Scripture ~ Psalm 91, I Timothy 6:6-19
Sermon ~ What Kind of War?
Cindy Combs is an associate professor of political science at UNC, Charlotte. She is an academic expert on the issue of political violence. She is the author of a book entitled Terrorism In the Twenty-first Century and is the co-author of the Encyclopedia of Terrorism to be published this December. Journalists are now beating a path to her door in order to gain insights into our current dilemma. So, perhaps you read the transcript of an interview with her printed in The Charlotte Observer in which she suggested that this conflict should not be called a “war.”
In conventional wars the object of attack is a nation state—some identifiable place on the globe. The web of terrorist activity that ignited the vicious attacks in New York City and Washington is clandestine. The architects of violence have found uninvited sanctuary in many nations, including the United States. Most Arab nations desire these criminals to be uprooted and cast from their borders. Dr. Combs argues that the United States government cannot fight a conventional war against terrorism. “I’m concerned that Americans will turn on anyone from [the Arab or Islamic] region and harm a lot of innocent people,” she cautions. “I’m very much afraid the president’s going to be pressured to take military action on a much larger scale than is going to be effective,” she warns.
So far, this administration is proceeding upon the same assumptions that are articulated by Dr. Combs. The first priority is the safety of every citizen. Hijacking is becoming less likely with each passing day. I plan to travel with our mission building team to Haiti on October 12. We Americans, however, will have to sacrifice many of our conveniences and freedoms in order to insure safety. A new era of caution and diminished freedoms has regrettably arrived.
Many surmise that Osama Bin Laden is hiding out in the hills of Afghanistan, protected by the rough government of the Taliban. Conventional wisdom supporting a Twentieth Century war suggests that hundreds of thousands of American troops and artillery be sent to the borders of that distant nation and that the mountainous terrain be saturated with heavy bombing as a prelude to a massive invasion. But Twenty-first Century terrorism cannot be addressed by such antiquated strategy.
In these nineteen days after a wicked assault upon civilian targets in New York City and the bureaucratic center of the American military in Washington we are still terrified. Grief has prompted a ripple effect. The waves fall heavily upon our shore in Charlotte. We either know a family directly affected by these murderous killings or we know someone who has lost a friend, a colleague, or a family member. As we arise from the smoldering embers of the Trade Towers, what is our response as followers of the Prince of Peace? A military response to this horrendous event has begun. Can we in good conscience support a violent response to violence? What shall be our posture as Christians?
The answer for most of us will be contingent upon this consideration: What kind of war?
The lectionary text from the Psalter for this Sunday speaks of God as our only sure defense. “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.’”1
This poem of trust conveys a comparable message as Psalm 46, the poem that inspired Martin Luther’s famous hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” We do not know the historical context of Psalms 91 and 46. But these lines suggest a universal application. The writer describes the life circumstance that all of us will face sooner or later. Three fears are confessed: the treacherous slander of enemies, the contagion of an epidemic, and the peril of a journey.2 The setting could have been a time in which Israel was about to be attacked or the period of the post-exilic return from Babylon when the local population taunted the former slaves who had come into their crumbled city of Jerusalem and expected to build a new temple out of the rubble. The writer of this poetry has no desire to resist the enemy who has slandered him. He merely wants to flee and hid from the enemy. “For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from deadly pestilence,”3 the Psalmist promises with the voice of confidence. God is like a guardian angel with wings of protection: “He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge….”4
“Where was God our refuge on September 11?” we ask in earnestness. Some among us have raised in candor serious questions about the reliance upon the protection of God. Those who labored in the World Trade Towers represented as many as 62 nationalities. Many who perished worked for agencies that enhance the quality of life for people, near and far. Some who died in the flames had entered those buildings in order to save the lives of those who were trapped in the inferno, knowing that they would likely lose their lives in the effort to rescue. Where was God, their refuge?
The Hebrew poet extolled the faithful to keep on trusting, remembering this promise of God: “Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name.”5
Is such a faith naïve? Subsequent Hebrew wisdom literature questioned the notion that the righteous are always protected against the onslaught of evil. Ecclesiastes, “the preacher,” concluded, “all is vanity.”6 This writer concluded that God’s justice is not immediate. In our present moment we cannot perceive the ways of God. We cannot begin to explain human tragedy or the evil that men do. From our limited vantage point, we perceive only vanity and the meaninglessness of existence, not a world order in which all the dots connect. God sees the beginning and the ending; but our vision is partial. Nonetheless, the writer of Ecclesiastes still professes this faith: “All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they continue to flow.”7
This Hebrew preacher is a leader of the Assembly. In Hebrew he is called Qoheleth. The Greek word is Ecclesiastes. Qoheleth does not attempt to explain the temporary victory of evil. He sees vanity and absurdity in a world with innocent suffering. But still God presides over all things. We cannot perceive the end of it all. We do not possess the vision of God. So, Qoheleth draws this grim picture of life: “For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die…a time for war, and a time for peace.”8
The theology of Ecclesiastes is appropriate for the events of September 11. Elie Wiesel, a survivor of the death camp in Auschwitz, would definitely agree. He titled his memoir from the poetry of Ecclesiastes, All Rivers Run to the Sea. After all, who can explain the holocaust—the murder of over six million innocent people? Can we still believe in a God of righteousness six decades after the holocaust? Wiesel answers with a strong Yes! Definitely. Evil has its day. Acts of human evil continue to infest our planet. But God will have the final word. All rivers will eventually run to the sea.
The writer of Psalm 91 was not naive, nor was he passive. He knew from personal experience that violence befalls the righteous. He was personally acquainted with terror, pestilence, and war. But he still trusted in God as his ultimate refuge and fortress.
We who are Christians take seriously the message of Hebrew scripture because this was the Bible of Jesus. Our Lord indeed trusted in the loving kindness of God as his refuge, even until the end. But evil men crucified him. Jesus experienced the pain of these who died in the flaming debris of the upper levels of the World Trade Center. He died their death. But he trusted in the God who was his ultimate refuge, who would rescue and honor him.
The most important thing that the Church can do in response to the tragic evils of September 11 is to proclaim the message of Christ’s resurrection: the fact that Christ lives, that the crucified One has been raised from the dead, and that Christ has triumphed over evil. This message is the ground of our hope and the promise of our deliverance from sin and death.
But what about war? Can we endorse a violent response to violence?
For the first three centuries of Christian history no Christians went to war or participated in the military. To do so is a violation of the Sermon on the Mount. However, when Augustine was bishop in the North African city of Hippo, the Roman Empire had finally become Christian in identity. The Roman government no longer persecuted Christians. But the barbarians were literally at the gates. The imperial city was sacked during Augustine’s lifetime. Thus, Augustine described the conditions under which a Christian may consider participation in war.
First: a Christian as a last resort may use force.
It would be politically popular for our President to order an immediate and full-scale invasion of Afghanistan. But he has refrained from the response of political expediency. It is essential that we build an international coalition against all terrorism. Thus, Toney Blair was in the Congressional chamber for the emergency session. Arab states have joined the United States in denouncement of terrorism. These have called for the Taliban to surrender Osama Bin Laden. We must exhaust all diplomatic measures before resorting to violence.
Second: Augustine insisted that war should be proportionate to the evil remedied.
Modern wars of the Twentieth Century have nearly all erred on this count. Shelby Foote argues that technology for killing ran far ahead of the general’s understanding of military tactics in the Civil War. At 4:30 a.m., April 12, 1861, the artillery opened fire on Fort Sumter in the Charleston harbor. Who among them would have believed that over a million lives would be lost? When the guns of August were fired in 1914, who would have believed that millions of lives would be sacrificed and that the unjust peace terms would make another global war inevitable?
Tamim Ansary, an Afghani-American writer, has lived in this country for 35 years. He despises Osama Bin Laden and his terrorist lackeys. But he knows intimately his homeland. Ansary describes the Taliban as “a cult of ignorant psychotics who took over Afghanistan in 1997.” He observes that Bin Laden is “a political criminal with a plan.” Tamim reports that there are already 500,000 orphans in his impoverished homeland. He asks, “Should we bomb Afghanistan back to the Stone Age?” Answer: this has already been done by the Soviets. Should we make them suffer? Already done. Level their houses? Not many are left standing. Turn their schools into piles of rubble? Done. Eradicate their hospitals? Already accomplished. Destroy their infrastructure? What infrastructure? We can only make the rubble bounce.
Can we attempt to win the hearts of a desperate people? No one has tried to do that.
In Afghanistan only the Taliban eat. Only they have means of travel. If we bomb Kabal, we shall not touch them. We shall only kill innocent people. We Christians can only sanction surgical strikes upon the Taliban and those who are really responsible for the terrorism. In the tradition of Augustine, we must ask, “Is our response to violence proportionate to the evil remedied?”
Third: we should expect to succeed.
I firmly believe that, through a global effort and by the grace of God, terrorism will one day be wiped from the face of the earth. But not in my lifetime. I pray that this goal will be reached during the lifetime of my daughter. A few decades ago, smallpox was a feared blight upon humanity. Through a global effort and perpetual vigilance, this disease has practically disappeared.
Finally: war must never be a crusade; it must be waged in humility and contribute to a new state of peace.
One good thing has occurred as a result of September 11: people around the world are turning to God as the only sure source of security and lasting peace. We are sensing the sacredness of all life, the special gift of family, and the beauty of diversity. Muslims, Jews, and Christians have prayed together in American cities.
At the beginning of this month I discovered made contact with a distant relative whom I learned possesses the Civil War correspondence between my great-grandfather and my great-grandmother. All my life I have wondered about their impressive monument in the Britain Presbyterian Church. No one in the family had even a brief story of oral tradition. On or about September 11 I received in the mail a transcript of the letters. Two of my ancestors are coming alive to me.
On March 1, 1864, three months before A.G. Thompson lost his leg in a battle, my great-grandmother wrote him this: “I do wish this war would stop for I think if it does not we will all starve…. May the Lord watch over you, preserve and shield you, and bring you home safe. This is my dearest desire. Farewell my dear one. Farewell. Oh may we meet soon.”
Somehow these letters put that war, and all wars, in a different context. Let us never forget the context, the purpose, and the scope of the war against terrorism. Let us never adopt the evil ways of our enemy. Let us continue to pray for God’s protection, mercy, and peace in these crucial times.
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