Yesterday, I was part of a conversation with John Paul Lederach, an internationally known expert in conflict transformation and peace making. He invited us to use our imaginations and to place ourselves in the shoes of the people he would describe next. Then, John Paul shared a story about a very tense situation that occurred in Colombia in the 1980’s during the violent internal struggles of that country.
A group of fifty or so farmers were brought into the center of a small village, and encircled by armed men. A captain approached a makeshift podium where he addressed the group, pointing to crates of machine guns and gesturing to the group. The captain said, “First of all, I want you to know that I forgive you. And second, I am here to present you with four options. The first option, I will give each of you one of these machine guns, and you will join the fight against the enemy. The second option is that you join them and we will be your enemies. The third option is that you leave your land. The fourth option is that you stay, and we will kill you.”
There was a deep and uncomfortable silence on the call.
John Paul asked us, what were we experiencing as we used our empathy and imagination, placing ourselves in the shoes of these people? What would we choose?
I have to admit, my first reaction was to save my life, and to try to avoid risking the lives of others.
But he went on to share with us what happened next. An older, well known campesino spoke up and said, “Capitan, who are you to offer us forgiveness? I will not take up these arms, and I will not leave. I will die before I kill anyone else. And you, you were on the other side in the past- you are a ‘side-switcher.’ No, we will not follow you. We will think for ourselves.”
Incredibly, this campesino, named Joshua, had been imprisoned and tortured by this same captain, so they knew each other quite well. But perhaps even more surprisingly, when Joshua finished, the captain stepped down from the podium in shame, and the armed men withdrew themselves from the community. Joshua and his friends went on to form a cooperative association that still exists, witnessing to the possibility of peace, and which provides facilitators for negotiation.
I found this story so powerful, and so challenging. What about the risks to this man’s life and the risk he took with the lives of all those in his community? Where did this man with such a basic education get this wisdom, and moral courage? How did he find a way to outwit and outflank the captain so effectively?
John Paul responded that Joshua had removed himself from the center of his concerns, and took a stand for this conscientious commitment to serve life, not death, to promote peace, not accept violence. While he was so uncompromising in his moral stand, he also remained in relationship both with the captain, the armed men surrounding them, and those he refused to call “enemy.”
This story is ringing in me today as if I were a bell struck by a hammer. It opens for me this Gospel of Matthew, chapter 4, where Jesus enters the wilderness and faces the Tempter, with his false promises of riches, power, and prestige, this temptation to fulfill his Father’s Kingdom, but through means of coercion and domination. As did Joshua, Jesus knows better that means and ends are of an integral unity. He knows that the Reign of God cannot be ever achieved by force of will, let alone violence.
Rather, the Reign of God demands a humble path that completely respects the freedom of each person’s conscience. It will not be a function of threats or commands, but of attraction, invitation… the evoking of people’s deepest desires for belonging, wholeness, and meaningful purpose in their lives. The Kingdom will demand modeling leadership in the generous service to others, in prophetic protection of the poor and the marginalized, and in teaching the supremacy not of political power, but the mutually transforming power of love.
Like Joshua, this simple farmer who took such a courageous stand, Jesus was rooted and grounded in what was ultimate for him, or rather, who. For Jesus, his Father was the center of his life, the reason for his mission. This sense of who was ultimate clarified everything for him. It freed him from getting stuck in the tempter’s ego driven logic of greed, grasping for power, or the craving for everyone’s approval. This centeredness in what/who was ultimate for him provided Jesus his purpose, his role, and it clarified the tasks of his earthly ministry. And finally, it was the reason he would suffer and die for, in service of a more abundant life.
As we walk along our Lenten journey, I wonder if this story and this question about what/who is ultimate for you rings a bell as it does for me? Our lives can be so full and fraught with tensions and temptations to take short cuts and make moral compromises in order to protect what we have, or advance in our agendas. It might seem so sensible to disconnect ends and means, and think that “success by any means necessary” can be legitimate or acceptable. As leaders, our roles confront us constantly with questions of competing values and priorities, and it is not uncommon for our hungers, drives, and attachments to erode away our idealism, or make us cynical about human nature. It is easy to allow our consciences to become cloudy, our compassion to be numbed, to become complacent with the realpolitik.
However, Jesus’ example to us in the dry and deserted wilderness is that when we clarify what is ultimate and we take our stand, the angels will tend to us. Let’s pray for this clarity and moral courage through the coming days.
With you on the road,
