Otto Mitterndorfer| Contents |
|---|
In the last number of the Quarterly, in a brief note near the bottom of page 405, we promised our readers an article on the present question in the next succeeding number of the work. Today we sit down to the task of redeeming that promise.
The question: Should Christians go to war? is not just now for the first time coming up in our ranks for consideration. Many a time in the pulpit it has been the subject of a few perhaps ill-digested and hasty remarks; seldom the subject of a well-prepared and pertinent speech. We now have reason to mourn its neglect. How it might have been decided, whether at all or not, had it been more thoroughly discussed, of course we have no means of knowing. Still we regret the comparative silence in which it has been allowed to pass. Had we been able to foresee the consequences to which our neglect has led, or to anticipate that indecisive views in regard to the question would at any time lead even to questionable conduct in our brethren, to say nothing of such as is surely wrong, the question would certainly have received the serious attention to which it is entitled. But this power of foresight we did not have, neither the ability to anticipate.
But the question has received more attention from us than these remarks would seem to imply. It has occasionally been the subject of an article in our current literature, and now and then of a tract. Near twenty years ago it was carefully and somewhat fully discussed in an address by our venerable Bro. Campbell. Would that the views then set forth by that large just brain had taken complete sway of every heart among us, and had kept it with tyrannous power to the present instant. But such was not the case; and many a heart since then has felt the pang of the unheeded advice.
That our brethren have generally in large part inclined to the view that a Christian can, in no case, go to war with the approbation of Christ, may, I believe, be truthfully said. Still they have not so strongly so inclined as to control, in all cases, their action. And then not a few have boldly taken the ground, not merely that the Christian may go to war, but that he is bound, even by Christ, in certain cases, to do so. From this, it at least appears that the question is not with us a settled one. Should it longer remain in doubt? I think not, provided the means is at our command to settle it. Let us have it decided, yes or no; and then let us life-long abide by this decision. Let us teach the decision to our children, train them to it, mold their hearts after it, and so infix it in their young natures that no contingency can ever arise which will lead them to set it aside. If he who says the Christian is permitted by Christ to go to war is right, he who stands in the negative is certainly wrong. Let the issue be fully joined, and the question forever set at rest.
The question I propose to discuss is this: Does Christ in any case permit his followers to go to war? This question I unhesitatingly answer, No. Let, now, the question be fully understood, and the issue it raises be fairly stated. Moreover, let the relative position of parties to it be well understood; that is to say, let their logical position to it be well understood. Then we shall have no false issues raised, nor any irrelevant disputes introduced.
1. Of the question. — I have aimed to so state the question as to involve the precise point in doubt; to involve all that is in doubt, and nothing that is not; in other words, to exclude from the proposition all that is foreign to the issue, and to include only that which is essential. The question, then, is not whether all wars are in themselves wrong, or whether some wars are right; not whether Christ ever sanctions war, or whether he never sanctions it; not what men not under Christ may or may not do; nor what governments may or may not do, the question raises none of these points. But a state of war actually existing, no matter by whom or what induced; no matter from what cause arising; no matter for what end waged, — does Christ permit his followers to fight therein? This is the question.
2. The issue. — Is not what Nimrod did, nor what God sanctioned in his day; not what Israel did in or out of the wilderness; not what Moses commanded, or Joshua did; not what Saul did, nor David did, nor Samuel did. These are not the issue. Neither is it, whether some wars have not resulted well; whether nations have not been blessed by them; whether the wicked have not been justly scourged by them; whether all this may not justify them; and whether, if, on such grounds, they are justified, Christians may not allowably take part in them. Neither are these the issue. But does Christ permit a Christian to fight in any war? Not whether he may permit it; but whether he does permit it. This is the issue.
3. The logical position. — Let it be carefully observed that the relation we sustain to the question is strictly negative. We do not affirm that no Christian can with Christ’s approof fight in war; we deny that any can. We are, consequently, not to prove anything. Our business is to show that others prove nothing; that is, that they prove nothing who affirm the proposition. This we confidently expect to show. Those, then, who affirm that Christ permits his followers to fight in war, take on them the burden of proof. Our denial stands good against their affirmation till they adduce the evidence on which they rest their conclusion. If we show that that evidence is impertinent or inadequate, or that it is in any other respect so defective as not to necessitate the conclusion it is designed to establish, then the proposition must be held, as to this evidence, to be false, and a verdict is to be rendered for us. And if, on still further investigation, no evidence necessitating the conclusion is adduced, then the proposition must be held to be absolutely false, and all Christians should eschew it.
Nor must the proof adduced to sustain the proposition in hand be such as to leave it in any sense doubtful. War is a shocking thing. It is abhorrent to the feelings of all humane and tender hearts. Its effects on the morals of a people, its waste of human life, the misery and suffering it entails-these show it to be a horrid thing. Now surely, no doubtful proof can justify the Christian in taking part in it. The case should be both clear and imperative. If even the vestige of a doubt hangs over the case, I hold that the Christian is bound to decide against a step which leads him to shed human blood. If the case is merely doubtful, then to my mind the case is decided, and decided against the proposition. It is not enough that the Bible may merely say nothing against it. To make the step right, the Bible must enjoin it, and that in the clearest terms; or if it enjoin it not thus, at least must it do it in some not less binding form. These principles seem to me so obviously correct that simply to state them is enough; and if correct, it will hardly be denied that they lie heavily against the proposition in hand.
But still further in regard to the form in which the proposition should be stated. I have phrased it thus: Does Christ in any case permit his followers to go to war? But I much doubt whether this is the true form for the proposition. Is not this rather it? Christ in some cases binds Christians to go to war. It so strikes me. For if they are not bound to go, then it seems to me intuitively clear that they are bound not to go. Such is the nature of war that it can not be a matter of indifference whether we go or not; and if it is not a matter of indifference, then it is a matter of duty one way or the other. It is either a duty to go, or a duty not to go. This I shall take for granted. The proposition, then, let us allow, in some cases binds Christians to go to war.
Now let all my brethren suppose me to have affirmed this proposition, and to be standing before an audience about to attempt its proof. Just at this juncture, let them imagine an angel to appear and to take his stand beside me. Let them now suppose him to say to me: “You shall die before tomorrow morning. If from the word of God you make good the proposition you have affirmed, you shall be saved; if not, you shall be lost.” What would be their sensations on hearing this announcement? The universal feeling would be — lost, forever lost. But why? Because from not one passage in the word of God binding me as a Christian, or in any other sense, from not one incident in the life of the Savior, from not one in the life of any apostle, would it occur to them that I could make good my task. They would at once appeal to their memory of the New Testament to suggest to them the proof; and this their memory could not do, for the proof is not there. But one feeling would pervade every heart, and that one of universal horror. They would believe me to be as certainly doomed, as they believe the Bible to be the word of God. Even he who most confidently affirms it to be the duty of the Christian, in certain contingencies, to go to war, would involuntarily utter: Lost. But this would not be the case if the New Testament, in any form or in any way, supplied the requisite proof. I must hence feel the proposition, in the only form in which it really ought to be stated, to be difficult indeed, if not wholly incapable of proof.
But let me present a similar case. The proposition to be discussed, allow, is this: The New Testament makes it the duty of Christian parents to have their infants sprinkled. Let us suppose the person who affirms this proposition to be a Methodist Episcopal Bishop, venerable for his great age and pure life. He is before an audience to begin its defense. An angel appears, as supposed in the preceding case, and the same startling announcement is made. Instantly my brethren would shriek: Gone. But does not that bishop as firmly hold his proposition to be grounded in the word of God as do you, my brother, who affirm that Christians should sometimes go to war? Men may be mistaken. And I am free to say that I see quite as much in the Bible to favor the bishop as I do to favor my brother who stands for war; and that I think their mode of treating the Scriptures much alike.
Let it constantly be borne in mind, that to be either bound or permitted to go to war, is to be either bound or permitted to take the life of human beings. When, then, the question is reduced to its simplest form it amonts to this, that Christ binds or allows his followers to take human life. Are we not shocked at the very announcement of such a thought? That He who came into this world, not to destroy men’s lives, but to save them, has yet ordained that in certain cases his disciples shall not save them, but destroy them, is a tough position for the Christian to defend. The mode in which this is done alters not the case. I hold that I have just as good a right to step out into the street and in cold blood shoot my enemy dead, as I have to do it on the battle-field. On the battle-field, every time I shoot I aim to kill a man; in the street I could do no more. But it will be replied, that in the street I shoot from malice, but not so on the battle-field. Perhaps so. The only difference I see is, that in the one case the malice is directed against a single individual, in the other against a troop; in the one case I aim to kill only one man, in the other as many as I can. I apprehend that the human heart is capable of no more deadly hate than adverse warriors carry into the melee of the battle-field. Here passion runs as high as passion can run, only it is disciplined; and hatred is as intense as it ever becomes, only the code that regulates it is different. Its mode of action is not the same; itself is not the less real.
Before proceeding to adduce the arguments which are herein to follow, and as much as possible to guard against the influence of prejudice, I wish to say, that the position will not be here taken that the Christian by going to war necessarily unchristianizes himself. If Christ neither binds him nor permits him to go, then by going it is held that he does wrong; unless, as already said, war is in itself a thing so harmless and indifferent, that he may go or not, as he chooses. But the wrong of going to war can be allowed to have no other effect on him than any other wrong act. It is a thing to be forgiven, as is every other wrong; and hence is not necessarily decisive against him. If not forgiven, of course, it is fatal; but this is not because it is an act of going to war, but simply because it is in itself wrong. Any other wrong act, if unforgiven, would have precisely the same effect.
But to this it will be replied, that many Christians go to war who not only do not believe their act to be wrong, but positively believe it to be right; and that in all this they must be allowed to be strictly conscientious. Granting this, which must be true before the Christian can act with his own approbation, and still the nature of the act remains the same. The act has its own absolute character, as right or wrong, independently of the convictions of him who engages in it. To go to war and take men’s lives is not a thing made right or wrong merely by the accident of being believed right or wrong. It is right in itself, or wrong in itself; and no human convictions can divest it of this attribute. If wrong, though all men believed it to be right, still it is not right. How far conscientiously believing it to be right, when it is wrong, will go to soften the rigor of Heaven’s sentence against it, is a question which I am wholly incompetent to decide. That it will have its effect I am glad I have not the inclination to deny. We have all long since learned how extremely dangerous it is to decide acts to be right simply from the motives which control them. Few acts could be named which could not be shown to be right in some part of the world, if this were to be accepted as the standard. An act may be right in itself, but if controlled by wrong motives it will not be accepted. The wrong motives affect not the act, however; they affect only the actor. He will be rejected, not because his act is wrong, but because his motives were wrong. To be accepted himself and have his act accepted, two things are necessary: the act itself must be right, and the motives which control it must be right. If the act be right and the motives wrong, the actor is rejected, and the act goes for nothing. But if the act be wrong and the motives right, still the actor can not be accepted; for it was his duty not to act till he knew his act to be right. Had he been at the proper pains to investigate the nature of his act before he performed it, he would have learned that it is wrong. For this neglect his motives can constitute no sufficient excuse, at least they can constitute none so far availing as to render an act wrong in itself right. Acts, in the case of the Christian, have not their character as right or wrong from the convictions of him who performs them, but solely from the will of Christ. They hence have a character which is absolute and positive; and this no motives or convictions of men can change. Though all the men on earth believed the act of sprinkling water on an infant in the name of Christ to be right, and to be baptism, still would it be a crime and deeply offensive to the Savior? So with the act of going to war. If it is right, it is because it is either commanded or in obvious and necessary accordance with the will of Christ; if wrong, it is because it is contrary to his will; and in this case nothing can render it right, but it remains a sin forever. Hence what remains is to determine the character, under Christ, of the act of going to war. Is it right? Is it wrong? Or is it indifferent?
But what do we mean when we talk of an act of going to war? The language is vague and general. It strikes me that a sharper and more specific view of its import and implication is necessary before we can either test it by rules or apply to it arguments; and this we must certainly do before we can pronounce on it a very reliable judgment.
By an act of going to war, then, we mean, not to speak more particularly, an act of going out to subdue by force an enemy. Now the very first question which here arises is this: Is the Christian in any case allowed, to say nothing of his being bound, to use force against a human being? This is a hard question, lying on the very threshold of our subject. If the Christian may not use force at all, then the question is settled. He can not go to war. May he, then, use force? Of course, the advocate of war must affirm it. Can he prove it? I ask the candid reader if he has here no doubt? Does he feel sure that the advocate of war can make good his case? I must say my doubts are large with heavy point. Indeed, I feel satisfied that he can never invest his case with even a high degree of probability, far less can he make it good. On what ground, let me ask, may he use force, if on any? Let it be constantly borne in mind that the Christian man is not his own; that he has been redeemed by Christ, and consequently belongs to him. Christ’s will, then, and not his own, is the rule of his conduct. He has no rights of his own, and may do nothing save by sufferance of Christ. Has, then, Christ given him the right to use force against a fellow-creature? — especially has he given him the right to use it against him to the extent of taking away his life? Every precept of the New Testament, having the slightest bearing on the case, negatives the question. This is not the place to argue the question save on general grounds, yet even these appear enough. Suppose it to be admitted that the Christian may use force against his fellows, whom of them may he use it against? When the advocate of war says against the enemies of the State, this is an arbitrary discrimination. Why not equally against his personal enemies? Of course, the answer is: He is forbidden to use it against these, but not against the enemies of the State. But this is not satisfactory. For, in the first place, it is an assumption of the point in debate; and, in the second place, it implies a false ground of action. The Christian may not do things merely where they are not inhibited, especially where even this is doubtful. Mere non-inhibition can never justify an act such as that of going to war. It must rest on a far more solid and authoritative basis than this. The right to use force is hence far from being apparent.
But the act of going to war is more than the mere act of going out to subdue an enemy by force. It is the act of going out to take his life. Further than this, it is the act of going out to take many lives. When the Christian enters the ranks as a soldier, he enters expecting and willing to be led into battle. And when led into battle, he intends to kill to the full extent of his power. Hence, every time he has a chance to shoot, he shoots; and every time he shoots he aims to kill a man. Suppose now he has a chance to shoot twenty times in a day, and this is a very moderate estimate, twenty times in a day, then, he aims to take the life of a human being who was created in the image of God. These human beings are generally unprepared to die. They are hence hurried into eternity in the midst of passion, while their souls are thirsting for blood, and curses are on their lips. Yet twenty times in the day the Christian deliberately intends thus to hurry one off. Is it possible now that he can be acting with the approbation of Christ, and that his soul is pure in the sight of God? Whether he kills or not every time he shoots affects not the case I am making. He intends to kill. This intent is the thing which I wish to have shown to be right. If this can not be done, again I repeat, the question is settled. The Christian can not innocently go to war.
Hence, when maintaining the right of the Christian to go to war, what he who maintains it has to do is, to maintain the Christian’s right to intend and actually to kill a human being, called his enemy, every time he gets a chance on the battle-field. I know not what proposition the New Testament may not be made to sustain, if it can be shown to sustain this.
The subject in discussion being now pretty fully stated, and the proposition to be opposed being fairly before the mind, I may, I believe, next proceed to adduce my arguments. The proposition to be opposed, let it be borne in mind, is this: Christ in some cases binds Christians to go to war.
1. My first argument in refutation of this proposition is drawn from the source whence wars spring. The argument is, that war can not be right when its cause is wrong. What now is its cause? The following from the New Testament supplies the answer:
“Whence are wars, and whence battles among you? Are they not hence, from your lusts that war in your members?” (Jas 4:1)
Here lust is, in the word of Christ, set down as the cause of wars and battles; not as the cause of some wars and some battles, but as the cause of all wars and all battles. And I hesitate not to believe that, were we capable of tracing every war to the secret motive from which it originates, we should find the apostle’s remark to be in every case, and in the severest sense, true. Lust of territory, lust of power, lust of fame, lust of wealth — few will be found to deny that these are the great mainsprings of war. Extinguish all trace of these in the human breast, and unless Satan could muster some other passion into service, wars would universally cease. Now that lust is positively forbidden in the word of God, as a thing wrong in itself, no one will deny. Hence all acts which are strictly performed to carry it out and gratify it must be wrong. This includes war — all war. Hence all war must be wrong. But is it the object of the apostle in the passage to show merely whence wars come, and that they are wrong because lust is wrong? Is it not rather to show that lust is wrong, because it leads to war? Does he not take for granted that war is wrong; and then, as war is the effect of lust, reason from the effect to the cause to show that the cause is wrong? Clearly, to my mind, his object is to condemn lust because it leads to war. But how can he condemn lust because it leads to war, if war itself be right? The answer is obvious. Hence from every view we can take of the passage the same conclusion results — war is wrong.
But in reply to this it will be said that the wars and battles of the passage are not war in the sense in which the word occurs in the question, Should Christians go to war? but that they denote merely the little feuds and contentions which from time to time spring up among the children of God. How, I ask, is this known? Or from what laws of language results such a narrowing of the terms? This view is clearly arbitrary, and taken for a special purpose. If the words “wars and battles” have not here their accustomed signification, it would be difficult, it seems to me, to show that they have it any where else in the Bible. I can certainly take them in no other than their usual sense; and must deny to others the right to do so, till they make good that they have that right.
But even granting that the wars and battles of the passage refer only to the little feuds and strifes which occasionally arise among Christians, and does a better conclusion result? If Christians may not take part even in the small strife, which is free from the guilt of human blood, may they yet take part in the great battle where thousands are slaughtered? Is it the magnitude of a war which makes it right? Or is it right only when human blood runs, and wrong only when it does not? If an argument from the less to the greater is ever sound, then must that be sound which from the wrong of the bloodless feud infers the wrong of the bloody battle. How Christians can be wrong when merely quarreling with their brethren, and yet right when shooting human beings down in battle, is something which I confess my utter inability to see.
2. My second argument will be based on the following:
“My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now is my kingdom not from hence.” (Jn 18:36)
The expression, “My kingdom is not of this world,” is to the Christian one of peculiar value. It is one of those great general sayings of the Savior which regulate not a single act, but a life. By it the Christian is taken completely out of the world. His citizenship is changed; for he is transferred into a new kingdom; his relations are new; his modes of life are new; and all the principles which govern it are new. He is himself a new creature; old things have passed away; and he is no longer, as though still living in the world, to be regulated in his conduct by purely worldly ways and laws. His subjection to the will of Christ is now absolute. It is the supreme regulating law of his life. It controls, not one act, but all. Every thought, and word, and deed is to be referred to this and determined by it. All this is implied in the fact that the kingdom of Christ is not of this world, and that the Christian is in it. Now, that war is not permitted within this kingdom, among its inhabitants, is simply indisputable. Wars take place in the world and belong to it. They are not of the kingdom of Christ. Hence, if the Christian go to war, he must, to that extent, go out of the kingdom and back into the world. Now the question arises, can any thing, law, or necessity, which is not of this kingdom, so far take the Christian out of the kingdom, and place him back in the world, as to enable him innocently to engage in war? I feel profoundly satisfied it can not. If war were permitted in the kingdom, then might the Christian engage in it out of the kingdom; or if it harmonized with any rule of action of the kingdom, or with its spirit, or with the renewed character of its citizens, in that case might the Christian go to war. But it is not permitted, neither does it so harmonize. On what ground, then, I ask, is the Christian to be justified in an act of going to war? Simply none.
But we must not omit to notice the Savior’s own mode of treating the case. His language is: “If my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews.” Now allow that the word “fight” is not to be here so taken as to include fighting for any purpose; still it must be admitted that it denotes fighting in any way. “Then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews.” The object is clearly specific; the mode of effecting it clearly is not; that is, it is not except within certain general limits. It is specific within the limits within which fighting can be done, but no farther. The Savior clearly means, then would my servants fight, fight in any way, fight with anything, fight in battle, fight as soldiers — fight in whatever mode might be necessary to prevent the end named. This clearly includes fighting in the sense of an act of war. Now, that delivering up the Savior to the Jews, and their putting him to death, were wrong, are points which, in the light of the New Testament, need not be argued. The Savior himself decides the former point, in what he says of Judas; Peter decides the latter, in what he says of the Jews. Indeed, I set down the act of murdering Christ as the most outrageous and flagrant deed of earth. Of all the crimes that heaven ever frowned upon, this, in point of turpitude, exceeds them all. To take a being, who was without spot or stain, the purest and truest friend of man, and with malice of the pit put him to death, rises in blackness and deep criminality infinitely over every other sin of human kind. Nor is it the slightest mitigation of this sin that God intended his Son thus to die. This he did; but he never intended the wickedness which caused it. To intend that his Son should thus die, knowing that there would then be men who, of their own accord, would be wicked enough to do the deed, is one thing; and to intend that wickedness, a very different thing. That God did; not this. Hence the Jews were in God’s sight, and in the sight of every law forbidding wrong and every one commanding right, as guilty as though his Father had decreed that Christ should live forever and never die. Now if, because his kingdom is not of this world, he would not let his servants fight to prevent this crime, what crime may they yet fight to prevent, or what to avenge? The crime, it seems to me, can not be named by human cunning which can justify fighting if this did not. But further let it be noted that this would not have been a fight to acquire territory, power, or gain, or to gratify lust in any of its forms, but solely to prevent the shedding of innocent blood. Yet to fight even for this object, and in the absence of all the motives and feelings which usually lead to war, was not permitted. Can, then, the servants of Christ fight at all? To me it seems impossible.
But we shall be told, that, had Christ allowed his servants to fight, and to prevent his being delivered to the Jews, thereby the purposes of God would have been defeated as to the mode in which his Son should die. Granting this, as to this particular mode, still, had it been right to fight to prevent it, would not the heavenly Father have fixed on some other mode which fighting could not defeat? Surely he was not necessarily limited to a single mode. As an objection, then, this amounts to nothing.
But still further: we shall be told that it would have been wrong for Christ’s servants to fight to prevent an event which was necessary to the founding of his kingdom, and, without which, it could not be founded; but that this does not imply that they may not fight for other purposes. True, it may not imply this; but it expressly teaches that fighting is in some cases not allowable. Now, granting that in others it may be, then comes the difficult question, which are the allowable, and which the disallowed cases. In the absence of divine direction, are Christians competent to decide the question? I feel sure they are not. Are they not rather bound to decide that all wars are wrong, seeing they are so very horrible in themselves, and hence to decline to take part in them till some divine warrant therefor is produced? This seems to me to be their true and only safe rule of conduct. At least, they must not act till they know which wars are right, if any are, and which are wrong; for in a doubtful case the Christian must either not act at all, or he must act on the side which is least doubtful; and that this is the side of not going to war I shall not argue.
3. My third argument will be based on the prayer which the Christian is taught by his Savior to make to the heavenly Father; namely,
“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. (Mt 6:10)”
According to this, the profound and the expressed wish and desire of every Christian’s heart is to be, that the will of God may be done on earth as it is in heaven. This, moreover, is to be, not his occasional, but his constant prayer. Of course, then, while making it, he must do nothing inconsistent with it, or in any way calculated to defeat it. If now the will of God were today as perfectly done on earth as it is in heaven, does there live a Christian who believes that we should ever have another war? Surely not. But why? Because it is the instinctive feeling of every pious heart that the will of God is not only against war, but that were it done on earth as it is in heaven all war would cease, and peace would reign universally. In proof of the correctness of this feeling, we know that a time comes when the will of God will be done on earth as perfectly as it is in heaven; and that then there will be no war, but universal and perpetual peace. And this state of peace will be the immediate effect of the complete prevalence of the will of God. The inference, then, is just, that the will of God is wholly against war, and inducive only of peace. This will the Christian is to do as far as in him lies; and no power or other will can legitimately interpose to interfere with his act, prevent it, or prescribe another. He is wholly and supremely bound to the will of God, and nothing, save that will itself, can release him from it, that he may do other acts than those prescribed in it. Certainly, then, he can not be released to do acts contrary to it. Now, unless God has so far released the Christian from his will that he may go to war, which is an act contrary to his will, then is the Christian bound to refrain, and not to go to war. Has God, then, so far released him? I solemnly deny it; and from him who affirms it demand the most indubitable proof. God has certainly not in so many words released him. If, then, he has released him at all, it is by necessary implication. Is there a passage containing it? If so, we shall leave with the advocate of war the task of producing it. Our denial stands firm.
But to this it may be replied, that it was once, as in the days of Saul, the will of God that men should go to war, and that he actually commanded it; and further, that, since he is unchanging, it must still be his will. Here I must again remind the reader of the question at issue. It is not what may be the will of God respecting men of the world — men who are not Christians. With this question I have nothing to do. It may, for aught I know, be God’s will, not that war should exist, but that, since nations will grow corrupt and go to war, one nation should thus become the scourge of another. He may avail himself of war to chasten; but this does not prove war right. It only proves that God will sometimes use human wrong as a rod of human correction. But the question is, not what God permitted or commanded in the days of Saul, but what he commands or permits now under the reign of his Son. And as to his not changing, this is granted; but it does not therefore follow that he never changes the laws which men are to obey, or the principles by which they are to be governed. This he does. Hence, from the fact that it was once his will that Saul and others should go to war, it does not result that Christians may go to war.
4. My fourth argument is drawn from the two following passages:
“Then said Jesus to him: Put up again thy sword into its place; for all they that take the sword shall perish by the sword.” (Mt 26:52) Again: “He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed by the sword.” (Rev 13:10)
If these two passages do not settle the question, then must I despair of ever seeing it settled, at least by holy writ. I can not imagine how a passage, unless it ran in the words, “you shall not go to war,” could be more decisive than these are. Το my mind they are final.
But let me analyze the passages. And, first, we have the broad general assertion: “all that take the sword shall perish by the sword.” This language is without limitation, and must hence be taken in its most comprehensive sense. It does not apply merely to men who take the sword for this purpose, but not to men who take it for that. It applies to all men who take the sword, whether in the kingdom of Christ or out of it, of today or tomorrow. No matter what they are, or when they live; if they take the sword, the decree is gone forth, they must die by it. This is absolutely indisputable. Why, now, has Christ decreed that all who take the sword shall die by it? The sole reason is, because it is wrong to take the sword. If it were right to take the sword, then it would be wrong to decree that he who takes it shall die by it. To die by the sword is appointed to be the penalty of taking it; it is the punishment due him who uses it. But this it could not be, if using the sword were right. It is hence wrong, universally wrong. No Christian, then, may use it. Consequently no Christian can go to war. This conclusion seems to me wholly invulnerable. It is incapable of refutation.
Next, the specific direction: “Put up again your sword into its place.” But why put it up? Because, says the defendant of war, it was not allowable to use it in furtherance of Christ’s kingdom. Granted. But this is not the reason assigned by the Savior for putting up the sword. That reason is, “for all that take the sword shall die by it.” Clearly the train of thought which yields the specific direction is this: All who take the sword shall die by it, because it is wrong ever to take it. Then, Peter, you must not use it. Therefore put it up.
Now how antagonistic to this the position of the advocate of war. He does not say to the Christian, who stands in the battle rank, with drawn sword, ready to strike his fellow down: Put up your sword. Not at all. He says rather to that Christian: Draw your sword and strike. Why? Because he who takes the sword shall not die by it; for it is right to take it. It is idle to say more here.
To the same effect is the language cited from Revelation: “He who leads into captivity shall go into captivity.” Now it can hardly be held to be right to go to war, but wrong to lead a captured warrior into captivity. This is certainly deemed, by such as defend war, to be one of its most legitimate consequences. Yet the passage settles that “he who leads into captivity shall himself go into captivity;” and his going into captivity is clearly determined against him as a retribution or punishment in kind for his deed. But how can he who leads into captivity be punished in kind, unless leading into captivity is itself wrong? The answer is clear. To go into captivity is a just punishment for leading into captivity. Hence leading into captivity is wrong. But leading into captivity can not be wrong, and war, out of which it grows, be right. Hence war itself is wrong; and, therefore, the Christian can not take part in it.
But the remainder of John’s language is still more decisive than this: “He that kills with the sword shall be killed by the sword.” How, in the teeth of this, the Christian man can persuade himself that he can innocently go to war, is a mystery I never expect to be able to show. There is but one way, it seems to me, in which he can possibly approve his deed to himself, or make it appear to be right. If he can show that to be killed by the sword is no punishment, but is in itself right and approved by Christ, then it may be he can show that the killing of others, from which it springs, is right also. There is no other way.
The only possible reply to this, which I can think of, is, that the killing which leads to being killed is the killing, not of a public, but of a private personal enemy. Should any one take this position, I have simply to say, that for him I am not writing. I am writing for fair men and reasonable; no others.
5. The following supplies my fifth argument:
“But I say to you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you, and persecute you.” (Mt 5:44)
Let any Christian man study the sentiment herein expressed, study the spirit, drink it in till his soul is full of it; till, in other words, he is thoroughly imbued with it; and then let him in candor say whether in his heart he feels no antagonism between this spirit and that which would lead him to war, lead him to take human life. I set it down as a thing simply indisputable, that no man, be he saint or sinner, can with the sentiment and spirit herein named ever go to war. The spirit of the passage and the spirit of war are hopelessly irreconcilable. They can never be made to agree.
But let us inspect the passage a little closer. In what sense, then, are we to take the word enemy? Of course, if we take it not to express all enemies of whatever kind or name, at least must we take it to express a personal enemy. More than this it may mean, and most probably does; less than this it can not mean. A personal enemy, then, we dare not hate; we must love him. But if we dare not hate a personal enemy, then must we hate none. And if we must love the personal enemy, I conclude we must love all. These positions will not be dissented from by the Christian. If, now, the Christian is solemnly bound to love his enemy, obviously he is equally bound to do nothing to him inconsistent with this love. Can he, then, at the instant while loving him and praying for him, and in harmony therewith, take deliberate aim at him on the battlefield, and shoot him dead? The thing is impossible. Human nature is incapable of the deed. No more can the Christian shoot on the battlefield a man whom he loves, and for whom he is praying, than he can the mother that bore him. The feeling of love must be wholly extinguished in his bosom and all his prayers hushed before he is capable of the deed. But this with the Christian must never be the case. He can hence never go to war. To love an enemy and to want to kill him at one and the same time are feelings grossly opposed. No two can be more so. Yet such must be the state of the Christian’s heart before he can go into a battle; unless he may cease to love, which, of course, he can never do.
In estimating the bearing on war of such a passage as that now in hand, we must remember to look at war and warriors just as they are, and not in the deceptive light with which the glowing pen of the defendant of war sometimes invests them. To die for one’s country is a glorious thing, we are told. So it may be; but it must be a small affair to him that dies. If a glory indeed, it is so for him who lives, and not to him who dies. To follow the drum and fife in martial line, and shout: “On to victory, boys, on!” is very chivalric to be sure; but when a soldier lies mangled on the field, his last blood spouting from his heart, and murmurs with life’s closing sob: Oh, my wife and little ones!” — this is a note in a different tune. To report to His Excellency the number of troops engaged, the magnificent handling of forces on the field, the noble bearing of Gen. A., the strategic skill of Col. C., the dashing charge of Capt. B., the tug of battle, the wavering of lines, the repulse, the rout, the victory, the pieces of artillery taken, the flags captured, — all this reads well. But what is it all to him whose cold and pulseless body lies stiff on the sod through the frosty night, while his desolate wife screams in her distant home, and weeping, dependent children cry: “Father is gone; oh, gone, forever gone!” The poetry is now not quite so exquisite. But to draw the picture of a battle is not my object. I wish merely to call attention to the evidently very loving spirit in which this work of death is certainly done, to the many prayers which are breathed for enemies while it is going on, and to the strict accordance of both with the spirit and tenor of the passage in hand. This is all.
6. My sixth argument is suggested by the following:
“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them; for this is the law and the prophets.” (Mt 7:12)
Fortunately for us, in commenting on this passage, we shall not be met by objections based on supposed or real limitations in its meaning. Here, at least, no reference is made to nations as such, individuals as such, public enemies as such, or private enemies as such. The reference is to men universally, whether enemies or not. Neither nation, rank, condition, age, class, nor individual is excluded. All men are included, with all their relations, whether to heaven or earth, state or church, family or individual. All whose acts can affect us, or whom our acts can affect, are included; hence none are excluded. How, now, are we to act toward all these? This the Savior does not absolutely answer in the case of each act; conditionally he does. He answers, it is true; but his answer is contingent, depending on our own previous determination or wish in the particular case. When ever in a given case we decide what we would have a human being do to us, then he decides what we must do. Would we now, in any case conceivable or possible, have an individual to take our life? The answer is overwhelming — we would not. If an enemy saw us on the battlefield, we would not have him shoot at us; and if he shot, we would not have him hit us. This we know to be true at the bar of our own conscience. We would not even have him aim to hit us; for this would imply a willingness on our part to be hit, which is a thing we are incapable of. If our enemy saw us, we would have him to be, in some way, unable to kill us. We would have him out of ammunition, or his gun out of order, the distance too great, or his skill defective; in no case would we have him kill us. Even if we knew our enemy to be in the right, and ourselves to be in the wrong, or that by the laws, either of nations or of the State, we deserved death, still the same result follows — we would not be killed; we would live as long as nature would let us. If an enemy saw us exposed, we would have him pity a poor fellow — mortal and not shoot; or if he had the advantage of us, we would have him too magnanimous to use it; all this we know in ourselves to be true. If, now, such is the would or the wish of our own hearts, and such we know to be their would or wish, then we know what our conduct is to be, in every case, toward our enemy — we must not kill him. Not only so, we must kill no one, whether enemy or not. Then, if we must not kill, we must not go to war; for when we go to war, this is what we go for. This conclusion seems to me unanswerable, and decisive of the question in issue.
But, now, what exceptions does the Savior’s language admit of, or what means have we of escape from its meaning? I confess I know of none; nor do I see how any can be imagined. The passage seems to me to bring the controversy to an end. And, if so, the question: Can a Christian go to war? is settled. He can not go.
7. A seventh argument will be deduced from the following:
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; against such there is no law.” (Gal 5:22,23)
On reading the fruits of the Spirit, as here enumerated, it seems to me impossible for the Christian not to feel that there is the most palpable repugnance between the spirit and acts which these fruit simply and the spirit and acts of war. Opposition can not well be conceived which would be greater. Suppose the passage read thus: The fruit of the Spirit is love, hatred, joy, grief, peace, war, and soon, would we not be shocked with its incongruities? We should feel that it was a tissue of contradictions; and the feeling no one could pronounce unjust. Yet, how could we so feel, or why should we so feel, if war be right? If war be right, there can be no antagonism between the spirit which induces it and the Spirit which yields the preceding fruits. Nor does the fact that the passage reads not as supposed in the least change its value in the case in hand. The opposition between the contents of the passage and the spirit of war still as palpably exists; only it exists not in the terms of the passage. It exists in the facts of the case, but it is none the less real on that account. All Christians have the Spirit; and he who has not the Spirit is not a Christian. This we hold to be irrefutable. One of the named fruits of this Spirit is peace. The opposite of peace is war. Now how can a man who is under the influence of the Spirit which induces peace, yet at the same time engage in war by the sanction of that Spirit? I hold it to be an insult to the Spirit of God to so affirm. Yet short of this affirmation the advocate of war can not stop. I shall leave him, then, to reconcile the points of opposition; for I can not.
Again: another fruit of the Spirit is gentleness. This is a lovely trait in the character of the Christian. Now can any two conceivable things be more opposed than this gentleness and the violence of war? In not a single feature do they agree. War is the very climax of violence. It is violent in spirit, violent in action, violent in every way. Yet, if it be right for the Christian to go to war, then, in some way, must the violence of war be shown to be consistent with the gentleness of the Spirit. But this can never be done. The conclusion is obvious — Christians can not go to war; for they can not become men of violence.
Here, now, are seven consecutive arguments against the position that the Christian is, in any case, bound to go to war. These arguments might easily be increased to twice this number. Any one of them, if countervailed by no conclusive offsetting argument, would, I hold, be decisive against the question in hand. When taken together, as a refutation, I feel them to be nothing short of final. How, in the teeth of their conjoint force, any sane man can stand up, and still say the Christian should, in certain cases, go to war, is something I claim not to be able to understand. Of course, the right of others to a different opinion is not herein called in question, nor their sincerity in the event of holding it in any sense doubted. If, now, there is nothing in the word of God to set aside or annul these arguments, they will, I believe, be generally accepted as decisive. Is there, then, any scripture to annul them? Of course the advocate of war must hold that there is. I shall consequently adduce the passage on which alone he relies, or, if not on this alone, on this and others like it; hence one will suffice.
“Let every soul be subject to the higher powers; for there is no power but of God. The powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resists the power, resists the ordinance of God; and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation.” (Rom 13:1-3)
The argument based on this passage is concisely the following: All legitimate war is an act of the State, and not of the individual. The passage in hand binds every Christian to be obedient to the State. Hence, if the State command the Christian to engage in war, he is bound to obey.
Now, for the sake of avoiding collateral issues, and waiving all immaterial questionable points, I will grant that all legitimate war is an act of the State, and not of the individual. Hence, whether there is any such thing as legitimate war, is, as the reader will perceive, not here made a question. Thus, then, we dispose at once of the first premise of the argument.
The passage in hand binds every Christian to be obedient to the State. This proposition is both true and false. Properly qualified, it is true; without qualification, it is false. It is not true that the passage binds Christians unconditionally to be obedient to the State. Certainly the passage binds Christians to be obedient to the State in all matters not in collision with Christianity; and in all such matters the Christian has no discretion, he is bound to obey. The law of the State, in the case, may, in his judgment, be unwise, it may be inexpedient, it may be oppressive; it may be in many other respects objectionable; it may even be offensive and odious; still, if on comparing it with the word of God it is not found to be in conflict therewith, he is bound to obey it — to obey it, too, as a matter of conscience. All this I hold to be a matter of solemn duty with the Christian.
But the moment the State commands the Christian to do anything contrary to Christianity, no matter what it may be, or how great the necessity for it, he is bound to disobey. Of course, in all such cases there is a conflict between the will of Christ and the will of the State; and in every instance of such conflict, the will of Christ, and not the will of the State, determines the Christian’s act. This no Christian will deny.
If, for example, the king of a realm commanded all Christians within the bounds of his jurisdiction to set up in their respective houses of worship a statue of himself in simple token of their loyalty to him, no Christian man could refuse obedience to the command; for clearly there is no collision between it and any duty we owe to Christ. But if at the same time the king commanded divine honor to be paid to such statue, Christians would be compelled to disobey. Here, then, clearly the right of the State to command its Christian subjects is shown to be a limited, and not an unlimited, right. Of the truth of all this the well-known case of Daniel is a pertinent illustration.
Again if the United States by special statute command all male citizens born within its limits to be circumcised, in order to distinguish them from citizens of foreign birth, however arbitrary and tyrannical such statute might be, I do not see how Christian men could refuse obedience to it. Indeed, on scriptural grounds they could not. But if the United States at the same time commanded such citizens to be circumcised as a religious duty, and as in obedience to the law of Moses, then every Christian man would be compelled to disobey, even at the peril of his life. For while so far forth as circumcision can be viewed as an indifferent act, the right of the United States to enjoin it may be held to be complete, and this whether the reasons for it be adequate or not; still the United States has no right to prescribe to its Christian citizens the observance of any act as a religious act. Hence all attempts to do so would have to be resisted, only, however, to the extent of disobedience, even if the disobedience led to the suffering of death.
In all cases, therefore, where the act is in itself right, or is simply indifferent, that is, is made right or wrong solely by the command of the State, the right of the State to command its Christian citizens, and their duty to obey, must be held as perfect and indisputable. But in all cases where the act is not clearly right in itself, or not clearly indifferent, then the State has no authority to command its Christian citizens, and every such command is in itself null and void.
Now since the act of going to war is shown by the preceding Scriptures to be wholly inconsistent with the teachings of the New Testament, it is therefore shown to be, at least in the case of the Christian, a wrong act. Hence, since it is not an indifferent act, nor an act right simply in itself, but, on the contrary, is a wrong act, at least for the Christian, it thence follows that the State has no right to command the Christian to engage in it, and that where the State does so command, every such command is a nullity in the sight of Christ, and is to be absolutely and unconditionally disobeyed by the Christian. Such is the conclusion which results legitimately from the premises now before us. Hence on this conclusion we hold that every Christian man is bound to act; and that he has no discretion in the case. Consequently, if the State command him to go to war, let him mildly and gently, but firmly and unalterably, decline. If the State arrest him and punish him, be it so; if the State even shoot him, be it so; never let him go to war.
Much more, certainly, might be said on the question, but I shall now bring this paper to a close. My aim has been, not to make an elaborate argument, but a conclusive one. For this purpose I have thought it best to confine myself strictly to the Scriptures. Hence I have not turned aside to discuss the statistics of war, nor any other feature connected with it, except such as is involved in the question: Is it right? This question settled, I deem all others of secondary importance.
Again: it will be perceived that I have discussed the question with no reference to the unhappy war through which our country has just passed. My object has been to make a calm, temperate argument, which should be offensive to brethren on neither side of the recent strife. I have wished to profit all, and offend none. With what success the task has been executed, the considerate reader is left to decide.
| Links |
|---|
|
