Lectures
at the Methodist Theological School
in Ohio

By Bishop C. Joseph Sprague
(Class of 1965)

A Double-share Inheritance

Spring Lecture #1

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Text: “Elijah said to Elisha, ‘Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.’ Elisha said, ‘Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit’.” — II Kings 2:9

Introduction

The vivid picture in the text resonates with those of us who were privileged to be students here in the School’s early years.

Shaped and emboldened, by an Elijah-like coterie of administrators and faculty, we yearned for a double share inheritance of what they represented.

Whether knowingly or unknowingly, humbly or aggressively, patiently or restively, we sought the wisdom and knowhow to be practicing pastoral theologians, and the courage and insights to be prophetic voices wherever or whatever our venues for ministry were to be.

As Elisha hankered for a double share inheritance of who Elijah was, and what he represented in courageous ministry, we wanted a doubl-share inheritance of the empowering scholarship, integrous administration, prophetic embodiment, and no-nonsense piety we came to expect and applaud from Bogie and John, Fred and Everett, Ed and Jeff, David and Roy, Clyde and Moody, Paul and Harold, Art and Bob, Simeon and those who would follow, all of whom navigated the rapidly changing biblical, theological, ecclesiastical, and cultural currents far better than Simeon could drive a car out of Mississippi in the dangerous spring of 1965.

My, but how we students revered the giants, present at the School’s creation, who shaped the wondrous ethos of a long-remembered and much-appreciated infectious sense of community on this campus.

Thus, when taking our leave from the School we loved passionately, a community whose rich memories and enduring relationships have been sustained across a lifetime, we, like our elder brother, Elisha, plaintively requested, “Please let [us] inherit a double share of your spirit.”

And, intentionally or not, knowingly or not, our beloved Elijahs did for us what Elisha’s did for him. That is, they gifted us, blessed us, and some would argue, haunted us, with a vision of God’s preferred future, what one of my classmates, Charles W. Hill, recently termed “dreams of extravagant love.”

And we have worn that vision of God’s preferred future and those dreams of extravagant love like Elijah’s mantle, or John’s hat, or Bogie’s penetrating stare, or Fred’s love of texts, or Everett’s “to ask the question is to answer it,” or Ed’s germinal ideas, or David’s fascination with Heloise and Abelard, or Harold’s “don’t draw your Discipline, unless you intend to shoot,” or Bob’s buzz groups, or Art’s pipe and sloppy suits, and on and on the train of memory goes ... across a lifetime.

Most of us, from the early years, were reborn and transformed here. What we became and what we have done since were determined in large measure in classroom and chapel, library and coffee shop, football field and Ohio Penitentiary, hospitals and student charges, dormitories and student apartments, Selma and Jackson, Pittsburgh and the Federal Building, and a host of other contexts where we learned ministry by doing theology side by side with Elijah-models.

Today, when I am asked how I became the way I am, and I am asked that question frequently, whether by foes or friends, I plead guilty to being a non-recovering, unrepentant Methesco-ite, circa1965.

My heart was strangely warmed here. My passion for justice set ablaze here. The still raging fire for biblical and theological truth kindled here. And, the freeing, yet relentlessly demanding, insight that, not church, but the precious Word of the Holy One had called me, found focus here.

Methesco gave me such a double share inheritance of vital piety — of the personal and corporate, pastoral and prophetic, heart and head — that the legacy of this place is to be blamed, at least in part, for all the troubles I have seen, caused or known across my ministry.

My colleagues and I sought a double share inheritance, a piece of the action and of the actors we experienced here, and, like Elisha, we received that for which we yearned, twice again and more.

Thus, try to imagine how grateful I am for all that was, and for this opportunity to describe, with a myriad of emotions churning inside, what is.

This brings us to Affirmations of a Dissenter, the reactions to which are, in part, why I have been invited to be here tonight and tomorrow.

I. The Book

A. My cherished and irreverent seminary roommate and seminary-to-student charges traveling companion, Van Camp Cooper Chiles, III, and our classmate, Bruce Irwin, offered to sell hotdogs and marshmallows should I be burned at the heretical stake. In seeking this concession, Van wrote, “There’s nothing new in the book. The only thing of which you are guilty is plagiarizing Rudolf Bultmann and poor old Fred Gealy.”

My quick response to Van was this: “You are right. But, since so few read basic texts of theology or biblical material today, one is granted a wide, creative license.”

The book contains nothing new under the theological and biblical sun. It is a confessional statement that builds on the foundation that was laid here. It reflects the 40-year journey of one who has sought to be a pastoral theologian with the occasional courage and sometimes integrity to tell perceived truths about the correlation of scripture and theology with the realities of life in the Church and the world.

B. The book audaciously — the writing of any book is an audacious act — seeks to prod progressives to consciousness, to reclaim lost space in a constricted, theologically myopic Church, and to challenge the three, increasingly strident, right-wing caucus groups within United Methodism.

The book suffers from an underdeveloped presentation of the ministry of the laity. It is intemperate in places. Yet, I stand by it, despite its limitations.

I make no apology for its Christology, understanding of biblical authority, justice affirmations, or clarion calls to action. While the book’s dissents have been noted extensively in some Church circles, its affirmations have received short shrift. It is to these that I now turn.

II. Affirmations

A. “A Tough Mind and a Tender Heart,” the title of the first chapter, draws its direction from a sermon of the same title by Martin Luther King, Jr.

These few pages affirm that the precious Word of the Holy One breaks into the routines and ruts of life and calls us to be and do the seemingly unimaginable. This was and is my experience.

This Word is always mediated by women and men, who play Eli to our Samuel. This happened with me in the Teddy Bear Restaurant, the Dayton Friends Meeting, Ashland College and, most poignantly, at the Methodist Theological School in Ohio.

Here, Van Bogard Dunn played Eli to my confused and sometimes frightened Samuel. Today I seek to extend Bogie’s favor by being a Bishop who exchanges the windsock of expediency for the mantle of risk-taking, truth-telling and, at times, flawed audacity on behalf of the Samuels of both sexes for whom I am called to be Eli.

B. Chapter Two, “Bible Stories We Had Not Heard,” pays homage to this School’s legacy. Biblical study was the hallmark of this place at least for the first two decades of its existence. Students were expected to know and to integrate the biblical stories so as “To Preach The Word” with authority and authenticity.

There was no party line regarding a methodology for biblical interpretation. But, Methesco, especially in the persons of Everett and Fred, Bogie and Moody, gave the Bible back to me. Everett remains in my memory the finest classroom lecturer I have ever heard. I had discarded the Bible in my revolt against the fundamentalism of my childhood. Thus, when I began to hear the biblical witness — often for the first time — the various schools of higher criticism, and the various strands of tradition and their employed literary genre were experienced as precious gifts that reopened a veritable treasure house.

That clergy, who have been similarly informed and blessed, have been too long afraid to teach the laity what they learned in seminary is one of the great failings of mainline pastoral leaders. This failure has robbed innumerable lay persons of the tools by which to hear and see the Word beyond the words, has driven many hungry, searching, and critically thinking people away from the Church, and has created a biblical and theological void that neo-literalism has exploited to the detriment of the Church and the world.

C. “The Issue Is Biblical Authority,” Chapter Three, identifies biblical authority as the stalking horse issue at play in the midst of all the vexing and potentially divisive issues facing today’s Church.

This chapter issues a challenge that is still unanswered. Namely, how can neo-literalists interpret certain portions of the Bible literally, as they do, while they either disregard or explain away other texts of equal or greater magnitude? An example is their misuse of the texts cited regarding homosexuality. What is the hermeneutic that informs such behavior? Is there one? How can some texts be treated as literal truth from God, while other texts are not?

The Bible, a Spirit-inspired product of humankind, written in certain times and historical settings for particular venues, yet wonderfully expansive in faith for faith, is a telescope for glimpsing, however incompletely, God’s transcendent grandeur, and is a microscope for examining, however fleetingly, God’s passionate immanence.

The words of Scripture, and the various literary devices employed to carry these words, are means that point the faith community to the Word beyond the words. Thus, the need for “holy conferencing,” and for passionate and informed exegesis and exposition in the faith community, especially in our congregations. Serious study that is empowered by scholarship, piety and the Spirit, if the Bible’s authority is to be discovered and affirmed as applicable for such a time as this.

Here at Methesco we were taught that there is no preaching except biblical preaching in which a revealed and carefully exegeted text finds or is given confluence with the real life context of congregation, community and world. It is in this intersection that biblical authority is discovered and becomes God’s tool for setting the prisoners free.

D. Chapter Four has become infamous. While expressions of gratitude for its attempts at clarity far outweigh the vehemence of its fewer detractors, nevertheless, it was the Iliff lecture and this chapter of the same name and similar content, namely, “Fully Human Jesus,” that have drawn the fire and prompted the now dismissed charge of heresy. Recently, I have even been accused of being naive, ill-formed and exhibiting false humility. All of this because Dr. William Abraham at Perkins, while he never interviewed me or heard me teach or preach, read this one chapter. So much for research methodology and for my attempt at clarity.

Addressing Christology from below, while grappling with issues of existence, rather than doing Christology from above, while speculating about questions of essence, this chapter presupposes Jesus’ full humanity. His divinity, while affirmed, is understood as relational reality and not as a matter of irrevocable nature. In short, Jesus could have forsaken his relationship of at-one-ment with the Holy One, whom he called Abba, but instead, by virtue of His ultimate trust in and absolute obedience to the divine initiative, He incarnated and manifested the very heart of God that neither death nor tomb could contain.

There are practical and particular reasons for emphasizing the human side of the Christological paradox at this moment in history. Not the least of these has to do with the docetic tendencies of a higher Christology. A marginally human Jesus not only robs humans of a viable model to follow, it also so shrouds Jesus in the code language of a former time that yearning hearts and searching minds often dismiss and, thus, are dissuaded from taking the Gospel seriously. High Christology runs the risk of so removing Jesus from history and humanity that, while His adherents proudly venerate His image, they sometimes shamefully fail to follow His example.

In this regard, it is informative to note that “Good News,” a proponent of high Christology, saw fit to honor as the 2002 Christian of the Year, the former governor of Texas. He, who had presided over some 153 state-sanctioned murders. Now, as President of the United States, this same Christology-from-above proponent of personal piety, has embraced an unethical National Security Strategy that employs pre-emptive, first-strike war making methodologies, contrary to Just War thinking and the time-honored ideals of this nation.

The point is clear: The further Jesus is removed from His humanity, the higher the cloud on which He resides, the murkier the ethics become for following His example of social justice, non-violence and extravagant love in the Church and world.

I affirm Jesus as Savior and Liberator. However, Christo-centric exclusivism that ipso facto prepares the soil of stiff-necked, exclusivistic arrogance, if not virulence toward other religions, must be disavowed. Our question is how to be unequivocally Christian while being respectful, gracious and welcoming toward non-Christians.

A fully human Jesus helps with this dilemma. That is, if Jesus’ at-one-ness, His atonement, were not about blood-sacrifice to appease an angry God, but about ultimate trust in God’s fundamental goodness and our Savior’s commitment to a radical obedience for loving kindness, doing justice, and walking humbly, there just might be a way of the Cross for us to follow. The human Jesus, crucified and risen, provides an indefatigable basis for hope for all of creation to savor, and a model of unconditional love and peace with justice for all humanity to embrace.

Reactions to my description of the virgin birth stories as myth, when employed quite differently by Matthew and Luke, have been numerous. The high degree of biblical literalism among neo-literalists, regarding certain parts of the Bible, was expected. But, the positing of an intervening, supernatural, can-do-anything-God, necessitated by the human condition and early Church thinking, according to some sophisticated, so-called post-modernists, is baffling. Do post-modernists literally accept the cosmology of the biblical world as fact? Why do the time-influenced constructs of the early church fathers hold such awe and reverence for them, given the oblique and rather slippery language employed? Not to mention the male-only politics that were endemic in their development? And, when and why did metaphor and myth become such negative concepts to well-informed people in the Church?

It has been surprising to me, not that neo-literalists have been virulent in their clamoring for Mary’s gynecological virginity and for Jesus’ bodily resuscitation on Easter, but that seminary faculty members and other well-informed clergy and laity need, teach and passionately advocate a virginally born and physically resurrected, if not always bodily resuscitated, Jesus. I find such thinking to be incredulous.

One wonders what such thinkers do with the horrors of the 20th century. If God could have intervened and did not in the Holocaust, two world wars and countless other acts of genocidal evil, does not God have more for which to atone than the worst of us? A God who intercedes to effect a virgin birth, yet a God who permits the innocents to be slaughtered? What kind of God would this be?

The scandal of the Cross is not that we must accept literally what our minds cannot conceive. But rather, as Jesus so trusted God that He would die for others, so too are Jesus’ disciples to die to self in hopeful trust, that we might enflesh a present form of radical obedience that does love the neighbor, unconditionally, even to our deaths, if need be.

E. The poetry of Emily Dickinson, “Hope Is The Thing” shapes Chapter Five. This chapter points to realities of resurrection that expose our fear, cynicism, and muttering mediocrity as expressions of practical atheism. Talk resurrection, but live fearfully and cynically, while embracing go-along, get-along mediocrity, and you have a real case of practical atheism parading in the guise of piety. And the Church reeks of this stench, as our hesitancy to embrace the Prince of Peace, here and now, in this chauvinistic moment in this nation, demonstrates.

The resurrecting God, who makes ways where there are no ways and transforms dead-ends into vibrant thoroughfares, is the basis for hope. And that hope drives us to live courageously and expectantly as we dare to offer the Church and world all that we are as those who have been emboldened by grace through faith.

Such hope empowers audacious behavior, both personally and corporately. Such is our call in this wilderness period. Perhaps that is why Elijah’s mantle, Jeremiah’s field, Ruth’s hesed, Esther’s daring and Jesus’ passion and parables have become such pregnant symbols for so many of us in these perilous times.

F. The pastoral office is affirmed and challenged in Chapter Six. Unfortunately, and perhaps shortsightedly, I spent so many words celebrating and challenging clergy that I wrongly neglected a needed discussion of lay ministry. Although baptism itself refutes my error and has pushed me to apologize for this oversight, as I do again tonight, I nevertheless do affirm unequivocally that called, committed, courageous and well-trained pastoral leaders, who will focus on preaching and teaching, are the crying need in today’s Church. Where such leaders are serving, the Church is vital — regardless of size, context or ethnicity. And lay ministry is reshaping the world, in part, as a result.

G. Tomorrow, I shall discuss war and violence. These are significant parts of the Seventh Chapter. The title of that chapter, “The Seamless Garment,” originated with Cardinal Joseph Bernadin. As I discuss the War on Iraq, the implications of this chapter will be made more explicit. That this is, by far, the longest of the book’s chapters demonstrates my belief in and commitment to the interface of theology and ethics. Hence tomorrow’s lecture.

H. References to Ecumenism and Pittsburgh close out the book. My affirmation is that God gives the whole created order inherent unity. Jesus broke down all dividing lines of hostility. The Church is to be the harbinger of this good news, by precept and example. Hence, whether in Pittsburgh in 1964 or 2004, in the United Methodist Church now or at General Conference later, this gift is in our hands to employ or squander. We are its stewards.

We will either allow God’s gifts of unity and power to guide us toward their intended Spirit-blown future or we will squeeze them into a momentary, but not ultimate, death. It is in our hands to do. Personally, I am seeking, candidly and vulnerably, to open doors for its future and to celebrate the new life it will generate. But, I do so with trepidation. If we do not learn to confront and listen, debate and pray, schism may be at our doorsteps.

Conclusion

I close with a postscript. It is prompted by a photograph printed in a recent edition of the Interpreter Magazine. There we are in the spring of 1964 in front of Pittsburgh’s Civic Arena. With others we are protesting the continuation of the racist Central Jurisdiction. We are clamoring for systemic change within the Church.

Kneeling contritely at the protest are vintage Methesco students Jon Brown, Bill Nelson, Grayson Atha, John Petry and Thomas Sagendorf. Seated on his bottom is yours truly. This both proves my suspected lack of piety and depicts clearly that, even when affirming significant truth, I cannot resist the temptation to dissent.

But, lest you snicker unduly, please know that I learned such behavior at this School when, long ago, as a bunch of wizened Elijahs, some of whom are present tonight, passed on to some wet-behind-the-ears Elishas, “A Double Share Inheritance” of affirmation and dissent. And I for one am grateful.

Thank you.

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Picking Up the Mantle

Spring Lecture #2

Wednesday, April 23, 2003

Text: “[Elisha] picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, ‘Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?’ When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over.” - II Kings 2:13-14

Introduction

Van Bogard Dunn preached one of the three finest sermons I have ever heard. He did so in a ramshackle, little Baptist Church in rural Mississippi in the late spring of 1965.

We were there, a small group of Methsco faculty and students, because Black Methodist leadership had invited us to join them in various public acts that would attempt to hold, even increase, the gains made against the virulence of Jim Crow practices.

Each evening of our sojourn, we Methsco-ites would help to lead services of worship that were well-attended by the Black community where we gathered. On the night in question, with the Ku Klux Klan encircling the filled-to-capacity, tiny church building, complete with their glaring spotlights and brandished shotguns and rifles, Bogie was “told” some 10 minutes before the service began that he was to preach.

A bit incredulous at the news, Bogie retreated to a small room, and returned to preach, “It’s Just Gotta Be So.” Despite his commitment to the indicative, to the language of grace in preaching; and, despite his unequivocal endorsement of textual preaching, that night, in imperative mood and with topical license, he presented the Klan, that courageous faith community, and the white Church with a litany for justice, complete with the recurring antiphon, “It’s Just Gotta Be So.”

Years later, recalling that night in 1965, during a time of ethical searching regarding a vexing issue, I asked Bogie what his methodology was for determining, and then doing that which is just. Typically, Bogie stared at me and said, “Sprague, just do the right thing.”

And, since then, however falteringly, I have sought to pick up that mantle. To do the right thing, regardless of consequences, and to trust that, if we dare to inquire about the Lord’s presence and are audacious enough to strike the turbulent waters, a way in the midst of no way appears.

Elishas, who have been blessed to “see” and hear faithful Elijahs, are called to pick up the mantle.

I. The Book

A. The “Seamless Garment” chapter in Affirmations of a Dissenter, reflects in part, my attempt to pick up the mantle and to do the right thing.

I hope that the implications and passion in this chapter are clear and unequivocal. The Seamless Garment reference seeks to convey this person’s adherence to situational pacifism and my opposition to this nation’s policies in Palestine, Afghanistan and, by extension and inference, Iraq.

This chapter ties issues of systemic racism to our out-of-control culture of violence. A culture in which our nation has a $400 billion defense budget, more than the rest of the world combined, not even counting the costs of the war in Iraq, and a prison population in excess of two million people.

The words in this portion of the book attempt to question and refute our Church’s arrogant and unethical statements regarding gay and lesbian people: statements that fuel the fire of covert, if not overt, actions of discrimination, meanness and violence against gays and lesbians.

Surprisingly, this chapter also strongly affirms our Church’s position on abortion. I lean toward a reverence for life framework that supercedes the two polarities in this on-going debate.

This chapter calls for an intentional, long-standing, bipartisan War on Poverty, nationally and globally. It is interesting to note that the United Nation’s development arm projects that $40 billion would provide the necessities to meet the fundamental needs of all the globe’s people. How ironic that a mere biblical tithe of this nation’s defense budget would meet the basic needs of all of suffering humankind. Talk about a winnable War on Terror or genuine “shock and awe.”

What if this nation embraced its ideals, added reality to its rhetoric, and invested $40 billion for the liberation of all the world’s people? That would be a winnable war. It would be a war the sustainable values of which would speak Salaam to Muslims around the globe.

“Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” If the voice of public opinion were to demand that President Bush and his advisers strike the chaotic waters of homelessness, ignorance, HIV/AIDS, refugee camps, hunger and hopelessness, with the mantle of good will and resolute financial and human commitment, the waters of woe, including the growing turbulence in the Islamic world, would part. God makes a way, if and when we dare to strike the waters of woe.

Let us pray for such a miracle and let us dare to advocate that this nation simply do the right thing. Which brings me to the War on Iraq, and its aftermath.

Pages 66 to 92 in Affirmations of a Dissenter detail my embrace of non-violence. They also describe my trip to Afghanistan last June. Upon my return from Afghanistan, I urged the containment of Saddam Hussein, but not a war waged against the people of Iraq. Obviously, like the collective voice of the peace movement around the globe, these urgings were for naught. Nevertheless, it is imperative that the Church not mute its voice regarding the implications of the Iraqi war and the keeping of the peace in that troubled nation and traumatized region.

II. The War

A. The Bush Administration, arrogantly and self-righteously intent on implementing its pre-emptive, first-strike ideology, says it pays little, if any attention to anti-war protests. Protesters are marginalized, labeled a mere focus group.

We, who protest, affirm that non-violent direct action, support for negotiations and the constant encouragement of grass-roots expressions for peace are the most potent weapons in the world with which to challenge the domination theory of the Bush administration.

Articles in the press accuse anti-war protesters of throwing juvenile temper tantrums, of being uninformed on the issues, and of not even knowing where Iraq and Afghanistan are located. Some media types have insinuated that protesters are un-American, that we aided Saddam Hussein by voicing our opposition to the war hysteria.

Most of us in the peace movement are not juveniles; however, we do represent countless young people from our faith communities, especially the black, brown and poor white, who are an understandable majority in today’s voluntary branches of military service. We do know the geography of Iraq, Afghanistan and the region. Some of us have been there and others of us have colleagues and family members there. We embrace their reports more than we trust the PR blitz of the Bush Administration and of the fourth estate, which has become but an extension of the Bush Estate. We believe that it would be not only unpatriotic, but unfaithful to God and our faith commitments, if we did not continue to raise our voices for a just peace and a quick and resolute response of humanitarian aid for Iraq and the region.

I keep beside the desks in my office and study, pictures of children taken last June in Afghanistan. Each child lost parents and siblings in the U.S. bombing raids in October of 2001. Because their tragic stories and young faces are indelibly embedded on my soul, I cannot keep quiet. I must urge my nation to do the right thing. And pray that the institutional Church and its seminaries will begin again to speak and act boldly.

Some say this was a Just War. That it has vanquished a cruel and vicious dictator. We know that Saddam Hussein was a menace in the region and to his own people. So, too are innumerable other world leaders, including many this nation has and does support. But, while we celebrate Hussein’s demise, we also await the full calculation of the costs of this war, especially to the innocent little ones, who have suffered far more in “shock and awe” than we have begun to imagine.

B. Recently, I led a Bible study for 300 United Methodists who had gathered in our nation’s capital to be further trained so as to be more effectively involved in matters of public policy. On the plane home I finished reading a disturbingly vivid and highly informed account of terrorism, especially that of Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda, entitled, “The Age Of Sacred Terror.” As a result of all of this, and my long-standing and continuing opposition to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the following capsules are offered.

There is a war of great magnitude to be fought today because there is a blessed peace to be won. This war is not about missiles, germs or chemicals. Rather, it involves harnessing the energy, good will and vast resources of this nation and the world in order to realize the dream of God in which all of us, “build up the ancient ruins … raise up the former devastations … [and] repair the ruined cities [and nations], the devastations of many generations.” — Isaiah 61:4

C. Walking home a few weeks ago from a pro-peace really at the Daley Plaza in Chicago, where 10,000 very diverse people had gathered, I basked in the magnificent beauty of uncommonly balmy weather. So, too did countless others. Parents pushed strollers; young adults played frisbee in parks; wiffle ball and skateboarding captivated innumerable youngsters; young lovers meandered hand-in-hand; grandparents proudly cuddled their progeny; Johnny, my homeless and working friend, complimented me on my “cold” tie, as I bought a copy of Streetwise from him; and, the biracial couple, who greeted me with words of gratitude for the role I had played at the rally, introduced themselves as new neighbors in Dearborn Village in Chicago’s South Loop.

It was a serendipitous afternoon. Until I found my heart and mind racing from Chicago’s tranquil beauty to what must have been the people of Iraq’s restive fear and unspeakable horror.

Earlier that day, on my way to preach in a rural congregation, I had deposited our younger daughter and her husband at Midway Airport. We had celebrated her 31st birthday and rejoiced in her pregnancy. As we made plans for the birth event, come September, we discussed the many activities of our seven grandchildren. Spring means club volleyball, vocal lessons, baseball, Irish dancing, final plans for high school graduation and next fall’s first year of college, completion of school projects, an approaching first communion, trips to baseball’s spring training and the warm weather of the Gulf Stream. What idyllic lives our grandchildren enjoy! All children should be so fortunate.

Thus, as the shadows lengthened on that wondrous March Sunday, I found my joy and gratitude enshrouded by abiding sadness and seething rage. While my prayers and words continued to resound for peace, I knew that soon war would be raging in Iraq. I feared, and now believe, that grandchildren, like our own seven and one-half precious gifts of God would pay the major price for this unnecessary war.

Were those Sunday sights of Chicago an illusion? A mere blip on history’s screen? A mirage only for those of us who know unwarranted privilege? Or was that picture a momentary and transitory peek at the Kingdom/Reign of God that Jesus initiated, incarnated, and authorized the Church to represent to the world?

Because I believe unequivocally that what I was privileged to witness, however briefly, on that magnificent Sunday afternoon, is what God intends for all creation, there is nothing else for me to do — and I pray for the whole Church to do as well — but to continue to challenge this nation’s penchant for violence. This unmitigated commitment to an unjust, pre-emptive, first-strike ideology must be named the demon it is.

D. Public support in the United States is strong for the War on Iraq. The Administration, with the help of the nation’s media and the religious and political right, sold this war very skillfully. Few questions have been pressed about Iraqi casualties, the whereabouts of weapons of mass destruction, or the right of the U.S./Britain to circumvent United Nations protocol.

Therefore, we who opposed this unnecessary war must continue to raise concerns for public discussion. In this spirit, I offer these observations for your consideration.

E. It is not easy to live with paradox in perilous times. Recall that Ezekiel knew this. A priest, with a pastoral heart for his people, and a community leader, with a prophetic head for political realities, Ezekiel ministered as Jerusalem fell and exile beckoned.

In that catastrophic context, Ezekiel received his marching orders from God. The precious Word of the Holy One spoke to him, saying, “So you, mortal, I have made a sentinel … whenever you hear a voice from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.” Said differently, through his pastoral heart and prophetic head, in perilous times, Ezekiel was called and commissioned to tell and live the truth, lovingly and candidly.

This is our charge, as well. We United Methodists affirm vital piety. Paradoxically, we embrace a religion of personal piety and communal politics, of warmed hearts and informed heads, of the pastoral and prophetic for all times, and especially for perilous times, such as these.

The precious Word of the Holy One comes to us, as it came to Ezekiel, saying, “So you, [Church] I have made a sentinel … whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.” Said differently, in these perilous times, with pastoral hearts and informed heads, we are to tell the truth, lovingly and candidly.

1. Thus, our pastoral heart speaks. . .

a) We rejoice that this unnecessary war ended swiftly. It is an answer to many heartfelt prayers that civilians and soldiers are no longer in harm’s way as they were only days ago. We applaud the many deeds of heroism and the countless acts of mercy done by military personnel on behalf of others, including grateful Iraqis.

b) The General Secretary of the United Nations, Kofi Annan, told us in a meeting in his office recently that 50% of Iraq’s population is under 18 years, and that 43% is under 15 years of age. It is essential that the Church be the voice for these voiceless little ones of the earth. We must invite our Church members to consider how they hurt when children close to them suffer. We must ask them to imagine how God must be weeping, as little ones in Afghanistan, Iraq, much of Africa, and North Korea face uncertain futures because of militarism, oppression and the aftermath of war and/or deprivation. We must tell the truth with a pastoral heart full of love and empathy. “You [Church] I have made a sentinel … whenever you hear a voice from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.”

2. Thus, our informed head speaks …

a) Remember that following the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus, when the Church was shaped in the power of the Holy Spirit, and for nearly four centuries, the Church was a pacifist movement. Following the teachings and example of Jesus, Christians were expected to be non-violent in lifestyle. Life-taking, even in war, was forbidden.

But, with the conversion of the Emperor Constantine in the 4th century, the Church became so embedded with the culture that the Church developed certain guidelines, criteria, by which to decide whether or not a certain war was just.

b) Over time, the Just War Theory emerged. This theory employs seven criteria — all of which must be met if the Church is to affirm a particular war as just. Five of these criteria must be met before a war begins; the other two must be met while the hostilities are underway.

While we United Methodists vacillate in our Social Principles, between pacifism and just war thinking, most Christian denominations, including the Roman Catholics and mainline Protestants, embrace the Just War Theory as the means to be employed by which to adjudge whether or not a particular war is just. In today’s perilous times, it was the application of these seven criteria that led the leadership of all the mainline Christian denominations in this nation, except that of the Southern Baptist Convention, to label the war with Iraq unjust. It is important not to lose this decision in the midst of this nation’s present euphoria over military victory.

Therefore, please consider the seven criteria and my brief analysis of each when applied to the War with Iraq.

1. Just Cause — Whether for a regime change, the destruction of, as yet unfound, weapons of mass destruction, and/or the liberation of Iraq’s people, a case can be made that the U.S./British leadership of this war had a just cause in sight in the conducting of this war.
2. Just Intent — Dismissing for a moment the charge that this war was for regional dominance, rather than for a mere regime change, on the surface, at least, it can be said that United States and Britain embraced a just intent in this conflict.
3. Legitimate Authority - This war was waged by two nation states against another. The legitimacy of those three governments was not in question. Yet, the United States and Britain acted outside of international protocol and without United Nations sanction. Thus, as Kofi Annan has stated, the United Nations faced a dilemma. Condemn the war’s illegal action further and the United Nations would lose the fragile support of its most potent member — the United States. The world community adjudged U.S./British actions to be illegal. Still the United Nations behaved very cautiously. U.S. influence is vast. U.S. money is the tail that wags the international dog.
4. Last Resort - Given the United State’s new doctrine, of pre-emptive, first-strike war making, described in the National Security strategy, and implemented lethally in Iraq, the Just War criterion of last resort was not applicable in this conflict. The United States did not exhaust all options before violating the long-standing ideals of this nation and initiating war by pre-emptive, first strikes.
5. Probability of Success - The U.S./Britain have won this war, militarily, in quick and dramatic fashion. However, the long-term consequences could well be catastrophic in terms of financial cost, damaged international image, and the heightening of tensions across the Islamic world. The U.S./Britain have sown an ill wind, the devastating whirlwind of which many of us in the peace movement fear our children and grandchildren will reap.
6. Discrimination - The United States was extremely careful in its use of “smart” weaponry. But, “shock and awe” did kill innumerable, innocent civilians. Discrimination — the non-killing of civilians in war — is no longer applicable in modern, high-tech warfare. Can war, therefore, ever again be just? In Afghanistan at least as many civilians were killed by U.S. bombing raids in October 2001 as were killed on 9/11/01 in the World Trade Center despite the best intentions of the United States not to kill non-combatants.
7. Proportionality - In the long run, will the loss of U.S./British/Iraqi life, the political chaos, and the environmental devastation that has occurred be worth the victory? Only history and the Lord of history will be able to say with certainty. But, I seriously doubt it.

This war was immensely popular with white and brown America, but not so with black and red America. Its impact on Korea has been deeply troubling to the Korean-American community. North Korea is rattling the saber, thus aborting a decade of diplomatic progress.

F. Given all of this, I opposed the War on Iraq. But, military victory has been won. Thus, hopefully not as sour grapes, but as transitional commentary on the no-longer, but not yet, I ask you to hear the following:

C. K. Williams, in the March 3 issue of The New Yorker magazine, published these lines in a poem entitled “The Hearth.”

“. . . I was thinking,
as I often do these days of war;
I was thinking of my children, and their children,
of the more than fear I feel for them,
and then of radar, rockets, shrapnel,
cities razed, soil poisoned
for a thousand generations; of suffering
so vast it nullifies everything else.

“I stood in the wind in the raw cold
wondering how those with power over us
can effect such things, and by what
cynical reasoning pardon themselves.

“The fire’s ablaze now, its glow
on the windows makes the night even darker,
but it barely keeps the room warm.
I stoke it again, and crouch closer.”

The War and Peace

Conclusion

Therefore, is it too much to expect that people, like us and the institutions we lead, pick up the mantle and do the right thing?

Personally, I am convinced that, “It’s Just Gotta Be So.”

Amen.