When Disunity is a Strength

Rev. Dr. William J. Barber, II, leader of NC's Moral Monday movement,
energizing the assembly during his opening address. Photo: www.advocacydays.org

 

Christian unity is not just a thing—it is an event. There is probably no other group that witnesses to this better than the Ecumenical Advocacy Days. Every year, on a weekend in April, Christians sponsored by over 50 faith-based religious societies, denominations and nonprofits, gather together at a hotel in Arlington, VA, to put their faith into action with a common witness.

These people of faith spend the weekend training their minds and opening their hearts for a task. They engage in fellowship, learn about social justice issues, worship together and hear testimonies of the cry of the poor. They develop skills in advocacy and lobbying. This culminates on Monday with the group marching through the halls of Congress, lobbying as a unified faith community on behalf of the poor, the vulnerable and the earth.

This year's topics in brief:

Supporting the Voting Rights Advancement Act [VRA] of 2015.

Throughout U.S. history voting laws have been used to concentrate power by intentionally stripping certain citizens from their most prized and powerful right: the power of the vote. The bi-partisan Voting Rights Act of 1965 was a great step toward eliminating legal barriers to the voting booth. Still after its passage several states continued to deny people the right to vote under the disingenuous guise of reducing voter fraud.

Defeating the Trans-Pacific Partnership [TPP] trade agreement that deepens inequality and prioritizes corporate interests over both God’s creation and people, especially vulnerable communities in the U.S. and abroad. The TPP is a trade agreement between the U.S. and 11 Pacific Rim nations, which will establish trade rules between these countries. It serves primarily the special interests of the privileged.

Pope Francis has called on nations to say no to ‘an economy of exclusion.’ All global economic policies, including trade agreements, should be evaluated on the basis of their impact on the common good of all, especially the marginalized, and the earth. The agreement has been negotiated in secret, largely by corporate lobbyists, and would legitimize unfair labor practices, destructive environmental activities and serious human rights violations. The TPP is harmful to people and to our planet. It threatens health, jobs, food security, and the environment in all TPP countries.

These topics seemed odd to me, at first. Don't get me wrong, I fully support them and urge others to find out more about them (I recommend starting here). What caught me by surprise, though, is that I didn't notice any obvious continuity between them. EAD is usually focused—there are so many problems in the world on any given day, but we resign ourselves to the knowledge that we can't be all things to all people. In light of this, the best strategy is often to pick a single topic and put all our energy into it. This year, we had two topics.

Yes, they are both timely, and yes, they are both important. But voting rights in the USA seems like an odd partner for a bill about international business trade. When we only have a short amount of time to make our points with the legislators office, it seems strange to have such a divided agenda.

Then it hit me: They are both about exclusion. We are about inclusion. Denying people the right to vote excludes them from their right to participation. The TPP, negotiated in secret, carves up the world's resources and leaves the vast majority of people out of it, especially those already poor. It makes perfect sense why the unified Body of Christ would cry out in pain over these issues so strongly.

As an ecumenical assembly, we hope for the Kingdom that will come when Christ reconciles all back to himself. We all pray as sisters and brothers to the same Father. Unity, wholeness, inclusion—these make sense in light of the Revelation of Christ incarnate into humanity, with all of us being part of that Body.

***

Ecumenical Advocacy Days is a powerful witness. Common stereotypes we are fed in the media and elsewhere in society will say that people from different religious denominations simply can't get along. Our experiences tell another story. As it turns out, the fact that we are different makes our witness so much stronger. Let me explain.

Christ inbreaking into history was like the big bang—an explosion that propelled particles far and wide in all directions. Catholics went down certain noble paths. Protestants followed other fine paths. Evangelicals found still more excellent ways to go. Yes, we all have moved in different directions. The Spirit has called us in different ways at different times. Perhaps we even took some wrong turns along the way. 

We believe different things. We worship differently. We sing differently. We consult different experts and even, in some cases, different holy books.

But still, we remained faithful and kept listening to the Spirit throughout history: We prayed. We wrestled with the demands of faith. We are always working it out in fear and trembling. And you know what?

We all ended up at the same place: Ecumenical Advocacy Days.

This is the miracle of Christian unity. This is the message we took to Washington, D.C.

You could say there is chaos in disunity. You could say the lack of Christian unity is one of the most glaring faults of Christianity. Some even use that fact to discount Christianity. But we are people of the Resurrection—we trust that God can transform even the most hideous tragedy into a victory. 

When people from different places, different churches and different walks of life and are all led to make the same pronouncements on matters of peace and justice, that is not chaos. No, there is another way to understand that: This, my dear friends, is a Holy Spirit moment. Our diversity then showcases our strength, because it is exactly because we are different that makes it so much more compelling when we do come together in unity.

It reminds me of the Rascal Flatts song: God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.
 
We went down different paths and still arrived at the same place. This is robust, fully free diversity in reconciled unity. We are not united because we have fused together into some monolithic entity. Rather, we are united because we are going in the same direction, sometimes taking different means and methods to get there, but we can still be companions for each other along the way.

If you feel moved to talk to your legislators about these issues, consult the instructions on the link above.  Call, email, Tweet or stop by and visit your legislators to talk to them about it! Or better yet: Find others who are already doing this work and join your efforts to theirs!

Goodbye, Just War Theory—We Never Really Knew You

"Prophets of Nonviolence - King, Day and Gandhi"
by Sr. Catherine Martin, O. Carm. Used with permission. 
http://sistersofmountcarmel.org/catherineart/catherine.index.htm

 

The Vatican is holding its first ever conference to evaluate its long-held doctrine on just war theory. Articles are here and here. First described by St. Augustine in the 5th century, just war theory has long been controversial. It describes circumstances whereby the Church can morally sanction some violence and war. While its focus in recent years is primarily on self-defense, many have treated it as a blanket endorsement for political states to make decisions at whim about going to war.

I applaud efforts to take a deeper look at whether some forms of violence, up to and including war, can be justifiable from the standpoint of the Revelation of Christ. You will not find me shedding any tears if we find a more positive, peace affirming framework.

That being said, I can't help but wonder if we would not be—pardon the expression—jumping the gun if we were to abandon just war theory.

It feels like breaking up with a girlfriend before we have ever really gotten to know her in the first place.

***

When I read closely the conditions whereby violence could be allowable under just war theory, I actually find a very pro-peace doctrine. You simply cannot meet the conditions otherwise. It takes a little bit of prayerful meditation to see this, but it does not require any theological slight-of-hand tricks. It is simply a matter of taking the conditions seriously and asking what must be done in order to meet them. The demands it asks of us are not easy, but the logic itself is straightforward.

To meet these conditions, individuals and nations must be active and engaged in the cause of peace. According to just war theory, violence is only an option as a last resort to protect the common good (#2263). It is entirely subsumed under the moral framework of self-defense. In this regard, it is very similar to the theology of the death penalty.

I will not do an exhaustive text study here, but here is a sampling of lines straight out of the Catechism:

• All citizens and all governments are obliged to work for the avoidance of war (#2308).

• Peace is not merely the absence of war (#2304).

• Peace cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and the assiduous practice of fraternity (#2304).

• Peace is the work of justice and the effect of charity (#2304).

• Injustice, excessive economic or social inequalities, envy, distrust, and pride raging among men and nations constantly threaten peace and cause wars. Everything done to overcome these disorders contributes to building up peace and avoiding war (#2317).

If violence is determined to be necessary to protect the common good, there are very stringent criteria to limit the scope and evaluate the aims of said violence (#2309).

All this is to avoid committing the mortal sin of murder, i.e. breaking the 5th commandment. Given the dignity of life and care for the land, the goal is to do the minimum violence necessary to protect the common good and nothing more.

The above offers a rich call-to-action for justice and peace. Perhaps it's not the most imaginative or daring pathway to peace, but in a ramshackle sort of way, it promises to get us there. However, the Church and churchgoers often treat it like decorative wallpaper.  It's as if those composing it were just waxing poetic about peace in the abstract.  It's as if it came with an unspoken, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, nobody is expecting us to actually take this seriously. The demands of peace as spelled out here get very little attention in Sunday homilies.

To the contrary, these are serious statements that demand concrete actions. In fact, to come anywhere close to meeting these conditions, society would have to undergo a near-total overhaul. It is not just about violence, but also poverty, human rights, respect for the land and a bubbling-over infrastructure of harmony among all. These statements reject passivity and instead call us to be active and proactive for the cause of peace.

If we are to tackle such endemic sins as pride, economic injustice and social inequality—and if "peace cannot be attained" without the litany of terms presented above—then this is no side task to schedule between brunch and golf on a Saturday afternoon. From the level of individuals to governments, we are all called to lifelong, continual efforts not just to avoid war and violence, but to create the conditions for peace.

Before violence can be a last resort, all other efforts must be tried thoroughly and repeatedly. That's simply what it means to be a "last resort"—by definition.

***

Yet, we have named a doctrine by its option-of-last-resort.

Let's say I'm hungry. I plan to eat after work. There is meatloaf in the fridge at home. If it is spoiled, there is also some leftover fish. If that is also no good, I could visit one of a dozen restaurants down the street. If I cannot find any money, if each of my credit cards is declined or if all the restaurants are closed by the time I get off work, I could, as a last resort, simply fast for the evening and make plans to eat tomorrow. Taken together, I would not call this my "evening fasting plan." No, this is my "evening eating plan." If all else were to fail, I may have no other choice but to fast—but make no mistake, my plan is to eat, and there is a plethora of options available to make that happen. Fasting is highly unlikely and hardly worth mentioning, but it could, theoretically, happen.

So by a similar token, why is our "peace plan" called the "war plan?" It's misleading at best and contradictory at worst. Putting that much attention on the option-of-last-resort does not express much faith in the primary goal, which is the attainment of peace.

It is not surprising that just war theory has been so poorly understood, because it is quite simply poorly named. It vaguely pairs the word "just" alongside "war." It is not helpful to be so ambiguous on a topic that is so grave.

It might make sense to a theologian to start with the exception and work backwards to discover that this doctrine, which outlines the conditions whereby war could potentially be justified, is really about peace. Like I said before, it does not take extensive theologizing to get there.

Unfortunately, however, what I have often witnessed is that people hear the term “just war” and do some mental gymnastics along the following lines, saying:

‘Just War’ means the Church has implicitly justified war itself, is opting out of any and all decision-making as to the morality of any specific war and leaves all considerations entirely to the discretion of the political state. The Church therefore promises to turn a blind eye and not intervene while the state does what it wishes.

That is absolutely absurd. While it may be the role of the state to ultimately make the decision to go to war or not, to think that the Church should not weigh in on matters of life and death and advise on the morality of a war is unthinkable. Yet, turning a blind eye is exactly what many demand of the Church in light of just war theory. It is unconscionable that the Church would simply abandon its prophetic voice, shrugging its proverbial shoulders, resigning itself to the notion that war is simply the "state's decision."

Just war does not mean that all war is justified and that the Church washes its hands of any critical feedback for the decisions of a political state to enter into a war. It simply means that the Church holds for a legitimate right to self defense that could include violence as a last resort.

The "just war" name sounds like a marketing trick right out of the Karl Rove playbook. It's reminiscent of "right to work" laws, which have virtually nothing to do with the lofty ideals of "work" and "rights." "Just war" comes across like a blank check for war, but if you read the fine print, there is hardly any conflict that could possibly meet its conditions. In the confusion, the Church is locked in an analysis paralysis, rendering itself ineffective at being a prophetic voice to the state. In my more cynical moments, I sometimes wonder whether this confusion was in the plan all along.

***

Imagine archeologists from the future figuring out how to fly a 20th century airplane having only discovered a small portion of the instruction manual for guidance—the section on how to parachute out of a failed flight. They could piece together what the plane was supposed to do by taking the emergency exit instructions and working backwards from there: If we parachute when X, Y and Z are failing, then we can deduce that X, Y and Z need to be operational, even though it is unclear from this portion of the manual how to make that happen.

This is the problem we run into by building a theology of peace out of just war theory. "Just war" is the failsafe when all else has fallen short. We need to be much more explicit about what we mean by "all else." Just war is not cut out to be our entire peace plan but rather just an addendum.

Differently said: I would drop out of flight school if the instruction manual were entitled "Just Parachuting." Likewise, it's hard to take the Church's mission of peace seriously when the textbook has the words "Just War" on the cover.

***

War and violence sound like terrible things the Church has no business getting involved in, but there is a fundamental moral question in play: Is violence ever an allowable option or does the Christian call require total nonviolence in all circumstances? Will some violence end up reducing the total amount of violence? Just war theory takes the sobering view that violence will be almost impossible to avoid in this broken world.

The difference between just war theory and total pacifism is slim. It is a scandal that this remains an untold story of Catholic theology. Both approaches requires a tireless pursuit of peace. The only difference is that one side will allow violence as an absolute last resort while the other will not. In either case, both sides should look virtually identical to the casual observer, as they would be spending the overwhelming majority of their attention on fostering peace.

I would like to think that the question of violence is something that people of goodwill can struggle with. I hope so, because I struggle with it myself. What draws me to consider total nonviolence is that many of the greatest spiritual leaders throughout history—in the tradition of Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King, Jr., St. Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, or even, dare we say, Jesus of Nazareth—have opted for it. Also included are many in the Anabaptist and Catholic Worker movements who have personally shared with me jaw-dropping stories of their commitment to nonviolence. Still, I am not there, yet.

As food for further discussion, I am willing to consider that maybe the difference is not so slim—maybe there is a Grand Canyon-sized gap between total nonviolence and violence as a last resort. Maybe the latter, even by opening the door to violence just a little, misses the Way of Jesus by a long shot.  Perhaps that is why just war theory has not been able to be the vehicle for peace that it promises to be on paper. That is a discussion for another time, but it is worth at least suggesting it here.

***

We seem to focus almost all of our entire theological attention on whether or not violence can be justified in some situations and very little attention on the overwhelming Christian duty to create conditions where war and violence either cannot exist or are avoided when they do. This involves a serious change in culture, adoption of preventative measures and fostering the well-being of the people and land.

All too often, theological debate around just war theory centers around the tactical considerations when a nation is on the brink of war. There is far too little discussion about what it means to promote peace and avoid war in a long-term, proactive way. That’s the piece we almost completely ignore when we talk about just war theory. Just war is not something to bring out of the closet when an enemy army is marching on our gates, but rather its mandate for a lifestyle of peace is something to consider each day.

In order to take just war theory seriously, we must promote peace vigorously and support the economic initiatives, human rights and fraternal harmony necessary for the avoidance of war. Just because there is a slim allowance of some violence as a complete and total last resort does not mean that Church just throws up its hands and turns a blind eye to all state-sponsored decisions for violence. That is a logical fallacy that is all too often the narrative around just war theory.

***

Perhaps Pope Francis said it best:

A person who thinks only of building walls, wherever they may be—and not bridges—is not a Christian.

Yes, there may be a time for a wall. Perhaps we can find ourselves so backed into a corner that a literal or metaphorical wall is the only legitimate response to a given situation. Nevertheless, I will never be convinced of the need for a wall until substantial efforts have first been made to build a bridge.

Just substitute “waging wars/peace” for “building walls/bridges” and the same applies. Whether you are against all wars or whether you concede some allowance for them, make no mistake—the Christian life is one of fostering peace. The debate about limited violence vs. total nonviolence is important, but let's not allow that to obfuscate this more unifying point.

***

Keeping war and violence as last resort options is based on the assumption that nonviolent means of self defense will not be as effective as violent ones. Given the stunning success of movements for peace around the globe in the past century, it is worth asking whether we could ever exhaust the potential for nonviolent means of solving conflicts. Furthermore, given the immensely destructive capabilities of modern military systems, we should also consider whether the violence of modern war could ever be restrained enough to meet the stringent requirements of just war theory. In other words, a "just war" may be as mythical as a unicorn, a purely theoretical construct but not something we are ever going to see in real life.

***

The question may not be whether just war theory is wrong but whether it has ever been taken seriously in the first place. I am lead to a robust vision of the peaceable kingdom the deeper I delve into it. But given the way it has been used and misused to justify all sorts of violence, as well as it's extremely indirect—or downright misleading—name, perhaps it is long overdue for a rebranding.

So maybe breaking up with just war theory is a good idea. Perhaps she is not so bad after all, and it may be a shame we never saw her full potential, but let's face it: If we don't know her after 1,500 years, perhaps we never will.