David P. Gushee is Distinguished University Professor of Christian Ethics at McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University. Writing in the magazine Prism , a publication of Evangelicals for Social Action, Prof. Gushee tells us about a “Holocaust travel course” he took this past summer and the lessons he took away from that trip:
This sobering visit to Berlin, Prague, Cracow, and Warsaw—and to such sites as the Nazi concentration camps Ravensbruck and Auschwitz—did more than deepen our understanding of the details of Nazi evil and Jewish suffering. It also clarified for me what matters most in Christian public engagement. However, the misuse of [just war theory], especially in the United States, is a common “worst practice” that contributes to war. It happened in the run up to the misbegotten Iraq War, and it happens in the run-up to just about every U.S. war. Partly because of the abuse of [just war theory], we are a church that can’t “just say no.” That is a violation of the teachings of Jesus and thus a failure of discipleship.
After reading Prof. Gushee’s article I’m not sure I see the connection between his visit to the Nazi concentration camps and his hostility to just war theory. In any case, I hope I am not being too churlish by suggesting that there is something unseemly about using a visit to the concentration camps as a means to score a few politically correct jabs against the Iraq war or the just war tradition.
Besides, a profoundly opposite lesson might well be taken away from such a trip. That lesson might be gleaned from a story told by James H. Toner , who until recently was professor of international relations and military ethics at the Air War College. Toner writes :
A number of years ago, while teaching at a university in Vermont, I was invited to join a public affairs panel to discuss just war issues. I soon discovered that I was the sole supporter of that notion, and I was getting much more than I was giving. Indeed, the audience seemed hostile, not only to the concept of just war, but also to me. An elderly man in the rear of the audience stood and said something to the effect that he wanted to support my views on just war; he added that he was a classical musician. I remember thinking to myself that there was one person in the room who agreed with me—and that he was probably a nut. “I want to tell you,” the man continued, “what is the sweetest music I have ever heard.” I was still mentally cringing. “Although I have heard wonderful music thousands of times, the most beautiful was the sound of U.S. Army tanks. You see, they were coming to [the death camp which then held him as a young man], and that sound meant that I would be able to grow up.” The audience and I had the grace to sit in silent reflection for a few moments, and I felt rather like Edward Everett must have at Gettysburg.
I wonder what this Holocaust survivor would think about Prof. Gushee’s rather contrary lesson. Not much, I would think.
