Thinking Anew: War and its consequences have been on the minds of people following the recent dignified and solemn commemoration of the Battle of the Somme and the terrible carnage of 90 years ago which destroyed countless young lives and broke the hearts of millions on both sides.
This reminder of the awfulness of war provides a sombre background to the Old Testament reading for tomorrow which gives an account of the selection of David, an outstanding military leader, as King of Israel. It specifically mentions his occupation of Jerusalem, circa 1,000 BC, an event which reverberates to this day in world politics.
Two things stand out. David was acceptable to his people because he was one of them, "their bone and their flesh". Secondly, and more significantly, he was perceived to be God's choice and his leadership and his military exploits therefore had divine approval. This raises an issue which crops up again and again in the Old Testament, namely the role attributed to God in bloody conflicts where dreadful atrocities against men, women and children are committed in his name and justified. Sadly, this view is not restricted to the Old Testament era. There are many examples of the same kind of thing done in the name of Christ.
One has only to think of the Crusades and various wars through the centuries in Europe and beyond right up to our own time and in our own country. Indeed, can we say with certainty that such attitudes no longer prevail? And if they do, are they consistent with our contemporary understanding of the faith?
Reflecting on these matters from a gospel perspective one is bound to feel uneasy. In the reading from St Mark for tomorrow we are told that Jesus is back in his home town but, unlike David, he is unacceptable to his own and as a result is unable to function. No matter how sound his teaching or how commendable his actions, he does not impress the locals. For "is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James. . .and are not his sisters here with us?" Surely a prophet without honour among his own people. Perhaps the clue to his rejection is found in the events of Holy Week, where there is evidence to suggest that the people turned on him because he refused to take the road to war and lead a revolt against the Romans. Certainly the entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, the city of the mighty David, was a declaration of peace, not war, and this was not popular. But the focus of the ministry of Jesus never changed. It was about healing and restoration. It meant crossing boundaries and making peace. His was a code of forgiveness and non-retaliation.
It has been said that for a Christian who believes in Jesus and his gospel, war is an iniquity and a contradiction; but we live in an imperfect world and often have to live with imperfect solutions. Thus William Temple, wartime Archbishop of Canterbury, addressed the paradox: "We [ Christians in war] are called to the hardest of all tasks: to fight without hatred, to resist without bitterness, and in the end, if God grant it so, to triumph without vindictiveness." But somehow when we get down to the reality of what happens in personal terms all the fine words and theories count for little.
In one of our Dublin churches there is a memorial to a young man, a much loved son, who was killed in battle at Thiepval on the July 2nd, 1916. Preserved above it is the actual wooden cross which once marked the spot where he was believed to have died, for he was one of the 73,357 men who died in the hell of the Somme and had no known grave. That cross, a symbol of the final rejection of Jesus, was and remains the only sign of hope in that desolate place while the senseless slaughter of so many is a grim reminder of what happens when we resist the call of Jesus to love one another and to forgive one another.
The German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffor, who himself was killed in 1945, had no illusions about the evil of war: "The Church knows nothing of the sacredness of war. The Church which prays the 'Our Father' asks God only for peace". GL