The Source of Our Security
a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island,
Sunday September 23, 2001
***
I had kind of a scary experience this past week. I was home watching television, watching my least-favorite third-rate history professor and former Speaker of the House of Representatives lecture on C-SPAN about terrorism at the American Enterprise Institute, and he actually said something that sort of made sense to me and that I almost agreed with. It came in the midst of a lot of other stuff that I didn’t really agree with, but what he said was this: “The only legitimate vision is the defeat and the destruction of the system of terrorism, and that requires that we declare terrorism to be a crime against humanity, just as we did with piracy, and that we refuse to accept the existence of any regime which harbors, supports, or protects terrorists.” Like I said, this came in the midst of a lot of other stuff that I didn’t particularly agree with, and some of it was quite scary indeed. But the part that intrigued me was former Speaker Gingrich’s comparison of Terrorists to Pirates, and his suggestion that the United States pursue a policy similar to that of the British Empire in sweeping Piracy from the High Seas 300 years ago.
I’m going to return to this topic in a moment (since the history of piracy on the high seas is actually something I know a little about), but before I do I want to turn my attention briefly to another topic, and that is the place of political discourse in the free pulpit. I believe very strongly in the separation of Church and State. The policies of our government should never be allowed to come under the control of a particular religious organization or ideology, and (perhaps more importantly), the power of government should never be allowed to influence or control the free expression and legitimate practice of religious faith in our pluralistic, secular society. Now obviously there are some gray areas here, which mostly have to do with the notion of “legitimacy;” individuals or organizations who attempt to use the shield of religion in order to engage in illegal activities like theft or murder are clearly not protected by this principle, and there are likewise other activities of dubious legitimacy (I won’t try to itemize them all here) which from time to time will bring church and state into conflict with one another. But on the whole, a strict separation of church and state is one of the key principles that make democracy possible in an increasingly diverse and pluralistic world.
The relationship between religion and politics, however, is not nearly so easily delineated. If politics is the practice of making decisions as a community, and religion represents the expression of our highest values and aspirations, it is only natural that our religious convictions must, on some level at least, influence and shape our political opinions. But this is not to suggest that we should allow our politics to BECOME our religion; because politics is also the art of the possible, the ability and the willingness to compromise in order to achieve agreement in the here and now. Religion, on the other hand, in many ways represents our vision of the impossible: our trust in things which we feel but cannot see, our hope for a better and more perfect community in times to come. So the two are related, but they are also distinct, and unavoidably influence one another in our never-ending effort to become better people than we now are, and to put our beliefs and values into practice in our everyday lives.
Now my own politics (as you’re probably starting to figure out) tend to lean pretty solidly to the left, although I am, in fact, a registered Independent, and have been all my adult life. In accordance with my liberal religious views, I also tend to be rather liberal on most social issues, although I can also be quite conservative about some things, such as civil liberties and the Bill of Rights. But as an historian, I also have a great deal of respect and admiration for the principles which originally gave rise to the Republican party, back when it was still the party of Abolition and supported overwhelmingly by the New England Unitarians of the day; and I still respect and admire those principles of liberty and independent thought and the duty of public service (as opposed to the protection of social privilege) when I see them exhibited by contemporary Republicans such as Elliott Richardson, William Cohen, George Mitchell, or James Jeffords.
And my promise to all of you is this: when I do speak of politics from this pulpit, I will always attempt to speak out of the teachings of our religious tradition rather than merely expressing my private political opinions. I will try to be fair rather than partisan, to look for points of consensus as well as points of criticism, and to embody the virtue of civility, which is essential to the smooth functioning of civil society. But I would also remind you that one of the obligations of the Free Pulpit is to speak prophetically, in the tradition of Jeremiah: to speak the truth to power, to speak-up for those who cannot speak for themselves, to be the voice of those who have no voice: the oppressed, the marginalized, the down-trodden. The free pulpit is also a critical pulpit, which endeavors always to confront the power of evil with the light of truth. But my purpose in doing so is not to tell you what you SHOULD believe, but rather simply to articulate and share my own most deeply-held beliefs, which is my responsibility as a preacher, in the hope that you might somehow find that beneficial in your own religious and spiritual journeys.
Now, having said all that, I hope it comes as no surprise when I disclose that I am not exactly the biggest fan of the Bush Administration. I still harbor very serious reservations about the legitimacy of the election which brought them to power, and I also have concerns about the some of ways in which they have chosen to exercise that power. But despite all this, I have to confess that I was very gratified by many of the things that I heard the President say on Thursday night, and by the overwhelming support which the Congress and the nation has shown for him in our time of national crisis and challenge. My faith is in the goodness and decency of the American People, and in the strength of our Democratic institutions, which transcend the personalities and personal shortcomings of our professional politicians. My fear is that our leaders will succumb to the temptation to abuse the trust which has placed in them, and misuse the power which they now have at their disposal in order to consolidate their own hold on power. And my great hope is that President Bush and those around him will indeed prove equal to the true challenge of historical greatness, which is to rise to the level of extraordinary circumstances by exhibiting extraordinary abilities. So I say to the President, guard well the trust which has been placed in you, because the American People will hold you to your word. We will not be fooled by YOUR “pretenses to piety,” because we have seen THAT kind before as well -- and should you chose to “sacrifice human life” solely to serve your own political ambition, should you “abandon every value except the will to power,” you too will “follow the path” of that murderous ideology “all the way to where it ends in history’s unmarked grave of discarded lies.”
So I want to return now to the lessons of history, and to Professor Gingrich’s apt comparison of the 18th-century suppression of Piracy on the High Seas, and our own struggle against “Terrorism of Global Reach.” The analogy is not a perfect one, but it does contain some interesting insights into the manner in which we might best pursue the task that lies before us. And let me first say that piracy per se has probably been around since the beginning of history, and continues to persist in certain parts of the world today. But the kind of piracy that I want to talk about this morning had a specific historical context which made it a little different than mere waterborne robbery. It’s origins involved the relatively new technology of ocean-going sailing vessels, an international military contest between two European powers, Protestant England and Catholic Spain, each struggling for global dominance, and was inextricably linked as well both to the European colonization of the American continents, and the development of the African Slave trade.
For much of the 16th and 17th centuries, “piracy” was a tool of military policy; ships were outfitted by groups of private investors, and granted a government license (called a “letter of Marque”) which entitled them to prey “legitimately” upon the merchant shipping of their enemies. Of course, if you were on the receiving end of a pirate attack, it made very little difference to you whether or not your attacker had a license; and in time this began to work in the opposite way as well -- bands of sailors decided to “go upon the account:” they signed Ship’s Articles (a document which some historians believe had its origin in the Covenants signed by the members of Congregational Churches), elected their own officers, and began preying indiscriminately upon whatever ships they chanced upon. Nevertheless, their ability to pursue this line of work successfully depended to a large degree upon the tacit protection of corrupt local authorities, who provided the Pirates with a ready market for their ill-gotten gains, and followed a “hands-off” policy with respect to established Pirate strongholds.
This all began to change at the beginning of the 18th century, when the British government in particular decided to launch an all-out campaign for the suppression of piracy. This so-called “War against the Pirates” lasted for about thirty years, although the bulk of activity took place in a 10-year period between 1716 and 1726, and the actual policies continued to remain in place well into the 19th century. Among these policies were harsh new criminal penalties for commercial contact with Pirates (effectively cutting them off from their base of support), the creation of local Admiralty courts in the Americas (so that Pirates could be tried and hanged in the jurisdiction where they had committed their crimes), the offer of rewards for the capture of pirates, as well as the stepping up of naval patrols in areas frequented by Pirates and the organization of specific Royal Navy expeditions in order to seek out Pirates in their strongholds and attack them where they lived. Yet these policies were also accompanied by generous offers of amnesty to individuals who were willing to give up the Pirate life, as well as the repudiation by treaty of Letters of Marque as a legitimate means of military activity (although private vessels did continue to be chartered in order to hunt down pirates themselves).
But then (as I predict now) the three most effective of these techniques were the ability to separate the Pirates themselves from their local, and nominally “legitimate” supporters on land; the establishment of local Admiralty Courts (which made administration of justice both swift and visible); and the decision to make the suppression of Piracy a military priority rather than a military afterthought. Yet the offer of amnesty, together with an attitude of judicial leniency toward younger, low-level pirates without “blood on their hands,” were also important tools in convincing “reformed” pirates to turn against their former associates. And undergirding the entire effort was the willingness of the governments themselves (and I am speaking specifically now of England, France and Spain -- the United States would not even become an independent nation until fifty years later) to repudiate the use of “privateering” as a legitimate means of pursuing their own national policies.
So there’s your history lesson for today, and I promise you that none of this will be on the midterm. But I want to conclude my message this morning with a word of optimistic encouragement and cautious hope. Our collective grief over the events of September 11th is impossible to articulate. Yet if we succumb to the temptation to answer terror with terror, to rush recklessly to vengeance, rather than working patiently for justice, we will indeed become our own worst enemies. But if we discipline ourselves to act according to our own best lights and highest values, if we endeavor, faithfully, to be more like ourselves rather than attempting to imitate the atrocities of our antagonists, we will inevitably prevail in this struggle, and become a better and stronger nation as a result of our efforts. I have boundless faith in the ability of the American people to do the right thing, once the right thing has been clearly shown to them. By repudiating the lawless violence of terror, while at the same time insisting upon holding these criminals accountable for their actions before a fair and objective tribunal of justice, we will indeed triumph over those who would do us harm, and preserve the values which make our way of life meaningful and worthy.
***
FIRST READING:
An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him angry at a friend who had done him an injustice... "Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt great hate for those who have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die.
"I have struggled with these feelings many times. It is as if there are two wolves inside me. One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.
“But...the other wolf... ah! The littlest thing will send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all of the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing. Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."
The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"
The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."
SECOND READING: from a homily by the Rev. Dr. F. Forrester Church at the Unitarian Church of All Souls in New York City, September 12th, 2001.
“...we must recall history’s most ironic lesson: Choose your enemies carefully, for you will become like them. Terrorism is powered by hatred. If we answer the hatred of others with hatred of our own, we and our enemies will soon be indistinguishable. It is hard, I know, to curb the passion for vengeance. When we see Palestinian children dancing in the street to celebrate the slaughter of our neighbors and loved ones, how can we help but feel a surge of disgust and anger, the very emotions that precipitate hatred. But the Palestinians are not our enemy. Nor are the Muslims. Ths is not, as some historians would have it, a war between civilizations. It is a war between civilization and anarchy, a war of God-demented nihilists against the very fabric of world order. I hope you will all go out of your way in the days ahead to practice the second great commandment and love your Arab neighbors as yourself. Few outside the circle of those who lost loved ones in yesterday’s tragedy are more surely its victims than are the millions of innocent Muslims whose God’s name has been taken so savagely in vain.”
at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island,
Sunday September 23, 2001
***
I had kind of a scary experience this past week. I was home watching television, watching my least-favorite third-rate history professor and former Speaker of the House of Representatives lecture on C-SPAN about terrorism at the American Enterprise Institute, and he actually said something that sort of made sense to me and that I almost agreed with. It came in the midst of a lot of other stuff that I didn’t really agree with, but what he said was this: “The only legitimate vision is the defeat and the destruction of the system of terrorism, and that requires that we declare terrorism to be a crime against humanity, just as we did with piracy, and that we refuse to accept the existence of any regime which harbors, supports, or protects terrorists.” Like I said, this came in the midst of a lot of other stuff that I didn’t particularly agree with, and some of it was quite scary indeed. But the part that intrigued me was former Speaker Gingrich’s comparison of Terrorists to Pirates, and his suggestion that the United States pursue a policy similar to that of the British Empire in sweeping Piracy from the High Seas 300 years ago.
I’m going to return to this topic in a moment (since the history of piracy on the high seas is actually something I know a little about), but before I do I want to turn my attention briefly to another topic, and that is the place of political discourse in the free pulpit. I believe very strongly in the separation of Church and State. The policies of our government should never be allowed to come under the control of a particular religious organization or ideology, and (perhaps more importantly), the power of government should never be allowed to influence or control the free expression and legitimate practice of religious faith in our pluralistic, secular society. Now obviously there are some gray areas here, which mostly have to do with the notion of “legitimacy;” individuals or organizations who attempt to use the shield of religion in order to engage in illegal activities like theft or murder are clearly not protected by this principle, and there are likewise other activities of dubious legitimacy (I won’t try to itemize them all here) which from time to time will bring church and state into conflict with one another. But on the whole, a strict separation of church and state is one of the key principles that make democracy possible in an increasingly diverse and pluralistic world.
The relationship between religion and politics, however, is not nearly so easily delineated. If politics is the practice of making decisions as a community, and religion represents the expression of our highest values and aspirations, it is only natural that our religious convictions must, on some level at least, influence and shape our political opinions. But this is not to suggest that we should allow our politics to BECOME our religion; because politics is also the art of the possible, the ability and the willingness to compromise in order to achieve agreement in the here and now. Religion, on the other hand, in many ways represents our vision of the impossible: our trust in things which we feel but cannot see, our hope for a better and more perfect community in times to come. So the two are related, but they are also distinct, and unavoidably influence one another in our never-ending effort to become better people than we now are, and to put our beliefs and values into practice in our everyday lives.
Now my own politics (as you’re probably starting to figure out) tend to lean pretty solidly to the left, although I am, in fact, a registered Independent, and have been all my adult life. In accordance with my liberal religious views, I also tend to be rather liberal on most social issues, although I can also be quite conservative about some things, such as civil liberties and the Bill of Rights. But as an historian, I also have a great deal of respect and admiration for the principles which originally gave rise to the Republican party, back when it was still the party of Abolition and supported overwhelmingly by the New England Unitarians of the day; and I still respect and admire those principles of liberty and independent thought and the duty of public service (as opposed to the protection of social privilege) when I see them exhibited by contemporary Republicans such as Elliott Richardson, William Cohen, George Mitchell, or James Jeffords.
And my promise to all of you is this: when I do speak of politics from this pulpit, I will always attempt to speak out of the teachings of our religious tradition rather than merely expressing my private political opinions. I will try to be fair rather than partisan, to look for points of consensus as well as points of criticism, and to embody the virtue of civility, which is essential to the smooth functioning of civil society. But I would also remind you that one of the obligations of the Free Pulpit is to speak prophetically, in the tradition of Jeremiah: to speak the truth to power, to speak-up for those who cannot speak for themselves, to be the voice of those who have no voice: the oppressed, the marginalized, the down-trodden. The free pulpit is also a critical pulpit, which endeavors always to confront the power of evil with the light of truth. But my purpose in doing so is not to tell you what you SHOULD believe, but rather simply to articulate and share my own most deeply-held beliefs, which is my responsibility as a preacher, in the hope that you might somehow find that beneficial in your own religious and spiritual journeys.
Now, having said all that, I hope it comes as no surprise when I disclose that I am not exactly the biggest fan of the Bush Administration. I still harbor very serious reservations about the legitimacy of the election which brought them to power, and I also have concerns about the some of ways in which they have chosen to exercise that power. But despite all this, I have to confess that I was very gratified by many of the things that I heard the President say on Thursday night, and by the overwhelming support which the Congress and the nation has shown for him in our time of national crisis and challenge. My faith is in the goodness and decency of the American People, and in the strength of our Democratic institutions, which transcend the personalities and personal shortcomings of our professional politicians. My fear is that our leaders will succumb to the temptation to abuse the trust which has placed in them, and misuse the power which they now have at their disposal in order to consolidate their own hold on power. And my great hope is that President Bush and those around him will indeed prove equal to the true challenge of historical greatness, which is to rise to the level of extraordinary circumstances by exhibiting extraordinary abilities. So I say to the President, guard well the trust which has been placed in you, because the American People will hold you to your word. We will not be fooled by YOUR “pretenses to piety,” because we have seen THAT kind before as well -- and should you chose to “sacrifice human life” solely to serve your own political ambition, should you “abandon every value except the will to power,” you too will “follow the path” of that murderous ideology “all the way to where it ends in history’s unmarked grave of discarded lies.”
So I want to return now to the lessons of history, and to Professor Gingrich’s apt comparison of the 18th-century suppression of Piracy on the High Seas, and our own struggle against “Terrorism of Global Reach.” The analogy is not a perfect one, but it does contain some interesting insights into the manner in which we might best pursue the task that lies before us. And let me first say that piracy per se has probably been around since the beginning of history, and continues to persist in certain parts of the world today. But the kind of piracy that I want to talk about this morning had a specific historical context which made it a little different than mere waterborne robbery. It’s origins involved the relatively new technology of ocean-going sailing vessels, an international military contest between two European powers, Protestant England and Catholic Spain, each struggling for global dominance, and was inextricably linked as well both to the European colonization of the American continents, and the development of the African Slave trade.
For much of the 16th and 17th centuries, “piracy” was a tool of military policy; ships were outfitted by groups of private investors, and granted a government license (called a “letter of Marque”) which entitled them to prey “legitimately” upon the merchant shipping of their enemies. Of course, if you were on the receiving end of a pirate attack, it made very little difference to you whether or not your attacker had a license; and in time this began to work in the opposite way as well -- bands of sailors decided to “go upon the account:” they signed Ship’s Articles (a document which some historians believe had its origin in the Covenants signed by the members of Congregational Churches), elected their own officers, and began preying indiscriminately upon whatever ships they chanced upon. Nevertheless, their ability to pursue this line of work successfully depended to a large degree upon the tacit protection of corrupt local authorities, who provided the Pirates with a ready market for their ill-gotten gains, and followed a “hands-off” policy with respect to established Pirate strongholds.
This all began to change at the beginning of the 18th century, when the British government in particular decided to launch an all-out campaign for the suppression of piracy. This so-called “War against the Pirates” lasted for about thirty years, although the bulk of activity took place in a 10-year period between 1716 and 1726, and the actual policies continued to remain in place well into the 19th century. Among these policies were harsh new criminal penalties for commercial contact with Pirates (effectively cutting them off from their base of support), the creation of local Admiralty courts in the Americas (so that Pirates could be tried and hanged in the jurisdiction where they had committed their crimes), the offer of rewards for the capture of pirates, as well as the stepping up of naval patrols in areas frequented by Pirates and the organization of specific Royal Navy expeditions in order to seek out Pirates in their strongholds and attack them where they lived. Yet these policies were also accompanied by generous offers of amnesty to individuals who were willing to give up the Pirate life, as well as the repudiation by treaty of Letters of Marque as a legitimate means of military activity (although private vessels did continue to be chartered in order to hunt down pirates themselves).
But then (as I predict now) the three most effective of these techniques were the ability to separate the Pirates themselves from their local, and nominally “legitimate” supporters on land; the establishment of local Admiralty Courts (which made administration of justice both swift and visible); and the decision to make the suppression of Piracy a military priority rather than a military afterthought. Yet the offer of amnesty, together with an attitude of judicial leniency toward younger, low-level pirates without “blood on their hands,” were also important tools in convincing “reformed” pirates to turn against their former associates. And undergirding the entire effort was the willingness of the governments themselves (and I am speaking specifically now of England, France and Spain -- the United States would not even become an independent nation until fifty years later) to repudiate the use of “privateering” as a legitimate means of pursuing their own national policies.
So there’s your history lesson for today, and I promise you that none of this will be on the midterm. But I want to conclude my message this morning with a word of optimistic encouragement and cautious hope. Our collective grief over the events of September 11th is impossible to articulate. Yet if we succumb to the temptation to answer terror with terror, to rush recklessly to vengeance, rather than working patiently for justice, we will indeed become our own worst enemies. But if we discipline ourselves to act according to our own best lights and highest values, if we endeavor, faithfully, to be more like ourselves rather than attempting to imitate the atrocities of our antagonists, we will inevitably prevail in this struggle, and become a better and stronger nation as a result of our efforts. I have boundless faith in the ability of the American people to do the right thing, once the right thing has been clearly shown to them. By repudiating the lawless violence of terror, while at the same time insisting upon holding these criminals accountable for their actions before a fair and objective tribunal of justice, we will indeed triumph over those who would do us harm, and preserve the values which make our way of life meaningful and worthy.
***
FIRST READING:
An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him angry at a friend who had done him an injustice... "Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt great hate for those who have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die.
"I have struggled with these feelings many times. It is as if there are two wolves inside me. One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.
“But...the other wolf... ah! The littlest thing will send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all of the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing. Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."
The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"
The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."
SECOND READING: from a homily by the Rev. Dr. F. Forrester Church at the Unitarian Church of All Souls in New York City, September 12th, 2001.
“...we must recall history’s most ironic lesson: Choose your enemies carefully, for you will become like them. Terrorism is powered by hatred. If we answer the hatred of others with hatred of our own, we and our enemies will soon be indistinguishable. It is hard, I know, to curb the passion for vengeance. When we see Palestinian children dancing in the street to celebrate the slaughter of our neighbors and loved ones, how can we help but feel a surge of disgust and anger, the very emotions that precipitate hatred. But the Palestinians are not our enemy. Nor are the Muslims. Ths is not, as some historians would have it, a war between civilizations. It is a war between civilization and anarchy, a war of God-demented nihilists against the very fabric of world order. I hope you will all go out of your way in the days ahead to practice the second great commandment and love your Arab neighbors as yourself. Few outside the circle of those who lost loved ones in yesterday’s tragedy are more surely its victims than are the millions of innocent Muslims whose God’s name has been taken so savagely in vain.”
posted by The Eclectic Cleric at 7:45 AM
