Tread lightly on the things of earth

Radio Ga Ga. Because I visited the AFSC’s Eyes Wide Open exhibit when it was in Memphis on January 30 — an “exhibition on the human cost of the Iraq War” — then wrote a short weblog entry about my experience of it, which was then linked from the AFSC site, I got a call Wednesday asking if I’d be willing to be interviewed as “a Memphis exhibit visitor” in a segment of the national radio program Weekend America, which is airing today (Saturday, March 12).

[Saturday evening: Just listened … well-done story. I only got 35 seconds, and I talk sloooowly, so I didn’t get many words in. Disappointing, but that’s okay, I’ll record more here. (I’m at 4:11–4:46/53:56 in the hour 1 Real stream/downloadable MP3, 1:47–2:22/11:00 in the abbreviated Thousands of Soles Real stream.)]

In the 24 hours that passed between the request and my showing up at the local radio studio on Thursday, I had time to mull further on the cost of war. Dreams kept coming to me during the night, idea after idea bubbling up, all radiating out from Jesus’ words, “count the cost.” Featured prominently in the bubbling was the war’s opportunity cost — that is, “the cost of something in terms of opportunities foregone.”

No surprise, much of what passes through my head (the good stuff, anyway) bubbles up from my desire for formation, theological, cultural, political, the lot of theology students all over. Hence I tend to attribute many of these ideas, directly or indirectly, to a Higher Power (because, let’s face it, they’re mostly not my ideas; the sound ones are lifted from scripture, at least as I understand it).

Heeere’s Yahweh. Here then, my summarized thoughts as I walked into the studio Thursday, stretching to picture the reality behind Eyes Wide Open as God sees it, from God’s shoes, presented as an imagined monologue.

God, peering up after clicking around in a web browser, scowling a little:

I see you’ve spent $155 billion of your children’s and grandchildren’s money making war in Iraq.

You realize you could have invested exactly this amount of money doing any of the following? —

• fully funded world anti-hunger efforts for 6 years

• fully funded world-wide AIDS programs for 15 years

• ensured that every child in the world is given basic immunizations for 51 years

Any of these alternatives would be promoting life, making it literally more abundant as I intend, instead of inflicting death and grievous injury while talking about promoting life.

In this particular round of warmaking, while you’ve talked about stopping WMDs and then spreading freedom and now promoting democracy, what you’ve done is kill roughly 18,000 of my children and injured many tens of thousands more (exactly how many, only I know).

Given what I’ve told you about what’s important to me, and the whole of what I’ve shown you about what I’m like, which direction do you think I’d be happier with, promoting war or promoting life? Haven’t I been clear that what you do is more important to me than what you say? What do you think I think about your priorities?

Why do you think you’re doing what I want when it’s often the opposite of what I’ve asked you to do?

Saying you’re just following what your preacher or your president told you doesn’t cut it with me — they’re not any more special to me than you are; I’ve told you it’s crucial for you to discern among your leaders who is a “ravening wolf” and who is genuine, and I’ve told you how: “by their fruit you will recognize them.” And by Me I know there’s been no shortage of fruit forthcoming on which to base a clear discernment. Does vengeance, deception, war, torture, coverup, and an aversion to careful thinking sound to you anything like my kind of fruit? —

The fruit of the [Holy] Spirit [the work which His presence within accomplishes] is love, joy (gladness), peace, patience (an even temper, forbearance), kindness, goodness (benevolence), faithfulness, gentleness (meekness, humility), [and] self-control (self-restraint, continence).

You realize “what you sow, that also shall you reap,” right? You realize there aren’t any magic exemptions from this? It’s like the sun I make to shine down on everyone, or like gravity: it’s what is, for everyone. Turn now from what you’re doing, and pay attention. You’re going to be reaping a lifetime of consequences from what you’ve sown already; stop now before you’ve loaded up your grandchildren with a crop more dire than just a maxxed-out credit card.

Hrrrumph, like I said before —

“I had children and raised them well, and they turned on me. … My people don’t know up from down.”

You can do better than this. Turn back to me. Begin again. Now.

Does God really talk like this? I don’t know exactly, but seems to me easier to make the case that God does, based on scripture, than that God doesn’t. (Of course I’m projecting my Christian slant into it, but if we can assume Jesus’ recorded words at least reflect God’s intent, I think the point remains sound.)

Sacred space. At the exhibit, I was struck by its “moment of silence,” remembering aspect. It’s a Japanese Zen garden-like presentation in its simplicity, yet it succeeds at remembering, and honoring, and appreciating — by name — each of these soldiers’ sacrifices. How often elsewhere are they being accorded that respect? To me there is a roofless cathedral feeling to the exhibit, a sacred space open to heaven that keeps these men and women in memory, in heart and in mind.

Walk a mile. I remember the interviewer asked a probing question that, hours later, provoked for me a crucial realization: the footwear on display — military boots and civilian shoes — is a symbolic invitation to “step into another’s shoes.” It’s so easy to forget to do this; it’s easier to tune out others’ lives (and deaths) as statistical noise. But we know better, deep down: if we imaginatively stand in another’s shoes, understanding each other can follow.

For example, as I looked down at the toddler shoes in front of me, my heart rose in my throat. Knowing that this wash of children’s shoes before me collectively represents the thousands of Iraqi children killed, I imagined myself an Iraqi parent, looking at these toddler shoes on my beloved’s lifeless body, and crying out in grief, “My baby’s dead, my grandbabies dead!” Would I then say, “But we’re voting today, so that’s a fair tradeoff”? Or would I say, “I will hunt down the people that did this to the uttermost ends of the earth”?

Given that tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians have been killed or injured during the last two years, the statistical majority of whom were innocent bystanders just trying to live their lives from day to day, is it not possible that some of these tens of thousands of victims’ families have adopted the “hunt them down” retaliatory view? (After all, many of us in the U.S. did after 9/11.) If they have, is this not a cost of war, too? — a net increase of vengeance in the world with its concomitant decrease of peace and security?

Build a house. Whatever the case, if “count the cost” matters, I think there are costs uncounted concerning this war that we’re foolish to ignore. Do its benefits justify its costs, its extreme costs? We better be sure. Who wants to be called out as fools in front of God and everybody?

Let’s aim for being called wise instead:

It takes wisdom to build a house,
and understanding to set it on a firm foundation;

It takes knowledge to furnish its rooms
with fine furniture and beautiful draperies.

It’s better to be wise than strong;
intelligence outranks muscle any day.

Strategic planning is the key to warfare;
to win, you need a lot of good counsel.

My take as a peace advocate on the last line of this proverb is, “Be wise, discern carefully, know who the real Enemy is, so that your fighting makes headway against him instead of inadvertently furthering his interests by using his methods.”

Be still and know. I circle back in closing to the exhibit itself, triggerer of these thoughts and dreams, but itself literally nothing but boots, shoes, and simple signage showing counts — and names — of the dead. Whatever we take away from the exhibit isn’t forced on us, isn’t coerced, but instead arises naturally in us from what’s already there. What arises, I think, is a fruit by which others will know us.

2005-03-24 update:

I wrote above that the Eyes Wide Open exhibit

 … succeeds at remembering, and honoring, and appreciating — by name — each of these soldiers’ sacrifices. How often elsewhere are they being accorded that respect?

Here’s one place elsewhere that’s now similarly according them respect:

Faces of the Fallen is an exhibit in tribute to America’s service members killed in Iraq and Afghanistan which will open March 23, 2005, at the Women’s Memorial in Washington, D.C.

The exhibit will include over 1,000 portraits [of fallen U.S. soldiers] by more than 100 artists and feature a variety of mediums, including drawings, paintings, sculpture, relief, collage and textiles.