In the late 1960's in my social studies classroom, I sat at a desk that had been scarred by someone's pen. Carved into the wood and shaded in blue was one word: "Vietnam." As an adolescent child, I lived with a blissful naiveté. I did not read papers or watch the evening news. Our family did not discuss the war in Southeast Asia at the supper table. My pastor did not raise the issue from the pulpit, nor did my Sunday School teachers challenge me to think critically about the intersection of biblical faith and secular society. I was totally unaware until is saw that word, "Vietnam," and wondered what it meant. I lived a sheltered life to my own detriment.
As a young pastor, there was always some church member who would counsel me, "There will always be wars and rumors of war. Those people in that part of the world have never been able to get along." The message was, "Don't spend your time with the conflicts of the world, but do something that will make a difference. Leave the earthly troubles to God, who will judge the world at the end of the times." Such counsel is a call to Christian isolationism and an acceptance of the status quo. I never agreed with that argument, but neither did I engage it in a deeper conversation.
I have been thinking a lot lately about the conflicts that are threatening to destroy the world. The atrocities of warfare, famine, and poverty are evident in every newscast now. The trouble is not isolated and remote, but touches us all. We are all interconnected. What happens in one place affects everyplace. The numbing of the spirit to the violence and sufferings of others is pervasive. An old hymn from my childhood taught me to sing, "Let none hear you idly saying, "There is nothing I can do,' while the souls of men [sic] are dying and the Master calls for you." Those lyrics are like a single word carved into a school desk. They are ingrained in my spirit.
At an upcoming meeting of the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ, we will likely debate a resolution intended to address the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. Specifically, we will debate whether to endorse economic boycotts, divestment and sanctions against companies deemed detrimental to the Palestinian people and to the peace of this troubled region. I also pray for peace in the Ukraine, where a recent downing of a Malaysian jetliner has brought the atrocities in that conflict into sharper focus. And, in our own nation, the treatment of immigrant peoples--including children--is weighing heavily on my mind. "Let none hear you idly saying, 'There is nothing I can do.'"
In the concluding paragraphs of his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Jimmy Carter focused on the "rewarding burden" that is ours to carry as citizens of the world and as disciples of Jesus Christ.
As a young pastor, there was always some church member who would counsel me, "There will always be wars and rumors of war. Those people in that part of the world have never been able to get along." The message was, "Don't spend your time with the conflicts of the world, but do something that will make a difference. Leave the earthly troubles to God, who will judge the world at the end of the times." Such counsel is a call to Christian isolationism and an acceptance of the status quo. I never agreed with that argument, but neither did I engage it in a deeper conversation.
I have been thinking a lot lately about the conflicts that are threatening to destroy the world. The atrocities of warfare, famine, and poverty are evident in every newscast now. The trouble is not isolated and remote, but touches us all. We are all interconnected. What happens in one place affects everyplace. The numbing of the spirit to the violence and sufferings of others is pervasive. An old hymn from my childhood taught me to sing, "Let none hear you idly saying, "There is nothing I can do,' while the souls of men [sic] are dying and the Master calls for you." Those lyrics are like a single word carved into a school desk. They are ingrained in my spirit.
At an upcoming meeting of the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ, we will likely debate a resolution intended to address the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. Specifically, we will debate whether to endorse economic boycotts, divestment and sanctions against companies deemed detrimental to the Palestinian people and to the peace of this troubled region. I also pray for peace in the Ukraine, where a recent downing of a Malaysian jetliner has brought the atrocities in that conflict into sharper focus. And, in our own nation, the treatment of immigrant peoples--including children--is weighing heavily on my mind. "Let none hear you idly saying, 'There is nothing I can do.'"
In the concluding paragraphs of his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Jimmy Carter focused on the "rewarding burden" that is ours to carry as citizens of the world and as disciples of Jesus Christ.
But tragically, in the industrialized world there is a terrible absence of understanding or concern about those who are enduring lives of despair and hopelessness. We have not yet made the commitment to share with others an appreciable part of our excessive wealth. This is a potentially rewarding burden that we should all be willing to assume.
Ladies and gentlemen: War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other's children.
--Jimmy Carter, Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech, December 10, 2002
Today, I am thinking about engagement beyond isolationism. I am thinking about how conflicts, whether interpersonal or international, affect us all. I am thinking that one need not be an expert in resolving or transforming these troubles; but approach life with a willingness to engage in bringing peace to our troubled world. Yes, the "rewarding burden" may require much of me, but it reminds me of the cross of One who stood in the midst of the storm and spoke his peace.
O God of Love, whose peace seems so elusive in this time, grant me the courage to engage as a child of your peace in this very moment and always. Amen.
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