Sermon:
Patriotism is Not Enough
by
The Reverend Peter J. Gomes
Plummer Professor of Christian Morals and
Pusey Minister in The Memorial Church
The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
October Sixth, Two Thousand Two
Text: Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, let not the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches; but let him who glories glory in this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth: for in these things I delight, says the Lord. Jeremiah 9:23-24
Once again I have taken as my text a passage from scripture drawn from neither of the lessons which have been appointed for today, but which link the two together and highlight the substance of the messages of the prophet Joshua and of the apostle Paul. I ask you to listen to this text from the book of the prophet Jeremiah as a hinge between these important lessons that we have had this morning: "Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, let not the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches; but let him who glories glory in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth; for in these things I delight, says the Lord." Those are the twenty-third and twenty-fourth verses from the ninth chapter of the book of the prophet Jeremiah.
I must begin with a confession. For the first time in more years than I can remember, my text this morning is not derived from the tranquil meditations of a summer's day in Plymouth, when I usually give final thought to the sermons that I will preach to you in the coming year -- those texts and sermon titles that you have become accustomed to seeing in bold print in the Term Book late in August or early in September. The sermon that I had planned to preach today, 'The Power of Little Things,' bit the dust on Wednesday morning, and in its place has come this sermon, conceived, quite frankly, in the rising anxiety of a country surprised to find itself on the brink of war, and on the eve of the evening in which the president of the United States will attempt to justify his policies to us.
In a few weeks we will commemorate the seventieth anniversary of the building of this Church, dedicated both to the war dead and to a great mission for peace. It was not just because of the remembrance of war but to ford a great hope of peace that in 1932 this Church was built. Here, then, of all places on earth, and now, of all times, I, of all people, must speak of the dangers of war and of our Christian mission for peace.
Last Monday I was in Kansas City, Missouri, where, as you know, everything is up-to-date. I was there giving yet another book talk, this time in a large suburban Presbyterian church and, happily for me, for my book, and for my publisher, hundreds turned out for the evening talk on The Good Life: Truths That Last in Times of Need. Afterward, as I signed books, I found that almost everyone in that large congregation had our present war fever on his heart and mind, and each was asking himself, and me, "How did we get here? What ought I to do? I feel so powerless, so helpless, and without a voice." Person after person said that, and I was compelled to think about it. These were not by any means your garden-variety leftists or pacifists, who form the usual list of suspects, and these were not Cambridge crunchies, by any means. This was Kansas, for heaven's sake -- Alf Landon and Bob Dole country -- and these were Presbyterians. They love their country, and they love their God; and what do you do when your country is headed where you think your faith and your God don't want you to go?
In another instance, one of my colleagues here on the staff recently told me of a telephone call he had made to an artisan doing some work for us; in fact, he was the very man whose skills fashioned the tablet to the Radcliffe women of World War I on the north wall, which we dedicated last Armistice Day. We have a small job for him, and apparently after sorting out the details he said something of the following to my colleague, in a rough paraphrase that I now make: "What kind of place is Harvard? Is it liberal or conservative?" Now that's a hard question, to which there really is no answer, as you know, except in the perception of the beholder. "Why do you ask?" inquired my colleague. Replied the artisan, "Because I don't hear anybody there or anywhere else talking much about this war, except those who want it; and I'm scared."
In yet another instance, let me mention that it might not surprise you to learn that over my transom passes a vast number of unsolicited church newsletters, bulletins, and pastoral communications from all over the country, and that it might surprise you to know that I read them all. Last week I was reading one from the First Parish Church in Plymouth -- not from my church, but from my home town. In his column, the minister of that old congregation remarked upon the phenomenon, new to him in Plymouth, of perfect strangers coming up to him in the street, in the supermarket, and at the gas pump, knowing him to be the minister of the First Church, and asking him what to do about this war fever. How, they ask, can we have an intelligent conversation on the most dangerous policy topic of the day without being branded traitors, self-loathing American, anti-patriotic, or soft on democracy?
That's a good question, especially when even the president of the United States questions the patriotism of those few in the United States Senate who question his policy or challenge his authority to wage war at will. Must the first casualty of patriotism always be dissent, debate, and discussion? I confess to you that this is a frightening time, more so than in any time in my memory; and if one cannot speak out of Christian conscience and conviction now, come what may, then we are forever consigned to moral silence. We hear much talk of 'moral clarity,' but it sounds more to me like moral arrogance, and it must not be met with moral silence. At the service of Morning Prayers on Wednesday morning last, Anthony Lewis, formerly of The New York Times, said in his address to a very startled congregation, that if the purpose of the terrorists of September 11th, 2001, was to destroy our confidence in our own American values, then, he feared, they had succeeded. In the name of fighting terror both abroad and at home, our government -- particularly through the Attorney General, together with a culture of patriotic intimidation -- has suspended our constitutional liberties, stifled dissent, and defined a good American as one who goes along with the powers-that-be, in a "My way or the highway" mentality. When patriotism is defined in this narrow, partisan, opportunistic, jingoistic way, then perhaps that old cynic, Dr. Samuel Johnson, was right when he defined patriotism as the "last refuge of a scoundrel."
Frankly, I prefer his contemporary, Edmund Burke, who said, "To make us love our country, our country ought to be lovely." Our country is lovely, which is why we love it and are willing to serve it and, if necessary, to die for it. It is because we love it, and want others to love it as well, that we dare to speak to affirm the goodness and righteousness in it, the virtue and the power of its core values, and to speak against the things that would do harm to it and to those core values. What is and has always been lovely about our country is our right and our duty to criticize those in power, to dissent from their policies if we think them to be wrong, and to hold our alternative vision to be as fully valid as theirs
In 1952, a long time ago for many of you here in this congregation, but just yesterday for others, Adlai Stevenson was running for president against the patriotic and heroic Dwight D. Eisenhower, who was then, ironically, president of Columbia University. The University had said that it was trying to get Milton, but it got Ike instead, who had wanted to be president of something, and Columbia would do. Adlai Stevenson was running against Eisenhower in a run that was doomed to failure, and was asked to speak to the American League convention in New York City, in the summer after his nomination. One can imagine, or even remember, the charges of egg-headism, of intellectualism, of being soft on communism and soft on patriotism -- all those charges that had been leveled on the intelligent and eloquent Adlai Stevenson. Here is what he said on that very subject in a speech called 'Patriotism in America,' and, by implication, in response to the charges:
"What do we mean by patriotism in the context of our time? I venture to suggest that what we mean is a sense of national responsibility, a patriotism which is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."
Note the careful choice of words: "...national responsibility, a patriotism which is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime." How carefully, poignantly, and aptly chosen are those words in comparison with some of the language we hear flashed about morning, noon, and night in recent days.
I wonder how many of you here this morning have ever seen or given much thought to the white marble statue of a British nurse standing just above Trafalgar Square and beneath Leicester Square in London, to the side of the National Gallery? Londoners and tourists, perhaps some of you, pass it in the to and fro of an incredibly busy thoroughfare, lingering at its island base only to hail an elusive taxi. I have done so many times myself. It is the statue of Nurse Edith Cavell, one of whose claims to fame is that in the early morning hours of October 12th, 1915, she was tied to a stake in German-occupied Belgium and shot as a traitor. Long before the war she had for many years headed a nursing home in Belgium, and even after war had broken out she had remained at her post where, together with her nurses, she gave care to injured soldiers regardless of nationality, whether German, French, or English. Miss Cavell was arrested as a traitor by the Germans for the 'crime' of assisting soldiers in their flight to neutral Holland. Determined to make an example of her, the Germans tried her under military law, under a military tribunal, and without adequate counsel she was presumed guilty, found so, and sentenced to death and executed within ten hours of the judgement: the whole episode was shrouded in vindictive haste and stealth. The debate about the exact nature of her so-called crime has gone on for years, but there has never been any debate about the heroic nature of her death, and it was this that turned her into one of the few true heroines of World War I. Some have even gone so far as to say that in her simple way, Edith Cavell was the Dietrich Bonhoeffer of that war. Her last moments, and her final words, are described as follows by an eyewitness:
"After receiving the sacrament, and within minutes of being led out to her death, she said, 'Standing as I do in view of God and eternity, I realize that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness toward anyone.'"
On the base of her London statue are carved the words, "Patriotism is not enough." This is an impressive message from one who lost her life in the name of somebody else's patriotism.
Edith Cavell, an English vicar's daughter, lived and died a Christian, but her last words are almost too enigmatic and too simple, and they compel us to ask now, in a time of war and of rumors of war, what ought to be the proper relationship between love of God and love of country. If mere patriotism is not enough, what is it that will help us to be both conscientious citizens and faithful Christians? Are the two mutually exclusive, or is it possible, somehow, to live responsibly in the tension between those two claims? That is our business this morning, and that is always the business of any Christian who takes seriously his allegiance to Jesus Christ and his responsibility to his country and his society.
Perhaps a word from our text will help. Did you notice that in the text from Jeremiah, which is printed and available to you on the Order of Worship, that wisdom, might, and riches are set in clear opposition to love, justice, and righteousness? That is not my doing, and it's not even the translator's doing. That is what it says, and it creates for us a self-conscious biblical tension not easily resolved or explained away. Jeremiah knows that we are inclined to boast of our wisdom, particularly in the University, and that is what the Hebrew word that is translated as 'glory' really means: boasting, and the thumping of our intellectual chests. We know how to do that about wisdom in the University, and we know how to boast about our might and our riches in this land of opportunity. Washington these days is full of rich, smart, and powerful people, many of them in the oil business: Jeremiah knows that it is our natural penchant to seize upon and celebrate our achievements, for they define who we are, what we have, and what we do. This is the way of the world, and when we are 'Number One' in the world, it is 'our way or the highway.' How strange it is to think back on the relatively stimulating days of the Cold War, when the threat of another dangerous superpower actually helped to make us behave and believe. The prophet does not deny the reality of these claims, but over and against them he sets God's claims of love, justice, and righteousness. That is not only intellectual symmetry; it is moral symmetry. He is unambiguously clear here -- would that he were not so clear. If we as God's people are to glory in anything, we must glory in -- that is, we must boast of, take pride in and responsibility for -- the things that God values, that God loves, and that God blesses. Why should God bless America if America does not bless the things that God delights in? What are they? Here they are, right in front of us:
"...but let him who glories glory in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth; for in these things I delight..."
If we do not delight in the things that the Lord delights in, why should the Lord delight in us? Try that one on for size. This will not fit on a bumper sticker or on a T-shirt, but you might carry it around to ponder in your hearts and minds.
The lesson that Professor Williams read from the book of Joshua is a famous lesson about great choices. Joshua says, "Choose ye this day whom ye will serve." Will you serve the God of the Amorites, or those various other little domestic deities whom you love to serve but who don't deliver the goods? Will you serve them? Well, go right ahead, he in essence says: If that's what turns you on, lay your sacrifices before those little tin-pot gods; I understand it. Then, rising on his prophetic hind legs, Joshua says, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." Well, of course they agree: "We'll serve the Lord too." Joshua, however, counters by saying, essentially, "No, you won't. You can't. Not unless you are prepared to make the significant, ultimate choice, and sacrifice. If you are really willing to choose between your culture and the God who delivered you, and you choose the God who delivered you, then you can do it, but you can't have it both ways." Again the prophet is unambiguously clear. So, after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing for twenty-four more verses, the people come round to it and say, "Okay, okay, okay, we will serve the Lord who delivered us, and has done all these things." Joshua says, "All right, I trust you, but we're going to build a monument, and this monument, these stones, will remind you, and God, of these promises. Whenever you see this monument, remember that you have chosen the Lord and not the other, lesser deities." So they build the monument, and there it stands. Of course this doesn't really work, because if it did the Bible would end at the book of Joshua instead of going on for another sixty books -- but that's a subject for another story, and for a very good class that I'm teaching this term.
This church in which we stand, and hundreds and thousands like it across this country and around the world, reminds us of the choices we have made. "Choose ye this day whom ye will serve...as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." This place has its great mission as a monument for peace, and we are reminded, on each day that we sit here or pass by these premises, that that is the choice we are required to make. It is a tension, however, and I have not easily resolved it, and nor has the prophet.
That tension is even harder to avoid in the second lesson of this morning, where the apostle Paul begins by telling us -- in J.B. Phillips's pungent translation -- something we should listen to. You remember the Revised Standard Version translation, which we heard this morning: "I beseech you by the mercies of God..." Now listen to how Phillips translates Romans 12; it is meant to grab us by our vitals:
"With eyes wide open to the mercies of God, I beg you, as an act of intelligent worship, to give him your bodies as a living sacrifice, consecrated to him and acceptable by him."
Note 'With eyes wide open..." Not in fake devotion or in pseudo-piety, but with eyes wide open as an act of intelligent, thoughtful worship. Your mind's engaged, and not on hold. That's what Paul says. He goes on:
"Don't let the world around you squeeze you into its own mold, but let God remold your minds from within, so that you may prove in practice that the plan of God for you is good, meets all his demands,
and moves toward the goal of true maturity."
(Romans 12:1-3; J.B. Phillips)
Think about that call to non-conformity. Think about that call to transformation. Think of that in the context of a choice you have made and have to make. That tension simply will not go away; it will not easily be resolved, and we, like all faithful Christians and honest citizens throughout all time, will have to live with it and through it. If we are uncomfortable in this conflict of values, we are meant to be uncomfortable. The easy syllogism, that we go to war in order to keep the peace, ought not to comfort us or our Christian president. It is that same alleged 'moral clarity' that led to the infamous Vietnam logic. Perhaps you will remember it, that we had to destroy the village in order to 'save' it. If that is 'moral clarity,' then I am Peter Rabbit.
Yet, my beloved friends, we are not without guidance or hope. Many, and perhaps some of you, will argue: Who are we to challenge the moral clarity and vision of our government, of people who presumably know more than we do, and who have the awful duty not only to protect and to serve, but to anticipate and to initiate? Who are we to kibitz from the sidelines without access to secret briefings, intelligence, knowledge, and all of the apparatus of government? Well, who, indeed, are we?
First, let us remember that we are citizens. They, experts and all, work for us, not we for them. We pay their salaries through the extortion known as taxes. Let us not forget that it is our government, and not theirs. They hold our government and, indeed, our lives, in a trust. We have a right, we have a responsibility, we have a duty to speak, and we do not have to be experts to do so. We do not require degrees from the Kennedy School or the Wharton School or the Law School to have an opinion about the moral future of our country. In fact, it has usually been the so-called experts who have managed to get us into wars in the first place. We have a duty to speak, to dissent, and to demand a better case for compromising our most fundamental principles as Christians and citizens than has thus far been made. We deserve a better case than the one that is floating around out there at the moment. As a citizen I demand a better excuse than revenge, or oil, for the prosecution of a war that is likely to do more harm than good, that will destabilize not only the region but the world for years to come, and that, worst of all, will confirm for all the world to see our country's reputation as an irrational and undisciplined bully who acts not because it ought, but because it can; we make up the rules, so it seems, as we please. I love my country too much to see it complicit in its own worst stereotype. Right after September 11th a year ago, we asked, in some agonizing perplexity, "Why do they hate us?" Remember that question? Well, if we persist in making war the first rather than the last option, we will soon find out. The answer will be all too terribly manifest.
Now, I know that in the mighty roar of wisdom, might, and riches, the sounds of love, justice, and righteousness -- those things in which God delights, and in which God's people are meant to delight -- sound thin, feeble, and anaemic. Yet my Christian conscience tells me that these 'soft' values should prevail every time over the 'hard,' even though they often do not. If I am compelled to compromise those Christian values in the service of the state, I had better be as certain as is humanly possible that such a compromise is worth sacrificing the things I hold most precious; and I certainly won't know that, nor will you, unless there is a great deal more thoughtful discussion, debate, and dissent than there has been so far. The most terrifying indictment of Christians in modern times was the general unwillingness of German Christians, with a few notable exceptions, to challenge in any meaningful way, from a Christian point of view, the political assumptions of their governments in the years leading up to World War II. They stand indicted by their moral silence, and they know it. Since we are not Nazi Germany, and because we do claim love, justice, and righteousness not only as personal values but as national values, we have all the more responsibility to make the country we love a lovely country.
It pleases me that I am not alone in this enterprise. I am not brave enough to be alone, out front on the prophetic pinnacle; I am afraid that that is a weakness of my character. It pleases me to join with other religious leaders who are beginning to speak and be heard on behalf of a thoughtful case for peace and to engage in a rigorous debate: The New York Times only yesterday morning noted the broad anti-war sentiment of the religious leadership across America. Religious opinion is by no means unanimous: those evangelicals who have found little fault with anything that this administration has done or proposes to do, and who seldom met a war they didn't like, lined up to be counted on the president's side. Polls show that most Americans, frustrated, alas, by the ephemeral character of the 'War on Terrorism,' and still angry and confused about September 11th, 2001, want to do something. As we know, however, in angry, vengeful moments, the desire to do 'something' is easily translated into the will to do 'anything,' and that 'anything' may very well be the wrong thing. Bombing Iraq into oblivion as payback to those who have done us injury, at this moment seems to me to be the wrong thing to do. Polls do not get at the truth. Thirty years ago, most polls showed significant majorities in favor of whatever it was we were doing in Vietnam, and eventually the majority in favor concluded that the minority opposed were, in fact, right. Polls simply tell us where we are, not where we ought to be.
The gospel, however, does tell us where we ought to be, tough, untenable, and difficult as that place may be. Wisdom, might, and riches must yield to love, justice, and righteousness. Love, justice, and righteousness are superior to wisdom, might, and riches. How often do we have to be told that? "And these are God's words," says Paul at the end of Romans 12, once again in the Phillips' translation: "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head." Don't allow yourself to be overpowered with evil: take the offensive and overpower evil with good. That is what Paul is saying: Take the offensive: overpower evil with good! Now that is a radical foreign policy. That would scare the bejesus out of a lot of people, to know that with all of our power we decided that we were going to overpower evil with good -- and what a topsy-turvy world this would be! That should give all the hawks in Washington something to think about, that if they want us to be noticed, the world would notice us if we took seriously the idea of overpowering evil with good.
Nurse Cavell was, and is, right: "Patriotism is not enough..." If we wish to be on God's side rather than making God into our own ally of American real-politic, then we would do well to remember our text from Jeremiah. God's values are clear; so too ought ours to be.
"Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, let not the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches; but let him who glories glory in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth; for in these things I delight..."
If you love the Lord, you will love the things the Lord loves. There is
no other way around it.
Let us pray:
Almighty God, from whom all thoughts of truth and peace proceed:
kindle, we pray Thee, in the hearts of all people the true love of peace;
and guide with Thy pure and peaceable wisdom those who take counsel for the nations of the earth; that in tranquillity Thy kingdom may go forward till the earth be filled with the knowledge of Thy love. This we pray through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Francis Paget; 1851-1911)