Rite and Reason: We live in uncertain times. There is an anxiety abroad as we reflect on the events leading up to and into the war in Iraq. Beyond are key issues such as the impact on political and religious relationships, tensions between east and west, Islam and Christianity. Starting the war was easy; building the peace will be an entirely different matter.
In the great debate many were certain of their positions, whether as advocates of war or as peace marchers protesting against war. For others it was less clear.
In the aftermath of the second World War with all its costly memories, Anglican bishops declared: "War as a method of settling international disputes is incompatible with the teaching and example of our Lord Jesus Christ."
This view inevitably raises questions about the status of the "just" war, but it does not help very much when we are faced with the reality of unprovoked aggression or the capacity of small groups to create widespread terror.
There is a moral dimension to our obligation to defend the weak and the vulnerable, although it is by no means clear if that is the real justification for what is going on in Iraq at the moment.
One thing is clear. In war, justified or otherwise, the innocent suffer and the innocent die.
Many of those who marched through cities and towns in Ireland and across the globe would value the bishops' statement especially in the current situation. [Some of course could not, given their justification of violent action at other times.]
Peace marching is one thing - a commendable thing - but it does leave open the question of what to do in conflict situations.
Centuries ago an Old Testament prophet criticised those who "run to and fro through the streets . . . crying 'Peace, peace, where is no peace'." The peace march perhaps requires a longer journey than many are prepared to recognise.
The roots of much of the resentment and anger in the world are poverty and economic and other forms of oppression imposed on masses of people.
The plight of the Palestinians, often mentioned in the context of this war, is but one example of the many who feel exploited and neglected by an affluent West.
The neglect is not just down to government indifference, but also the political reality that Western electorates are not very forthcoming when it comes to voting for the massive economic and other sacrifices required to establish a more just and equal world.
Of course it must also be acknowledged that many of the ruling elements of the poorer nations themselves show little concern for the plight of their peoples.
All this underlines the fact that we are imperfect people, who live in an imperfect world full of imperfect solutions, for which we too often claim the divine approval of Yahweh or Allah.
We need help and to this end ideals such as those indicated by the bishops are important for they set a standard and encourage hope.
Just now Christians are celebrating Easter, a festival of hope. For many there is the very personal matter of loss and bereavement and for them Easter has tremendous significance.
But its significance is not just about a future hope or prospect. Easter is also about a contemporary possibility which addresses the difficulties and dilemmas of life today. Easter literally adds a new dimension to our lives.
It is about a "newness of life", which affects how we relate to each other and deal with each other now as well as in the beyond.
This was the conviction of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian, who in the 1930s strongly opposed the Nazi regime while the German churches played games. Determined to live his faith, he made that vital connection between belief and action and, despite the terrible events and dangers of his time, tried to mediate between the Germans opposed to Hitler and the British government through his friend Bishop Bell of Chichester. He was arrested in 1943 and imprisoned in Buchenwald.
Later sentenced to death and just before his execution on Good Friday 1945 he sent a message to Bishop Bell: "Tell him that with him I believe in the principle of our universal Christian brotherhood, which rises above all national interests, and that our victory is certain."
This was firmly rooted in his conviction that the rules had been changed forever on the first Good Friday, and that Easter affirmed a new and lasting hope for fallen humanity.
The late Malcolm Muggeridge, atheist turned believer, reflecting on Bonhoeffer's death some years later wrote:
"The time was April 1945; five years of war's murderous buffooneries were drawing to a close. Hitler's Reich that was to last a thousand years would soon end. The liberators were moving in from the east and west with bombs and tanks and cigarettes and spam. Looking back now, I ask myself where in the murky darkness any light shone. Not among the Nazis certainly, nor among the liberators. The cant and the hypocrisy are mercifully forgotten. What lives on is the memory of a man who died, not on behalf of freedom or democracy or any other of the 20th century's counterfeit hopes, but on the cross, the wondrous cross."
In our current uncertainties we not only need hope but we also need, like Bonhoeffer, commitment and perseverance. It is too easy to look out on the world and its impossible volume of need and trouble and give up, wringing our hands and talking our heads off with frustration. It is essential to distinguish between areas of concern and those spheres of influence where we can make a real difference. For most of us it is usually very local, for a few it is farther afield, but however small and where ever, it counts and it makes a real difference.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu tells of an incident in his teenage years, hanging around with some pals and seeing this white man, a priest in a cassock, approach. They decided to throw stones to see which of them would knock his hat off first, but before they could act the man turned towards the Tutu home and knocked on the door. Mrs Tutu came to the door and the priest greeted her by raising his hat. Desmond Tutu and his friends were astonished, for it was the first time they had seen a white man raise his hat to a black woman. The stones were quietly put to one side and an important part of the South African peace process had been put firmly into place.
Gordon Linney is Church of Ireland Archdeacon of Dublin