April 26, 2015

Wilf Holt

Easter 4

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In our Gospel reading today we hear of the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. For some these passages can lead to images of atonement – how Jesus became the sacrificial lamb. We hear of the wolf and the hired hands, we hear of sheep that don't belong to the fold – again for some useful images.

There is another image – the image John paints of Jesus' being prepared to face danger and death for the sake of his disciples and on this ANZAC weekend it's that image I would like to explore a little.

In my last year at St Johns College I spent three months at Auckland hospital completing my CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) training. I was given responsibility for 2 wards – a general surgical ward and a geriatric ward on the top floor. I remember initially being wary of the prospect of visiting and talking with the top floor "oldies". Whilst I'd had considerable experience in working with families, children and adults as a therapist and counselor – I hadn't ever worked with anyone older than their mid SO's. My only real experience with those of ancient years was hospital visiting with my mother or father as a child. Dad regularly visited in his roll as a RSA committee member or as the almoner of the local Masonic Lodge – handing out bars of chocolates and cigarettes – as was the practice in those days. Mum visited in her own capacity bourn out of a practical Christianity that saw no new family arrive in the town without a cake being quickly produced or anyone who was ill not receiving a visit – either at home or in hospital.

And it was hospital image that stayed with me. The rather intimidating matrons with their crisp demeanor only matched by the crispness of their starched cotton, the all pervading smell of J's Fluid (or something similar), the echoing dimly lit corridors and the hushed bedside conversation.

Resigned to my ward allocations, I quickly established myself in the general ward and then 2 days later walked up the stairs to the 10th floor. (I guess dragging my heels a little as I didn't take the lift.) I opened the ward door – scanning for the whereabouts of any crisp matrons and made for the nearest bed.

The bed was occupied by a clear eyed and rather well looking English lady. I introduced myself explaining that I was a student on CPE, had been ordained in the Anglican Church and that I would be visiting the ward on a regular basis.

Quick as a flash she replied in a strong and precise voice, "I've had nothing to do with the Church since the Bishop blessed the bombers".

Right – I thought – I knew wards like this could be dangerous places – especially theologically. What do I say now?

Hmm – Great I thought – I'd just recently handed in an assignment concerning the principles and conduct of Just War – perhaps I could explore that with her. You know the theory – perhaps to recap.

Just War – A body of Christian thinking that sought to answer the simple question "can a Christian ever justifiably take part in violence, in war"?

I could explain that much of what we today recognize as a Christian Just War tradition stems from the thinking and writing of people such as St Augustine of Hippo and Ambrose of Milan. And that as the needs of Christian states changed over time the church through Councils, cannon law and its own thinkers developed the tradition that we now know as a Doctrine or theory of Just War. A Doctrine that offers a starting point as to whether a war could be morally justified and if so how was it to be conducted.

The principles of the justice of war are commonly held to be:

1. Being a last resort. A just war can only be fought once all peaceful options have been discarded – war only as a last resort.

2. Being declared by a proper authority. Any just war can only be persecuted by a legitimate authority.

3. Having just cause. Self defense or defense of others less capable of defending them selves. Needs to be in response to a wrong suffered.

4. Possessing right intention. The primary objective of a just war is to re-establish peace. In particular, the peace after the war should exceed the peace that would have succeeded without the use of force. The aim of the use of force must be justice.

5. There must be serious and genuine prospects of success. A nation can not initiate a war for jingoistic or self serving political ends.

6. The end being proportional to the means used. The violence in a just war must be proportional to the casualties suffered. A nation cannot enter into a war with a hopeless cause. The nations involved in the war must avoid disproportionate military action and only use the amount of force absolutely necessary.

Then I thought – probably not a good idea – that's a bit dry given her situation, and Just War theory does seem to be honored more in its breach by even those nations that proclaim to be motivated by some Christian principles. And experience also suggests that Governments seem to be more motivated by political realism – rather than striving for moral decision making when contemplating the waging of war.

So how to respond?

Is she saying that she disregards the use of any violence as an option for humans to solve their disagreements or problems? Or is she saying that to bless a bomber was going too far – that the church had somehow gone a bridge to far by associating inappropriately with weapons of war. Perhaps blessing just the pilots might have been ok. No-No a bit provocative perhaps.

What else – yes I thought what did the early church fathers have to say on the matter – those who were closest in time to the life of Jesus?

Well initially they didn't have much to say- but as the new church began to mature we know the Patristic writers had objections to participation in war.

1. Rome's persecution of Christians

2. Fear of idolatry and divided loyalties in military service

3. Immorality amongst soldiers

4. Aversion to bloodshed

5. Anticipation of the immanent end of earthly society and suspicion of the world.

Perhaps I could talk about the struggles Christian in adjusting to living within the Roman Empire – an imaginary dinner table conversation perhaps involving a young 18 year old Christian beseeching his family to be allowed to join the fire brigade. The anguish of the parents at the thought of their son joining the army – for it was the army in those days that provided roman fire brigades.

Then I thought a quick biblical exegesis covering the main arguments for or against the use of violence might be appropriate. Perhaps I could outline some of those biblical passages indicating that participation in war was not necessarily forbidden to Christians.

Luke 7:9 The healing of the centurions servant.

The manner in which Jesus spoke to the centurion at Capernaum "I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel." Lets remember that the Centurion makes it plain that he is someway up the military hierarchy – "For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, 'Go, ' and he goes; and that one, 'Come, ' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and he does it." Not just a soldier – an officer.

Romans 13:1-7

Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment.

Pay to all what is due them – taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due.

Peter 2:14

For the Lord's sake accept the authority of every human institution whether of the emperor as supreme, or of governors.

No I thought – better not – I'm not sure if this lady still regards the scriptures as of any value. If I am to assist this woman as a chaplain then I need to respond to her in her own situation,

Then I thought – I'm not sure if this lady still regards the scriptures as of any value. If I am to assist this woman as a chaplain then I need to respond to her appropriately.

Perhaps I could encourage her to talk about her response to the bishop's actions.

As it turned out we had many conversations. She talked about being brought up 'in the faith' and regularly attending and enjoying church – until that moment when she heard of the bomber blessings.

SHE REMEMBERED BEING SHOCKED AND NOT QUITE KNOWING WHAT SHE WAS SHOCKED ABOUT.

She talked about the awfulness of what was happening in her country and in Europe. She spoke in a manner that initially indicated confusion as to what she should think. I very quickly realized however that this wasn't confusion – she was very clear on many things.

She spoke quietly about the evilness of war, the awfulness of losing family and friends, the fear of losing the war and what that might mean. She talked about knowing that someone had to stop Hitler that someone had to fight. She knew that her people needed to apply every energy to waging and winning this war.

She also spoke of how her village vicar had been part of her and her family's life since her birth, of the same bishop who had confirmed her and of the church that had appeared to abhor violence – and here it was blessing the bombers – would they be blessing individual bombs next – the very people who spoke of love, forgiveness and peace. She spoke of the turmoil that that these conflicting emotions and observations had for her.

This seemed to be a deep metaphysical turmoil – how to reconcile the message of peace and love to the reality of what was happening around her and her family.

But these were conversations yet to come.

Then I thought that perhaps I could talk about my own thoughts and feelings concerning participation in war. About how I had joined the army as an 18 year old and how I remembered being disappointed at missing out on Vietnam – the last draft headed out to Vietnam a week after I arrived at Waiouru to begin my basic training. I could tell her about my gratefulness years later at not going to Vietnam. I could talk about the awful things that happened in that war – on both sides.

I could talk about my sons who I hoped would never have to fight and yet knowing that I would be immensely proud of any of them if they did join the military. I could talk about how difficult it would be to balance pride and fear at the same time.

As it turned out one of my sons did join up and trained as a mortar man and as a peace keeper, subsequently serving in that capacity in the Solomon Islands. I know from a fellow St Johns student how grateful the Solomon Islanders were at the presence of our soldiers. The real difference the peacekeeping force made in their lives.

I could talk about the traditional blessing of the Colors – the regimental flags and Guidons of military units. How those Colors helped develop and maintain esprit de corps of the members of that unit – especially important when feelings of loyalty and responsibility to a common group is so important.

I could talk about how I would struggle to bless personal weapons but how I could and have blessed individual items such a pounamu. Perhaps I could explore the conversation I might have if asked to bless a pounamu mere.

I could explain that bombers or aircraft were in fact like regimental colors to the air force – as guns are to the artillery.

In the end I said none of these things.

"I've had nothing to do with the Church since the Bishop blessed the bombers" she said.

I didn't really say anything – I just said a ah – not the condemning sort of Aha, more the collegial questioning aah ha.

She replied with a "hmm" sort of sound – not a condemning sort of "hmmp" more a "hmm" lets take this a little further.

And we did for the next few days – talking much about the stuff we've just talked about and more.

Talking about how important it was to talk of these things – to agree to disagree, and despite differing points of view we knew we held common hopes and could pray as one about the same things. We didn't talk too much about what might be – only how over the years she had tried to encourage the ways of peace in her own small way – peace in the village, peace in her family – perhaps more strongly because the Bishop had blessed the bombers.

We chatted about all this and more.

Then one day she was gone.

Amen.