As the war in Ukraine wreaks havoc and devastation, we are called to ask ourselves how we, as Unitarian Universalists, are called to respond to and confront evil.
Please read the sermon below on this topic or watch the complete service by clicking here.
Keith Idema. That’s the name of the neighborhood bully when I was growing up. Keith was a few years older than I, and every day he’d terrorize me and other grade schoolers at the bus stop on the corner. Every day I wondered whether I’d be the one Keith set his sights on. The vulnerable antelope the lion would cull from the herd. Keith would knock your lunchbox out of your hand. He’d steal your snacks. He would knock you down and stand over you like a ruthless warrior. We were all afraid of him, and every day we dreaded waiting for the bus.
I was a pretty meek kid when I was little. “Afraid of my own shadow,” my parents would say. So, to help me build confidence in myself they enrolled me in judo classes. I can still recall the coarse texture of the heavy judogi – the jacket you wore – against my skin. I can remember the sweat of my sensei, my teacher, Fred Margolis, as he taught me how to fall without hurting myself, and the basic moves of the beginner. He used to sweat a lot. And I remember how much fun it was to practice the moves with the other students, who included my older sister.
You probably know where this is going. It was a day like any other school day, and I had to wait at the bus stop with all the other kids in my neighborhood. And up rolls Keith Idema on his flashy bike. You know, the one with the banana seat and the ape-hanger handlebars. He screeches to a stop, showering us with gravel and lays his bike down. And he walks right over to me. Today it’s my turn to be picked on. And I don’t know what came over me, but when he moved to grab my Batman lunchbox I grabbed the front of his shirt, swept my leg behind his like I’d been taught and before he knew what had hit him, he was flat on his back on the ground. Oh, did that feel good. And what felt even better was that he never picked on me again.
Unfortunately, Eastern Europe is not a bus stop. Unfortunately, Ukraine is not a meek little kid. And unfortunately, Vladimir Putin isn’t the neighborhood bully stealing snacks. I wish it were as simple as me standing up to Keith Idema and putting him in his place. Instead, one of the world’s superpowers is using its military might to impose its will on a sovereign neighboring nation with a democratically elected government. It is bombing civilian sites like maternity hospitals, theaters, and schools, committing atrocities unseen in the Western world in the past century. It’s war again: unmistakable smoke on the near horizon mistaken for thick fog. Fingers crossed.[1] There are reports of mass deportations to the far reaches of Russia, thousands of people herded onto buses and railroad cars, stripped of their identity and shipped off to unknown destinations.[2] It all sounds sickeningly familiar, doesn’t it? This week our government declared that Russian forces are committing war crimes across the Ukrainian countryside, attacking unarmed civilians as they attempt to flee the violence. It’s the ceasefire hour: godspeed the columns of winter coats and fur-lined hoods, the high-wire walk over buckled bridges managing cases and bags, balancing west and east – godspeed.
And amidst it all, the Ukrainian people are fighting. Fighting for their lives. Fighting for their country. Fighting for their freedom. Standing up to the bully Putin with unexpected, inspirational tenacity. It’s war again: the woman in black gives sunflower seeds to the soldier, insists his marrow will nourish the national flower. A coalition of nations, unprecedented in their unification, has isolated and sanctioned Russia, and supplied arms to support the resistance in hopes of pushing back the tide of vengeful violence. It’s war again: an air-raid siren can’t fully mute the cathedral bells – let’s call that hope.
How, as people of faith, do we respond to the carnage that currently floods our airwaves? As Unitarian Universalists, what does our faith require of us in the face of war crimes and, possibly, genocide? What does our faith tell us about the forces of evil asserting themselves not just in Ukraine but, if we look closely enough, around the globe? Because we must admit that we’re particularly exercised about the war in Ukraine due to both its geography and its demography. A white, western democracy is under attack. This one cuts close to the bone, whereas atrocities committed in Africa and Asia feel distant and alien. And, yes, I’ll acknowledge and admit that ours is a glass house, and that our government has engaged in its share of nation-building over the past decades. So there’s that old saw about “when you point your finger at someone else, three fingers are pointing back at yourself.”
To call Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and its attack on civilians “evil,” or to call Vladimir Putin himself “evil” might make UU’s uncomfortable. Unitarian Universalism, after all, proclaims that all people have inherent worth and dignity. To call someone “evil” feels like a form of “othering” that would seem anathema to our faith. Unitarian Universalists have long struggled with the concept of evil and its close cousin – sin. And we were famously branded as theological lightweights by none other than Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. himself. In an interview after her husband’s assassination, Coretta Scott King revealed that she and Dr. King had once considered becoming Unitarians, but found that our faith lacked a sufficient theology of evil.
To a certain extent, I feel justly accused. Ours is admittedly a “sunny-side up” kind of faith. Our belief in the inherent worth and dignity of all leads us toward optimism based on hope and a fervent belief that the forces of good will, eventually, overcome the forces of darkness. It was our own Unitarian forebear after all, Rev. Theodore Parker, who first asserted that the moral arc of the Universeis long, but that it bends toward justice. And we tenaciously hold onto that belief despite all evidence to the contrary. And there is plenty of evidence to the contrary.
I would assert that to deny the existence of evil is actually antithetical to our faith. As UU’s, we prize the use of reason over what might be called “magical thinking.” We are the Missouri of the religious landscape – the “Show Me” state. We “follow the science.” And I would say that there’s plenty of science to follow here. Atrocities abound throughout human history. Whether we’re talking about systemic evils like slavery and white supremacy or genocides created by human intention and action, most recently in Rwanda, Bosnia and Myanmar or the Holocaust of the Nazis, to individual acts of inexplicable cruelty like torture and the sexual exploitation of children, evil not only exists. It abounds. While as UU’s we reject the idea of “original sin” and proclaim that we are all born perfect and whole, it is the ultimate act of self-delusion to assert that we do not possess a tremendous capacity for cruelty and a taste for the blood of our enemies. James Luther Adams, the great Unitarian theologian of the 20th century cautioned us against denying these aspects of our humanity. “It cannot be denied,” he wrote “that religious liberalism has neglected these aspects of human nature in its zeal to proclaim the spark of divinity in [every person]. We may call these tendencies by any name we wish but we do not escape their destructive influence by a conspiracy of silence concerning them.”[3]
So if we admit that evil exists, both systemically and personally, how do we act in the face of it? To put it as concisely as I can, the answer is this: In the face of evil, we are called to be forces for good. We are called to house the homeless, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted. We are called to be like the Sharps, whom we heard about in today’s story from Chrissy. Whether it’s contributing to this month’s Share the Plate partner or boycotting Nestle products because of their refusal to stop doing business in Russia, or sending aid and assistance to refugee relief agencies, we must do what we can.
But, I think, there’s more. Because I intentionally said that we are called to be “forces” for good. And use of force to resist evil is not evil. Sometimes it is necessary and good. Unitarian Universalism does not require us to be pacifists. While we welcome those among us who ascribe to this ethic, our faith is not grounded in the principle that any violence is unjustifiable for any reason and that all disputes can and should be settled by peaceful means. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t try. We should. Each week from this pulpit I pray that we each be instruments of peace. That we make peace. That we be peace. So striving for peaceful resolution of conflicts – even armed conflict – should be a measure of first and persistent resort. But not one of last resort. I would love to be able to advocate peaceful means as the solution to all conflict. I would love to follow the admonitions of St. Paul in chapter 12 of his letter to the Romans, where he urges “Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” But there comes a time where force must be met with force. Evil with the forces of good.
I want to go on record that I support Joe Biden and his work building a strong coalition of nations that are imposing sanctions on Russia, and all the efforts our government and others have made to resolve this conflict through diplomatic means. Yes, meeting force with force should be a last resort. But it must be a step we’re willing to take. Believe me, I do not say this lightly. In fact, just the opposite. We must, for the sake of all that is holy and good, when we have exhausted all peaceful means, be prepared to do what is necessary and right, even if it means the taking of a human life, or hundreds, or possibly even thousands of human lives. I know that this may be a controversial statement, but sometimes you must respond to the bully in the only language he understands.
And this is where the concept of “just war” applies. And while I don’t have time for a lengthy explanation of the origins and philosophical support of Just War, here are the highlights: A just war must be fought for a just cause, which usually means to protect innocent life that is in imminent danger. A just war must be initiated by a political authority within a political system that allows distinctions of justice. There must be a “purity of intention,” a likelihood of success, and proportionality in the response. And, finally, force may be used only after all peaceful and viable alternatives have been seriously tried and exhausted or are clearly not practical.[4]
I dearly hope and I fervently pray that it doesn’t come to this, that we and other free nations need to directly intervene in the war in Ukraine. I pray that diplomatic pressures and sanctions are successful, and that peace will be restored. But if they aren’t, my faith – our faith – permits me to look into the face of the perpetrator of genocide, the hostile invader of a free democratic country, possibly the instigator of biological or chemical weaponry, and to label them and what they’re doing as “evil.” And to apply the forces of good – force used proportionately and for the sake of restoring peace – to vanquish it.
In dreams let bullets be birds, let cluster bombs burst into flocks…
It’s war again: an air-raid siren can’t fully mute the cathedral bells –
let’s call that hope.
Blessed Be
[1] Italicized words are taken from the poem “Resistance” by Simon Armitage
[2] https://inews.co.uk/news/russia-genocide-ukraine-mariupol-forced-deportations-gulag-how-many-explained-1529200
[3] Quoted by Rev. Bill Shulz in “What Torture Has Taught Me,” https://www.uuworld.org/articles/what-torture-has-taught-me?fbclid=IwAR0D_w8Y4xTiwpI2f4qoxSycRaNnrPhOC910J5OsN8LZnXKpteIaFTtzJyg
[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Just_war_theory#Jus_ad_bellum