My Comparative Religious Ethics course utilizes a narrative approach, which simply means that in the attempt to locate the elements that form the ethical foundations of the world’s religions we read and study the life stories of those who are lifted up by the tradition as representative of the virtuous and noble life. The narrative stories are drawn from both the ancient origins of the tradition and more contemporary examples. For example, when studying Christianity we encounter the life of Jesus of Nazareth and Martin Luther King, Jr.; in Hinduism, the story of Krishna and Arjuna in the Bhagavad-Gita and Mohandas Gandhi. In Judaism we read about Abraham, Job, King David and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907-1972). Within the context of these lives we also encounter a set of characteristics that seem to be held in common. One of these characteristics is what Rabbi Abraham Heschel has identified as “audacity,” which is understood to be held in tension with obedience. Audacity refers to the courage to stand up boldly in the face of authority; to speak outrageously (for justice). Yesterday in class, when I asked my students what they thought audacity meant, a young women offered, “to be rudely forthcoming.” I thought that was just wonderful. Unique among the world’s religions Judaism embraces a tradition of audacity which extends even to the courage to challenge God when the justice of God is in question. Elie Wiesel once wrote, “I remember my Master telling me, ‘Only the Jew knows that he may oppose God as long as he does so in defense of God’s creation.’” The tradition of audacity in Judaism is present in Abraham, through Moses, the book of Job and in Elie Wiesel as well.
In my attempt to continuously educate myself in the subjects (and lives) that I teach in this course, I went to the college library today to borrow a book of essays by Rabbi Heschel. I have just finished reading his essay entitled, “The Reasons for My Involvement in the Peace Movement.” Heschel, of course was referring to the Vietnam War. Since the beginning of the war with Iraq, representatives of Congress, the Senate and those of us citizens who are of the more ordinary type have drawn comparisons with Vietnam. The historian can make his argument, the esteemed Senator from Massachusetts can declare his conclusions, but as I read the Heschel piece I had chills. His wisdom and audacity reach from beyond the grave and his words are as relevant today as they were when they were published posthumously in The Journal of Social Philosophy in 1973. I found them to be so compelling that I reproduce them (in part) for you here:
To my dismay I discovered that the people in this country who made decisions on waging war in Vietnam thought almost exclusively in terms of generalizations---for example, Communism was seen as the devil and the only source of evil in the world. These decision-makers also had an exceedingly superficial knowledge of the economic, cultural and psychological condition of that country. Americans who went to Vietnam to take over the running of affairs there were not even able to speak the Vietnamese language, and as a result could not communicate except through interpreters who were often biased, self-seeking and even corrupt. Devoid of understanding, burdened with prejudice and pride, mighty America sank into the quagmire of this most obscure and complex conflict.
When I concluded in 1965 that waging war in Vietnam was an evil act, I was also convinced that complete and immediate withdrawal from Vietnam would be the wisest act. Realizing the hopelessness that such a proposal would ever be accepted by the then-current administration, I formulated my thought by saying: True, it is very difficult to withdraw from Vietnam today, but it will be even more difficult to withdraw from Vietnam tomorrow. Above all, it was a war that couldn’t be morally justified, for war under all circumstances is a supreme atrocity and is justified only when there is a necessity to defend one’s own survival. It is politically illogical, I thought, to assume that Communism in South Vietnam would be a greater threat to the security of the United States than Communism in Hungary or Czechoslovakia.
As much as I abhor many of the principles of Communism, I also abhor Fascism and the use of violence in suppressing those who fight against oppression by greedy or corrupt overlords. In addition, the war in Vietnam by its very nature was a war that could not be waged according to the international law to which America is committed, which protects civilians from being killed by the indiscriminate bombing and shooting of our own military forces, that numerous war crimes were being committed, that the very fabric of Vietnamese society was being destroyed, traditions desecrated, and honored ways of living defiled. Such discoveries revealed the war as being exceedingly unjust. As a result, my concern to stop the war became a central religious concern.
Although Jewish tradition enjoins our people to obey scrupulously the decrees issued by the government of the land, whenever a decree is unambiguously immoral, one nevertheless has a duty to disobey it.
When President Johnson expressed to veterans his consternation at the fact that so many citizens protested against his decisions in Vietnam, in spite of his authority as President and the vast amount of information at his disposal, I responded, at the request of John Cogey of The New York Times, that when the Lord was considering destroying Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham did not hesitate to challenge the Lord’s judgment and to carry on an argument with Him whether His decision was just. Can it be that the Judge of the entire universe would fail to act justly? For all the majesty of the office of the President of the United States, he cannot claim greater majesty than God Himself.
From Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, NY, 1996
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