Frank Gardner, a Navy radioman, rode his modified
B-24 into the Sea of Japan after it was hit by enemy fire two months before WW II. ended.
Most of the crew were killed in the crash, but Frank with his life jacket bobbed in the
water desperately clinging to a wheel until his capture a few hours later. For two months
he faced the grim life of captivity and privation. In the prison camp one guard beat him
daily with a crude wooden baton the size of a baseball bat, and with bad food and poor
treatment he developed a stomach problem that lasted till his death.
Weeks later when the war ended the Japanese guards surrendered to their American
prisoners. In a plea for mercy Frank's guard gave him the baton used in the daily
beatings. It became one of the mementos Frank brought home from the war.
Afterwards Frank became a Glenmary priest assigned over the years to small parishes in
Virginia, Tennessee and North Carolina. To each assignment he brought his baton. The wood
of his torture became for him a sacramental. Reflecting on the baton he gradually grew
more non-violent as he recognized the hideous cycle of violence and the futility of war.
Father Frank's spiritual journey took him past unquestioned patriotic duty to a
meditation on the spirit of Jesus. "You have heard it said...'You shall not
kill'...But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to
judgment" (Matt. 5:21.) "Offer no resistence to one who is evil" (Matt.
5:39.) As simplistic as some Gospel sayings appear, they command the conversion of heart,
ever journeying from an instinctive violent response to the graced light of compassion and
forgiveness.
"No peace without justice, no justice without forgiveness," said John Paul II
in this year's World Day of Peace message. He did not mean that forgiveness overlooks the
need to right a wrong. Rather, forgiveness represents the opposite of resentment and
revenge. It "heals and rebuilds troubled human relations from their
foundations." To John Paul II forgiveness is the fullness of justice, and both
justice and forgiveness flow together to heal the human spirit.
The just war theory, part of the church's tradition since the time of St. Augustine,
never envisioned the horrors of modern warfare. Just war advocates today must whittle away
the square corners of the theory to fit today's global reality. Modern warfare means
non-combatants suffer more losses than soldiers, the environment sustains widespread and
ongoing problems and impoverished countries must postpone economic development till the
clearing of buried munitions. Wars are never over with the secession of hostilities. They
endure till personal trauma and the devastation of God's creation find healing.
"The War Against Afghanistan Must Stop," a statement signed by some 70 U.S.
Catholic leaders in December, plainly calls for "a new paradigm for judging questions
of war and peace today." At the same time Catholic theology affirms the legitimate
stance of those professing "a position of principled nonviolence." While
pacifism may not represent a call for all, its prophetic spirit acts in dynamic tension
with accepting the inevitability of war.
Father Frank Gardner preached tirelessly against the Gulf War shortly before his death
in 1991. He joined John Paul II in questioning the war's morality. While Father Frank
never declared himself an absolute pacifist, he looked for creative solutions beyond the
theory of just war. That spiritual journey took him from the experience of his own torture
to imagining a world where disputes could be resolved more creatively.
Fr. Rausch is a Glenmary priest who lives, writes and organizes in Appalachia.