Amnesty for the Evaders?

“A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways,” writes the Apostle James (Jas. 1:8), and the same is true of a nation. In every area of national life, as well as in our international relationships—both political and economic—we are paying the price of ten to twenty years of doublemindedness about Viet Nam.

At no time since the War between the States has so high a percentage of Americans sought to evade military service; the means vary from pleas for classification as a conscientious objector, to emigration, to desertion from the armed services. Some objectors, their claims unrecognized by the government, have chosen to go to prison. Others have fled the country, either before or after receiving induction notices; many of these émigrés have been lionized abroad, at least for a time. A final class includes deserters from the U. S. Army and the other services; the best-known are those who have found asylum in supercilious Sweden (which itself has universal military service) on “humanitarian” grounds.

Thus the only people who are actually in jail are those who have acted according to the principle followed by Socrates and in a different way by Jesus Christ: that of denying the rightness of the law of the land but not attempting to evade its penalty by flight or rebellion. If the pending proposals to grant some form of amnesty to the war resisters are put into effect, it may happen that these men, the ones who have stood by their convictions at great personal cost, will be the greatest sufferers; they will bear the reproach of a prison sentence for the rest of their lives, while those who sat out the storm abroad may get off unscathed. Thus an indispensable preliminary to any general amnesty action is legislation to ensure that those who have gone to jail for conscience’s sake, rather than emigrate or desert, shall be deemed to have satisfied the law and shall be guaranteed immunity from the stigma of a criminal record.

The case of the emigrants is different. It has long been recognized outside totalitarian countries that a citizen who disagrees with his country’s policies and laws has the right to emigrate and to obtain citizenship elsewhere. Thus thousands of Hungarians who obtained American or Canadian citizenship after the abortive Hungarian Revolution of 1956 now return to their native country from time to time as tourists.

The problem, of course, arises with those American émigrés who do not want to become citizens of their country of refuge but prefer to return to the United States as though nothing had happened. This would be the best of all possible worlds: neither military service, nor jail, nor submission to the obligations of citizenship in another country, but an easy return to the country they abandoned when, rightly or wrongly, it said it needed them. The argument in favor of such a facile solution holds that such émigrés were in fact more moral than the rest of the nation, having recognized the supposedly unjustifiable nature of the Viet Nam war earlier than most. The difficulty is that we live not in the best of all possible worlds but in a fallen one.

One solution that takes the conscience of the individual into account without suggesting that the state allow each man to make his own laws has been proposed by Senator Robert Taft, Jr.: he would permit the émigrés to return without criminal action if they fulfill some form of compensatory national service. If Taft’s proposal or a similar one is adopted, such service ought to be regarded not as punishment but as the fulfillment of a commitment held in abeyance until some of the ambiguities of the Viet Nam war could be resolved. Objectors who are unwilling to return on such terms should become citizens of their countries of refuge, after which they should experience no special difficulty in visiting the United States.

The case of the deserters is more problematic. Undoubtedly there are many complicating factors that may make desertion more understandable today than during World War II. Yet even when all these have been taken into account, we must still recognize that to allow desertion from active military service is to destroy the foundation upon which national defense necessarily rests. To advocate absolute disarmament and total pacifism would be far more logical than to tolerate desertion from the services. President Lincoln’s proposal to Union deserters in the Civil War would seem to offer understanding to the deserter while preserving respect for his sworn commitments and for the law: immunity from prosecution under the condition that he complete his term of military service.

It would be wrong not to recognize the moral and spiritual struggles that have caused so many men to choose prison, exile, or desertion. Yet it would be foolish not to realize that—at least among the exiles and deserters—there are those who have merely put their own wishes first, convinced that they could ignore the law without serious consequences to themselves. A general amnesty would prove them right and mock those who have served loyally.

Finally, it must be recognized that the amnesty agitation, in a measure, at least, is part of a many-sided effort to disarm the United States altogether. Whether this effort owes more to motives of pacifism or to sympathy for America’s ideological and international rivals, we must, unless we are willing to accept its implications, find a solution to the amnesty question that does not undercut our nation’s duty to defend itself and its right to require citizens to participate in that defense.

Abortion For Convenience

On February 22 the sports page of the Washington Post bore the banner, “Abortion Made Possible Mrs. King’s Top Year.” The story said tennis star Billie Jean King could not have had her record-breaking 1971 winnings of $100,000 had she not terminated a pregnancy.

It is curious that a society which expresses such great tenderness of conscience about the fate of those condemned to death for first-degree murder—even when the murder has been publicly committed on television, as in the case of Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination—is so complacent about the forcible taking of life of the innocent unborn. It was not always so in Western society. Some of the greatest Western pagan teachers, including the physician Hippocrates, the jurist Cicero, and the philosopher Seneca, condemned abortion (Plato and Aristotle would have permitted it up to the fortieth day, when they thought that the fetus, if a boy, received its soul), although the pagans practiced it rather freely—as well as its corollary, infanticide.

The early Christians, like the Jews, consistently set themselves off from the pagans by their absolute condemnation of the practice, which they considered to be on a par with murder, or even worse. The early Christian book The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (first half of the second century) lists it with witchcraft, poisoning, and infanticide. The concepts of abortion and infanticide usually appear together in early Christian texts. In his second-century defense of the Christian faith, Athenagoras of Athens refutes the charge that Christians practiced human sacrifice by pointing out that they look upon those practicing abortion as murderers. Tertullian writes, “To prevent a birth is only an acceleration of murder, and it changes nothing, whether you snatch away an already born life or destroy one in the process of being born” (Apology, ch. 9).

The ancient Romans practiced widespread abortion for reasons of personal convenience; seldom were large sums such as the Roman equivalent of $100,000 at stake. But the principle is the same, whether the financial gain is large or small. Current developments suggest that the modern world is well on its way to aping pre-Christian pagan Rome. Let it not be forgotten that Rome’s decline and fall were in part due to practices like this.

Double Agents

During World War II the British caught a number of German spies, turned them around, and used them to send back false reports to their German superiors. These people became double agents, used to deceive and betray those whom they claimed to serve. In reviewing the book The Double-Cross System in the War of 1939 to 1945, Malcolm Muggeridge commented that double agents “are paid by both sides, and they have a good chance of being decorated by both sides.” Then in a concluding sentence he observed: “In some ways, this is the great age of the double-agent; not just in intelligence—in politics, in religion, in sex, in everything” [italics added].

Judas Iscariot was a successful double agent; his fellow disciples never suspected he was a traitor to Jesus Christ. At the last meal together, when Jesus said one of them would betray him, no one pointed a finger at Judas. Rather, each said, “Is it I?” Judas pretended to serve Jesus but was really a servant of Satan. At last he revealed himself in his true colors and for a few pieces of silver planted the infamous kiss of betrayal on the cheek of Jesus.

The scribes and the Pharisees were also double agents. They professed to serve God and claimed to be religious. But Jesus said they were hypocrites and made a proselyte “twice as much a child of hell” as themselves. He called them serpents, a brood of vipers, and asked, “How are you to escape being sentenced to hell?”

Today the visible Church of Jesus Christ has in it numerous double agents, people who name the name of Christ and claim to be his servants but who really serve Satan. Some believe God is dead, yet profess to serve men in a religious fashion. There are clergymen and Sunday-school teachers who openly deny the Lord who bought them; in the name of God they lead men astray. There are teachers of the Christian religion in colleges and seminaries who deride the Scriptures and tear them to shreds, who deny the cardinal doctrines of the Christian faith, who set up as commandments the doctrines and the mores of men—all in the name of God and under the aegis of the Church.

No man—not even the most cunning double agent—can serve two masters. Anyone who cuts away at the roots of Christianity, however suave and smooth and charismatic he may be, is a servant of the devil, and any commitment he professes to Jesus Christ is merely lip service.

This is, as Muggeridge said, the age of the double agent in religion; there are many Judas Iscariots in our midst. The churches need to be concerned about their purity and those who obviously entertain erroneous views on basic biblical truth should be dealt with according to scriptural injunctions.

On Befriending Presidents

Billy Graham’s friendship with Richard Nixon and other American presidents has subjected the evangelist to considerable criticism. Often the accusations revolve around the idea that this liaison demeans evangelical Christianity by identifying the leading Bible preacher of our time with a particular political outlook.

We grant that there is risk involved when a clergyman becomes a confidant of powerful figures in the secular world. But is not the risk far outweighed by the opportunity? Have not many evangelicals long prayed for an entreé without compromise into the affairs of state?

Our view on this point coincides with that expressed last month by Editor Louis Benes of the Church Herald, official weekly organ of the Reformed Church in America. “We ought to thank God,” wrote Benes, “that four presidents have recognized the integrity of this man of God and sought the friendship and counsel of a man of his character and faith in God. Who else would we want there? What if our presidents instead sought the counsel and advice of a member of the Mafia, or a ‘God is dead’ theologian, or someone dedicated to the ‘playboy’ philosophy?”

Benes expressed the hope that Graham “and other Christian leaders, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, who have contacts with responsible men at all levels of government, will use such contacts for good, and thus make their influence count for truth and righteousness.”

In the case of Graham, there is no evidence that he has watered down his convictions to gain access to the White House. Those who make such charges aren’t listening to him. Hardly a week goes by that Graham does not warn America of coming judgment unless there is repentance.

Some critics seem to be saying that Graham must keep his distance from government leaders lest he be identified as a “court preacher.” Indeed, there are numerous examples from the Bible and in church history of false prophets who said what rulers wanted to hear instead of God’s Word. Surely Graham would welcome our prayers that he will be faithful as he tries to avoid the separatistic “holier-than-thou” mentality that would minimize contact with the affairs of this world for fear of contamination. There are ample biblical precedents for what he is doing: Esther and Mordecai, Joseph, and Daniel show that one can make his influence for God felt through private relationships with heads of state. “Who can say but that God has brought you into the palace for just such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14b, Living Bible).

After The Odyssey

President Nixon’s penetration of the bamboo curtain and his transactions behind it have produced a chorus of yeas and nays. This was inevitable; the wisdom of opening negotiations with Communist China in the first place was by no means obvious to all.

Both Taiwan and Peking have consistently argued that there is and should be one China. Clearly there is not the remotest possibility of Taiwan’s taking over mainland China. Nor is there any reason to believe that Taiwan will be assaulted by Peking. President Nixon’s agreement to withdraw our forces from Taiwan allows for the passage of a considerable period of time.

The decision to talk to Peking does not mean American policy of the fifties was wrong. It does mean that political relationships are fluid and that changing circumstances may require changes in policy. The Soviet Union is the greatest threat to peace in the world. Both China and the United States are potential Soviet targets, and China is especially vulnerable. China will not cease to be Communist and totalitarian, but its fears of the Soviet threat coincide with those of the United States. For these two nations to draw together in the face of a common danger is not astonishing. It does not mean that the United States thereby gives its approval to China’s totalitarian Communism or is willing to forget that millions of Chinese died at the hands of the Mao regime.

A new course has been charted. Where it will lead, no one can say with certainty. We can only hope that one by-product of the interchange will be China’s assistance in the resolution of our involvement in Viet Nam, particularly the matter of the release of the prisoners of war. Peking can, if it chooses, help speed a complete disengagement of U. S. forces. We also fervently hope that Mr. Nixon’s trip to Peking will move Egypt’s President Sadat toward face-to-face talks with the Israelis in another effort to forestall war in the Middle East tinderbox.

There will continue to be differences of opinion as to whether Mr. Nixon’s course is right or wrong. As James Reston of the New York Times, a frequent critic of the President, has said, even if Mr. Nixon’s effort fails, “the historians of the future are likely to praise [him] for trying.… He has shown foresight, courage and negotiating skill.”

Meanwhile the die is cast, and we can only hope the outcome will be to deter any great power from embarking on a course of action that will precipitate a nuclear holocaust.

A Cue From Zaire

Let Americans take note: The current tension between the government of Zaire and its churches is due at least in part to the proliferation of sects demanding public money for schools.

President Mobutu Sese Seko, an Israeli-trained paratrooper who has brought order to Zaire, is understandably disgusted with the effects of the splintering (see News, page 42). With very little ecclesiastical breakaway comes an additional hand reaching into the government treasury. The subsidy arrangement is obviously a carryover from the state-church orientation that held sway when the Roman Catholic Belgians were in control. It makes for wasteful duplication and drives wedges between people.

The apparently growing demands for public subsidies for parochial schools in the United States need to be examined in the light provided by the situation in Zaire. Similar proliferation could be the result, with the attendant overlapping of services and nurturing of divisive enclaves.

John Donne: From Red To White

The man who wrote “The Flea,” a witty, dialectical poem of seduction, many years later wrote “Batter my heart, three personed God,” one of the most famous religious poems in English literature. John Donne, born of Catholic parents four hundred years ago, searched for God and found him. One of his poem titles, “The Progress of the Soul,” could describe Donne’s own experience.

Donne’s quest is mirrored in many of his satires. Satire III shows his cynicism and the difficulty of finding the truth:

On a huge hill,

Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will

Reach her, about must, and about must go;

And what the hill’s suddenness resists, win so.

He sees his sin, but, as he tells us later in the poem, the battles between Anglican, Catholic, and Calvinist churches dismay and repulse him. He eluded “fair” religion’s grasp, though he admitted she was a mistress “worthy of all our soul’s devotion.”

Most of Donne’s early poetry consists of love songs and “sonets” that explore the meaning of love on both physical and spiritual levels. In “The Ecstasy” we move with the poet from the purely physical element of love between man and woman to the spiritual level and finally to the Christian combination of the two. This concept is important, not only for understanding Donne’s poetry but also for understanding his conversion. Anne More, the woman he married, taught him that such a combination was possible between man and woman. And, as Donne said many times, it was the love of woman (Anne) that brought him to the love of God.

After his conversion, Donne wrote the “divine poems,” using the same techniques—and often the same imagery—in them as he did in the love poetry. The themes of Christ’s passion, man’s sin, and the finality of death without Christ recur in his poetic meditations. Donne took Anglican orders in 1615 and in 1621 was appointed dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral; he became one of the leading preachers of the day. In both the holy sonnets and his sermons he gives immediacy, drama, and urgency to biblical texts and topics. He strips away man’s pretenses before God and leaves man’s soul naked, to be clothed by God with salvation and righteousness:

Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;

But who shall give thee that grace to begin?

Oh make thy self with holy mourning black,

And red with blushing, as thou art with sin;

Or wash thee in Christ’s blood, which hath this might

That being red, it dyes red souls to white.

Coping With Weakness

Some people are unwilling to face up to their limitations. They seem to have a superiority complex. They think they have convinced themselves that there is no obstacle too large for them to overcome, and they go about trying to give others the same impression. An attitude like this often hides a subconscious feeling of insecurity and inferiority.

Others readily recognize their weaknesses, so much so that they render themselves impotent. Consciously or unconsciously, they allow their shortcomings to swamp them, and they plead inability to do anything substantial. Even an amateur psychologist can see, however, that this kind of outlook can serve as a cover for sheer laziness and as a means of retreating from responsibility.

Obviously, neither of these attitudes can be defended by Scripture. Regenerate believers should by their lives point to the better way. Christians need to be very aware that in the moral realm as well as in the physical and mental their potential is not infinite. They need to make room for failure and to regard disappointments as inevitable. Our lives will always be marred by defects and shortcomings.

But this does not mean we are doomed to ineffectiveness. Recognition of our weaknesses will make us useless only if we let it diminish Spirit-inspired initiative.

One of the hardest truths for moderns to understand is the Apostle Paul’s teaching that weakness can actually be an asset (see Second Corinthians 12:7–10). The Lenten season is an especially appropriate time to meditate on this insight. We might find it rather easily verifiable, even in a scientific perspective. We knock ourselves out to achieve favorable conditions for creativity and productivity, then find ourselves distracted by them. For truly great people, adverse circumstances seem merely to bring out more intensive effort.

There is reason to think that Beethoven would have been a fine musician had he not lost his hearing but that his deafness led him to concentrate on composing, which made him immortal. Similarly, Bunyan might well have never gotten around to writing Pilgrim’s Progress had he not been imprisoned. Our best appeal is to Christ himself, who stooped to our weaknesses and bore them voluntarily, identifying himself with all our problems and overcoming them in our stead.

Christ won his victory through divine strength, but that was not an advantage he alone had; he offers it to us as well. By letting him work through our weaknesses we bring glory to him.

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