“What have we learned?”
By Karen Nell Smith
For Edwards Church, UCC, in Framingham
Sunday, September 5, 2021
God shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Holy One!
Isaiah 2:4-5
“The last US military planes have left Afghanistan, marking the end of the United States’ longest war,” read the headline of a CNN Breaking News report that flashed across my cell phone screen last week. “The last US military planes have left Afghanistan, marking the end of the United States’ longest war.”
It was news that was filled with contradictory reactions and emotions from people with different views—an expected withdrawal of American troops and an unexpected collapse of Afghanistan government forces; a feeling of relief that our military presence is over and a sense of horror at the chaos of the evacuation; joy of military families knowing loved ones will be returning home and fear for the women and children now under Taliban rule; the hope of getting American citizens, allies and their families out in a safe and orderly way, the humiliation of a repeat of the fall of Saigon in 1975, all under the critical eye of the rest of the world.
The truth of all these emotions hit me, all at once. “It’s a mess,” I thought as the evacuation unfolded over the course of the preceding week. “Why is it that we never learn?” War is hell, it’s a big hot, hellish mess. It always is.
I hope you aren’t looking to me for answers about all of this. Once upon a time, a seminary professor pushed me for sermons with clearer answers. “Too many questions, not enough answers!” were his exact words, as I remember. Then I saw this ceramic jar in a pottery shop and simply had to have it. It sits on my desk at home where I often write a sermon to remind me of that helpful feedback. See…Answers are in this jar) Oh, look…it’s empty. An important reminder, I think!
No, I don’t have an answer to any of this, even for myself, but I do have reflections that often lead to more questions. As I think of the situation in Afghanistan and reflect on my own reactions and emotions to the events of the last few days, I’m struck with how I am stuck–how we are stuck—in the polarizing views and the contradictions—that’s the reality of the mess that it is.
This morning, we hear from Isaiah, speaking in the 8th century BCE. The people of Judah to whom he is speaking are living in a turbulent and violent time. They were headed into even more chaos when their homeland is destroyed and they are taken as captives to Babylon. Isaiah describes God’s promise and vision of peace, “where swords will be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks; nation will not lift up sword to nation, and they will learn no more.”
Yes, that’s God’s promise, says Isaiah, but it’s not your reality. His message is full of judgement and warning, “Learn God’s ways!” And so it has been, for low these many, many years. It seems not to be possible, we don’t have the answers, and time after time we can’t seem to learn.
As I pray about the mess that was the U.S. evacuation of Afghanistan and experience the surge of contradictory emotions and reactions in my own heart and mind, I realize that this is exactly where I am so stuck, where we are so stuck. That is what we are being invited to learn in this moment. How can we acknowledge all the contradictory views and experiences as true? For example, it is true that it might have been a mistake to begin this war in the first place, and it is also true that there were well-intentioned motives for stopping future terrorist attacks and seeking justice for the 9/11 attacks on the United States. It is true that more than more than 6000 American’s lost their lives in this conflict and over 150,000 Afghans, military and civilians, on both sides of the struggle, that it dragged on for way too long and cost the American people untold amounts of money, resources and human suffering. Trillions of dollars yet in debt, not to mention the future costs of care for our veterans. It is also true that much needed hospitals and schools were built with those resources, and that women and girls were given a chance at an education, better health care, and a fuller and more dignified life. The infant mortality rate in Afghanistan has dropped 50% since the overthrow of the Taliban, and Afghan girls able to read rose by 30%.[1]
All of these things are true. Is it possible for us to learn how to be in the ambigious complexity of not having answers? Could we learn to be in that space…rather than debating the facts, looking for blame, insisting that we must all agree, or, if you don’t agree with me, at best you’re wrong, but you could actually be evil?
I mean, really, that’s what it’s come to, hasn’t it? We feel this polarization, this war of facts, and demonization of those who don’t agree with us, in almost every aspect of our lives. We are stuck in this binary dance. It shapes our politics, certainly. It’s how we deal with the social issues of our day—abortion, climate change, gun control, vaccinations, voting rights, racism. The list is endless. Like the evacuation of Afghanistan, we’re stuck in a big, hot mess.
What can we learn? Again, I turn to my empty jar of answers. Can we learn to listen and acknowledge views and truths that are different from ours? Can we open our hearts and our minds wide enough to hold the complexity that is the reality of our lives and our world? Can we coach each other, when we hear another slip down the slippery slope of demonizing the other? Can we create and maintain the space for these contradictions and dissonance, so that in that space real learning can take place, out of which we might find new and more life-giving answers for these complex challenges?
Isaiah told the people of Judah not to let go of God’s promise of hope and peace. That was a long, long time ago, and we’re holding on to that promise still. This scripture text is one we often read in Advent, which makes good sense because it’s a time of waiting and hoping, anticipating and getting ready. This is the work of our time, it seems to me. To get from our stuck places, to crack open our hearts and minds, to resist sliding down the slope of blame and demonizing. This is the work of our time, to do that hard, painful, uncomfortable work of listening, acknowledging and gaining greater understanding of what may seem contradictory, wrong and maybe even downright evil.
Perhaps if we could learn how to do that, if we could master that, we would be more thoughtful, prayerful, peaceful when faced with a Vietnam, or an Afghanistan, or a Syria. We might be more focused on glimpsing God’s vision of peace where swords are beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, and war is learned no more.
I think it’s possible, because I’ve seen it. At the end of apartheid, South African’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission brought victims and perpetrators together to be transformed by listen to each others’ stories. Since 1998, Australians have come together on Sorry Day to acknowledge the grief, trauma and suffering of the Stolen Generation, aboriginal children separated from their families and assimilated into the white settler population. It was a slow process, yet deeper transformation of hearts and minds came when the government of Australia officially and publicly apologized for the hurt and trauma experienced by Australia’s indigenous people. And that was when true healing began.
These are grand and global examples. Closer to home, at Edwards Church there is a peace pole AND a Vet. Center. Some would say that’s a bit of a contradiction, but we’ve learned that we can hold those two things in our hearts and minds. On our campus, we celebrate worship each Sunday with Christian traditions, AND at Open Spirit we welcome Buddhist meditation, host a Muslim Ramadan Iftar, and sit at table for a Jewish Tu’bishvat Seder. We’ve learned that we can hold all these things in our heart and minds.
In Advent each year, I wear a green ribbon with two bells. One is an old sleigh bell, and the other is a bullet shell casing that’s been hammered into a bell. My own little reminder, right here next to my heart, that, with God’s help, beating swords into plowshares is possible.
So I close, not with easy answers, but with questions for each one of us:
Where in your life do you find yourself stuck…and can you find a way to get unstuck by learning to listen and acknowledge views and truths that are different from yours? Can you open your heart and mind wide enough to hold this complexity? Can we learn to coach each other, when we hear another slip down the slippery slope of demonizing the other? Can we, together, create a space for these contradictions and the dissonance, so that, in that space, real learning and transformation can take place, out of which we might find new and more life-giving answers for the complex challenges we face?
Then, just maybe, then, with God’s help, we can learn war no more. Amen.
[1] https://apnews.com/article/middle-east-business-afghanistan-43d8f53b35e80ec18c130cd683e1a38f