What to Say, What to Do
Sermon preached by Dr. Daniel R.
Anderson-Little, Pastor
Trinity Presbyterian Church,
University City, Missouri
September 29, 2002
Matthew 21:23-32
[10-7-02]
"I just don't know." I can't recall how many times I have said
that and I have heard that said in the last couple weeks when the
impending war with Iraq is discussed. What do you think we will do? How
do you think the Iraq will react? What do you think this will do to our
efforts to stop terrorists? Do you really think Saddam has the bomb? If
he does or if he did, do you really think he would use it? What do you
think we should do? "I just don't know."
Have you found yourself saying that? "I just
don't know." Why do we have so much trouble knowing what to say and
what to do about what is going on in the world and what the current
administration's approach is to the current crisis? Instead of jumping
into the debate, instead of adding our voices, we have remained
curiously silent. I am not comfortable with that silence; that silence
does not stand in the mighty river that flows from the prophets and the
apostles, from the patriarchs and matriarchs of our faith; but in times
when I do not know what to say, or what to do, I tend to retreat to the
security of silence.
I believe that we have been silent for a variety of
reasons. First of all, the issues are highly complex and our knowledge
about the world is partial. We don't know the connection between the
terrorists whom we know want to do us harm and Iraq. And unsubstantiated
presidential assertions that the link exists does little to help the
rest of us form meaningful opinions. Every course of action is fraught
with danger and terrible consequences, and we feel unprepared to offer
opinions.
The ongoing debate (if you can call it that) in the
country certainly encourages silence when the President has the audacity
to accuse even the United States Senate of not being "interested in
the security of the American people" (New York Times,
September 26, 2002). Of course the administration must promote its
policies, but comments questioning other Americans' loyalty and concern
only serve to warn people off from serious debate.
And of course, there is September 11. A year later, we
are still outraged. The enormity of the death and destruction still
weigh heavy on us. This past week I had a long conversation with a
friend whose brother-in-law was killed in the World Trade Center
massacre. She spoke of the incomprehensibility of the awful events and
the desolation that has resulted. And she feels like a lucky one: a
month after the attacks, rescue workers found her brother-in-law's
remains, or what was left of him. "At least they found his wedding
ring," she said. We not only want to strike back, we want to make
sure that such a slaughter never happens again. That impulse to make the
terrorists pay is a healthy and natural impulse, and makes it more
difficult for many of us to know what to say and know what to do when
the drumbeats of war begin to pound.
We live in a dangerous and highly charged time, when
little is certain. At the very time when our voice, our action is
needed, it is easy to choose silence and let history march forward at
its own inevitable pace. At least it has been easy for me to
choose----as if I needed one more thing to have to think about and
perhaps even get in trouble for.
It was easy for me until this past week when I read
something that shook me to my core. Breyten Breytenbach is a South
African poet and teacher who spent seven years in apartheid jails
convicted of, you guessed it, terrorism. Last week, in The Nation
magazine he wrote a Letter to America. Breytenbach wrote:
Your history has shown how powerful a moral
catharsis expressed through popular resistance to injustice can
sometimes be; I have in mind the grassroots opposition to the Vietnam
War. And all along there was no dearth of strong voices speaking firm
convictions and enunciating sure ethical standards.
Where are they now? What happened to the influential
intellectuals and the trustworthy journalists explaining the
ineluctable consequences of your present policies? (And here is the
part that nailed me to the wall) Where are the clergy calling for
humility and some compassion for the rest of the world? ... Are these
voices stifled? Has the public arena of freely debated expressions of
concern been sapped of all influence? Are people indifferent to the
havoc wreaked all over the world by America's diktat policies,
destroying the underpinnings of decent international coexistence? Or
are they perhaps secretly and shamefully gleeful, as closet supporters
of this Showdown at OK Corral approach? They (and you and I) are most
likely hunkered down, waiting for the storm of imbecility to pass. How
deadened we have become! (The Nation, September 5, 2002)
We have hunkered down, hoping that this dangerous
storm will pass without maiming us, hoping that things will work out,
assuming that we don't know what to say, that we don't know what to do.
But the fact of the matter is, we do know what to say and we do know
what to do. And as Jesus reminds us in our gospel lesson this morning,
we speak and act with an authority that comes from God -- not as people
who know what God thinks about every action and issue, but as a people
who know that God created the entire world to live an a peaceful and
just community. Because we worship and serve this God, and because we
speak and act with authority, the church is not, as Breyten Breytenbach
suggests, narrowly defined by nationalism and national interests, but by
a global concern for all of God's creation. The church may not have
specific policy recommendations, but we can and we must help frame the
terms of the debate that consider not only American interests, but also
the very real human interests of people all over the globe. And so we
must speak and we must act.
If the church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill its
calling, it must insist that war is not a commodity to be sold like
toothpaste or antacids, but that it is a terrible choice that must be
undertaken only in the most extreme circumstances. We must expose the
crass attitude about war that was expressed this summer when White House
Chief of Staff Andrew Card said that the President wouldn't start
promoting the war until September because, as he stated, "From a
marketing point of view, you don't introduce new products in
August" (New York Times, September 7, 2002).
If the Church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill its
calling, it must insist that we talk about the whole consequence of war.
We have so merged Saddam Hussein with the Iraqi people that we talk
about them as one and the same. We will get Saddam, we will make him
pay, we will remove him. But these phrases serve to sanitize what will
really happen: a whole nation will be gotten, innocent women and
children will pay, many more people than Saddam will be removed. In
times of war innocents do die, so we must always choose that option as
the last and least desirable choice available to us. If we need any more
evidence that violence is a poor tool to change people's hearts and
minds we only need to look at Israel. The violence committed by Israelis
and Palestinians has continued to spiral upwards, and it has brought the
sides no closer; it has only hardened positions and made peace more
elusive.
If the Church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill its
calling, it must insist that we see our current conflicts as global
conflicts. We talk about September 11 as an attack on America, and it
certainly was. But it was also an attack on the world. Nearly 500
foreigners coming from 91 countries were killed in the Trade Center
attack. If the 20th Century was the American century, the 21st
Century will be the Global Century. We are intricately interconnected.
We need one another in ways that we never imagined before. America can
talk about unilateralism and pre-emptive strikes, but that will only
remove us farther from other people of good will, who live under the
same threat, but who see their destiny wrapped up with ours. In the
Global Century, we will have to see the world from other's perspectives,
we will have to understand other world views, we will have to discover
other ways of living and relating to one another.
If the Church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill its
calling, it must insist that we see the interconnectedness of all that
threatens life on this planet. We must not only seek to secure a world
where terrorism does not exist, but to build a world where the water is
pure, where the air is clean, where people of all places have their
basic needs met. Environmentalism and economic justice cannot be treated
as topics for another day; they are part and parcel of the current
debate. Jesus said, "For what will it profit them if they gain
the whole world but forfeit their life?" (Matthew 16:26).
If the Church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill its
calling, we must call all nations to account. While the United States
has promoted many wonderful qualities around the world, and has helped
millions of people gain freedom and dignity, we must also remind
ourselves that we do not always act from the purest motives. The closer
the conflict to oil, the quicker we are to respond. When a despotic
dictator suits our purposes, we are curiously silent about "regime
change" preferring to use back channel diplomacy and the positive
effects of free trade. As a nation, we have and continue to subject a
portion of our nation to substandard living. This does not disqualify
America as a moral force for good; but it should temper our rhetoric and
remind us that we only have part of the truth for human good; we need
the rest of the world.
If the Church of Jesus Christ is going to fulfill it
calling, we must be about more than words. In the Book of Revelation
there is a vision of the New Jerusalem: "Then the angel showed me
the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the
throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the
city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve
kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the
tree are for the healing of the nations." (Revelation 22:1-2). As
the people of God, we are called to be that river that flows forth from
this place, not only speaking of peace, but being the vehicles of God's
healing -- a healing that extends not only to the shores of our nation,
but even as far as Iran and Iraq.
What do we say? What do we do? We engage in the debate
-- and if there is no debate, we insist on having one. We speak of the
God who loves peace, the God who cares for every person around the
world. We speak of a vision where people have the dignity and respect
that God intends for all. And we act. We write letters, we promote peace
locally and globally. If you want to work with others in this church, in
two weeks on October 13 there will be a lunchtime gathering at Do Kirk's
house -- you are invited to get involved. Like a generation ago, when
this country had descended into another attempt to settle international
conflict with violence, we will have to do more than just worry about
it. We are called upon to speak and to act.
Thirty years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
addressed the church about speaking up and acting up for peace. Dr. King
stated:
I must confess, my friends, the road ahead will not
always be smooth. There will be still rocky places of frustration and
meandering points of bewilderment. There will be inevitable setbacks
here and there. There will be those moments when the buoyancy of hope
will be transformed into the fatigue of despair. Our dreams will
sometimes be shattered and our ethereal hopes blasted. Difficult and
painful as it is, we must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious
faith in the future. And as we continue our chartered course, we may
gain consolation in the words so nobly left that great black bard who
was also a great freedom fighter of yesterday, James Weldon Johnson:
Stony the road we trod, bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet, with a steady beat, have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered;
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.
(Sermon "Where Do We Go from
Here?")
This is our journey; this is our hope.