Nations

In an article in The Atlantic, Ross Andersen raises the question: "Did Humans Ever Live in Peace?"

Archeologists have long had evidence of conflict between small rival groups. And the earliest signs of war have been dated to the dawn of civilization (with the Sumerians and Egyptians). But recent discoveries at Laguardia, Spain pushes proof of our warring inclination to the dawn of agriculture. So how far does war go back in our history?

Because war is, by definition, organized violence. Hieroglyphic inscriptions tell us that more than 5,000 years ago, the first pharaoh conquered chiefdoms up and down the Nile delta to consolidate his power over Egypt. A Sumerian poem suggests that some centuries later, King Gilgamesh fended off a siege at Uruk, the world’s first city. But new findings, at Laguardia and other sites across the planet, now indicate that wars were also occurring at small-scale farming settlements all the way back to the dawn of agriculture, if not before.

For nearly a century, anthropologists have wanted to know how long people have been engaged in organized group violence. It’s not some idle antiquarian inquiry. For many, the question bears on human nature itself, and with ruinous wars ongoing in Europe, the Middle East, and elsewhere, it has become more resonant. If warring among humans began only recently, then we might be able to blame it on changeable circumstances. If, however, some amount of war has been with us since our species’ origins, or earlier in our evolutionary history, it may be difficult to excise it from the human condition.

But Andersen closes his piece with a view of what he thinks is hope:

What separates us most from other species is our cultural plasticity: We are always changing, sometimes even for the better. We have found ways to end blood feuds that implicated hundreds of millions. War may be a long-standing mainstay of human life, an inheritance from our deepest past. But each generation gets to decide whether to keep passing it down.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Andersen's view is common today. It sees humanity as though in constant progress towards perfection. We currently rest at the zenith. His "hope" is for this progress to continue. But a survey of our history reveals that this view is no hope at all. It is simply doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result. That is not hope, it is insanity. There is no hope for lasting peace until the Prince of Peace appears (Isa. 9:6-7).

An often-overlooked effect of missionary influence has been the preservation of languages. Language is the breath of a culture, and so the death of a language almost always results in the loss of a way of life. MIT linguist Norvin Richards expressed the importance of the preservation of languages and cultures well: “There are jokes that are only funny in Maliseet and there are songs that are only beautiful in Wôpanâak …. If we lose those languages, we lose little pieces of the beauty and richness of the world.”

In 2019, the United Nations warned, “Almost half the world’s estimated 6,700 languages are in danger of disappearing.” Many minority languages are lost when younger generations are educated in national languages. Written languages have a much better chance of survival than exclusively oral ones and many small, unique languages have been preserved by Bible translation.

In one remarkable case, the Wôpanâak language was brought back to life a hundred years after its last speakers died. The linguistic revival was based on the translation work of missionary John Eliot. The first Bible published in colonial America was in the Wôpanâak language in 1663. As a result of Eliot’s literacy efforts, the Wampanoag tribe left behind a collection of written documents when disease ravaged their population.

In the 1990s, Jessie Little Doe Baird, a descendant of the tribe Eliot sought to reach, used those records to revive the Wôpanâak language as part of a linguistics program at MIT. Her daughter is the first native Wôpanâak speaker in seven generations and six other Wampanoags have become fluent in the language. Interestingly, one of Baird’s Wampanoag ancestors publicly opposed missionary work in the eighteenth century.

When Aaron Köhler tries to talk to people in Cottbus, Germany, about Jesus, church, and faith, he can’t assume they know what he’s talking about. Many in the city near the Polish border don’t know anything about Christianity. Köhler has had people ask him whether Christmas and Easter are Christian holidays, and if so, what they’re about. One time, he talked to someone at a local market who wasn’t familiar with the name Jesus. The person had never even heard it, that they could recall.

“That was crazy for me. In the ‘land of the Reformation,’ in a supposedly ‘Christian country,’ these people don’t even know the basic basics,” said Köhler, who co-pastors a church plant.

According to the most recent data, more than 60 percent of Germans identify as Christian. A little more than a quarter say they have no religion. Zoom in a little closer, though, and stark regional differences emerge. In the western part of the country—which includes Hamburg, Munich, Cologne, and Frankfurt—three-quarters of the population identify as Christian. But in the east, the region that was a Soviet Union satellite state from 1949 to 1990, only a quarter of Germans are Christian, with nearly 70 percent identifying themselves as “nonbelievers.”

Christianity is declining in much of formerly Protestant Europe. But eastern Germany stands out, even compared with other rapidly secularizing nations. Here, large swaths of the population have had no serious contact with Christianity for three generations. Köhler said, “For decades, there was no prayer, no Bible at home, no church attendance. After all these years, people don’t know what they don’t know.”

The regional differences are easily traced to the division of the country after its defeat in World War II. The French, British, and American-controlled sectors in the west merged into the German Federal Republic in 1949. The Soviet-controlled East formed the German Democratic Republic, a socialist state with totalitarian leaders who suppressed religion. The Christian population in East Germany fell from about 90 percent in 1949 to only 30 percent in 1990.

Puerto Rican rapper Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, also known as Bad Bunny, recently opened the telecast of 2023 Grammy Awards. It was the first time a musical act that does not primarily speak or sing in English was featured in such a prestigious timeslot. As a result, many Latin American people beamed in pride at seeing someone from their culture (or one adjacent to theirs) be represented on such a big stage.

But one particular detail caused a stir in the immediate wake of the telecast. Viewers responded in real time on social media platforms to the way that Bad Bunny’s performance was captured by the live closed-captioning text at the bottom of the screen. His words and music were not transcribed, but rather described simply as “non-English.”

This was a disappointment for viewers hoping to see a live transcription of Bad Bunny’s Spanish lyrics, considering that he’d been nominated for Album of the Year. That oversight was particularly galling, according Melissa Harris-Perry of WNYC, because it was so avoidable.

Harris-Perry said, “Bad Bunny does not generally or ever perform in English, right? I mean, this should not have been a surprise.”

Dr. Bonilla is director of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies (at CUNY), and a guest of Harris-Perry’s podcast . Bonilla says that Bad Bunny is so important to Puerto Rican audiences in part because of his refusal to cater to English-speaking audiences, which is causing the industry to change.

Bonilla said, “Okay, you're making history here. For the first time, you have a Spanish language act nominated for Album of the Year. This is the largest streaming artist in the world. You know that he sings and speaks only in Spanish. Do better, Grammys.”

The good news is that this is less a function of malice than of lack of planning or intentionality. Hopefully, the Grammys will be ready the next time they feature a Spanish-speaking act so prominently in their telecast.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Language is one of the ways that we define and reinforce culture. The church can also be sensitive to this and welcome other language speakers into God's family. We can assist in that mission by accommodating the languages of vulnerable people with less power or influence.

A study by the Center for the Study of Global Christianity reveals the shift in the number of Protestants in major areas of the world:

61 million Protestants in North America

67 million Protestants in Latin America now has more than North America (Led by Brazil at 35 million)

99 million Protestants in Asia (now more than Europe, led by China at 26 million)

228 million Protestants in Africa and will contain half of all Protestants world-wide by 2040 (with Nigeria at 53 million, which is second only to the United States at 56 million)

At a United Nations gathering, delegates from both Ukraine and Russia disagreed fiercely on how the meeting should proceed. But the gathering was not simply about how or when the war should end, but how it should be fought.

Specifically, global delegates were in attendance to work on a treaty regarding Lethal Autonomous Weapons Systems. More than smart guns or unmanned aerial vehicles, such systems are complex algorithms that use artificial intelligence to identify, select and kill human targets without specific human intervention. The Kargu-2 flying quad-copter is such a weapon, made by Turkish firm STM. Industry analysts believe that similar systems are already in development in China, Russia, and the US.

Proponents of such systems say that they are essential in reducing the body count of conventional warfare, but detractors say that the systems are error-prone, and the efficiency of its operational protocol has the potential for disastrous outcomes. Many antiwar demonstrators call them “killer robots” or “slaughterbots.” The U.N. requires a convention on Certain Conventional Weapons every five years or so to govern the technology of war, but analysts say that the pace of innovation is outracing the body’s ability to keep such technology in check.

Daan Kayser leads the autonomous weapons project for a Dutch group called Pax for Peace. He said, “I believe it’s just a matter of policy at this point, not technology. Any one of a number of countries could have computers killing without a single human anywhere near it. And that should frighten everyone.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Technology is constantly being used to enhance the ability of armies to kill and maim one another and innocent civilians. We desperately need to pray for the coming of the kingdom of the Prince of Peace who will cause weapons of war to be molded into farming implements (Isa. 2:4, Isa. 9:6-7).

"The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state and never its tool."

Benjamin Kwashi, a Christian leader from Jos, Nigeria, tells the following story of how the gospel came to his part of the country:

Missionaries came to my home area of Nigeria in 1907. One of them was a man named Reverend Fox. Reverend Fox was a professor at Cambridge University, and when he arrived his walk with Christ was so deep that he led many people to Christ. He founded a church and moved about 10 kilometers away to Amper, my own hometown, and founded the church there too. How a first-class person from the University of Cambridge was communicating to illiterates, I don't know, but God suddenly gave him favor and people were turning to Jesus Christ. So many people came to Christ that he wrote to his younger brother, who was a physician also in Cambridge, and asked him to come and help him because medical practice was needed. As his brother started the journey from England, Reverend Fox fell ill and died. Soon after his brother arrived, he also fell ill and died.

The Church Mission Society wrote to their father, who was also a pastor. When they told him he had lost two sons, he and his wife cried, but then they did something astounding. They sold their land and property, took the proceeds to the mission society, and said, "As much as we grieve the death of our two sons, we will only be consoled if the purpose for which they died continues." They gave that money and walked away.

Recently I looked through the profile of those two missionaries who came to my hometown. They both had first-class educations and degrees from the best schools. They died as young men—the oldest was only 32. They gave up everything to serve Jesus and bring the gospel to my country. Were they crazy? No, they had heard what Jesus had said, they believed it, and they were willing to stake their whole lives on the truth of Jesus' words. These men wanted to end their lives well. No matter how long or short their life, it wasn't going to be wasted, but they would invest it for eternity.

In his book Civilization: The West and the Rest, Niall Ferguson interviewed a member of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, an arm of the Communist Party in China. This unnamed Chinese official praised the role of Christianity in the Western world. He said:

One of the things we were asked to look into was what accounted for the success … of the West all over the world.

We studied everything we could from the historical, political, economic, and cultural perspective. At first, we thought it was because you had more powerful guns than we had.

Then we thought it was because you had the best political system. Next we focused on your economic system.

But in the past twenty years, we have realized that the heart of your culture is your religion: Christianity …. The Christian moral foundation of social and cultural life was what made possible the emergence of capitalism and then the successful transition to democratic politics. We don't have any doubt about this.

A pocket-sized book sits on my bookshelf. The cover promises that it contains a "compact guide to the Christian life." But when I scan the pages, I discover to my chagrin that there is no reference in the 228 pages to a Christian's commitment to be world minded, globally aware, or outreach oriented. Sadly, it reflects the attitudes of many who say, "Well, there are so many needs right here at home that we cannot think beyond our own worlds."

In contrast to such a narrow view, Gordon Aeschlirnan describes the globalized world in which we live:

In a village a thousand miles up the Amazon, people are reading the French-owned magazine File and the U.S.-produced Better Homes and Gardens. Guatemalans are ordering chicken chow mein, American youth are wearing Russian designer jeans, the Japanese are displaying their latest cuts at top Paris fashion shows, the French are eating Big Macs, the world is doing the lambada, and Japanese Ninja Turtles have given Batman the boot.

In such an internationalized world, even a compact guide to the Christian life must include a global perspective. Our world-class commitment is to the "ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8), not just the end of the street or the extent of our Zip Code. God calls us out of our church pews and beyond our own comfort zones into other cultures.

In her book Radical Gratitude, Ellen Vaughn tells the story of a family friend named Jerry:

Some years ago Jerry was in Russia on a short visit with Prison Fellowship International. He and a group of friends visited a number of prisons, and finished their work a few days early. They asked their hosts if they could go visit children in the hospital.

They were taken to a 750-bed hospital in Moscow at the end of the Leniniski Prospect. Most of the beds were empty. This is where children with cancer and blood diseases came to die. There was a cafeteria but no food. No trained nurses, no laundry, no disinfectants, few medicines, no lab work. The children's families brought in and prepared food for them in the empty hospital kitchen.

This was the national clinic for children, where patients came from all over the Russian Federation.

A staff person brought a young girl in an old wheelchair to Jerry. She was about 14-years-old, with thin brown hair and dark circles under her eyes. "She has about 4 months to live," the woman told Jerry. "We have no medicines to help her."

"What is her name?" Jerry asked. He bent down to the girl's level.

"Eugenia," the woman said.

Jerry rocked on his heels. Eugenia was his daughter's name. What if his Eugenia was dying and needed medicine? What would he do? What would this Russian Eugenia's dad do for his daughter if he could?

The staff people told Jerry that the drug protocol for Eugenia would run about $18,000 (U.S.). Jerry is not a man of wealth, but he turned to a buddy with him, a cattle rancher. "Ed," said Jerry, "if we can't find someone to donate the money to help this little girl, I'll sell my car, if you sell your truck, okay?"

"You drive me crazy always trying to swing these deals," Ed said. "But that's why I come on these trips with you. Okay."

But selling a car and a truck would only take them so far. There were lots of kids who needed help.

Jerry returned to the U. S. and got on the phone. Within two weeks, a prominent children's clinic had given him tens of thousands of dollar's worth of drugs packed in cooler boxes with dry ice, and Jerry was on a plane back to Moscow.

Jerry and his friends raised millions of dollars, and the clinic became world-class. Furthermore, they teach nurses and doctors who travel all over the Russian Federation.

Eugenia's cancer went into remission. Vaughn tells what happens when Jerry and the others got back to Moscow with the first planeload of medicine: "When he and his buddies walked into the hospital in the night, Eugenia's mother saw them coming. She ran down the dim corridor, her face incredulous, and burst into tears. 'You are Jesus, are you not?' she exclaimed in broken English."

Many Christians, like most of the populace, believe the political structures can cure all our ills. The fact is, however, that government, by its very nature, is limited in what it can accomplish. What it does best is perpetuate its own power and bolster its own bureaucracies.

—Charles (Chuck) Colson, advisor to President Nixon, writer, and founder of Prison Fellowship

With the growth of the multinational church, mission is becoming multidirectional. The U.S. remains the largest single contributor of Protestant cross-cultural missionaries. But which country is the second largest? Not a Western nation, but India. And it is possible that India has overtaken the States in the number of those involved in truly cross-cultural mission—both within and beyond India. There are many more Korean missionaries than British, and some Nigerian evangelical mission organizations are larger in personnel than most Western ones (while operating on budgets that are a fraction of their Western counterparts'). Already, 50 percent of all Protestant missionaries in the world come from non-Western countries, and the proportion is increasing annually. So you are as likely to meet a Brazilian missionary in North Africa as a British missionary in Brazil. Indeed, the ratio of Indian missionaries to Western missionaries in India today is probably 100 to 1. Mission today is from everywhere, to everywhere.

So another piece of unlearning we must do is breaking the habit of using the term "mission field" to refer to everywhere else in the world except our home country in the West. Distinguishing between home and mission field no longer makes sense.

I grew up in the mountains of South India. My parents were missionaries to the tribal people of the hills, and our lives were about as simple as they could be—and as happy….

Rice was an important food for all of us. And since there was no level ground for wet cultivation, it was grown all along the streams that ran down the land's gentle slopes. These slopes had been patiently terraced hundreds of years before; and now every one was perfectly level, and bordered at its lower margin by an earthen dam covered by grass. Each narrow dam served as a footpath across the line of terraces, with a level field of mud and water six inches below its upper edge and another level terrace two feet below. There were no steep or high drop-offs, so there was little danger of collapse…

And it was here I learned my first lesson on conservation.

I was playing in the mud of a rice field with a half-dozen other little boys. We were racing to see who would be the first to catch three frogs. …Suddenly, we were all scrambling to get out of the paddy. One of the boys had spotted an old man walking across the path toward us. We all knew him as "Tata," or "Grandpa." He was the keeper of the dams. …Old age is very much respected in India, and we boys shuffled our feet and waited in silence for what we knew would be a rebuke.

He came over to us and asked us what we were doing. "Catching frogs," we answered. He stared down at the churned-up mud and flattened young rice plants in the corner where we had been playing. I was expecting him to talk about the rice seedlings we had just spoiled. Instead, the elder stooped down and scooped up a handful of mud. "What is this?" he asked. The biggest boy took the responsibility of answering for us all.

"It's mud, Tata," he replied.

"Whose mud is it?" the old man asked.

"It's your mud, Tata. This is your field."

Then the old man turned and looked at the nearest of the little channels across the dam. "What do you see there, in that channel?"

"That is water, running over into the lower field."

For the first time Tata looked angry. "Come with me and I will show you water." A few steps along the dam he pointed to the next channel, where clear water was running, "That is what water looks like," he said. Then we came back to our nearest channel, and he said again, "Is that water?"

We hung our heads. "No, Tata, that is mud."…

He went on to tell us that just one handful of mud would grow enough rice for one meal for one person, and it would do it twice every year for years and years into the future. "That mud flowing over the dam has given my family food since before I was born, and before my grandfather was born. It would have given my grandchildren and their grandchildren food forever. Now it will never feed us again. When you see mud in the channels of water, you know that life is flowing away from the mountains."

The old man walked slowly back across the path, pausing a moment to adjust with his foot the grass clod in our muddy channel so that no more water flowed through it. We were silent and uncomfortable as we went off to find some other place to play. I had experienced a dose of traditional Indian folk education that would remain with me as long as I lived. Soil is life, and every generation is responsible for all generations to come.

Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright shares this brief moment she shared with Holocaust survivor and author, ElieWiesel:

Not long after September 11, I was on a panel with Elie Wiesel. He asked us to name the unhappiest character in the Bible. Some said Job, because of the trials he endured. Some said Moses, because he was denied entry into the Promised Land. Some said Mary, because she witnessed the crucifixion of her son. Wiesel said he believed the right answer was God, because of the pain he must surely feel in seeing us fight, kill, and abuse each other in the Lord's name.

"We do not want, as the newspapers say, a church that will move with the world. We want a church that will move the world."

—G. K. Chesterton