St. Jerome writes of St.

John, the beloved disciple: When John tarried at Ephesus to extreme old age, and could only with difficulty be carried to the church in the arms of his disciples, and was unable to give utterance to many words, he used to say no more at their several meetings than this: Little children, love one another. At length the disciples and fathers who were there, wearied with hearing always the same words, said, Master, why dost thou always say this? It is the Lords command, was his worthy reply, and if this alone be done, it is enough.

I have a simple message today as we approach the fifth anniversary of the invasion of the Iraq: if Christians wish to lessen the spread of evil throughout the world they need only to refrain from doing it.

September 22nd 2004 I wrote the following from Abu Ghraib Prison:

I almost started crying today. I brought the book into the interrogation booth, hiding for the 45 minutes prior to my session as I delved into incarnational ethics and the ineffability of that nebulous thing called the will of God. And then I talked to a man about how our joint venture in killing someone wanted by him and by his tribe and by the Coalition (well,

we think its the same guybut, if its not, who cares) would be a good thinghow we could, say, hi-five each other over the thought of each party assisting the other in vengeance and military expediency (I think we call this justice). Wow! What a partnership! I convinced a man to help us help him in committing vengeful murder. Anyone wanna go to a praise and worship service with me tonight? Maybe we can take the Eucharist together? Lets sit down at a Purpose Driven Life 40 Days of Purpose Bible study and talk about divine mercy and Gods will for my life. God have mercy on my soul.

Catholics constitute 30% of the US Military, Christians more broadly obviously the vast majority of uniformed troops. The ravaging of Iraq is not merely the fault of cowardly academics who postulate mortal combat as though an elevated game of chess power-deluded Catholics like George Weigel and Jeb Bush notwithstanding it is the fault of vast and widespread social cowardice: the culturally, religiously and politically accepted complicity of obeying men rather than God.

In 298, 14 years prior to the conversion of Emperor Constantine, a Roman Centurian rent his military garments in front of his men and cried, I am a

soldier of Jesus Christ, it is not permissible for me to do violence. His superiors thought him deranged, he was sent to Emperor Maximilian and forthwith executed for the treasonous act to refuse military service. October 30th is the day of the liturgical calendar we celebrate the martyrdom of the very first Catholic conscientious objector, St. Marcellus of Tangiers, whose bones are beneath the altar of the Sacred Heart Basilica at the University of Notre Dame (oddly enough, one of the single largest ROTC installations in the country).

Some 40 years later, another soldier, of a nascent Christian Roman Empire, rode his horse in military exercises through the French countryside when he passed a beggar shivering in the cold. Manifesting the softened heart of a new catechumen, he dismounted his horse, took off his military cape (which in Latin is a called a cappa) and cut it in half, making a blanket for the destitute man. That same night, this Martin of Tours saw that beggar in a dream. Warmed by his cappa, the beggar in the dream looked at Martin and with the face and voice of Jesus Christ, thanked him.

After completing his rites of initiation, Martin came to believe that not only must his severed cappa be given over to Christ, but all of his weapons and

armor. Martin immediately sought baptism and discharge from the Roman army. In explaining his stance as a conscientious objector, Martin spoke the words of St. Marcellus, Martins soldier-martyr predecessor: I am a soldier of Jesus Christ, it is not permissible for me to do violence. Once baptized, Martin was ordained a priest, then a bishop, and was revered for his holiness throughout his life.

When Martin of Tours died, the Church acclaimed him a saint and raised him up for devotion. As their principal act of devotion, the faithful obtained the remaining half of Martins now famous cappa, enshrined it in a tent, and prayed with it. The tent that held the cappa came to be known as the capella, which became the Latin word for chapel. November 11th is the day of the liturgical calendar the Church brings to mind, not only that story which created the name for countless houses of worship, but also the story of a saint who conscientiously objected to serve in a military after the conversion of Emperor Constantine which is the very first moment in the history of Christianity violent allegiance to an earthly political power entered the Christian consciousness.

From the birth of Christ in 4 AD to Constantines conversion in 312 AD, refusal to participate in violence, imperial or otherwise, was not only a consistent dogmatic and pastoral assertion of bishops, but also a practical reality of the faithful. The preponderance of Church martyrs during Her first 300 years pays homage to how seriously the Early Church took Christs command that Peter lay down his sword.

St. Paul, in the first century, wrote to the Romans:

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; never be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends upon you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God; for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord." No, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him drink; for in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

In 165 AD, St. Justin Marty wrote:

And we who delight in war, in the slaughter of one another, and in every other kind of iniquity, have in every part of the world converted our weapons into implements of peace, swords into ploughshares, our spears into farmers tools, and we cultivate piety, justice, brotherly charity, faith and hope, which we derive from the Father through the crucified Savior.

Tertullian, father of the Latin Church, as he is called, who introduced the terms trinity and three persons, one substance to Catholic doctrine, in the second century wrote:

Christ, in disarming Peter, disarmed all Christians, even soldiers.

In 215, St. Clement of Alexandria wrote:

The Church is an army of peace which sheds no blood. In peace, not in war, we are trained.

In 258 AD, St. Cyprian of Carthage wrote:

The world is soaked with mutual blood. When individuals commit homicide, it is a crime; transformed into a virtue when it is done in the name of the state.

The reasons for such unanimity of nonviolence were three-fold:

1. The Christian is to imitate Christ, who loved his enemies and suffered violence rather than wielding it. 2. The Hebrew understanding of the Messiah was he who would herald in a reign of peace, thus disavowing violence was the Christians proof the Messiah had come in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. (To this day the simple Jewish proof that Jesus was no Christ is simply: where is the reign of peace?) 3. Christians were to give no allegiance to Caesar, for in the Messianic Kingdom of God there is no king but Christ.

Lets now take a radical jump forward in history.

Franz Jagerstatter was born in 1907 in the small Austrian village of St. Radegund, not far from the time and place of the birth of Pope Benedict XVI. There Franz was raised in poverty and came to age as a young man known for a wild and rebellious lifestyle. He was even said to have fathered a child out of wedlock. Eventually, he married a saintly woman named Franziska and had three daughters, Maria, Aloisia, and Rosalia. Franziska spurred in Franz a renewed devotion to his Catholic faith. Franz came to be an active member in his parish and admired the courageous sermons of one priest in particular, Fr. Karobath. The Christian life for Franz became not just candles and ornate ceremony.

When in 1938 the German Anschluss, the annexation of Austria, commenced, Franz increasingly saw a choice he would have to make between holding to his Catholic faith and supporting the broadening devotion to the historic German fatherland. In 1940, Franz was drafted and reported for about six months of service, after which time he returned to St. Radegund vowing disobedience to future military conscription letters. He sought the advice of friends and his priest, and even met with and received advice from his bishop. Franz was told by each that, because of his state in life as a married man, he should not risk the punishment of death by

resisting military service. Furthermore, he was advised not to feel guilty for possibly aiding the Nazi cause, since moral responsibility for their commands resided with them, not with him or other soldiers merely following orders.

Against almost all of the advice he received, Franz refused military service. Franz meditated upon a few questions which ultimately led him to conscientious objection:

1. What Catholic can dare to say that these raids which Germany has carried out in several countries, and is still carrying out, constitute a just and holy war? 2. Who dares to assert that among the German people in this war only one person bears the responsibility, and why did so many millions of Germans have to give their yes or no? 3. Can one be reproached today for lacking patriotism? Do we still even have a mother country in this world? 4. If the Church stays silent in the face of what is happening, what difference would it make if no church were opened again?

In such meditations the content of Catholic conscientious objection emerges. On March 1st 1943, Franz presented himself to the military and told them directly and definitively that he would not fight. He offered to serve as a medical orderly as a work of mercy, but that he could not fight or advance the cause of the war. He was held for two months in jail at Linz, then transferred to Berlin-Tegel and stood trial on July 6th 1943. He was sentenced and beheaded for sedition. A priest who had met with him shortly before his execution noted his calmness and readiness to die. Franz told this priest, as he had also written, that he could change nothing in world affairs, but at the least or most he might be a sign that not everyone let themselves be carried away with the tide. The priest, after visiting with Franz the last day, would later say that Franz was the only sure saint he had met in his life. Franz Jagerstatter was beatified October 26th 2007.

It might be considerably easier to identify with objection to Nazi service, but one historical consideration to keep in mind is that the genocide of the Jews was not common knowledge at the time Jagerstatter resisted and was executed. Jagerstatter simply followed the moral dictates of the Churchs essence, as can be seen by the Early Church, as well as early and late

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Renaissance Catholic theologians, Francis de Vitoria (1483-1546) and Alphonsus de Liguori (1696-1787).

Francis de Vitoria, a Spanish Dominican wrote in his treatise On War:

Subjects who are aware of the injustice of a war are obliged to refrain from fighting, even if their prince attempts to coerce them, since one must place loyalty to God ahead of loyalty to the prince.

Alphonsus de Liguori, an Italian Doctor of the Catholic Church (an honor bestowed on those few theologians who manifest the highest doctrines of the Church) wrote:

Where a soldier understands a war to be unjust, he may not receive absolution for his sin unless he seeks, as quickly as possible, dismissal from the military and in the interim refrains from hostile acts.

Similarly, Pope John XXIII, in his encyclical Pacem in Terris, wrote in 1963:

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In this age of ours, which prides itself on its atomic power, it is irrational to believe that war is still an apt means of vindicating violated rights. (No. 127)

Since the right to command is required by the moral order and has its source in God, it follows that, if civil authorities legislate for or allow anything that is contrary to the will of God, neither the law nor the authorization granted can be binding on the conscience of the citizens since God has more right to be obeyed than men.

Let us jump forward in time yet again, to a time and situation even far more intimate.

November 14th 2002: by a 228-14 vote, the USCCB said the Bush administration lacked clear and adequate evidence that military action against Saddam Hussein would be morally justified. The prelates said:

We fear that to resort to war, under present circumstances and in light of current public information, would not meet the strict conditions in Catholic

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teaching for overriding the strong presumption against the use of military force.

Yet a few days after the Shock and Awe campaign in March of 2003, Archbishop Edwin F. OBrien of the Military Archdiocese, now the Archbishop of Baltimore, wrote in a pastoral letter to US troops:

Given the complexity of factors involved, many of which understandably remain confidential, it is altogether appropriate for members of our armed forces to presume the integrity of our leadership and its judgments, and therefore to carry out their military duties in good conscience.

Less than one month later, April 21st 2003, Archbishop Jean Benjamin Sleiman of Baghdad wrote:

This war is like giving a punch to these people. It was an earthquake, after which reigns an anguished emptiness, not only for Christians, but for everyoneIf there is truly a need to build a peaceful world, our values cannot be imposed with force.

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Less than two weeks later, a soon to be slightly more authoritative voice, namely Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, said in a press conference:

There were not sufficient reasons to unleash a war against Iraq. To say nothing of the fact that, given the new weapons that make possible destructions that go beyond the combatant groups, today we should be asking ourselves if it is still licit to admit the very existence of a just war.

And yet, in October of the same year, Bishop John Kaising of the Military Archdiocese wrote in a letter to the Catholic Peace Fellowship:

Once the commander in chief has called us to war, the time for talk of conscientious objection is over. Besides, the soldiers arent asking us for this. I get five times as many calls wanting to know about which bases have a Latin Mass than I do about conscientious objection.

Why is that? Why are heightened language and a reversed altar five times more sought after than the lived life of Jesus? Perhaps because our age is so ravenous for meaning that we will terminate our gaze in cloth and candle and canticle rather than the incarnate communion to which we are called.

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We find ourselves in a particular moment of importance in the life and witness of the church. The Second Vatican Council issued a decree on the apostolate of the laity which is perhaps nowhere else more necessary than whether we Christians offer up our conscience to the state: no God but God, no King but Christ.

September 12th 2004, I wrote the following from Abu Ghraib:

I so desperately want someone to follow, Jacob. I just want a sage to come and say, Ive been there before, this is the right path. Why do I feel that that sage just isnt there?

Yesterday morning I awoke to the sounds of mortars, machine gun fire, and automatic grenade launchers. Automatic grenade launchers, Jacob! A ragtag insurgent attempt to blow up the prison wall was put down in 30 seconds by Marine guards. The news made it seem like the attack was intense and vicious. But Ahmed and Yasser probably planned out yesterdays attacks for 4 months before the Marines blew them all to hell in 30 seconds. And by

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mid-morning I was emailing, drinking coffee, and buying non-alcoholic beer from our post exchange. 30 seconds.

Ill tell you all one thing I am not doing these days. Waiting to be led. Generals criticize a war only after they have received their pensions. Military Archbishops criticize a war only after they no longer have moral responsibility for the Catholics under their charge. I weep, feel enraged, am tempted to cynicism, and weep and weep and weep. The problem with our culture is displaced responsibility. The responsibility is mine. And while so many attempt to barter deals with Congress I will do the works of mercy and justice whether sanctioned or not. There would have been no Iraq war if Christians had simply said no. There would have been no Holocaust. There would have been no trench warfare. No Hiroshima. No Nagasaki. But instead we have abdicated our divine liberty for the thirty pieces of silver this nation (and every nation) refers to as freedom. Its called spiritual slavery. In a couple of weeks Christianity will celebrate its Fourth of July. Its called Easter. I was freed at Calvary and I will offer no other pledge of allegiance. When the cross processes in and out of Mass, it is time we once again bowed to the absent King. It is time our symbols of devotion were not

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mere phantasms, incapable of penetrating the world in which the Word became flesh. We are people of the Incarnation. Scattered and yet Ecclesia.

Church is our nation. Love is our creed. Christ our King. Spirit help us be not blind.

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