This Lent is profoundly disheartening. Battles enflame globally, with the clamour in Israel/Palestine still persisting, even its fatalities no longer make the column inches in the media. Conflict is despicable, with the impoverished suffering most acutely. No party emerges victorious from war, as even securing the entirety of the Earth is futile if one loses their own soul, as per Jesus’ caution. Concurring with Diana Butler Bass, “War is a grave sin and a manifestation of malice, yet it persists. It’s one aspect of human history that remains constant. This has been our way, even before documented periods, throughout time and till today. It can be considered that our cruelty towards each other is a grim aspect of our humanity.”
I was deeply moved by a war monument I chanced upon years ago in St Conan’s Kirk, situated by Loch Awe in Scotland. It was dedicated to a young serviceman named Ian Alastair Campbell, who lost his life in the Boer conflict in 1899, fatally injured as he offered his injured adversary water. It is heart-wrenching to consider his war-induced obligation to eliminate his enemy. However, in taking a moment to see his foe as another human, he found himself providing that foe with water to quench his thirst. Any other response would have been a violation of his own spirit.
Our liberty as human beings is inherently linked to adhering to our moral compass. If our Christian upbringing truthfully incorporates Jesus’s principle of enemy love, war should invariably be in conflict with our conscience. Yet, for some reason, it evades this. It is rationalised as a required ill or a lesser of two evils or even shockingly as “just” or “holy”.
Individuals display their willingness to endure pain, make sacrifices and exhibit enormous bravery, all for the sake of war.
Those who hold firm in their anti-war convictions often face severe repercussions, sometimes lasting a lifetime. This is anything but a route of the cowardly; conversely, it necessitates greater bravery. As Gandhi affirmed, popular opinion doesn’t dictate matters of the conscience. He believed that refusal to engage in violence shouldn’t be perceived as acquiescence to corruption or wickedness. Gandhi stated that if forced to choose between violence and cowardice, the former would take precedence. This sentiment was echoed by Martin Luther King, who, despite his aversion to violence, regarded cowardice as an even greater evil.
However, the existence of evil can’t be denied and it must be combatted. Jesus provided an alternative tactic during his crucifixion; he overcame the malevolent forces that sought to destroy him by sacrificing himself out of love for humanity. During the initial three centuries of the church’s existence, it was a universal understanding that Christians should renounce violence and the bearing of arms. Throughout history, a subsect of the church endorsing non-violence has persisted, much like a shimmering golden thread.
Nevertheless, when Christianity became the state religion of Rome and united with the empire, redemptive violence was once again endorsed by the church. This narrative has been upheld throughout history as seen in the centuries of anti-Semitic actions led by the church, including pogroms, blood libels, social exclusion, the creation of ghettos and prohibition against land ownership for Jews. Moreover, the so-called ‘Holy’ Wars during the Middle Ages were fought under the guise of Christianity with knights having Christian crosses emblazoned on their shields, all with the aim of eliminating ‘infidels’ to secure their place in heaven.
The same courage, suffering, and sacrifices seen in times of war have also been demonstrated during non-violent resistance. Individuals committing to this path have shown that when collective resources are committed to non-violent resistance, significant change can occur.
Dorothy Day, a staunch believer in non-violence and unwavering loyalty to the Catholic church, advised that one should always hold an attitude of constant dissatisfaction with the church.
The repercussions of war are far-reaching, with each person lost representing a world to someone else. This is indeed a gruelling, grim period of Lent.