American Heresies
John 13:31-35
Howís this for a sensitive, caring approach to Motherís
Day? Preach on the unfolding scandal of prisoner abuse in Iraq! Nothing says,
ìHappy Motherís Dayî like a sermon that includes images of bound, nude
prisoners.
But what else can we do these days? If we are going to
honor the deepest concerns of our mothers, what else can we do? Moreover, if we
are going to respond faithfully to the call to embody a vision of progressive
Christian faith, if we are going to engage with the concerns of this world and bring faith to bear on
what most troubles our time, then, no
matter how much we may want to, we cannot turn away from those photographs.
For the photographs and the official responses to the
current catastrophe reveal what amounts to heresies at the heart of American
foreign policy, and at the root of some of the responses to it in the Arab
world. The disaster in Iraq is political, strategic, cultural and moral, and it
is also theological.
The pictures themselves, of course, are more than
appalling. I can only begin to imagine the suffering they represent, and the
suffering they will cause. While much of our inside-the-beltway mindset in the
part of the country where I live focuses on the political fallout ñ and that is
considerable and of considerable importance ñ my first thought looking at the
images was of the families of those pictured ñ both Arab and American families,
and what those images must mean to them.
What those pictures may come to mean in a broader sense,
and what broad meanings are already being ascribed to them is significant
because such meaning will certainly impact policies in the near term. But Iím
not sure any broad meaning assigned to the images will be particularly
accurate.
For what strikes me most in these images is, to recall
Hannah Arendtís classic phrase about Adolf Eichmann and Nazi
atrocities: the banality of evil. These pictures remind me of the pictures of
Saddam Hussein crawling out of his rat hole. Hussein ñ a man accused and no
doubt guilty of authorizing the killings of tens of thousands of people and
held up for the world as the
monstrous representation of evil ñ turns out to be just a scared old man
cowering in a hole ñ the picture of banality.
And now, American soldiers ñ held up for the world as the
picture of a nationís virtue, ìan army of God raised up for such a time as
this,î in the words of one American general[1]
ñ are captured on film in a series of actions that look much like the horrors
of sadistic hazing rituals. American soldiers hamming it up next to the bound,
nude bodies of prisoners ñ again, the picture of banality.
The official response to the evil portrayed in these pictures is one that Arendt would quickly recognize, full, as it is, of stock phrases about American values. As she said so clearly, ìClichÈs, stock phrases, adherence to conventional, standardized codes of expression and conduct have the socially recognized function of protecting us against reality.î[2]
In
addition to that function, they have the further effect of leading us deep into
heresy, for denying reality, denying this
world is a classic heresy.
Being something of a heretical thinker myself, heresy is not
a word I toss around lightly. But, as this story continues to play out in the
news, I am struck again and again by the heresy at the heart of much of the
response to these pictures.
It is not the job of the church to correct the stateís
political and military strategies, but it is most certainly our job to correct
errors of theology.
And there are fundamental theological errors ñ indeed,
heresies from the perspective of orthodox Christian theology ñ at the
foundation of the response to these images from both the American and Arab
perspectives.
Some in the Arab world, perhaps to further enflame violence
against Americans, would have people believe that the images give a complete
picture of America. They would reduce us all to the hateful actions of a few of
us, and then demand an eye-for-an-eye retribution aimed at all Americans.
Unfortunately, that strategy works all too well, as we can
hear in responses such as the Syrian woman who said, ìAmericans are showing
their true image,î the Arab editor who said, ìthe liberators are worse than the
dictator,î and the Egyptian writer who said, ì[now] the whole world sees them
as they really are.î[3]
How are we, really? Radical anti-Americanism blinds some in
the Arab world to the fundamental theological truth that we are all beloved
children of the same God ñ created good in the image of a loving God according
to Genesis. This is true of both Arab and American; both prisoner and prison
guard. To deny that reality to Americans ñ as radical Muslim fundamentalists do
when they refer to America as the great Satan ñ is heretical.
On the other hand, in the face of these pictures, President
Bush said that ìwhat took place in that prison does not represent the America
that I know. The America I know is a compassionate country that believes in
freedom.î Elsewhere, the President said, ìour soldiers in uniform are
honorable, decent, loving people.î
But just as some in the Arab world are wrong when they
choose to believe only the very worst about America because of the actions of
some Americans, the President is wrong when he paints a picture of this nation
in such rosy terms. There is deep and profound danger in both of these errors,
and both are flip sides of the same theological coin.
When President Bush takes the same broad brush used by
those who hate America and dips it into rose-colored paint, he denies another
fundamental theological truth that Paul expresses so clearly: ìall have sinned
and fall short of the glory of Godî (Rom. 3:23).
The truth is, as the Biblical image of humanity makes
clear, that each of us is some strange and volatile mixture of the angels of
our better natures and our own profound brokenness. Two of the pictures from
recent days in particular capture this truth for me. They are a pair of
pictures of the same young American woman in Iraq. In one of them she is
smiling as she hugs a young Iraqi child. In the other she is smiling as she
stands behind a pile of bound, nude Iraqi men.
So, which is she: ìan honorable, decent, lovingî young
woman or a ìgreat Satanî?
Not knowing this young woman, I would not pretend to offer
an answer about her individual nature. But about all of us, we do well to
recall the words of the psalmist, ìI know my transgressions, and my sin is ever
before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your
sightî (Psalm 51: 3-5). While in the very same moment we must remember also
that the psalmist says, ìI praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully madeî
(Psalm 139:14).
The young American soldier in those two pictures, along
with all of the rest of us, are both of these things: those who transgress, and
those who are wonderfully made. And we live, all of us, somewhere east of Eden.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said that we must develop the
capacity to forgive, for without that we cannot claim the power to love.
Forgiveness begins, he said, when we recognize that the evil actions of our
enemies do not express all that our enemies are. This simply means, he said, ìwithin
the best of us, there is some evil, and within the worst of us, there is some
good.î[4]
Kingís vision, which seeks as its goal forgiveness,
reconciliation and restoration, stands in stark contrast with the notion, given
voice by the leader of our nation, that we are engaged in a war to ìrid the
world of evil.î[5]
This vision, which animates current American policies in Iraq, Afghanistan and
throughout the world, seeks as its goal the imposition of American notions of
virtue by force of American arms in the belief that America can rid the world
of evil.
Alas, as James Carroll said, ìevil, whatever its primal
source, resides, like a virus in its niche, in the human self. There is no
ridding the world of evil for the simple fact that, shy of historyís end, there
is no ridding the self of it.î[6]
Indeed, the notion that this nation, or any nation ñ no
matter how nobly conceived or dedicated ñ could of its own actions rid the
world of evil is perhaps the fundamental heresy upon which so much of our
current foreign policy rests.
We cannot rid the world of evil when we so clearly
participate in it ourselves. We cannot; any more than we can bring justice to
the world by means of an unjust war; any more than we can bring democracy to
the world by means of a war that the vast majority of the worldís people
oppose; any more than we can bring liberation to the world by means of a war
that increasingly leaves the people of Iraq imprisoned by violence and chaos.
And the further into the morass of this war we go, the more we become like the
very thing we hate.
Some 35 years ago, Dr. King said that ìa nation that
continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on
programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.î[7]
Lost amidst the news of photos and videos from Iraq last
week was the request for an additional $25 billion to cover costs of the war
through the end of the fiscal year.
Now, it may not be the job of the church to correct the
stateís political and military strategies, but just as it is our job to correct
errors of theology, it is also quite clearly our role to warn of the approach
of spiritual death.
In the present case, the two are so closely related. We lie
and deceive ourselves at peril to our souls. We follow the false gods of power
and security, and develop theologies of nationalism to honor them, and we
wonder how it is that we become the very thing that we hate.
Theology matters. Show me your image of God, and I will
show you your image of humanity. From those images of God and humanity grow the
strategies of nations. And when those images are skewed by heresies, and those
strategies perverted by false premises, from them develop the images that now
dominate our news.
The churchís complacency in the midst of this is shattered
ñ or should be ñ as we realize that amidst the howls of anguish and anger
rising in response to the horrors still coming forth from Saddam Husseinís
notorious old prison, nowhere do we hear the voice of the one who said, ìlove
one another as I have loved youî (John 13:34). Nowhere do we hear the voice of
the one who said, ìLove your enemies and pray for those who persecute youî
(Matt. 5:44). Nowhere do we hear the voice of the one who said, ìBe
compassionate as your Father in heaven is compassionateî (Luke 6:36).
Much else lies shattered in these days of broken bodies and
broken trust. Beyond pointing out the lies and deceptions of American heresies,
let the church hear again its age-old calling to be repairers of the breach.
Rev. Dr. David E. Ensign
[1]
The words are those of Army Lt. General William Boykin, President Bushís deputy
undersecretary for intelligence who said to a church group, ìWe are an army of
God raised up for such a time as this.î That speech was quoted widely. I cite
this from ìAbuse Photos Undermine Bushís Religious Rhetoric,î Don Lattin, San Francisco
Chronicle, May 7, 2004.
[2] Hannah Arendt, The Life of Mind - Thinking - Willing (New York-London: Ed. Harvest/HJB Book, 1978), 4.
[3] Quoted by Juan Cole, ìArab Reaction to Photos of Prison Abuseî juancole.com, May 1, 2004.
[4] Martin Luther
King, Jr., ìLoving Your Enemies,î a sermon delivered at Dexter Avenue Baptist
Church in Montgomery, Alabama, Nov. 17, 1957, posted as in the public domain on
ipoet.com. As with many of Dr. Kingís great phrases, he used this, or almost
identical language in many speeches.
Montgomery, Alabama, 17 November 1957. Strength to Love
[5] President Bush, speaking at prayer service at the National Cathedral on Sept. 13, 2001, said ìOur responsibility to history is already clear: To answer these attacks and rid the world of evil.î
[6] James Carroll, ìBushís War Against Evil,î Boston Globe, July 8, 2003.
[7] Martin Luther King, Jr., ìA Time to Break Silence,î an address delivered at Riverside Church in New York City on April 4, 1967, included in A Testament of Hope, ed. James M. Washington (San Francisco: Harper, 1986) 241.