|
I've been musing over words this week.
I heard on the news that motorists had to be careful because on one of
the roads a lorry had overturned, spilling a load of cooking oil onto
the slip road.
Then a chap told me on Tuesday how he was at a really good club with
a mate, shoulder to shoulder people, absolutely packed, and his mate said
to him, "You know, a lot more people would come here if it wasn't
so crowded."
As we are sitting here today, safe and quiet, using words of praise and
thanks, we are aware that missiles are still flying into people's homes
in Lebanon and Israel. As we speak of freedom from sin and death, we are
aware that there are people sitting in British prisons who have just been
foiled in their attempt to bring about a terrorist plot that could have
produced as many casualties as have happened in the entire Israeli invasion
into Lebanon.
What seems evident to the huge majority of Muslims who also long for
peace, is that the treatment of the Palestinian people remains one of
the stumbling blocks that engages the passions of those who see the west
as allies of oppression and tyranny.
I was quite shocked when about ten years ago, I first found out that
Palestinians cannot hold title deed to their homes. I was more shocked
when I watched a bulldozer destroying an olive grove and a house, and
heard the man who owned it being told it was needed for a road. When houses
and land are taken over by Israel, there is no compensation for Palestinians.
Olive orchards, grapevines, pastures, the means of living are often simply
taken and the people who have lived off these for generations, for centuries,
are told the land has been acquired and they have no rights.
These injustices have contributed to the ever growing tension that I
don't think can be solved until there is some justice for Palestinians.
Nevertheless, even if this is to happen, the old angers and hatreds will
not go away for a long time.
Solving Palestine will not bring instant peace. We only have to look
at the countless decades of Irish hatred to see that these things continue
decades, even centuries after the cause of the tension is addressed. Thank
God that Ireland has found an uneasy but seemingly sustainable peace now.
As I read something of the history of the Irish story, I was rather taken
by the fact that many of the people who were the greatest exponents of
peace for Ireland, were the mothers and fathers of people whose children
had been killed in the fighting, in the terrorism, in the hatred, or just
in the crossfire. These peace bringers refused to hate, refused to want
to retaliate, refused to capitulate to the pressure to join in the game
of naming the enemy, refused to want revenge.
There is a huge difference between revenge and justice, but the two often
get confused.
One of the people who strongly influenced the thrust for peace in Ireland
was a lady called Mairead Corrigan Maquire. Mairead Corrigan Maguire founded
the Community of the Peace People in 1976 along with Betty Williams and
Ciaran McKeown. Mairead was the aunt of the three Maguire children who
were hit and killed by a getaway car after its driver was shot by a soldier.
Mairead's sister Anne, died four years later. She never recovered from
the pain of losing her children.
Mairead's response to these events was to initiate a series of marches
throughout Northern Ireland, demanding an end to the violence. Thousands
upon thousands of people, mostly mothers, joined her in this battle for
another type of victory.
They suffered for their cause. They were lampooned, accused of being traitors
by both sides, harassed and brutalized, imprisoned, and killed. But they
continued, and became the most powerful force for the uneasy peace we
have so recently attained. In November last year she wrote:
On Wednesday 23rd November, 2005, I had the privilege of meeting in
St. Peter's Square, Rome, with Pope Benedict XVI. After his public address,
he greeted a delegation of Nobel Peace Laureates present in Rome to attend
the Sixth Nobel Peace Summit.
In his address, to the St. Peter's Square audience, the Pope spoke of
unconditional love. I could not helping asking myself: "why if the
Catholic Church, speaks so much about unconditional love do so many Christians
facilitate and participate in violence, armed struggles and war?"
The answer might be that the message is too vague, there is too much ambiguity
about violence, and many Christians are confused by the old Just war theory.
In truth, as we are each the 'temple of the Holy spirit', and in the words
of Vatican II 'grace lives in the hearts of all men and women'' how can
we hurt or kill the spirit of God living in another person? How can we
hurt or kill our brothers and sisters and say we love them?
When I met the Pope, I took the chance to ask him to 'abolish the Just
war theory, and proclaim the nonviolent gospel of Jesus'. He smiled. (Four
years ago Pope Benedict, then Cardinal Ratzinger, made a statement saying
the time is coming when we will have to get rid of the just war theory).
I told him I was from Northern Ireland, and invited him to visit us. The
moment's encounter was brief and intense and I was moved by his quiet,
peaceful, and listening persona.
But tragically the practical gospel message of "no killing, and love
your enemy" is often, for the Church, a step too far, and hence since
the third century and the time of Constantine, Christians have been amongst
the most war-like and violent people on earth.
Even to-day, in the recent war and invasion of Iraq, carried out mostly
by USA and UK Christians, the justification of invasion, torture, and
use of phosphorus chemical weapons on people is described by some as 'just
war', or justifiable to 'stop terrorism'. They seem blind to the fact
that war is terrorism!
Like Jesus, Mairead bore the pain of the sinfulness of humanity, and like
Jesus, she and her companions did not absorb that pain in a way that made
them like those who caused it. Rather she absorbed it into the depths
of Christ's grace that she lived, and in faith held out another way. Such
things take courage and are costly, but here, in this woman, came another
type of victory, the kind of victory that Christ calls us to attain.
Jesus says "I am the bread of life, given for the life of the world."
He says to you and me, As he goes to the Cross, "This is my body,
broken for you."
Paul urges us in our words and our deeds to be a blessing, that our words
may bring grace to those who hear.
We too easily absorb the oppositional paradigms that our world throws
at us. "They, over there are the enemy. I am the good guy. Therefore,
a fight is OK and I have to win." Victory is winning over the enemy.
Jesus reminds us that the enemy may be of a different shape, a different
nature to what we imagine. We may be fighting the wrong enemy, in the
wrong place, and lose the real battle without knowing it.
We are called to something different, to have the courage to look for
a way of peace. If the peace of Christ is in us it is because the Prince
of Peace has shown us another type of victory.
For us, who follow Christ, winning has a different meaning. Losing has
a different meaning.
The impetus for this is held in the example of our Lord and Saviour. We
sing it, so often, "Bread of the world, in mercy broken. Wine of
the world, in mercy shed, By whom the words of life were spoken and in
whose death our sins are dead." We celebrate the healing power of
the broken bread, Christ's body broken for us", time and time again.
And Jesus calls you and me to take up our cross and follow Him.
These things challenge us to a different paradigm, a different way of
being. How can we not strive for another way?
May we in every interchange, apply to our words and deeds the question:
"Have I, in this, been willing to be broken for the life of the world?
Have I, in this, sought to be a means of grace? Is the Spirit of Christ
alive in me, in my response, in my actions?"
May we, in our discerning the actions of those who lead our world, our
community, our church, ask the same question. "Is there a willingness
to bear pain for the life of the world. Is there a seeking for a means
of grace?" And then of course, again, the more difficult question:
"Do I?"
|
