Pirates and Christian Realism (Part III)

Before you begin reading, you need to know that this is a continuation of the past two weeks' posts.  If you haven't read those posts, you'll want to take the time to do that before reading this post.

I haven't read the book on which the movie Captain Phillips was based--it is called A Captain's Duty: Somali Pirates, Navy SEALS, and Dangerous Days at Sea--but if the movie follows the book and the actual events of that day then Captain Richard Phillips is a very brave man.  Throughout the ordeal he did what he felt was right to keep his crew safe as well as trying to save his own life as well. Like I mentioned before, his story is one that made me think about what I would have done and about whether or not there is a moment when the "rules" or "principles" we generally live by break down, causing us to go deeper or rather behind those principles to actually defy the principle in order to fulfill the greater end behind the principle.  This week I'm going to spend time with the fact that in the midst of this dire situation Captain Phillips lied to the pirates. Is that okay?

In the movie, when the heavily armed Somali pirates board the ship and make it to the bridge where the captain and a couple of other crew members are, the pirates ask Captain Phillips, "Where is the rest of your crew?" Captain Phillips, who had told the crew exactly where to hide, responded, "I don't know."  He lied!  The Scriptures say, "The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in men who are truthful" (Proverbs 12:22). They also say, "No one who practices deceit will dwell in [God's] house; no one who speaks falsely will stand in [God's] presence" (Psalm 107:7).  These are just two of many examples.  The Scriptures reveal to us that God doesn't like it when we lie. Because of this we have rightly formulated the principle that instructs: do not lie. 

So our principle says "do not lie," but is it ever okay to lie?  A legalist or immature Christian (who are often legalists) would say, "No.  You can never lie."  They are just trying to be obedient and faithful, but they are probably also wrong.  Thankfully not everyone is so attached to their principles. After all, every person in Europe that hid Jews from the Nazis during the Holocaust lied.  "Are there any Jews in your house?" the SS asked them.  "No Jews here," they said. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, when criticized by fellow Christians for being willing to deceive the Nazis in order to work against them, once wrote of the following example in an essay called "What Does It Mean to Tell the Truth?"

Bonhoeffer gave the example of a little girl whose teacher stands her in front of the class and asks her, "Is your father a drunkard?" The little girl, whose father is definitely an alcoholic, answers, "No."  Bonhoeffer says, "Of course, one could call the child's answer a lie; all the same, this lie contains more truth--i.e., it corresponds more closely to the truth--than if the child had revealed the father's weakness before the class."  About this example Eric Metaxas writes, "One cannot demand 'the truth' at any cost, and for this girl to admit in front of the class that her father is a drunkard is to dishonor him.  How one tells the truth depends on circumstances."  This doesn't mean that Bonhoeffer didn't think there was any such thing as objective, absolute truth.  What it does mean is that sometimes the reason behind a principle is more important than the principle itself.

Although this is not the official definition, the way I define a "legalist" is someone who cares more about the rules than about the reason those rules exist.  A few biblical examples would be the Levite and priest in the parable of the Good Samaritan.  They cared more about following the purity codes, which were meant to honor God, than they did about helping the dying man, which would have honored God even more.  Jesus didn't get along well with legalists. Again and again he showed that he cared more about the "spirit" of the law (reason it exists) than about the "letter" of the law.  The reason behind the principle "do not lie" is that God (who is The Truth) would be honored and others would be treated well. There may be times, however, when lying would actually honor God more and treat others better than telling the truth.  In other words, it may not be factual but it would be True in the sense of doing God's will. The little girl in Bonhoeffer's example honored her father (and the rest of her family) and treated him better than she would have by telling the class that he was a drunk.  There was absolutely nothing to be gained by telling the truth in that situation.  How would that have honored God?  The teacher obviously had cruel motives. Telling the truth would have only played into the teacher's (and maybe the class's) cruel intentions.  

When the pirates asked Captain Phillips where his crew was, had he been immature and/or a legalist (or a traitor) he would have said, "They are in the engine room with the lights turned off hiding in the back." Would turning your defenseless (why the cargo ship didn't have any form of security other than water hoses I don't know) crew over to armed, desperate, drugged up, pirates honor God and treat others well?  Telling the truth would technically follow the principle, but it would also violate the reason for the principle.  While the pirates may have been Captain Phillips's "neighbors," so were his crew. When he had to make a choice between his neighbors with AK-47's pointed at his head trying to steal his employer's cargo and his nieghbors who were his own unarmed and law-abiding crew, he chose his crew.  He felt it honored God and treated others better by protecting the unarmed innocent rather than telling the truth to armed criminals.  Isn't lying a sin?  Well, maybe lying is only sometimes a sin.  Maybe it is less the action itself and more the intent behind it that determines whether or not something is a sin.

999 out of 1000 times telling the truth is the right, God-honoring, neighbor-loving thing to do.  However, the unwise, the immature, and the legalistic are either unwilling or incapable of discerning the righteous thing to do in that other one time.  When life offers us easy, clear-cut, black-and-white, choices to make, following our principles makes complete sense.  Sometimes, though, we face things that are hard, blurry, and gray.  It is then that we have to go deeper, down to the reason beneath the principle, which may actually help us to do the right thing by not following the principle that one time.  

Captain Phillips lied.  By lying he did the right thing.  And to the glory of God and out of love for my neighbor I would have lied too.

So if lying is usually the wrong thing to do but occasionally the right thing to do, is it the same when it comes to violence as well?  Is violence always a sin or is it on very rare occasions the God-honoring, neighbor-loving thing to do?  I'll get into that next week. 

Pirates and Christian Realism Part II

Continued from last week...

Last week I began an exploration of a concept called "Christian Realism."  If you're not sure what that is please take a few minutes to read last week's post.  This discussion of Christian realism came out of my experience watching the movie Captain Phillips. Throughout that film I wondered what I would do if I was in that situation.  Is there ever a time when a Christian can or even should engage in violence against another human being, who is, of course, created in the image of God?  The answer that is given by Christian realism (and by what is called "just war theory," which was formulated originally by St. Augustine) is that sometimes, reluctantly, sadly, and with reliance upon God's mercy, a Christian not only can but perhaps should do so.  Christian pacifists, of course, do not agree with either Christian realism or just war theory; they feel it compromises the message of Jesus.

Over the past few days I've also been thinking about nonviolence as practiced by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and Henry David Thoreau.  Hopefully we all recognize the enormous debt that we as Americans owe to Dr. King and the hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children who worked nonviolently for the civil rights that all people deserve.  Dr. King--against the insistence of Malcolm X, the Black Panthers, and even some within King's own group--held to active nonviolence with steadfast devotion.  Thank God that he did that because had his movement been violent it likely would have never succeeded.  It was, in fact, the images of nonviolent marchers being attacked by police dogs, pummeled by police batons, and sprayed with fire hoses that finally turned the tide in favor of civil rights.  Yet, although we are indebted to the role played by active nonviolence I personally believe that we are confused and naive if we think it is possible and desirable in every situation.  Although I'm venturing away from Captain Phillips again, I think it might be of interest to explore this.

First of all, we have to recognize that pacifism and active nonviolence are not the same thing.  Pacifism means opting out. Active nonviolence means putting yourself in harm's way to make a difference but refusing to use violence in the effort to make that difference.  It seems to me that Jesus was not teaching pacifism as much as he was teaching active nonviolence.  It also seems to me, however, that there are times when active nonviolence is no longer an option.

Although I am not an expert in these things (so take what I write as opinion not as fact), active nonviolence--i.e. Dr. King's brand of civil rights protest, Gandhi's leadership toward Indian independence, and Thoreau's protest against the Mexican-American War--only works when it is used against a legitimate authority that has limits imposed on it by law and public sentiment.  As a result of Thoreau's refusal to pay a tax as a protest against the Mexican-American War (which seems to have been orchestrated as a land grab), Thoreau merely spent some time in jail and wrote Civil Disobedience. He wasn't beheaded by masked terrorists.  The British Imperial government Gandhi faced off against was terribly unjust and ruthless at times but it did, at least, have limits.  Many police departments and politicians in the South were also terribly unjust and ruthless, but they did, ultimately have to answer to the federal courts, which were finally beginning to interpret the constitution as applying equally to all races.  They also had to answer to the federal administration, which was responding to increased public outcry. Many nonviolent protesters were attacked and some died, but ultimately active nonviolence worked because legitimate authorities were hemmed in by their own limits and these legitimate authorities were either forced or convinced to do the right thing.  Active nonviolence only works against legitimate and civilized (at least in theory and principle) governments or organizations.

I have trouble with Christians who are complete pacifists because I feel that they enjoy the benefits and safety provided by non-pacifists while refusing to participate in making those sacrifices if called upon to do so.  This is America, however, so although I disagree with them I am adamantly opposed to them being forced to do so or punished for being conscientious objectors.  I, of course, don't have trouble with Christians who engage in active non-violence in the fight for justice.  I'd hope that I would have been brave enough to march with Dr. King had I lived in that time and place.  I do have trouble, however, with my brothers and sisters in Christ who believe that there is always a nonviolent solution to every problem.  To me this is Christian idealism rather than Christian realism.  I am a realist.  

Hitler had no limits.  He did not respect German law, international law, common decency, or the moral teachings of any religion. What would have happened if French, British, Canadians, and Americans held hands and marched through the streets of Europe singing "We Will Overcome" and "Peace Like a River"?  Hitler would have mowed them down with machine guns.  What would ISIS do if we sent in negotiators to come to a peaceful agreement?  They would decapitate the negotiators and publish the video on the Internet. ISIS has no limits, no legitimate authority, no concern for public opinion.  So what is left?  To choose to do nothing (pacifism) is to choose to save the lives of violent ethnic cleansing terrorists over saving the lives of innocent victims.  To choose nonviolent means when dealing with an aggressor without limits or laws is to choose to sacrifice the lives of every single protester, while still not making a difference because the aggressors don't care about what is right or moral, only about what feeds their lust for power and violence.  Sometimes, regretfully, there is only one way to protect the innocent from those without limits, law, and consequences.

So what would I, a Christian, do if I was in Captain Phillips's situation, held captive by Somali pirates without limits, law, or consequences? We'll have to get to that next week...

Pirates and Christian Realism (Part 1)

This past weekend my wife, Danielle, and I finally got around to watching the 2013 film Captain Phillips, which is based on the true story of a cargo ship that was taken captive by Somali pirates in 2009.  We had wanted to see the movie for some time but hadn’t gotten around to it.  Unlike most movies we watch, this movie was not a disappointment, but rather it was a suspenseful film from beginning to end that made me constantly wonder, “What would I do in that situation?”  Because of the way my brain works, as I watched the film I couldn't help but have an internal debate between Christian pacifism and what theologian Reinhold Niebuhr dubbed “Christian realism.”  In other words, I was asking the question, “Would I have killed those pirates if I had the chance?”

Christian pacifism takes Jesus’ pacifistic teachings and universalizes them, saying that when Jesus said, “Turn the other cheek” and “Love your enemies and pray for them” that he meant that violence is always wrong in every situation.  After all, Jesus refused to use violence to keep himself from being crucified.  It is believed that Christians were predominantly pacifistic for the first few centuries of Church history.  The Church father Tertullian even said that a soldier needed to leave the military in order to become a Christian, although there is little evidence that this was a widespread conviction.  The pacifistic mantle was later taken up by groups such as the Quakers, Mennonites, and Amish. 

In the wake of the Vietnam War, over the past few decades the Presbyterian Church (USA) has become more and more pacifistic in our stances.  After all, who wants to see that kind of bloodshed happen again?  When I was in seminary and in the first few years afterward I became very enamored with these pacifistic stances.  It just seemed like the Christ-like thing to do, to say that I would be willing to do as Jesus and the early martyrs did.  It seemed like taking the high road, rather than the ultra-patriotic calls for war.  After all, I once sat in a Sunday school class (not at this church) listening to several Christians talk about how the United States should just “nuke” the Middle East and North Korea and “be done with it.”  Since I was terribly disgusted by their comments my pacifism seemed to make even more sense, but then three things changed my mind, turning me from a Christian pacifist into a Christian “realist.”  These things that changed my mind are history, terrorism, and my kids.

Christian realism had always been around but it was Reinhold Niebuhr who named it and explored it in the 1940’s.  You see, after World War I many American intellectuals became pacifists.  WWI was unfathomably terrible and destructive; therefore many surmised that war is never permissible.  The only way to avoid death on that magnitude is simply to refuse to participate in violence.  Then something happened, or rather some people happened: Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini, and Emperor Hirohito.  While some intellectuals held firmly to pacifism, most eventually saw that pacifism was naïve and even dangerous in the face of violent dictators hell-bent not only on world domination but on ethnic cleansing on a massive scale.  Would the loving thing to do be to sit idle as millions upon millions of noncombatants were murdered?  Is it the loving thing to do to stand by as someone is pummeled to death, comforting them as they’re being beaten by saying, “I am a pacifist like Jesus!  I am spreading the Kingdom of God!”  Perhaps it would have been helpful to us if Jesus had told a parable about what the Good Samaritan would have done if he’d shown up while the man on the road to Jerusalem was being robbed and beaten.

Christian realism took a middle ground between pacifism (non-participation in violence) and violent zeal (relishing the opportunity to kill).  Christian realism says with the Apostle Paul, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone,” but recognizes that sometimes it doesn’t depend on you.  After all, should the world stand by as ISIS massacres Yazidis, Assyrian Christians, Shiite Turkmen, and Shabak, Kakais, and Sabean Mandaens in Iraq?  Should the world have sat idly by as the Nazis continued to murder millions of Jews, disabled persons, gypsies, gay and lesbian persons, and others?  Should the United States have just let the southern states become their own slaveholding country?  

The Christian realist absolutely hates that violence is sometimes necessary and avoids it as long as possible but also recognizes that on this side of heaven there is sin and killing and that sometimes we must participate in one sin to bring an end to even greater sin.  That’s why Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who abhorred violence, eventually became involved in an ill-fated scheme to assassinate Hitler. Some Christian pacifists either deny that Bonhoeffer was really involved (although all evidence is to the contrary) or they say that in his involvement Bonhoeffer betrayed his ideals and stooped to the level of the Nazis.  In my opinion, these folks have a hard time dealing with the reality that our principles only work until they don't work anymore.

One of the best statements of Christian realism was spoken by Jimmy Carter during his Nobel Lecture upon his acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002.  He said, “War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn to live together in peace by killing each other's children.”  The Christian pacifist says that war is evil, and never necessary.  The Christian realist says that war is evil, but that sadly, on this side of heaven war is sometimes necessary.

As I learned about history (especially WWII) and as terrorism has gotten more and more ruthless, I began to make the shift from an idealistic pacifism to Christian realism.  It wasn't until I had kids, however, that the deal was sealed.  Although it is old fashioned and probably not politically correct anymore, I believe that it is my responsibility as a husband and a father to protect my wife and kids with everything I have, even at the loss of my own life.  Because I am the man of the house it is automatically my responsibility to do everything to protect them whether that means ridding the house of a bat or confronting an intruder.  I can’t send my wife or kids down the stairs to do that; it's my job.  

If some strung-out drug addict comes into our home and attacks my wife and kids I can’t be a pacifist; it would be irresponsible and, I believe, unchristian.  I can’t say, “Well, that person is really just sick with addiction and it’s just going to perpetuate the cycle of violence if I intervene.  After all, Jesus said, ‘Turn the other cheek’ and ‘love your enemies.’  Sorry Danielle, Wyatt, and Josselyn.  I'll see you in heaven." Because I am a disciple of Jesus, I would regret that this sick person has forced me to go against my nonviolent Christian principles.  However, in that moment I’d have to be a Christian realist rather than a Christian idealist and do whatever is necessary to protect my family.  Once Danielle and I had kids I realized that I couldn’t be a pacifist anymore because I would do anything to protect my wife and my kids.  Anything.  

So what about if I was on the ship with Captain Phillips? 

to be continued next week...