Where are these responsible ones?

Two vignettes about events which took place at this church in the course of the Second World War. The first relates to the small bronze crucifix in the sanctuary by the High Altar. It was a gift from a member of the German Lutheran Congregation. Many of you will be familiar with the story of the arrival of a group of German refugees here in Oxford in 1939. These refugees had fallen foul of the Nazi regime. They had left Germany either because they were Jewish or they were married to people of Jewish descent. Among their number were ‘non-Aryans’ (as they were called), opponents of Nazism, and members of the Confessing Church, which had been established in opposition to the official church approved by the Nazis. Their lives were precarious – persecuted and expelled from home, they were officially counted among representatives of an enemy nation. And yet they found a welcome here. On the 3^rd September 1939, the Lutheran Congregation held its first service in the Chancel of St Mary’s. This was the day that the Second World War broke out.

During the war, this community grew as others escaped from the Continent. Among them, along with her family, was Sabine Liebholz-Bonhoeffer, the twin sister of the famous German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Her husband faced internment, but she made her home here. Back in Germany, her brother was imprisoned and eventually put to death by the Nazis for his involvement in the July Plot to assassinate Hitler. Among his Letters and Papers from Prison, there are a number of reflections on the challenges of making moral decisions in the face of what he describes as the ‘huge masquerade of evil’ which in the course of his lifetime had thrown ‘all ethical concepts into confusion.’ He explores the power of reason, the obligations of conscience, the path of duty, the power of human freedom, the sanctuary of private virtue, and he concludes that none of these is sufficient to withstand the power of evil: ‘Who stands firm?’ he asks. The answer: ‘Only the one whose ultimate standard is not his reason, his principles, conscience, freedom, or virtue; only the one who is prepared to sacrifice all of these when, in faith and in relationship to God alone, he is called to obedient and responsible action. Such a person is the responsible one, whose life is to be nothing but a response to God’s question and call.’ He ends with a plaintive cry: ‘Where are these responsible ones?’

The second story comes a few years later in 1942, when an Allied blockade was causing the people of Greece to starve. Chaired by one of my predecessors, Dick Milford, the Oxford Committee for Famine Relief met in the Old Library. The committee was made up of academics, Quakers, and some conscientious objectors. They took action to raise vital funds to support the famine relief efforts, and to speak out against the injustice of ordinary people paying the price of decisions made by the powerful. This was how the charity OXFAM began. This was a challenging and disruptive thing to do in the face of the precariousness of the British war effort at the time. This is perhaps a response to the question posed by Bonhoeffer. It is an example of what obedient and responsible action looks like.

Two vignettes of people, German and British, who found the resources to oppose the worst excesses of their own governments in the pursuit of war, who recognised that the thin gruel of Christian nationalism would never do justice to the depth and integrity of the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Some years ago I served as an Officiating Chaplain to the British Army. And I remember very clearly a conversation with the Commanding Officer, who told me that in his view a Chaplain was vital to the operational effectiveness of the Army, not simply because of the pastoral care they could provide for the soldiers, not simply because of what they could contribute to the morale of the unit, but because their presence would remind personnel of the moral values required in the face of the visceral and highly ambiguous nature of modern warfare. The standards and values of the British Army require and demand that the actions of every soldier are lawful. The rules of engagement sometimes limit the soldier’s ability to use force and to exercise greater restraint than the law would permit.

And this is challenging. While war does not change, the character of warfare is changing rapidly. We see the effects of this in Ukraine, in Gaza, and in cyber warfare. Increasingly, we also see governments paying little attention to the conventions of international law. All of this confronts us with some serious moral and political challenges, and I am not convinced that contemporary political discourse is up to the task of responding to these challenges. It is too thin, too facile, too superficial. It is not serious.

When we come here on Remembrance Sunday, we come here to remember, to give thanks, for the great sacrifice and the moral courage of those who gave their lives for our freedom. We pray for them, and we express our hope in the resurrection, a hope we find in our scripture readings today. 

But Dietrich Bonhoeffer reminds us, that as we give thanks for our freedom, freedom on its own is not enough. If we are to respond in the face of the moral questions and challenges we face today, we must learn to exercise our freedom responsibly. And we do that by attending to our moral and spiritual formation, and that formation takes place in a community of learning. It is a common enterprise. And if we are serious, then we need to engage with a long tradition of thinking about the character of justice and the nature of virtue. Much of that thinking in the Western World finds expression in the Christian tradition. It is here that we find the resources to think about just war theory, about pacifism, and about our obligations to our enemies as well as our neighbours. 

Last weekend, I attended the Mass for All Saints in St Peter’s Square, when Pope Leo declared St John Henry Newman as a doctor of the church. Newman thought deeply about the importance of conscience. Of course, when we hear a word like ‘conscience’, we think instantly in terms of ‘freedom of conscience’, but I suspect that Newman was more interested in the obligations of conscience. ‘Freedom of conscience’ often puts the accent on individual autonomy and the self, whereas the obligations of conscience are more about pulling us out of self-concern and reminding us of our responsibility to pay attention to and prioritise the other. 

‘Where are these responsible ones?’ This is the question posed by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Pray that as we listen to the voice of conscience, the voice of God within us, that ‘Candle of the Lord within’, ‘the aboriginal Vicar of Christ’ as Newman called it, we may find the moral courage to respond to Bonhoeffer’s question, and to stand firm against all that is evil, against everything that seeks the destruction and ruin of human souls.