speaking & writing about faith & freedom
I’ll be in Israel for a couple of weeks touring and blogging, but not on my site. If you’re interested in the things I’m doing and experiencing in Israel, and seeing some pretty cool video shots and produced by my friend Dave Carl, then check out www.insight.org/videoblog.
I’ll be back at my post blogging for be brave. live free. in a couple weeks. If you’re new to the blog a good essay to start with is the one recently published about the Evangelical Manifesto.
Shalom.
Jesus had the annoy habit of never doing or saying what was expected of Him—by everyone, that is, except His Father. The religious elite were confounded by His Messiah-like popularity. But when He didn’t act like the Messiah, according to their expectations, even the populous grew skeptical. Both the religious leaders and the people wanted a Messiah who would lead a revolt and trample underfoot the Roman eagle. And amidst the ashes of Roman power the Messiah would erect a glorious Jewish kingdom. Jesus did none of these. In fact, when asked whether taxes should be paid to the government, His reply was decisive: “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” [1]
Yes, Jesus was annoying—to those with a limited perspective. But Jesus was and is the living truth—He transcends political pigeonholing. Never engaging in cultural criticism or political posturing, Jesus instead heaped scorn on the religious establishment for corrupting theology with politics, for confusing spiritual freedom from sin as political freedom from Rome.
Because Jesus rebelled against the expectations of the mob, He changed the course of history.
For those of us who follow Jesus, our purpose is not exactly the same as His, but we are all called to point people to Him, wherever God has placed us—in business, medicine, law, education, entertainment, or politics. The danger for us, as it was for the Jewish population two thousand years ago, is to mix theology in the muck of politics. The history of doing so is long and unsavory. Jesus prayed that His followers would engage the world but no succumb to it—the famous “in . . . not of” dichotomy. [2]
Increasingly, however—especially over the past two decades—Evangelical Christianity has lost it distinctive mark, its commitment to follow a crucified and living Savior. Non-Evangelicals equate us with being conservative (read Republican) politically, that is all. The sad truth is many of our recognized leaders have perpetuated this perception through impertinent political comments. The result has been a poisoning of the fresh, life-giving well of the gospel.
We have traded the truth for a lie. It is not enough for Jesus to have come as a suffering servant to save the souls of mankind from sin, and return some day as the victorious King and Lord of all. He must return now on Air Force One and cut the abortionist off and cleave every gay marriage law by means of a marriage amendment.
Do not misunderstand me. Abortion is a blight that has reached holocaustic proportions within the United States. With Thomas Jefferson I shudder: “Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just: that his justice cannot sleep forever.” [3] Add to this vile sin the moral earthquake that would destroy the institution of marriage and I’m as outraged as anyone. Nevertheless, the question is not whether Evangelicals should involve themselves in political concerns, they should. The question is whether their commitment to conservative politics trumps their devotion to the Savior who transcends politics. After all, the greatest need the abortionist and the homosexual have is a relationship with Jesus Christ. Yet because of the graceless manner in which many Christians have conducted themselves on the political front, a relationship with Jesus is less attractive than a relationship with the Devil.
These concerns, among others, have prompted Os Guinness and other Evangelicals to issue “An Evangelical Manifesto: A Declaration of Evangelical Identity and Public Commitment.”
I confess at the outset that I’m a signatory.
The manifesto has two declared purposes. The first is “to address the confusions and corruptions that attend the term Evangelical in the United States and much of the Western world.” The second is “to clarify where we stand on issues that have caused consternation over Evangelicals in public life.” [4]
While addressing the first of these two goals, the manifesto boldly affirms: “Contrary to widespread misunderstanding today, we Evangelicals should be defined theologically, and not politically, socially, or culturally.” [5] Theologically, Evangelicals are followers of Jesus Christ, as stipulated in seven Christological truths.
As the manifesto asserts, being an Evangelical “Above all else, . . . is a commitment and devotion to the person and work of Jesus Christ, his teaching and way of life, and an enduring dedication to his lordship above all other earthly powers, allegiance and loyalties.” [7]
The clarification of Evangelical devotion is not controversial, though the second goal might cause heartburn among some. The manifesto calls for Evangelicals to reform our behavior, to repent from exchanging
biblical truths with therapeutic techniques, worship with entertainment, discipleship with growth in human potential, church growth with business entrepreneurialism, concern for the church and for the local congregation with expressions of the faith that are churchless and little better than a vapid spirituality, meeting real needs with pandering to felt needs, and mission principles with marketing precepts. [8]
The manifesto continues with a reaffirmation of the First Amendment of the United States Constitution and calls for a civil public square, not a secular or sacred public square, as I argued for in an earlier essay: “Preacher-in-Chief, or President?”
Evangelicals have nothing to fear from a civil public square. If we have the truth, the truth will win out in an open society of honest individuals. We have much to fear, however, in a naked or sacred public square. In the one our voices are mute. In the other our voices are shrill—cramming religion down the collective throat.
A civil public square inherently compels us, who follow Jesus, to treat those of other faiths or no faith with dignity, courtesy, and above all, grace. To do so is to simply show Christ to those who have never really seen Him. And that is much.
This manifesto is by no means perfect. But it is a clear statement of our commitment, above all other loyalties, to follow Jesus Christ as He has revealed Himself in the Scripture, and as the “People of the Good News [to] not just . . . speak the Good News but to embody and be good news to our world and to our generation.” [9] Both considerations transcend culture and narrowly defined political issues. If we, who call ourselves Evangelical can return to these truths then I trust that Jesus can change the course of our history from this day forward.
[1] Luke 20:25.
[2] See John 17:14–16
[3] Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia, http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/jevifram.htm (accessed 8 May 2008).
[4] “An Evangelical Manifesto: A Declaration of Evangelical Identity and Public Commitment,” May 7, 2008, Washington, D.C., http://www.anevangelicalmanifesto.com/index.php (accessed 8 May 2008), 2.
[5] “An Evangelical Manifesto,” 4.
[6] See “An Evangelical Manifesto,” 5–6.
[7] “An Evangelical Manifesto,” 8.
[8] “An Evangelical Manifesto,” 11.
[9] “An Evangelical Manifesto,” 20.
In a speech delivered right after the end of World War II, Winston Churchill warned that “an iron curtain has descended across the Continent” leaving many of the leading and ancient capitols of Eastern Europe under “the Soviet sphere . . . subject to one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow.” [1]
Forty years later President Ronald Reagan stood at the Brandenburg Gate in West Germany and declared to the Soviet leader, “General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberation: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” [2]
Two years later the Berlin Wall was torn down and Eastern Europe was free.
In the sweep of freedom the old Soviet Union collapsed and a new Russian Federation arose, with a new Constitution. In a bold stroke of the pen, the once official atheistic nation now embraced religious freedom: “Everyone shall be guaranteed freedom of conscience, the freedom of religion, including the right to profess individually or together with any other religion or to profess no religion at all, to freely choose, possess and disseminate religious and other views and act according to them.” [3]
For those of us who live in the West, and in America particularly, this is a triumph. We hold freedom of religion—keeping government intrusion out of the lives of religious people and organizations—as protected in the First Amendment, as sacrosanct. This foundational idea was revolutionary in 1791 when it was ratified; it remains revolutionary today.
Apparently, freedom of religion is too revolutionary for Vladimir V. Putin, Russia’s prime minister, and his puppet president, Dmitry A. Medvedev. In a troubling article published on April 24, 2008, by The New York Times (“At Expense of All Others, Putin Picks a Church”) the Russian government, in violation of its Constitution, has lowered the iron curtain again through its suppression of religious freedoms for Protestant churches. Branding Protestants as “sects” and restricting their “right to profess individually [and] together . . . and disseminate religious . . . views,” the Kremlin has decided to make the Russian Orthodox Church the de facto state religion. What is motivating this oppression, according to Clifford Levy’s article, is an anti-American, pro-Nationalistic movement. Vladimir Kotenyov, a Baptist minister, sums up the restrictions well: “‘This is how they [the Russian government and Orthodox Church] think: If you are a Russian person, it means that you have to be Russian Orthodox.’”
There have been many disturbing developments in Russia since Putin came to power—moves back toward Communistic ideology. But the selective oppression of religious freedom, pitting one religion against others, may be the most troubling of all.
[1] Winston Churchill, “The Sinews of Peace,” March 5, 1946, quoted in Churchill Speaks, 1897–1963: Collected Speeches in Peace & War, ed. Robert Rhodes James (New York: Barnes and Nobel, 1998), 881.
[2] Ronald Reagan, “Remarks at the Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, West Germany,” June 12, 1987, http://www.reaganfoundation.org/reagan/speeches/wall.asp (accessed 24 April 2008).
[3] “Constitution of the Russian Federation,” section I, chapter 2, article 28, http://www.constitution.ru/en/10003000-03.htm (accessed 24 April 2008).
Intelligence, candor, and goodwill are the marks of a good conversation. Have you ever sat down with someone to discuss a topic and they where either ignorant about the subject, seemed to hedge and fudge in their language, or were haughty or indifferent to your perspective? They are usually talkative, but communicate very little. Whenever I encounter one of these small minded people I think of Abraham Lincoln’s quip: “He can compress the most words into the smallest ideas of any man I ever met.” [1]
When it comes to difficult conversations these three qualities—intelligence, candor, and goodwill—are especially important. All of us have been involved in difficult conversations . . . that is unless you were raised by hyenas, have never held a job, never dated anyone, or never had a single friend in your life.
For the rest us, we know that sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs when we have to sit down and have one of those conversations where hard things must be said. I came across this letter, written by Eleanor Roosevelt to her forty-two-year old son, James, who was about to run for the governorship of California. He had notified the family that he and his wife, Rommie, wished to be removed from everyone’s Christmas gift list.
Sept. 22, 1949
Dearest Jimmy:
I am deeply hurt by your letter of the 16th and also frankly I was very angry. Through all the years Christmas at home was a joy to me and I hoped I had given to you all the feeling that it was a time for thinking of others even if we were far apart. It is never a burden to me. If you and Rommie find the expense too great or the burden too great of thinking beyond each other and the children, I shall accept your decision. In fact now no presents from you would be acceptable but I think it strange that you want to deprive me and others of the pleasure of thinking and showing our thought of you and your children in a tangible way.
This is the kind of high-handed, pompous action which loosens family ties and does not bind them closer. . . .
My love to you, dear
Mother
After receiving the letter, Jimmy wrote and asked the family to “forget we ever mentioned the subject.” [2]
Mrs. Roosevelt was not a mother to be trifled with. She could deliver it with the bark off!
Aristotle said there are three aspects to persuasion: pathos—the passions of emotion, logos—the logic of reason, and ethos—the character (goodwill) of the persuader. [3] This is not manipulation or deception. Persuasion is truthful. And I assume you have sufficient goodwill with the one you wish to persuade, especially when engaged in difficult conversations. So if you find yourself in a situation in which you have to say hard things to someone, here are a few techniques to help you say them gently.
First, to persuade others you must appeal to a higher purpose. Abraham Lincoln said it well:
When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and true maxim, that a “drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall.” So with men. If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what he will, is the great high road to his reason, and which, when once gained, you will find but little trouble in convincing his judgment of the justice of your cause. If indeed that cause really be a just one. [4]
Second, to persuade others you must praise them. This is not flattery, but sincerity. It is, in the words of Fred Smith, “steam that rises from a warm heart.” [5] To persuade others you must recognize their good or you have no bases for your appeal.
Third, to persuade others you must appeal on a personal level. This is Aristotle’s pathos. Kenneth McFarland eloquently said, “What is in the well of your heart will show up in the bucket of your speech.” [6]
Fourth, to persuade others you must appeal to their reason. This is Aristotle’s logos. Peggy Noonan, a woman who knows a thing or two about writing persuasively, astutely observed:
Nothing is more beautiful, more elevating, more important in a speech than fact and logic. People think passionate and moving oratory is the big thing, but it isn’t. The hard true presentation of facts followed by a declaration of how we must deal with those facts is the key. [7]
Finally, to persuade others you must use the right words. Mark Twain said it well:
A power agent is the right word. Whenever we come upon one of those intensely right words in a book or a newspaper the resulting effect is physical as well as spiritual, and electrically prompt. [8]
There are many ways to handle difficult conversations. In a letter to Ms. magazine, a disgruntled wife, fed up with her chauvinistic husband wrote:
Dear Ms.
After working full time and attending ten hours of evening classes each week, I can’t begin to describe the rage I feel when performing 100 percent of the household duties—not to mention being zoo-keeper for an overly energetic Great Dane and a cat—while my husband leisurely reads.
Because numerous discussions on this matter have not changed the situation, I am continually searching for new tactics to help him see the folly of his ways.
In the meantime, I have found that the occasional lacing of his dinner with the cat’s food has done wonders for my spirit. Bon appetite!
Name withheld [9]
That’s certainly one why to handle a difficult conversation. But perhaps a better way is to appeal to a higher purpose, to praise, to appeal on a personal level and to reason, and to use the right words.
But if all else fails . . . there’s always the cat food!
[1] Abraham Lincoln quoted in James C. Humes, The Wit and Wisdom of Abraham Lincoln: A Treasury of Quotations, Anecdotes, and Observations (New York: Gramercy Books, 1999), 178.
[2] Eleanor Roosevelt, quoted in Dorie McCullough Lawson, Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children (New York: Doubleday, 2004), 199–200. James Roosevelt quote, Posterity, 200.
[3] See Aristotle, The Art of Rhetoric, trans. J. H. Freese (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1926, reprint 2000), I, 2:3-4.
[4] Abraham Lincoln, “Temperance Address,” The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, vol. 1, ed. Roy P. Basler (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1953), 273.
[5] Fred Smith, You and Your Network: Getting the Most Out of Life (Waco, Tex.: Key-Word Books, 1984), 198.
[6] Kenneth McFarland, Eloquence in Public Speaking: How to Set Your Words on Fire (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1961), 49.
[7] Peggy Noonan, “Just the Facts,” The Wall Street Journal, January 27, 2003, http://www.peggynoonan.
com/article.php?article=135, accessed 12 April 2008.
[8] Mark Twain, “William Dean Howells,” The Complete Essays of Mark Twain, ed. Charles Neider (New York: Da Capo Press, 2000), 400.
[9] Anonymous, “A Fed-Up Wife to Ms. Magazine,” quoted in Letters of a Nation: A Collection of Extraordinary American Letters, ed. Andrew Carroll (New York: Broadway Books, 1999), 270.
Forty-five years ago this August the moral triumph of civil rights was announced when a young black preacher stood on the steps in front of the Lincoln Memorial and declared a dream for America—a dream for his children and the children of white men and women. I wonder, if Martin Luther King Jr. had lived what he would think about his dream today. In light of the recent controversies swirling around the first African-American to make a serious run for the presidency and his pastor for twenty years who damned America instead of blessed her, what would Dr. King think?
But Dr. King didn’t live. This past April 4th marked the fortieth anniversary of his assassination. The evening before, on April 3, 1968, he gave his last speech. Tom Brokaw captures the scene well:
The night he arrived in Memphis, King wanted to skip a rally at a Masonic temple. He said he was too tired, but his aides . . . persuaded him to go, because the hall was already packed with the faithful.
Memphis was on edge. City officials worried that there would be violence, and death threats were a daily concern for Dr. King’s traveling band of organizers. That was the setting for what became Dr. King’s final speech. [1]
The speech was prophetic, especially the conclusion.
We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountaintop. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. [2]
The following evening, while standing on the balcony outside his room at the Lorraine Motel, Dr. King was speaking to Andrew Young and Jesse Jackson, who were in the parking lot below, when a single shot rang out and killed him instantly.
That very same night, a white man was standing on a makeshift platform addressing a large black audience in Indianapolis, Indiana. The crowd was unaware that Dr. King had died just a few hours before. It fell to Robert F. Kennedy to deliver the news, which sent a shockwave through the audience. The night was dark. Illuminated only by the lights of news cameras, Kennedy spoke extemporaneously with a calm intensity.
In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black . . . you can be filled with bitterness, with hatred, and a desire for revenge. We can move in that direction as a country, in great polarization—black people amongst black, white people amongst white, filled with hatred toward one another.
Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and to replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand with compassion and love.
For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and distrust at the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to go beyond these rather difficult times.
My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: “In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.” . . .
Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. [3]
Two months later, the savageness of man cut down Bobby Kennedy in Los Angels.
As we mark the anniversaries of that turbulent time in 1968, it is well worth asking: is King’s dream deferred? I wonder what he would say, if he were alive today.
[1] Tom Brokaw, Boom! Voices of the Sixties: Personal Reflections on the ’60s and Today (New York: Random House, 2007), 58–59.
[2] Martin Luther King Jr., in A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James M. Washington (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1986), 286.
[3] Robert F. Kennedy, “Statement on the Assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.,” http://www.rfkmemorial.org/lifevision/assassinationofmartinlutherkingjr/, accessed 6 April 2008.
Do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering (1 Peter 4:12).
I shouldn’t be, but I’m always surprised how quickly life jerks you around. Life is going along pretty well then suddenly you’re watching clouds roll by, flat on your back. This happened to my family just a few weeks ago. My wife and daughter were away for the weekend at a mother/daughter retreat. I was joking with my boys about an order their mother gave me to supervise the dreaded task of folding towels when our doorbell rang—someone had run over our cat.
Apparently, she had snuck out of the house the night before and spent the evening in the water drain across the street. Amidst the pizza boxes, Dr. Pepper cans, and Star Wars DVD cases no one noticed she wasn’t in the house. In the morning, after consuming massive amounts of donuts, no one gave a thought as to where the cat was . . . that is until the doorbell rang.
Isn’t that the way life is? Laughter turns into tears with a knock on the door or the ring of the phone? In that moment what was is no longer. Perhaps it’s the oldest cliché, but life is just not fair. Yet, something within us cries out for fairness, for justice. There is a gnawing in each of us that says, “This is not how it was meant to be.”
What do you do when laughter turns into tears, when what was is no longer? What do you do when your theology of God doesn’t match your experiences in life—when what you know about His justice and fairness runs afoul on the shoals of life?
There are myriad answers to these questions. But a good place to start is not to pretend that we aren’t fully human—full of fears, anger, confusion, questions. The little known prophet, Habakkuk had it right when he accused God of being passive, of being silent, and worse still of being absent.
“God, how long do I have to cry out for help
before you listen?
“How many times do I have to yell, ‘Help! Murder! Police!
before you come to the rescue?
“Why do you force me to look at evil
stare trouble in the face day after day?” (Habakkuk 1:2–3 The Message).
Habakkuk was wrestling with a universal problem—his theological knowledge of God’s fairness and justice didn’t match his life’s experience. The questions he asked, you’ve asked. The indictment he laid at God’s doorstep receives hardy approval from us. Life isn’t fair. And we wonder why God is passive, is silent, is absent when our lives are going to hell. If you feel like Habakkuk did—like my sons and I did that Saturday morning when the doorbell rang—then do as Habakkuk did—in faith, cry out to God, ask “why” and “how long.” Then, sit quietly and wait for God’s answer. Perhaps you’ll come to the same place Habakkuk did, even in the vortex of the storm:
“Though the cherry trees don’t blossom
and the strawberries don’t ripen
“Though the apples are worm-eaten
and the wheat fields stunted,
“Though the sheep pens are sheepless
and the cattle barns empty,
“I’m singing joyful praise to God.
I’m turning cartwheels of joy to my Savior God.
“Counting on God’s Rule to prevail,
I take heart and gain strength.
“I run like a deer.
I feel like I’m king of the mountain!” (Habakkuk 4:17–19 The Message).
Our cat didn’t die. I confess, I thought perhaps I should tell the vet to put her down and I’d get the family a new cat, like replacing a television that costs too much to repair. But I couldn’t. So after a week at the vet’s office, surgery to repair her jaw and the removal of one eye—and fifteen hundred dollars later—she is very much alive.
I’ve learned once again, life is not always fair. A lesson, I’m sure, I’ll need to learn again. But for now, it’s enough to know that laughter and tears experienced in faith are what make life worth the living. And God, in His mysterious manner, reminded me of this truth through a one-eyed cat.
“But none of these allowed either wealth with its prospect of future enjoyment to unnerve his spirit, or poverty with its hope of a day of freedom and riches to tempt him to shrink from danger. No, holding that vengeance upon their enemies was more to be desired than any personal blessings, and reckoning this to be the most glorious of hazards, they joyfully determined to accept the risk, to make sure of their vengeance and to let their wishes wait; and while committing to hope the uncertainty of final success, in the business before them they thought fit to act boldly and trust in themselves. Thus choosing to die resisting, rather than to live submitting, they fled only from dishonor, but met danger face to face, and after one brief moment, while at the summit of their fortune, left behind them not their fear, but their glory” (Thucydides, “Funeral Oration of Pericles,” 2.42.4).
Today marks the fifth anniversary of the United States war in Iraq. These words from Thucydides’ pen seem a fitting celebration of the lives lost in this war.
I have been engaged the past few days in a writing project concerning the history and inevitability of war. The study of human history is the study of war. Looking into our own short history, let’s acknowledge that the tree of liberty was planted in a cemetery of heroes. From those first shots at Lexington and Concord Americans have fought in no less than twelve major wars.
The history of the world is written by the pen of war, dipped in the blood of young men and women. The twentieth-century alone was perhaps the bloodiest century in the long, sad history of humanity. Barely had the sun set on that century and a new century dawned when the United States, Great Britain, and their allies were violently awakened to a resurgent danger—Islamic terror.
Mankind has wrestled, almost from the beginning of time, with the question of how wars start and how to prevent them from starting. Franklin D. Roosevelt, in a speech written for a Jefferson Day broadcast on April 13, 1945, but never delivered—he had died the day before—made the case clear: “We seek peace—enduring peace. More than an end to war, we want an end to the beginnings of all wars—yes, an end to this brutal, inhuman, and thoroughly impractical method of settling the differences between governments.” A few months later, as the fog of war cleared, revealing the full extent of the carnage of World War II, President Harry S. Truman wishfully declared,
“The Charter of the United Nations which you have just signed is a solid structure upon which we can build a better world. History will honor you for it. Between the victory in Europe and the final victory in Japan, in this most destructive of all wars, you have won a victory against war itself. . . . For it is a declaration of great faith by the nations of the earth—faith that war is not inevitable, faith that peace can be maintained. If we had had this Charter a few years ago—and above all, the will to use it—millions now dead would be alive. If we should falter in the future in our will to use it, millions now living will surely die.”
Humanity may be well meaning, but it is also naïve. We have yet to learn the wisdom history teach us—wars are not fought because we lack the will; wars are fought because we lack the character to exercise the will. And as long as humans direct the affairs of nations, war, tragically, is inevitable.
Thucydides, “Funeral Oration of Pericles,” in The Landmark Thucydides: A Comprehensive Guide to the Peloponnesian War, trans. Richard Crawley, ed. Robert B. Strassler, 2.42.4 (New York: Touchstone, 1998), 115.
