whom they interacted daily.
These admonitions were so frequent that they must be considered to be essential
and central to following Jesus together as his disciples. I do not believe I
could be faithful to this calling by military service that necessarily seeks
harm to the enemies. Romans 12:18; 14:17,19; 2 Corinthians 13:11; Ephesians
4:3; Colossians 3:15; 1 Thessalonians
5:15; 2 Timothy 2:22; Hebrews 12:14; 1 Peter 3:11 And Galatians 5:22
includes peace as part of the fruit of the Spirit. And James 3:17-18 says, “wisdom
from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of
mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a
harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”
God is referred
to as the God of peace in 1 Corinthians 14:33; 1 Thessalonians 5:23, and
Hebrews 13:20. Hebrews 7:2 refers to the mysterious figure of Melchizedek who
is considered a pointer to or pre-incarnate presence of Christ as “king of
peace.” In both opening greetings and closing benedictions, almost all of the
Epistles invoke peace for their readers. These allusions to peace are not a
theological or ethical formula for responding to war. However, to me they are
so ubiquitous as to show just how central Jesus’ call to be peace makers and to
love enemies was for the New Testament Church. The image of the broken down
dividing wall is theologically foundational to a peace saturated life together.
Romans 13:1-7
is critically important to guiding Christians’ responses to government orders
to go to war. It is often interpreted to mean that being a faithful Christians
requires obeying government orders to war as an extension of understanding this
passage as an almost blanket endorsement of government authority. To get a more
sophisticated grasp of the principles here starts by recognizing that at the
time Paul wrote this, Nero was the Roman Emperor. Before long, the Roman Empire
had imprisoned Paul and other Christians as a danger to the state, and
eventually the Roman Empire beheaded Paul and crucified Peter upside down in
the presence of the Emperor. Thus, I would suggest that however Romans 13:1-7
is understood, it must be equally applicable when government is friendly or
hostile to Christians, whether the government respects basic human dignity or
is a brutal totalitarian regime.
Romans 13:1-7
does not specifically address a government order to go to war. It is more
broadly about respect for and purpose of government. Paul and the other early
Christians certainly did not cease and desist from preaching the Gospel in
response to government orders. Paul not only accepted prison as a consequence
of Gospel proclamation, he regarded it as an opportunity to bring the Gospel to
unexpected, hard to reach people. He wrote in Philippians 1:13 “that it has
become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my
imprisonment is for Christ.” As with Jesus and the Centurion and Peter with
Cornelius, Paul makes no mention of hoping they would quit the imperial guard.
He only rejoiced that they knew that he was imprisoned for Christ and thus the
Gospel. Therefore, I believe that going to prison for refusing military service
is in keeping with Romans 13:1-7, submitting to the consequences imposed by the
government authority. When I accepted that my conscientious objector position
could land me in prison, I similarly hoped that it would be known that it was
in Christ’s name for refusing to participate in the killing.
Apostolic
responses to imprisonment are intriguing. In Acts 12:7-11 an angel leads Peter
out of Herod’s prison, after which Herod had the guards executed (v. 19). When Paul
and Silas were in prison in Philippi in Acts 16:25-34, an earthquake shook open
the prison doors, and the jailer expecting he would be executed for allowing
prisoners to escape was ready to kill himself (v. 27). I think that if I had
been with Paul, I would have taken the opening of the doors by the earthquake
as a sign from God to get out of there as fast and far away as possible.
However, Paul and Silas not only stayed but seem to have convinced the other
prisoners to stay as well (v. 28). The result was the Gospel was preached to
the jailer’s household who undoubtedly strengthened the fledgling Philippian
church, though nothing is said about whether he quit his job as a jailer.
A corollary to Romans 13:1-7 is Paul’s writing
in 1 Timothy 2:1-3 “that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and
thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high
positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and
dignity. This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our
Savior, who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of
the truth.” Paul had no illusions about the Emperor coming to faith in Christ,
though he would have acknowledged it as a positive possibility. The goal of
praying for those in high positions was that the Church could lead quiet and
peaceable lives in all godliness and dignity so the Gospel could spread.
I expect Paul
based Romans 13:1-7 on Jesus’ answer when he was questioned about paying taxes.
“Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the
things that are God’s.” (Matthew 22:21; Mark 12:17; Luke 20:25) I would contend
that matters of conscience, such as killing in war, are between me and God, not
the government. This is exactly in keeping with what Peter and John said in
Acts 4:19-20, “Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than
to God, you must judge; for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have
seen and heard.” And Peter and the Apostles said in Acts 5:29, “We must obey God
rather than any human authority.” I know some have argued that in these
instances Peter was addressing religious authorities and Romans 13 means that
this principle doesn’t apply to government orders. I am unwilling to put
secular authorities over God’s spiritual authority.
The New
Testament epistles use some military metaphors recognizing that following Jesus
engages us in spiritual struggle, more subtle and profound than the various
depictions of the battle between good and evil in many artistic expressions.
Perhaps the best known is the description of the Armor of God in Ephesians
6:10-18, which is also echoed in Romans 13:12 and 1 Thessalonians 5:8. Paul
wrote to Timothy about fighting the good fight (1Timothy 1:18; 6:12; 2 Timothy
4:7) and he urged the young Timothy to “share in suffering like a good soldier
of Christ Jesus,” aiming “to please the enlisting officer.” (2 Timothy 2:3-4).
Nothing suggests that Timothy or other readers of these epistles wore the armor
of or was a Roman soldier, but in their world, they understood how these
metaphors taught how to approach the spiritual struggles that came with
following Jesus. The having feet shod for proclaiming the Gospel of Peace,
harked back to the beautiful feet of those who announce peace in Isaiah 52:7.
As if just to
be sure we are understand that this is a spiritual and not a human military
battle, the armor of God is because “our struggle is not against enemies of
blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the
cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in
the heavenly places.” Yes, the spiritual struggle is played out in human
affairs, which is why my allegiance is only to Jesus, undiluted and
uncompromised by even the most noble seeming human loyalties. As 1 Corinthians
10:21 says, “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You
cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons.” Please
understand, I am not labeling the United States or any other country as
intrinsically demonic but the essential exclusivity of loyalty to Jesus in the
inevitability of spiritual struggle. As Abba Agathon said in the 4th
century, “Prayer is warfare to the last breath.”
Hebrew Scriptures
Investigating
the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) brings a host of different issues for
consideration. War and other violence permeate the history of ancient Israel,
some of which is presented as directed and authorized by God. By modern
standards, much of it would be considered to be genocidal ethnic cleansing and
destruction of culture. Addressing that in and of itself would take me far
afield from my purpose in this writing. I have explored that to some degree in
my essay about honestly dealing with the violence in the Bible in light of
contemporary concerns about the violence in the Quran and in the name of Islam
on the world stage. You may find it at http://nstolpewriting.blogspot.com/2016/05/addressing-violence-in-bible-in-light.html
What is
pertinent to my conscientious objector witness is how the realities of war and
military action in the Hebrew Scriptures inform me as a follower of Jesus in my
own time and context. I cannot just dismiss it as irrelevant because it was in
the Old Testament. While differences of culture, circumstances, and context are
important, they are not impervious boundaries sealing one dispensation (if
that’s even a suitable word or concept) from another undermining the essential
integrity of Scripture.
The Hebrew
occupation of the “Promised Land” goes back to the call of Abraham in Genesis 12.
The specific prophecy of Abraham’s descendants returning to the land after four
generations in Egypt, includes this cryptic phrase, “the iniquity of the
Amorites is not yet complete.” (Genesis 15:16) Without getting too deeply into
the puzzles of God’s mercy and judgment, this does suggest that God was giving
the longtime residents of the land a gracious opportunity to repent of their
wickedness, while knowing that they would persist in their evil, so Israel
would be God’s instrument of justice. This does not make Israel inherently
righteous. A parallel can be found in the prophecy of Habakkuk, which I would
summarize this way (read it all to understand it for yourself). Habakkuk
complained to God about the injustices rampant in the land of Judah. God replied
that the Chaldeans (Babylonians) were being prepared to bring God’s judgment on
Judah. Habakkuk complained that “they are even worse than we are,” to which God
replied, not to worry, someone else (the Persians) would be ready to bring
judgment on the Chaldeans at the right time. The philosophy of history in
Habakkuk can be understood as an equilibrium of justice, and when injustice
gets far enough out of balance, God will use the flow of events and powers in
world history to work out justice, which is always fluid and shifting.
Thus, God
could, and it seems did, use Israel to address the evils and injustices that
were rampant among the people in the land promised to Abraham, without
necessarily endorsing everything about Israel as righteous and just. The evils
and injustices were not new then and persisted for centuries into the history
of Israel and Judah, and prompted God to work judgment on them through Assyria
and Babylon. Oppression of the poor, rampant violence, sexual oppression and
infidelity, idolatry, religious prostitution, human sacrifice, and
inhospitality to foreigners were common sorts of practices. To me, this
suggests a way of understanding warfare in human history as cycles of violent
rejection of God’s call to peace in which the conclusion of each war bears the
seeds of the next war.
When Israel had
left slavery in Egypt and stood with the sea in front of them and Pharaoh’s
army closing in from behind, Moses said to them, “Do not be afraid, stand firm,
and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today;
for the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see
again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep
still.” (Exodus 14:13-14) The concept of God fighting Israel’s battles seems
also to be suggested at the defeat of Jericho (Joshua 6) and Gideon’s army with
torches and pitchers (Judges 7). Yes, it is true that the Israelite soldiers
still had to pursue the battle and kill, but God’s role gives it a different
feel than other conventional battles. Regardless of how far that idea can be
pushed, I would contend that no government of Israel or Judah or any other
country after the Babylonian Exile (including the United States and modern
Israel) has any legitimate claim to a divine mandate to engage in war. Sure,
wars continue, and in God’s sovereignty over history, the equilibrium of
justice is kept in some degree of balance.
Until the time
of King Saul, Israel did not have a standing army or stockpile of weaponry. The
pattern presented in the book of Judges was that as long as Israel was faithful
to God, God protected them from external enemies. But when Israel wandered from
God, God allowed local enemies to rise up and oppress them. Then God would
raise up a leader who would recruit a temporary fighting force to liberate
Israel from their oppressors. They would have peace until complacency left them
vulnerable to straying from God’s ways, and the cycle would repeat. These were
not battles with major powers and did not involve all of Israel but specific
tribes in limited locations on an ad hoc basis to address the invasion and
occupation by a neighboring rival. 1Samuel 8 tells how Israel demanded that
Samuel appoint a king for them so they could be like the other nations and
fight their battles. God’s word to Samuel is clear that this is a sign that
they had rejected God (v. 7). Then at God’s instruction, Samuel told them what
having a king would cost them (vv. 11-18). To maintain a standing army, the
king will conscript (draft) their children, raise their taxes, and confiscate
their property.
In counterpoint
to this reality of war is a deep longing for a peace brought by the reign of
God. The image of the Peaceable Kingdom in Isaiah 11 is the vivid touchstone
for this hope. “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down
with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little
child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall
lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child
shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on
the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters
cover the sea.” (vv. 6-9) For me, spiritualizing the longing for peace
expressed by the Hebrew Prophets or postponing it to an almost mythical
messianic (millennial?) kingdom is a rationalization that undermines the very
message of hope and ultimately the Gospel of Jesus.
Some of the
Psalms appeal to God for strength in battle. God “He trains my hands for war,
so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.” (18:34) God is “the one
who gives victory to kings.” (144:10) Others acknowledge that security does not come
from military power but only from God. “A king is not saved by his great army;
a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse is a vain hope
for victory, and by its great might it cannot save.” (33:16-17) “Not by their
own sword did they win the land, nor did their own arm give them victory;
but your right hand, and your arm, and the light of your countenance, for you
delighted in them.” (44:3) The Psalms are filled with longing for peace and
pronounce peace as a common blessing, much as the New Testament Epistles do. “May
the Lord bless his people with peace! (29:11) “May righteousness
flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more.” (72:7) The
Psalms even exhort the pursuit of peace. “Depart from evil, and do good;
seek peace, and pursue it.” 34:14 “Too long have I had my dwelling among
those who hate peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for
war.” (120:6-7)
The Church in History
The Roman
Empire treated the Church with hostility or indifference for its first three
centuries. Very few Christians participated in the Roman military. When
Constantine was engaged in the battle that would insure his becoming the
Emperor, he claimed or believed he saw a sign of a cross or chi rho in the sky
and heard a voice say, “In the sign conquer.” Whatever that was, he adopted his
own understanding of Christianity as his religion of conquest and the god who
would give him victory. On assuming power, he declared Christianity legal and
eventually the religion of the Empire. Soldiers were “baptized” by edict and
declared “Christian.” This introduced a totally different way of thinking about
war and military service for the Church.
This dilemma is
well illustrated in the life of Martin of Tours (d. 397). He was a Roman
soldier who after continuing in military service for some time claimed that as
a “soldier of Christ: it is not lawful for me to fight.” He was charged with
cowardice and jailed. In response, he volunteered to go unarmed ahead of the
troops. The officers were ready to do that when a peace was settled, and Martin
was released from military service. Martin of Tours is known as patron saint of
both soldiers and conscientious objectors. This ambiguity about Martin points
to the ambiguous and self-contradictory attitudes about war and military
service since the time of Constantine.
Starting with
the Desert Fathers and Mothers in the 4th century, monastic
communities kept the Church’s peace witness alive from Constantine until the
rise of the Anabaptists in the time of the Reformation. Victims of all manner
of violence found refuge in the monasteries spawned by Benedict of Nursia
(480-574). As a young man, Francis of Assisi (1181/1182-1226) sought adventure
as a soldier, but when he gave himself to fully following Jesus, he and those
who followed him not only relinquished all violence but even at great personal
risk sought to broker peace. This is evident in the prayer attributed to
Francis that begins, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” Perhaps the pinnacle
of Francis’ peacemaking efforts was his visit with Sultan al-Kamil in 1219, during the Fifth Crusade, in Egypt.
Details are legendary but seem to have grown out of a real event in which
Francis crossed the battle lines and was given safe passage back by the Sultan.
Though it didn’t end the fighting, legend says that after Francis departed, the
Sultan told those around him that if all Christians were like Francis, he’d
consider becoming one. (Unlike Benedict,
Francis didn’t intend to start a movement, but only follow Jesus, and he’d
certainly be appalled that a movement bears his name.) Ignatius of Loyola
(1491-1556) had been a career soldier and had both legs broken by a cannon ball
in 1521. While recovering from surgery after this injury he had a religious
conversion. At first he sought to find a way to use his spiritual energy in the
service of the king and a royal lady, with whom he was in love, but only found
joy and peace by following the example of Francis and devoting himself to
following Jesus. In 1539 he formed The Society of Jesus (Jesuits) which was a
force in the Counter-Reformation. Today Protestants and Catholics alike make
use of his Spiritual Exercises, and
the Jesuits have often been a voice for peace in the world. The motion picture The Mission portrays (without attempting
historical accuracy) the Jesuit passion for peace and justice in the character
of Rodrigo Mendoza, whose journey from soldier to peace agent parallels that of
Ignatius.
As Christendom
developed out of Constantine’s coopting a distorted Christianity as the
religion of the empire, its armies were not only deployed against those who
were perceived to be hostile to this religion, such as Barbarians and Muslims,
the so-called Christian princes waged war against each other. Out of concern
for the unity and prosperity of both church and empire, theologians explored
and formulated a “just war” ethic. They were particularly concerned to bring
the recurrent wars between the rival “Christian” princes of Europe under
control. Interestingly, they drew heavily on pagan, especially Greek, antiquity
more than Scripture. Though the tone is markedly different, the seven classic
principles of just war are paralleled in Deuteronomy 20.
In theory,
today’s democracies and the international community have based their
understandings of war on these classic principles. However, applying them in
practice is far more complex and convoluted. The Nuremberg Trials (1945-1949)
which were intended to bring Nazi war criminals to justice drew on them. A
central principle of Nuremberg was that “following orders” does not exempt even
the most ordinary soldier from moral responsibility in warfare. One who
believes an order is unjust or immoral is expected, even required, to disobey
that order. One implication of that is that the classic just war ethic demands
that government allow for selective conscientious objection. That is that
ordinary citizens and soldiers must object to and refuse service in wars they
believe are unjust. To my knowledge no government has or would ever allow that.
The US conscientious objection laws require rejection of all war. For me, this
meant that even if I espoused the principles of just war ethics, I would still
have to object to all wars since I was denied the moral responsibility to
discern what was just and unjust. As I examined just war ethics in light of
both history and current armed conflicts, I concluded that a consistent
application of the just war principles precluded my participation in any war.
Though just war ethics are
expressed in a variety of ways, I think Arthur Holmes summarized them well in
his 1975 book War and Christian Ethics
(pp 4-5).
·
Just Cause: The only morally legitimate reason
for going to war is self-defense.
·
Just Intent: The only morally legitimate goal in
war is the restoration of peace, with justice for both friend and foe.
·
Last Resort: War should be entered upon only
when all other paths fail.
·
Lawful Declaration: Only lawful governments have
the right to initiate war. It is never the prerogative of individuals or
parties within the state.
·
Immunity of Non-combatants: Those not officially
serving as agents of government in its use of force (POWs, medical personnel,
etc.) should not be permitted to fight or subjected to violence. Certainly,
civilians should be protected.
·
Limited Objectives: With the purpose of peace,
unconditional surrender and destruction of the enemy’s economy or political
institutions are unwarranted objectives.
·
Limited Means: Only sufficient force should be
used to resist violence and restore peace.
As I wrote in
my “Conscientious Objector Journey,” I was aware of precedents in my family and
church for my growing conviction that to follow Jesus called me to embrace
peacemaking and refuse participation in war.
Nevertheless, outside of the historic peace church traditions,
evangelicals during the Vietnam War era were more supportive of those who
enlisted than of conscientious objectors. Yet, there were voices such as Jim
Wallis, John Alexander, and Ron Sider who articulated a peace witness from a
distinctly evangelical perspective. Through them I learned that Dwight L. Moody
had been a conscientious objector (that legal language was not exactly in place
at the time) during the Civil War and refused to enlist in the Union Army,
describing himself as a Quaker in this respect. I can’t imagine he didn’t know
about Anabaptists who would have been closer theological kin to him than
Quakers, but the witness for peace was real. During the Civil War Moody visited
prisons, hospitals, and battlefields as an evangelist and chaplain (though he
didn’t claim that title) and even put himself at some risk to serve wounded
soldiers from both Union and Confederate Armies. He insisted that the
Confederate wounded receive the same quality of medical care as Union soldiers.
He also advocated for more humane conditions in the prisons where Confederate
captives were held. Moody Bible Institute, Moody Church, and Moody Press were
held in high esteem among evangelicals (which continues today), and discovering
how Dwight L. Moody put his peace convictions into action assured me that my
convictions also shared the same evangelical rooting.
World War II is
frequently presented as the irrefutable argument against conscientious
objection. It has sometimes been called “the last good war.” The justice of
freeing the world from the Nazi/Fascist menace was undeniable and obvious to
all, even if some of the specific ways it was waged did not come up to the
highest standards of just war ethics. It shaped the United States as well as
Europe and the whole world to be what we recognize today. The “greatest
generation” came home after the war to build an unprecedented suburban America
that fuels the nostalgia that presumes to make the 1950s into a norm of
greatness that we’d long to continue indefinitely. Exploring the persistent
power of that nostalgia is beyond the scope of this writing. I only mention it
because it confirms the importance of World War II as a defining moment in
understanding attitudes about war.
It is
personally defining for me as well since my father served in the US Navy during
that war. He was a medic (at this point precise military labels are beside the
point) who first served at Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in Oakland, CA. They were
generally caring for the wounded from the Pacific Theater. During that time he
met and ultimately married my mother. After their wedding, he went to Okinawa
to prepare to receive the wounded from the as yet unannounced but still
anticipated invasion of the main island of Japan, knowing the casualty rate would
be extraordinarily high. With the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the
war ended and the invasion never came. As I alluded to in “My Conscientious
Objector Journey,” at about 10-12 years old I asked my Dad to tell me some war
story of his heroism I could share with my friends who were bragging about
their fathers. His reply stunned and stuck with me. He told me that he had
never handled a weapon during his Navy service (except one boring afternoon of
target shoot at the rifle range on Okinawa). He made a point of telling me that
he chose medical duty because he wanted to have at least a small part in
healing some of the wounds of war. He gently let me know that the kind of
celebration of heroism I was asking for was not appropriate.
As I got older
and had to consider my own response to war, his words definitely influenced how
I thought about World War II. I do want to affirm how important it was for the
world to reject the Nazi/Fascist threat. As I learned about the just war ethic,
I recognized that the Allies did not always follow those principles (e.g. the
firebombing of Dresden). I know some would say they could not and should not
have even considered them in view of what was at stake. I am neither a World
War II (or any kind of) historian, nor am I a trained ethicist, so I will
refrain from getting in over my head in waters that others can navigate far
better than I. What I do think is important is that I had to deal with this
profound, life-changing ethical challenge as a quite young adult (from 18 to 23
years old). We knew there was internal opposition to the Nazis in Germany.
Though the Allies gave some support, I questioned whether it might not have
been done in a more effective and ethical way. Could not people of conscience
in Germany and Germany’s neighbors have been a great moral and political force
that would have changed the course of history into a less tragic direction? I
know the supporters of the Allied military action in World War II would answer
with a resounding “No!” But I believe the question yet remains.
As I mentioned
earlier, I determined that the conclusion of my ethical pursuit would have to
be as applicable in a totalitarian state as in a democratic country to be
considered universal. That brought me to consider what could have guided me if
I had been the kind of follower of Jesus I then (and now) aspired to be and
lived in Nazi Germany? Studying German as a language in high school, I had
encountered the White Rose movement, their leaflets, and their martyrs: Sophie
and Hans Scholl, and Christoph Probst. I have been rereading those leaflets and
rediscovering their eloquent power. That Sophie and Hans Scholl, and Christoph
Probst were executed so promptly on their arrest attests to just how afraid the
Nazis were of these young people and their seven essays. Certainly there would
have been other executions, but I have to believe that widespread distribution
of these leaflets and the nourishment of other non-violent resistance groups
could have brought the Nazi regime to its knees, as Gandhi’s salt march did to
the British Empire.
Because my
concern was principally in following Jesus as faithfully as I possibly could,
my considerations of Germany in the World War II era, naturally brought me to
the witness of the Confessing Church and the Barmen Declaration. I find their
experience and legacy profoundly enduring and instructive. They struggled
mightily with how to respond to the Nazis. Though there were some Anabaptist in
Germany (some such as the Bruderhof were expelled so as not to be a challenge
to the regime), the Confessing Church was composed of Lutheran and Reformed
people who opposed the Nazis. They were accustomed to the state church model
and debated among themselves how far they could go in opposing the government.
They did not have a pacifist tradition, and wrestled with how to respond to a
war they considered evil. Not wanting to be identified as either pacifist
Anabaptists (long history there) or as unpatriotic, many of their military age
pastors served in the German Army. The Confessing Church maintained a circular
letter to encourage them to remain true to Christ even as they served. The Nazi
government did penalize some who received and distributed these letters. They
were not nearly as confrontational as the White Rose leaflets, but they still
frightened the Nazis.
The Theological
Declaration of Barmen directly confronted the Nazi regime on theological
grounds in confessional form that Lutheran and Reformed churches were
accustomed to. The confrontation was played out as an ecclesiastical struggle
between the German Christians led by Reichsbischof Ludwig Müller and the
Confessing Church. In the course of this, the leaders of the Confessing Church felt
compelled to have a greater impact on what they increasingly recognized as the
evil of the Nazi regime, and engaged in a variety of ways of trying to
influence events. They debated the ethics of things that might impede
government and military activity. They debated the boundaries of what was legal
and ethical. There were interactions with a group that made an attempt on
Hitler’s life, and debated the morality of tyrannicide. Technically Dietrich
Bonhoeffer was executed for participating in the plot on Hitler’s life, though
whether and how much he was involved is still unclear, as is the opinion as to
whether that would be justified in the name of Jesus. That charge gave the
Nazis a way of eliminating Bonhoeffer, who was increasingly troublesome to
them, with or without the plot. As I investigated the Confessing Church, I
concluded with appreciation for their struggling, that for me to follow Jesus,
I would have to opt out of the government military mechanism as a conscientious
objector.
Challenges from the Culture
I have
discussed the ethics of war with several retired US military officers in the
congregations I have served. The general response to the just war principles
has been that while those are what we might hope for, war is inherently unjust
but a necessary reality; we try to do the best we can. In my conversations with
a variety of people about my conscientious objector convictions, I regularly
encounter what are seen as more pragmatic than theological challenges.
“If everyone
was refused to fight, our country would be vulnerable to any sort of foreign
attack and overrun by the most vicious.” This objection is predicated on the
assumption that the military is actually what keeps a nation safe. I suppose a
case might be made that this might apply to an ad hoc force raised up to repel
an invasion, but I would suggest that a standing military actually endangers us
as it become a temptation for politicians to deploy it for all sorts of reasons
beyond self-defense. I would suggest that the ambition to be a super-power (a
post-World War II, Cold War invention) invites attacks from countries who
resent being dominated and the playing out of super-power rivalries by proxy
wars.
“By being a
conscientious objector you are exercising a personal freedom that is protected
by those who do military service, which takes unfair advantage of those who
take the risks of military service on your behalf.” As in the previous
paragraph, I must say I don’t feel that military might protects my conscience.
Rather, without implying anything about someone else’s conscience, I believe
that being compelled to violate my conscience out of supposed fairness
undermines the integrity of those who would impose their convictions on someone
else.
“Presentations
of the ethics of conscientious objection are little more than rationalizations
for cowardice or just unwillingness to be inconvenienced by military service.”
Historically, US conscientious objectors have gone to prison. In World War I, US conscientious objectors
could be assigned non-combat military roles, but about 2,000 who refused even
that were sent to federal prisons subjected to short rations, solitary
confinement and physical abuse. Due to farm labor shortage, some of them were
released to as farm workers. In World War II about 12,000 conscientious
objectors were given alternate service in 152 Civilian Public Service Camps.
Certainly accepting prison as an act of conscience requires courage, and some
of the non-combat and even alternate service roles still put conscientious
objectors in harm’s way. Though it did not come about and was probably
unlikely, I did accept the possibility of prison or dangerous alternate service
(not to mention being the target of criticism and ridicule) as possible
consequences of requesting conscientious objector classification. I don’t know
that I labeled it courage, but I knew it was not cowardice.
My Peace Witness
If you have
gotten to this point, you know what my convictions are. I will conclude with a
summary assertion and a sort of a disclaimer.
Though it is
the theological rationale for capital punishment in the Hebrew Scriptures,
Genesis 9:6 informs not just my conscientious objector convictions, but a much
broader life stance. “Whoever sheds the blood of a human, by a human shall that
person’s blood be shed; for in his own image God made humankind.” I don’t want
to get sidetracked into the capital punishment debates but only recognize how
seriously taking another person’s life is. The point being made here, early in
Genesis, is that because humans are made in the image of God, killing another
person is tantamount to attacking God – deicide.
On that basis,
along with all of the other things I have expressed here, I am convinced that
killing another person is spiritually far more dangerous than being killed. As
a follower of Jesus I can think of plenty of things worth dying for, but
precious few that are worth killing for. I will refrain from giving examples of
either so as not to get distracted by debating specifics.
I am also
acutely aware that my perspective is a minority view, not only in the country
but also among Christian folk in the US. I have not written this with any
intent or expectation of changing anyone’s mind or to in any way belittle or
attack anyone else’s convictions. I respect without judgment those who
purposely live out their Christian discipleship in military service, but I am
compelled to assert that I could not do that.
I take guidance
for this from Romans 14:5 where Paul wrote, “Let all be fully convinced in
their own minds.” I do ask that those who disagree with me that they respect
that I am sincerely and fully convinced. One of the challenges of becoming
“fully convinced” is that you start to think everyone else should be similarly
convinced. Paul was writing about issues that were debated among Christians of
his day. Any number of variations among Christians today can also be identified
as debatable issues. Again, I will refrain from prompting a distracting debate
by listing today’s debatable issues. Often when someone becomes fully
convinced, they have a hard time accepting the specific issue as debatable any
longer.
Some of my
Anabaptist friends are cringing because conscientious objection is such a
settled conviction in their circles. Now that I am an active part of Milwaukee
Mennonite Church, even preaching in worship, I suppose I might be perceived as
weakening their stance with my attitude toward those who accept military
service. And some of my non-peace church friends are may be fuming at the way I
have handled Scripture and feel I have betrayed my family and my country. Yes,
over the years I have found being in this sort of no-one’s land challenging if
not frustrating. I must say, especially with my pastoral ministry, I have
benefited from respectful conversations about war with convinced military
people. I hope I have strengthened their thoughtful reflection on their own
discipleship. To those with both of these reactions to what I have written, I
say whether you think conscientious objection to war is a legitimately
debatable issue among Christians, it is definitely being debated.
So I come back
to where I started, not only for myself but for all for whom I care deeply. My
principle concern is for all with whom I have relationships of love and
ministry is that we all will be guided by our intent to live in such continuous
awareness of the presence of God that our hearts and characters are in
increasingly congruent harmony with Jesus Christ. For myself and all of us, I
echo again the prayer of Richard of Chichester (1197-1253).
Thanks be to thee, my Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.
