"Marjorie," asked the minister. "Are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"
"I don't have any," she replied.
The minister looked surprised and said, "I find that very unusual. How old are you, Marjorie?"
"Ninety-eight," she replied.
"Well," said the minister, "how can a person live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy?"
Answered Marjorie, "I outlived every last one of them!"
Enemies are troublesome things, and sometimes it seems that little defeats them except longevity. Enemies with weapons are even more troublesome and have often been the subject of ethical debate among Christians.
The Language of War and Weaponry
It's amazing how much our language assumes enemies and adversaries, and uses the language of war and weaponry in everyday conversation. For example, we talk of shooting down someone's argument. We attack a problem. We talk of doing battle with our kids, and of arming ourselves with arguments, facts, information, coffee, threats, or whatever. We combat illness, charge into a situation, and even fight for justice! And when we fail, we say we bombed, and we take whatever flak comes our way. And the next time the battle lines are drawn and we're in the trenches, we try to set our sights more on target.
Antagonism, retribution, hatred of the enemy, and other nasty things are embedded in our language. When we're not warring with another nation, we declare wars on drugs, poverty, corruption, and crime! The irony is that those who grow proficient in the methods and weaponry of war often use the language of peace. I remember, for example, when the MX missile (1986) was dubbed the "Peacekeeper". Troops armed with nasty weapons that kill and maim are called "peace forces". The idea, of course, is to soften the language, which is why, no doubt, the U.S. State Department decided to replace the word, "killing," with the phrase, "the unlawful or arbitrary deprivation of life". (1984) That's like saying that a person who jumped off a tall building had the misfortune of suffering sudden deceleration trauma, and whose body was then taken to a mortician whose work is described as the final step in the health care delivery system!
Our language and our culture are laden with assumptions that are difficult for a Christian to share. We are urged by our leaders, including authorities who have no business stating their opinions on war one way or another, to "support our troops". A friend (George Epp) in Saskatchewan writes, "I don't know how often I've heard the comment recently that the men and women serving in our military in Afghanistan are 'the cream of the crop' among our citizenry. It's time you people who have given your lives to health care, education, farming in difficult times, upholding justice, driving food, goods and people from place to place, etc. recognized that you are second class! The real Canadians wear uniforms and carry guns and fight for their country." (http://geoe41.blogspot.com/, September 24, 2007)
Rick Hillier, who often appears to be the defacto Minister of Defence, implies that those of us who are not fully supportive of the war in Afghanistan are either willfully or circumstantially ignorant. Someone should remind this fellow of his place, and that logic does not appear to be his first language!
What Is your First Language?
Ted Koontz, a professor at the Mennonite seminary in Elkhart has made some helpful comments about language and war and peace. He suggests that Christians speak two languages, a primary and a secondary language. Our primary language is our faith language, which speaks ultimately to what guides our lives and is at the core of our being. We also use a secondary language, the lingua franca of our everyday world. ("Thinking Theologically about War against Iraq," The Mennonite Quarterly Review, January, 2003, pages 93-108)
Many of you speak two or more languages, so I don't have to belabour the point, but a biblical example of this two-languages idea can be seen in Acts, chapter 17. Paul was before the Areopagus in Athens, and the intellectual currency of the thinkers in Athens was not theological Hebrew proverbs and stories! The Apostle Paul, a bilingual, bi-cultural renaissance man, if you will, cleverly adapted his language to the Athenian context. His theological intent came out of his first language, but he tried to convey it in his second language, the language of Greek philosophical discourse. Paul's opening gambit was the observation that Athenians worship many gods. Paul's first language – not just Hebrew but the theology embedded in it – had no place for such religious pluralism. The first of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:3) reads: "You shall have no other gods before me." Nevertheless, Paul took on this challenge.
Our first language is the language of faith, and it's essential for Christians to remember and to speak our first language. Our first language reminds us of our ultimate commitment, and in matters of war and peace it helps us to withstand the temptation to justify violence. Koontz contends that there is a danger that Christians become fluent in their second language and forget their first language – a development reflected in the Mennonite experience, not in the switch from German to English, but in the transition to positions of power and influence. An increasing number of people in our culture no longer understand the language of faith, and in our eagerness to be intelligible and sound intelligent – and succeed in life – we have adopted the dominant culture's vocabulary, laden though it is with assumptions that do not fit well into our first language.
The Isaiah Glossary
One of the great sources of our first language's phraseology with respect to war and peace – other than the gospel canon – is the Old Testament book of Isaiah. Today's reading is a good example: "Learn to do good; (to) seek justice, (to) correct oppression; (to) defend (the cause of) ([NIV]) the fatherless, (and to) plead for the widow." (Isaiah 1:17) This is peace in the sense of shalom, a full-bodied concept that means much more than the mere absence of conflict.
First of all, Isaiah suggests we have to "learn" to do peaceful things. They require some education and training. Just as learning a language requires some dedication – and for some of us no little frustration – so the tasks implicit in our first language require sustained effort and commitment.
The Isaiah glossary contains a treasure trove of rich phraseology with respect to war and peace: Consider, for example, the classic language of beating "swords into plowshares" (Isaiah 2:4), and the promise that "nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." (2:4) Isaiah gives the tantalizing promise of a "Prince of Peace". (9:6) "Authority," says Isaiah, shall rest upon this figure, not upon generals, even bold and defiant ones. The Prince of Peace will issue in a peace of which "there will be no end" (9:7, RSV), and "establish and uphold it with justice...." (9:7)
Justice is an integral part of Isaiah's vision of peace. "Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, ...to let the oppressed go free?" (Isaiah 58:6) "The Lord of hosts is exalted by justice," says Isaiah. (5:16) The One who is to come, upon whom God's Spirit rests, will bring forth justice...." (42:1) The One who is to come will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth...." (42:4)
The language of peace – shalom – is deeply embedded in the language of Isaiah. Who can forget his indelible images of peace, like a wolf lying alongside a lamb! A leopard lying down with a kid! A calf and a lion and a fatling together, with a little child in their midst! (Isaiah 11:6) Isaiah populates his biblical zoo with a strange assortment of ferocious and gentle animals! (11:7-9) There is also the vision of everlasting peace in Isaiah, chapter 2; the promise that arrogance will cease (2:6-22); and the promise that Jerusalem will be restored. (e.g., Isaiah 4:2-6)
What Is your Preferred Language?
The Isaiah glossary has helped to shape our first language, and Ted Koontz suggests that sometimes it may be more effective to speak our first language, and risk being misunderstood, than to speak our second language, with all of its war-biassed assumptions. Ted once participated in a conference in Jerusalem entitled "The Ethics of War and Peace" (1993). The conference took place between the two Gulf Wars, and was a dialogue among representatives of different Christian traditions, as well as representatives of Judaism and Islam. Ted was one of two pacifists invited to the conference – Stanley Hauerwas was the other – and Ted was anxious about the conference. For one thing, it was a high-powered group of leading academics. For another thing, the popular "humanitarian intervention" in Somalia had just been launched, and the stakes were raised before the conference by an editorial in The New York Times entitled "Pacifists Debate Humanitarian Intervention," in which five conference participants were quoted, all but one of whom thought pacifism was nonsense!
In preparing a preliminary paper, Ted wrestled with how much to speak in his first language, and how much to frame things in the language of public policy in which he was trained as a political scientist at Harvard. The language of political realism and justifiable war would be intelligible to the other participants, but if he spoke about war and peace in his first language he knew his words would sound like so much foolishness! Ted was also concerned about looking odd to his mentor (Michael Walzer) and academic advisor at Harvard, a leading political philosopher and to whom he felt deeply indebted.
Ted arrived in Tel Aviv after more than thirty hours without sleep, only to meet Hauerwas at the airport and discover that Hauerwas was returning to the United States because of the sudden death of his father. So Ted became the primary and only pacifist spokesperson, and when he got to the hotel he felt compelled to stay awake in order to prepare his notes. Just before the conference began he tried to print out his notes, but his printer decided this was a good time to self-destruct!
Ted went over to the conference feeling totally exhausted and defeated, ready to be thrown into an academic lions' den. He began his remarks by saying, "It's obvious that God does not want anything intelligible spoken here from a Christian pacifist perspective". He also decided to risk speaking his first language, and he recounts, "Despite being both very nervous and very unprepared, the next several days were one of the best times of my life. God was gracious. I found myself speaking our first language with much freedom and considerable power in a context where that language is not often whispered, let alone spoken out loud." (Koontz, Mennonite Quarterly Review)
Ted recalls a very long silence in response to his remarks, but gradually people began responding, recognizing that it makes a difference whether or not we believe that there is a God in whom we can place our trust. It became clear how foundational theological convictions shape our views, and many participants expressed their gratitude to Ted for naming God and for using God-language.
May we have the courage to use the language of faith, even though it be perceived as foolishness, for we know that God's wisdom is wiser than human wisdom, and that even in weakness God makes us strong. May God grant us the courage to proclaim Christ's "gospel of peace". (Ephesians 6:15) AMEN
"How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace" (Isaiah 52:7) or "publishes peace". (RSV) How beautiful are those who work to establish shalom in all of its positive dimensions! Isaiah declares: "You shall be called Rebuilders and Restorers." (58:12, my paraphrase) Perhaps Isaiah envisioned vehicles of the future driving around with decals reading "Support our Re-builders," and Support our Restorers!"
Dorothy's grandmother's first language was Pennsylvania Dutch, and although she spoke English while she lived with Dorothy's family, in her final years – as her memory was failing – she fell back on the language most deeply embedded in her memory. It's very important to learn and to preserve our first language, the language of our faith. Though many of us work in our second language, the language of policymaking, we should recognize that it lacks key elements of our first language. The concepts of the Cross, and sacrifice, and suffering do not mix well with the language of "effectiveness," and with the primal urge to preserve ourselves and our way of life. They are unintelligible – unless – unless one believes in the resurrection!
Quotations of Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version, unless otherwise noted.