“God and War”
Luke 13:1-9
Third Sunday of Lent - March 11, 2007

David A. Kaden

On September 9, 1880 the Institute of International Law at Oxford University created a manual entitled ‘The Laws of War on Land’.  The manual provided guidelines for how countries should fight wars answering the question:  how should a nation-state lawfully use belligerent force? 

The first sentence of the manual is noteworthy for its frankness.  It reads:  ‘War holds a great place in history, and it is not to be supposed that men will soon give it up -- in spite of the protests which it arouses and the horror which it inspires.’  …It is not to be supposed that men will soon give it up.

A group of academics and historians has compiled some startling information about war in human history:  

Since the year 3600 B.C.—that’s over 5000 years ago—the world has known only 292 years of peace!  During this period there have been over 14,000 wars large and small, in which almost 4 billion people have been killed.  The value of the property destroyed is equal to a belt of solid gold wrapped around the entire world 97.2 miles wide and 33 feet thick.  Since the year 650 B.C., there have been nearly 2000 arms races, only 16 of which have not ended in war.  The remainder ended in the economic collapse of the countries involved. 

Writer and social activist Arthur Koestler once commented, ‘The most persistent sound which reverberates through human history is the beating of war drums.’  Indeed, someone once wrote:  ‘I don't know whether war is an interlude during peace, or peace an interlude during war.’

And as Christians, we’re faced with a three-fold dilemma when thinking about war.  First, the Jesus we follow seems to have been a pacifist.  So, does that mean that we, his followers should be pacifists as well?  Which raises a second issue:  war is a reality of human existence.  ‘It is not to be supposed that people will soon give it up’, says the manual, Laws of War on Land.  And the statistics suggest that war has been more common in human history than peace.  So, we have Jesus telling us one thing, and the reality of human history telling us another.

And lastly, we are faced with a question:  when, if ever, is it okay for Christians to support armed conflict?  (It’s an appropriate time to think about this topic, this Saturday marks the 4^th anniversary of the beginning of the Iraq War.)

Not only are we faced with this question, of when to fight, but in the time of Jesus, many first century Jews were considering the use of force against Rome.  In our text for this morning, while he’s teaching, Jesus gets interrupted by the first century equivalent of a news flash.  The breaking news is that the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate has deployed some of his troops to kill Galilean Jews, apparently while they were offering sacrifices in the Temple.  Luke tells us that their ‘blood had [been] mingled with the blood of their sacrifices.’

From a Jewish perspective this was blasphemous—Gentiles entering the Temple to shed Jewish blood.  Pilate had crossed a line.  He’d violated Jewish sovereignty over the Temple.  His actions demanded a response.  The implied question put to Jesus is:  ‘what should we do about this?’  How do we respond to this act of war on Pilate’s part?

This might be the moral equivalent to the conundrum facing the world in the late 1930s with Hitler.  Or that which the world faced in the early 1990s when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and threatened oil rich Saudi Arabia. 

When, if ever, is it okay for people of faith to respond to threats with the use of force?  When has the line been crossed and the threat become great enough for military force to be used?

Throughout history there have been basically three responses to this question:  Realism, Pacifism, and Just War Theory.

The first response is Realism, and it hasn’t had much Christian support throughout history.  However, according to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, the Realist position is the most influential among political scientists of today.  Realism says that war is an inevitable part of human society, and that war is justified whenever it makes sense in terms of national self-interest.  If a country’s energy supply is being threatened, realism says, war is justified.  If democracy is being challenged, realism says, war might be necessary to restore it, or protect it, or spread it as the case may be.

Prominent Realists in history include:  Machiavelli, Thucydides, Reinhold Niebuhr, Henry Kissinger, neo-conservatives of today.  Realists believe that the world is ‘dog-eat-dog’—a brutal and violent arena—and nation-states must exercise power through force to protect their interests, and the interests of their people.

Philosopher John Stuart Mill was a Realist.  He once wrote:

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things.  The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth [fighting for] is much worse.  The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. 

According to John Stuart Mill, war is necessary; we all ought to have values that we believe are worth fighting for:  religious values, freedom, spreading or protecting democracy.

Realism might be best summarized by General George Patton (WWII) who, in his characteristically straightforward way said, ‘The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other guy die for his.’

An entirely different response to threats is represented by ‘Idealism’ or ‘Pacifism’.  Jenny Teichman, famous Pacifist, summarized this position saying that war is too destructive and kills too many people, so ‘war is always morally wrong’.

Jesus may have agreed.  In Luke’s Gospel Jesus says the only appropriate response to an attack is to ‘turn the other cheek.’  He said that people should love and pray for their enemies no matter who they are.  And in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says that ‘those who wield the sword, will eventually die by the sword.’  Those who live by violence, will come to a violent end.

In our text for this morning, Jesus responds to the news that Pontius Pilate had killed these Galileans by saying, ‘I tell you; unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.’  In the first century, many Jews were itching for a fight with Rome.  They were called ‘Zealots’ and they believed that the only way to free Israel from Roman oppression was to meet Rome’s use of force with force; to fight fire with fire; to wield the sword and liberate the nation.

In his ministry, Jesus encountered a bitter hatred among his fellow Jews for Roman rule.  So, when Jesus says, ‘repent or you will all likewise perish,’ he’s saying, ‘turn away from this war path you are on, or you will all perish at the hands of the Romans like these Galileans did.’  Those who wield the sword will die by it.

Indeed, in 66 AD, not even 40 years after Jesus had spoken these words, his fellow Jews started a war with Rome which lasted seven years.  And when the dust had settled, Jerusalem lay in ruins, the Temple was destroyed, most of Jerusalem’s inhabitants were killed in battle, crucified, or enslaved.  They wielded the sword, and died by it.

Jesus might have agreed with a bumper sticker you can find on some cars in Ithaca, which says, ‘Wage Peace.’

Realism, Pacifism, and lastly, perhaps the most widespread belief among Christians throughout history, Just War Theory.

Originally espoused by St. Augustine around 400 AD, and then expounded on by St. Thomas Aquinas in the 13^th century, Just War Theory has been the foundation for international documents like:  The United Nations Charter and the Geneva Conventions.

Just War Theory declares that sometimes war is morally justified.  Just War Christians take very seriously what Jesus says about violence, but they balance his words with those of Paul, who in Romans 13, assumes that the state has the right to wield the sword.

Ulysses S. Grant summarizes Just War Theory saying, ‘I have never advocated war except as a means of peace.’

Just War Theorists wrestle with the horror of war on the one hand, and the necessity of it on the other.  A common Just War statement is:  It’s hard to see how anything except war could’ve stopped the Nazis.

But because Just War Theorists enter war reluctantly, they have established criteria for when a nation-state can use lethal force: 

First, the war must have a just cause.  Self-defense is a just cause.  Protecting the innocent or stopping genocide are just causes.  Protecting the nation-state’s interests is NOT considered a just cause, nor is spreading one’s form of government considered a just cause in Just War Theory.

Second, a state may go to war if sanctioned by the proper authorities:  Congress, UN Security Council, etc.

Third, war must be a last resort; all other peaceful options must be exhausted first.

Lastly, there must be a probability of success.  In other words, war is pointless if it will result in mass violence and death, but have no positive impact.  Don’t fight, say Just War Theorists, if war isn’t going to improve the situation or, if the negatives outweigh the positives.

Just War Theory is demanding, as it should be given the gravity of war.  It takes seriously both war’s necessity at times, and war’s horror.

So, three philosophies of war:  Realism, Pacifism, and Just War Theory.  And based on the order in which I’ve explained them—Just War at the end—I’m sure you can guess which one I prefer.  This doesn’t mean I’m right.  And it certainly doesn’t mean that you have to agree with me.  Nevertheless, whichever philosophy of war we follow, the reality is that in war people die:  soldiers and insurgents die; civilians and children die; families get ripped apart.  It was Joseph Stalin who once said, whenever someone dies in battle it is a tragedy.

In war people die.

In November of 2004, triage units were set up along the outskirts of the Iraqi city of Fallujah.  Ten thousand U.S. soldiers laid siege to the insurgent-held stronghold, and were preparing to attack.  Hundreds of casualties were expected during the intense urban fighting. 

While Americans back in the States were getting ready for Christmas—shopping and celebrating Advent—U.S. Marines in Fallujah were experiencing the most intense fighting they’d seen since the Battle of Hwey City in Vietnam during the Tet offensive, January 1968.  Nearly 100 U.S. soldiers would die and almost 800 would be wounded during operation ‘Phantom Fury’ in Fallujah.

After the fighting had ceased, one reporter interviewed a Marine officer.  The reporter began by saying, ‘Americans have been fighting for almost two years now in Iraq…’  The Marine interrupted him:  ‘No sir,’ he said sternly.  ‘U.S. soldiers are fighting in Iraq…Americans are at the mall.’

The Iraq war hasn’t cost the average American much.  Yet, every day Iraqi civilians and American soldiers die.  And this loss of life is tragic, no matter which philosophy of war we follow.  And so the question we ask, as Christians, is:  what about tomorrow?  Will war always be with us?  Will there ever be a day when these three philosophies of war become obsolete?  Poet Eve Merriam has written, ‘I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, “Mother, what was war?”’  Novelist Carl Sandburg once said, ‘Someday they'll give a war and nobody will come.’

Is this just wishful thinking?  Or is their hope for tomorrow?  

The Isaiah text, which was read earlier, speaks of a possible future; a day when implements of war—spears and swords—will be turned into hoes and pruning hooks; a possible future when ‘nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore’; a future which is God’s dream for humankind.

Will we live more into God’s future?  Or, repeat the war-torn story of our past? 

With God, we create our future; a future which cannot happen unless we will it for ourselves.  God’s vision, and Isaiah’s vision, must become our vision.  ‘Christians,’ according to one theologian, ‘are “hopers”…[They are] impatient and terribly dissatisfied with the current status of the world.’  As Christians we should want to see God’s future realized in Palestine.  We should long to see Isaiah’s future in Darfur, in Baghdad, in Anbar Province.  We shouldn’t accept the current status of the world.

Scholar Mary Elizabeth Moore once wrote:  ‘Peace will require years of dreaming, hoping, and building an alternate world.’  And I would add praying to that list.  Prayer can move God’s hand toward Isaiah’s vision.

And so we pray for peace because we want to see Sunni’s and Shiites stop the bloodletting.  We pray for peace because we don’t want our Marines fighting in any more Fallujahs.  We pray for peace so families will never again have to experience loss.  We pray for peace no matter which philosophy of war we follow.

AMEN