Address: “Being a UU in a Time of War”©

The Rev. Sarah Lammert, USR, November 11, 2007 (Veteran’s Day)

 

The rain was driving nearly sideways over the Hudson River.  There I was in my finest Gore-Tex rain pants and jacket, struggling to hang on to my increasingly soggy “End the War Now” sign as a group of 65 of us struggled through the wind and weather to cross the George Washington Bridge on foot as a part of a nationwide rally to promote peace in Iraq in late October.  With me were Helen Lindsey, Randy Kuiper, Bob Shoemaker, and Margery Cleveland, as well as the Rev. Justin Osterman from our Paramus congregation.  There were also family members of soldiers serving in Iraq on the march, as well as anti-war veterans present.

            Back our gathering place under the bridge, I had been a bit surprised when we first arrived to see a woman standing there with an American flag and a sign that said what I thought was “Communists for Peace.”  “That’s an interesting combination of messages” I thought to myself.  Upon closer inspection I realized that she was not a “Communist for Peace” but was a counter-demonstrator accusing the peace marchers of being communists!  As we passed by her small group, she kept yelling at us “Where are your flags?  Where are your flags?  Where are your flags?”

            I guess we could have thought to carry some American flags along with our cardboard peace signs, most of which ended up in garbage cans along the bridge as they succumbed to being waterlogged en route.  Certainly I felt patriotic as I paused in the middle of the bridge, searching the gray skyline hanging over New York City for a glimpse of the Empire State Building, which was hiding in the low hanging clouds.  It felt patriotic to get out there and exercise my right to free speech, and my right to object to the actions of my government.  As a concerned citizen who loves my country, I felt proud of all of the dedicated people who showed up in the rain to call our leaders to their best selves.  For me, the right to dissent is crucial in a democracy, and the true patriot is not one who simply agrees with every action our leaders take, but is someone who takes the time to engage with the issues of our day.  This year, Veteran’s Day happens to fall on a Sunday.  This afternoon, there will be small gatherings in the towns and villages and cities across our nation remembering with gratitude those who have served our country, and especially those who served in active duty during times of conflict or war.  One such rally depicted in the local paper showed a banner listing the names a dates of our nation’s wars over the last century or so, starting with World War I.  “The War to end all Wars” didn’t actually turn out to end armed conflict, but was followed by WWII, the wars in Korea and Vietnam, the Gulf War, the raid on Afghanistan, and of course, the current War in Iraq. 

            Since 2003 the United States has spent $412 billion for the Iraq War, and as of November 9th some 3,859 American servicemen have died there.  Another 28,451 have returned home with serious physical wounds[1], while hundreds of thousands have returned physically in tact, but with emotional and spiritual wounds that may not be readily visible, but that take a real toll on their lives, as well as on their spouses, children, and family members.  It is impossible to say how many Iraqis have been killed or wounded in this war, but it doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to recognize the toll it would take to live under the constant reality of bombings, raids, and destruction that is daily life in Iraq.  What does it mean to be a UU in a time of war like this one?  How might our UU principles serve as a guide as we struggle to understand and to respond to the complicated reality of today’s world order?  How are we to live lives of peace, compassion and happiness with all of the uncertainty crowding in at the edge of our awareness?  As we go about our daily routines – commuting, getting our children from school to soccer to RE classes, making phone call, attending meetings and lectures, having lunch with friends, cleaning our bathrooms, raking leaves – how do we integrate the knowledge that we are actually a nation at war?  And what might we do to make a difference?

            During World War II, the American Public, while separated by an ocean from actual conflict, was truly engaged with the war effort.  War bonds were hawked by everyone from children going door-to-door to famous movie stars like Abbott and Costello and Irene Dunne.  “Making do with less” became the rallying cry as luxury goods were rationed, salvage drives were launched, and women at home planted Victory Gardens to augment the production of vegetables and fruits.  Rosie the Riveter became a symbol for the 6 million women who marched into factories supporting the war efforts, and air raid wardens and auxiliary firemen were trained through a nationwide civil defense effort.  Granted, the scale of this war was different and a full draft was in effect, but the difference could not be starker to the war we are engaged in today. 

            Perhaps because Iraq is so far away in distance and in culture from the United States, or perhaps because of the government controls on the media, it seems to me that for the most part the American public is disconnected from the reality of the War in Iraq.  We don’t see the veterans who return, we hear very little about their struggles, and besides statistical information (22 bodies found in mass grave north of Falluja, five American soldiers died in two roadside bombs near Kirkuk, a member of the governing council assassinated in Mosul…) we really have very little exposure to the brutality of the War in Iraq.  We hear about controversies regarding the use of torture during investigations, but since the disturbing images of the abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib we seem to have disassociated ourselves with these horrors.  Abu Ghraib was closed in 2006, but illegal spying, abridgement of basic judicial rights, and government-sponsored torture appear to continue unabated, threatening some of the foundational values of our American democracy.  And yet, the daily lives of most Americans seem somehow untouched by all of this, as if some of us now lived in a bubble.

            About a month ago, my UU colleagues in New Jersey gathered to talk about ministry in a time of war.  We expressed our positions on war in general, which ranged from pacifist to just war proponents, and talked about our specific concerns about Iraq and the so-called War on Terror.  The concerns ranged from personal to more political or social.  One colleague’s brother was set to deploy in Iraq, and has now been serving over there for a month.  He reports to his family, who are deeply concerned about his well being, that he is “living his dream of serving our nation.”   Others talked about the economic roots of this war, concerns that the world is becoming increasingly divided, the false promise of war as a force that gives us meaning, and what we could do in our congregations to both honor the diversity of opinion about the war, and at the same time to express our mutual outrage about it. 

            In our Seven Principles, which express the things most commonly affirmed among us, the foundational values expressed are founding the 1st and 7th principles -- the individual worth and dignity of every person, and the fundamental interconnection of life.  In other words, every life is precious and we must then do what we can to ensure that each person has access to the basic human rights that allow them to live with dignity, and for their potential to unfold.  And, even more, our fate as one individual, privileged or not, is inextricably tied to the fate of all others.  As MLK put it “We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality….For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be.  And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be.”  All of our other principles – the right of conscience and the use of democratic process, the goal of world community with peace liberty and justice for all, etc, stem from the first and seventh

            War makes it all but impossible for us to live out our principles in any meaningful way.  War not only undermines and annihilates individual lives, but affects whole nations, destroying cultures, the environment, economies, and the infrastructures that provide basic services like water, transportation, healthcare, housing, and communication.  It tears apart communities, devastates the lives of children and families, and can lead to the loss of civil liberties not only in the actual war zone but in the home nation of the aggressor, as we have seen.  War may start out with noble intentions, but it is also based on secrecy, propaganda and lies.  The human cost on the victims of war is obvious, but it may be equally devastating to the soldiers who must then try to reintegrate themselves into a life at home which may suddenly seen quite alien.  War leaves deep scars on the psyche of entire peoples, leaving behind hatreds that can easily flare up, like the dying embers of a campfire stoked by new winds of change. 

            I fear that the war we are currently engaged in could leave our nation cobbled by debt, unable to fund critical initiatives domestically, while only adding to the economic and racial gap between those who have and those who have not.  I fear it that even worse, it may leave our democracy without a soul.

            During my upcoming sabbatical, which begins in January and runs through the middle of June, one of the things I plan to do besides travel and writing, is to take a class at Drew Theological School with Dr. Wesley Ariarajah a Sri Lankan Methodist who is a world leader in interfaith dialogue.  In 1978, Wesley was a parish minister in Colombo, Sri Lanka, when one of the periodic inter-ethnic riots broke out in the capital targeting Tamil homes.  All the Tamils, including Dr. Ariarajah himself, had to barricade themselves in their homes, moving large furniture in front of locked doors and windows, and huddling together in anxiety and fear through the night.  Many Tamils were murdered that night, and homes and businesses looted. 

            In the ministry business we like to say that Sundays come apace, and despite the devastation of that week Wesley found himself standing in his pulpit the next Sunday, with no sermon prepared and less than half of his congregation before him.  Many were still in makeshift refugee camps and others simply didn’t dare come to worship.  Wesley found himself neither expressing his pity and compassion for the victims of this violence, nor spewing anger and bitterness towards the perpetrators.  Instead he was filled with sadness and shame for his entire country, for all of them together.  He spoke about how violence diminishes all of us, and makes us less than human:

            How it eats up the souls of those who perpetrate it and robs them of their humanity.  How it thrives on our base instincts that we have sought so persistently to tame and overcome by building up religious systems, whole cultures and civilizations! 

            A society that tolerates violence [he concluded], a nation that is built on perpetuating violence on others, anywhere, any time, is on its way to ruin.  For violence is a cancer.  It eats from within.[2]

As Unitarian Universalists, who care more about how life is lived on this earth than we spend time in anticipation of a reward in a paradise to come, we are called to grapple with the hard truth of living in a time like this one – a time of war.  Not only do we seem to be caught in some kind of hellish purgatory in Iraq, but our administration is making noises about the War on Terror being unending.  I have to concur with Dr. Ariarajah that to build a society on the idea of perpetual warfare is to set in motion the ruin of that society.  Even on a spectrum of political identity – from liberal to conservative -- it seems to me that we all need to be concerned and in action to end the aggression in Iraq, demand that timetables and plans be set into motion for withdrawal, and that we resist with all our might beginning all over again in Iran or elsewhere. 

            Would we but invest a fraction into the study and implementation of a worldwide peace plan as we have into the study and implementation of war.  Peace isn’t just a distant ideal or a noble aspiration, it requires difficult, transformative work in our personal lives, in our relationships with others, and at the level of institutional and national systems.  Racism plays a part in perpetuating war – it will require all of our engagement with antiracism, anti-oppression and multiculturalism to bring about peace.  Classism and economic injustice play a part in war – to counter this means some serious commitment to creating educational and job opportunities for all people.  Peace seems simple, but living it is a challenge.  We seem to have accepted that a certain amount of violence is inevitable, and we have allowed that culture of violence to seep into our children’s games, our political rhetoric, our entertainment, our language, and our lives.  No wonder we bemoan the lack of general civility on our roads and in our public spheres!  We must ask if there isn’t another path – another way – beginning with ourselves, and expanding out to our homes, our villages, our cities, our states and our world.

            Whenever I attend a rally these days I hear a simple cry:  “No Peace, No Justice.”  It gets repeated over and over again until one isn’t sure what comes first, justice or peace.  One seems to stem from the other.  The great thing about getting out on a march, though no one in Washington may be paying attention, is that it begins the process of reconciliation, the Latin root of which literally means “walking together.”  Walking together means acknowledging, apologizing and atoning for violence that has been committed, and setting out in a new direction of brotherhood and sisterhood.  It means recommitting oneself to the path of nonviolence in pursuit of peace.  It may seem impossible to unravel the threads of violence that permeate our lives, but I believe that humanity is capable of stunning breakthroughs.  I believe in the power of an engaged love, and that together we can make a difference.  In April of 2003 a bottle was found inside a wall at the former Sachsenhausen camp near Berlin, where it had been hidden 59 years earlier by two concentration camp inmates – one a German Communist and the other a Polish student.  The bottle contained a message signed by both men:  “I want to go home, but my spirit is unbroken. Things must get better soon.”  Sometimes when my own spirit flags, I think of these two men, both of whom survived the Holocaust and went on to live full lives.  If they could hold out any hope under circumstances like those, I who have such rich blessings can certainly stand up on a windy and wet bridge with my soggy peace sign, and continue to hold out hope that things must get better, and soon. 

Amen.



[1] Iraq Coalition Casualty Report. 11/9/07.

[2] Ariarajah, S. Wesley, Axis of Peace: Christian Faith in Times of Violence and War, WCC Publications, Geneva, 2004, pp. 2-4.