Peace Without End: by Nick Megoran
"Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation, when at the first he lightly afflicted the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, and afterward did more grievously afflict her by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations. The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined. Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in harvest, and as men rejoice when they divide the spoil. For thou hast broken the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, as in the day of Midian. For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire. For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this." Isaiah 9 v1-7
One sunny spring afternoon in 2003, a small group of British, American and Iraqi Christians from Cambridge gathered in a small village in to celebrate an open-air eucharist. As we read through a liturgy we listened to these words from Isaiah, sang praises to God, shared the embrace of peace with each other, prayed the 'our father' together, and broke the bread and wine. It was a Sunday, and Christians were doing this all over the country, all over the world: what was unusual about this was the time and place.
The time was March 23rd, 2003. Three days earlier, Britain and America had invaded Iraq. In defiance of international law, isolated in the United Nations, condemned by religious leaders across the globe, and in the face of unprecedented global uprisings of millions of demonstrators on every continent from Alaska to Antarctica, the US and Britain unleashed a fierce invasion. The most powerful army in history was turned on a wretched and impoverished third world state, a state whose immiseration we had, hypocritically, done much to contribute to. Even though the media was tightly controlled by the "coalition's" use of aptly-termed 'embedded' correspondents, reports were filtering out of horrendous loss of life and massive infrastructural damage that was terrorising the population.
The place was also significant. We gathered at the gates of RAF Lakenheath, the largest US Air Force base in Western Europe. It is home to 48th Fighter Wing, the unit responsible for launching a murderous attack on Libya in 1986, that was first to deploy forces to Saudi Arabia in 1990, and took part in the NATO attacks on the Balkans in 1999. Lakenheath is the sole remaining base used to store US nuclear weapons in England, weapons that lack tactical military value and are of use only to threaten other states and kill large numbers of civilians. These weapons are considered illegal in international law. At the Non-proliferation Treaty Review in 2000, the nuclear weapons states, including America and Britain, made an "unequivocal undertaking ... to accomplish the total elimination of their nuclear arsenals". Yet disarmament has neither begun nor has a timetable been set.
We gathered to pray right in front of the gates at Lakenheath. At this place where evil was present in tangible form, we proclaimed the reality of the coming of the child of Bethlehem, and of the triumph of life over death, joy over sorrow, light over darkness. As we broke bread and proclaimed his death and coming again, we bore witness to the victory of the Messiah over his enemies: a victory achieved by the shedding of his own blood, not that of his enemies; by humble obedience to the father, not proud and aggressive enforcing of his own will over others.
We gathered in sorrow. A visiting American pastor who was passing through Cambridge started to speak about the shame he felt at what his country was doing, but broke down in tears and was unable to finish. An Iraqi Christian spoke of his own, deep hurt. He had lost family both to the brutality of Saddam Hussein and the brutality of American bombing. He spoke in sorrow and anger about the terror that America and Britain, the land of his exile, were inflicting on his people.
We gathered in pain. We read extracts from a letter to American Christians sent by Iraqi Dominican sisters a few days before the USA attacked Iraq. "We are living in great fright, panic, and extreme worry… we have been suffering from very hard psychological situation since President Bush has started his inhuman threats to initiate another war on our people. Our children, women and people are dying of malnutrition and starvation because of the inhuman sanctions… Why do you want to finish them by a new war? … A couple of days ago, we could dream of safety and peace, but now we no longer know what these words mean because violence, suffering, and fear are enfolding us…. Is it fair to be going through all this? Is it acceptable? Is our crime that we are floating on a huge sea of black gold? What is the use of it, except to pay for our death?" As Jesus wept that Jerusalem 'did not know the things that made for peace' and would witness great human suffering as a result, so we wept in pain at thesewords.
We gathered in repentance. We confessed that we were the race that nailed Christ to the cross, the race that crucifies him again as we kill each other. We confessed that even though he showed his love by dying for us when we were still his enemies, we have ignored his command to love our enemies. We prayed that our leaders might see his light, and into his hands we committed all victims of war and violence.
We gathered to pray as the church, as a group of Christians from America, Britain, and Iraq. The leaders of those states were trying to make us hate each other, demonising their enemies, cynically pretending that ordinary people shared their views. We declared that our citizenship was in heaven, and our first loyalty was to the peacemaking Jesus, not the warmongers Bush, Blair, and Hussein. As we celebrated 'the peace' and embraced each other across ethnic lines, and as we broke bread in an act of worship that was also an act of protest, we proclaimed the reality of the kingdom of God. We offered a glimpse of a kingdom of people from every tribe, tongue and nation, that will one day be united around the throne casting golden crowns in worship before the lamb.
We gathered affirming the victory of the messiah who conquered his enemies by dieing at their hands. In marked contrast, and proud of its ability to deal death, 48th Fighter Wing boasts that its F-15s offer "the most advanced precision guided munitions" and "an air combat capability never before seen in the history of airpower". The Anglican lectionary, which assigns this Isaiah passage to the Christmas services in churches each year, misses out verses 4 and 5. Perhaps the church's conscience is pained by them, or perhaps it merely considers them inappropriate for Christmas. But these verses promise that the coming of the Messiah will mean that the truncheons of the oppressors will be snapped; the shining boots and battle fatigues of the warriors not put proudly on display in regimental museums, but rolled up and burnt on the fire; the gleaming F-15s and other juggernauts of death scrapped. This gospel is bad news for the captains of the arms industries, and it is bad news for the fanatics of power who try and bring about their own 'just' ends through violence. But it is good news for the poor, good news for the oppressed, good news for all those who grieve over sin and death and look for peace.
Finally, after reading Isaiah, we went away with hope. "Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end". This is not something that depends on our defeating the George Bushes, Saddam Husseins, or other principalities and powers of this age: they have already been defeated in the cross. It is a government and peace that will be ushered in by the unstoppable "zeal of the Lord of hosts", the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, "who is wonderful in counsel and mighty in judgement". Peace is coming, peace without end, peace and justice in an ever-expanding kingdom. That kingdom came into being on that first Easter Sunday, and will finally be brought to completion when our Lord returns again. In the meantime, we went out in the light of that hope, looking for and encouraging glimpses of that kingdom as we live as salt and light in a dark world.
The Lakenheath eucharist