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About Friar Musings

Franciscan friar and Catholic priest at St. Francis of Assisi in Triangle, VA

Gaudete Sunday – Isaiah 35 in Context

The first reading for Gaudete Sunday is taken from Isaiah 35: “The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. They will bloom with abundant flowers, and rejoice with joyful song.” It is a message of radiant hope, but this chapter does not arise in a peaceful moment. Its beauty comes precisely because it follows a very dark and threatening context.

Isaiah 34 is a chapter of devastation and judgment carrying one of the most severe judgment oracles in the entire book. It describes:

  • God’s judgment upon Edom, a symbol of all nations hostile to God.
  • Land turned into a burning pitch.
  • Streams turned into tar.
  • A wilderness inhabited only by wild animals and demons.
  • A world of chaos, desolation, and hopelessness.

Isaiah 34 begins with: “Draw near, O nations, to hear… He will hand them over to slaughter.” It ends with a picture of a land emptied and cursed. Isaiah 34 is the image of the world ruined by sin, human violence, and divine judgment.

Isaiah 35 is the surprise of reversal: hope rising from devastation. Against the backdrop of that scorched, cursed wasteland, Isaiah suddenly proclaims: “The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom.” This is not sentimental poetry. It is a proclamation that God’s mercy has the final word, not desolation. The land that looked dead will come back to life. People who felt abandoned will be restored. Judgment is not the end; renewal is. God transforms the desert created by human sin into a garden created by divine grace.

The historical setting is that Jerusalem and all of Judah is under the threat of Assyrian domination. Chapters 28–39 reflect the time when the Assyrian Empire is expanding southward, already having conquered the 10 northern tribes. In the south, people feel helpless, afraid, and uncertain whether God will save them. The political and religious leadership has a track record of leadership failure. As a result Jerusalem seems vulnerable and the people are disheartened and spiritually weak. Chapters 28–33 are a series of oracles of woe, warnings against foreign alliances instead of trusting in God, and rebukes for spiritual blindness of leaders and people alike. 

The crisis is quite real and existential. Assyrian invasion and victory means exile, destruction, and the end of the nation. Into this atmosphere of anxiety and judgment comes the promise of chapter 35 which mirrors the structure often seen in Isaiah: pending judgment but with the promise of hope and delivery. Isaiah 35 is a deliberate contrast to the darkness that precedes it.

Because it follows a vision of utter ruin, Isaiah 35 is proclaiming:

  • God can bring joy from sorrow.
  • God can create life where everything seems dead.
  • No desert—literal or spiritual—is beyond God’s power to transform.
  • Exile and fear will not have the last word.
  • The journey home (35:8–10) is guaranteed by God’s own mercy.

Isaiah 35 is both a climax of hope after chapters of threat, and a transition toward the great consolation of Isaiah 40: “Comfort, give comfort to my people.” Against the backdrop of despair, God announces an unexpected future filled with joy, healing, return, and redemption. That is why Isaiah 35 is chosen for the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday: because in the middle of the darkness and weariness of life, God makes the desert bloom.


Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | scripture image from Canva CC-0

Those born among women

Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” (Mt 11:11) This is an extraordinary statement balancing praise and paradox

In common Jewish belief there had been no prophecy in Israel since the last of the Old Testament prophets, Malachi. The coming of a new prophet was eagerly awaited, and Jesus agrees that John was such. Yet he was more than a prophet, for he was the precursor of the one who would bring in the new and final age. The Old Testament quotation is a combination of Malachi 3:1; Exodus 23:20 with the significant change that the “before me” of Malachi becomes “before you.” The messenger now precedes not God, as in the original, but Jesus.

“Born of women” is a Semitic idiom meaning any human being — all mortal humans. and Jesus has just declared John the greatest of all humans up to that point — greater than Abraham, Moses, David, or the prophets. He is the culmination of the prophets — “the voice crying in the wilderness” (Isa 40:3), the forerunner of the Messiah, bridging Old and New. He personally identifies the Lamb of God (Jn 1:29). He embodies austere holiness and prophetic courage, dying for truth and righteousness. In short: John is the final prophet of the Old Covenant, the greatest light before the dawning of the Messianic era.

And then there is the paradox. How can someone “greater than all” be “less than the least” in the kingdom? John belongs to the Old Covenant order. Yes, he announces the Kingdom, but does not yet live within it. He dies before Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection — the saving events that inaugurate the new covenant and the kingdom of heaven in its fullness. Therefore, even the “least” person who shares in Christ’s redemptive grace possesses something John could only anticipate: participation in the divine life through the Spirit. Because of the greatness of the kingdom’s age, all of the kingdom’s citizens will in some sense be greater even than John. 


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain

Jesus’ View of John

John wore clothing made of camel’s hair and had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. At that time Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him” (John 3:4-5)

John’s preaching had created a sensation, and the movement into the wilderness had been a remarkable phenomenon. Jesus now examines its motives, to show the real significance of John. The series of three questions and answers suggests motives progressively closer to a true understanding of John. A reed shaken by the wind is a metaphor for a weak, pliable person; John was not such a person, and the implied answer is ‘Of course not’. It was John’s rugged independence which attracted a following. Nor was he dressed in fine clothing; far from it. It was as a man conspicuously separate from the royal palace. (There may be an ironic reference to his present residence in a ‘royal palace’—as a prisoner of conscience in Herod’s fortress) His rough clothing in fact points to his real role, as a prophet, and the crowds would gladly have accepted this description of John. But even that is not enough.

Tucked into the discussion of John the Baptist is an intriguing composite OT quotation. The disciples of John have returned to their imprisoned master with Jesus’ answer to their question about his identity. Jesus takes this occasion to comment on John to the crowds (11:7–19). He dispels the notion that John was a weak or pampered figure (11:7–8), declaring instead that he was a genuine prophet, “and more than a prophet” (11:9). In language reminiscent of earlier testimony concerning John (see 3:3), Jesus explains, “This is the one about whom it is written (a standard way of referring to Hebrew Scripture),

‘Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; (Exodus 23:20)

he will prepare your way before you.’ (Malachi 3:1)

In context, Exod. 23:20 refers to God sending his angel to guard the Israelites, as they proceed from Mount Sinai, to prepare the way for them to take possession of the promised land. But in both Greek and Hebrew, the same words can mean either “angel” or “messenger” (and angels typically function as messengers), so an application to a human messenger in a different context follows naturally. 

The language of Exod. 23:20 recurs in Mal. 3:1. Malachi’s prophecy may in fact deliberately allude to the Exodus text. This time, however, the messenger seems to refer to a human being who will prepare the way for the Lord to come suddenly to his temple, a messenger who in Mal. 4:5 is equated with Elijah and described as one who “will turn the fathers’ hearts toward their children” (4:6), an example of the reconciliation that results from the kind of repentance for which John the Baptist had been calling. 


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain

The Mission Being Revealed

The evidence to which Jesus points is not immediately conclusive, as it does not chime in with the popular (and probably John’s) idea of the Messiah’s work. But his words are an unmistakable allusion to passages in Isaiah which describe God’s saving work (Isa. 35:5–6; cf. 29:18), and the mission of his anointed servant (Isa. 61:1). Six specifics are enumerated: 

  • the healing of blindness (cf. 9:27–28; 12:22; 20:30; 21:14), 
  • lameness (cf. 15:30–31; 21:14), 
  • leprosy (cf. 8:20), 
  • deafness (cf. 9:32–33; 12:22; 15:30–31); 
  • the raising of the dead (cf. 9:18; 10:8); and 
  • evangelism to the poor (cf. 4:14–17, 23; 5:3; Luke 4:18). 

If these did not form part of the general expectation, and of John the Baptist’s, they should have. In Jesus’ own understanding of his mission, Isaiah 61:1–2 looms large. The relief of suffering, literally fulfilled in his healing miracles, reaches its climax in good news to the poor, the godly minority described in the beatitudes of chapter 5 (the ‘ănāwim). If this is too gentle a mission for John’s Messianic hopes, he has missed the biblical pattern on which Jesus’ mission is founded.

Jesus seems to understand the difference in messianic expectations and the true nature of the kingdom and so hopes that none take offence (v.6). This is the same verb (skandalízō) as in 5:29–30, ‘be tripped up by’. Many were ‘put off’ by Jesus, when his style of ministry failed to tally with their expectations, and even offended against accepted conventions. ‘Good news to the poor’ was an offence to the establishment, while a mission of the relief of suffering and the restoration of sinners would be at best irrelevant to those who fought for national liberation. It took spiritual discernment not to be ‘put off’ by Jesus, and such perception was enviable. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me – while it applies directly to John’s state of uncertainty, this beatitude is also a key to the theme of this section of the Gospel, which will introduce many who found Jesus hard to take.


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain

Advent Landscaping

Isaiah certainly has away with words. In the first reading for today’s Mass, Isaiah describes mountains being leveled, valleys being filled, and rough places being made smooth. It is a complete revision to the topography of the wilderness. Even in its earth-bound description, it is cosmic in its scale. Can you imagine the earth moving equipment and explosives needed to reshape this wilderness landscape?

But then again, Isaiah is not primarily talking about landscape. He is talking about the human heart. “Prepare the way of the Lord…make straight a highway…for our God.” He is admonishing us to remove anything that keeps us from seeing God’s glory. Isaiah is announcing that when God comes, nothing, not mountains, not valleys, not rugged passes, should stand between the human heart and God’s presence. Advent is the season when we hear this call anew and is our signal to let grace reshape our inner terrain.

What might all this mean for us during Advent?

Every valley shall be filled in.” We speak of the highs and lows of life; of the hills and valleys along the way. A valley is a place where we feel spiritually or emotionally low. The place where we encounter discouragement – and often silently or alone. Perhaps it is a fear that prayers are unanswered, a sense we are failing or have failed, or a point we give up and no longer believe that change is possible. To that Isaiah proclaims: God wants to fill those valleys with hope.

Isaiah told the people of Judah and Jerusalem long ago, when the barbarians were at the walls, when the leaders had compromised faith and covenant, when hope was a dying ember that theirs was the God of Hope. The God who comforts His people lifts up the discouraged so as to remind us that He has not abandoned us, that His promises still stand, and that His coming is nearer than we think.

Every mountain and hill shall be made low.” In our age we speak of mountains of money or we hold mountains as impenetrable fortresses where we are kept safe. But in Old Testament scripture, mountains often represent pride, self-reliance, or stubbornness—anything that rises up and blocks our view of God. Here Isaiah likely has in mind “mountains of pride.” Isaiah says these mountains must come down. Not because God wants to diminish us, but because pride blocks our sight. We cannot see the glory of the Lord when our own achievements or opinions tower in the foreground.

During Advent we might ask is our “mountain of pride” blocking our view of God or serving as a barrier to His voice? What part of our life do we insist, “I know best,” even when God is nudging us in another direction? Pride is just one mountain. Advent is a time to recognize and name your particular mountain and begin the landscaping project.

The rugged land shall be made a plain.” Rugged, uneven ground makes walking difficult. It interrupts our pace and gait making it easy to stumble and fall. I suggest that these represent the patterns of sin, the habits we excuse, or the choices that keep tripping us up.

Advent is a season when God invites us to let grace smooth out what has become rough in us. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is one of God’s great tools for leveling uneven paths so that His coming is not hindered by obstacles we refuse to let go.

Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed.” Isaiah’s whole point is this: When the obstacles are removed, we see God. The glory of the Lord is not something God hides; it is something we fail to see when the terrain of our heart is cluttered or distorted. Advent reminds us God is coming. Clear the way so you can recognize Him when He arrives. Be attentive because God’s coming is not only a future event. He comes to us today in Scripture, in the Sacraments, in moments of grace, in the quiet voice of conscience. But we only perceive Him clearly when our interior landscape is open and straight and uncluttered.

Advent is not simply a countdown to Christmas. It is a spiritual landscaping project. So today, in this Eucharist, let us ask for the grace to let Him fill our valleys, lower our mountains, and smooth our rugged paths. Then we will see, not just with our eyes, but with our hearts, the glory of the Lord who comes to save us.


Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | Pexels

“Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

John’s arrest by King Herod was mentioned in 4:12, yet the full story of his imprisonment will wait until 14:3–12. No doubt the Baptist had anxiously followed the career of the one whom he had recognized as the ‘mightier one’ for whose coming he had prepared (3:11–12). And yet there is the question that John the Baptist sends with his disciples to ask of Jesus. Does the question strike you as odd? Shouldn’t the one who pointed to Jesus, saying, “Behold the Lamb of God”, be a little more sure about Jesus’ identity as the promised Messiah? Join the club: theologians, Church Fathers, and modern scholars have wrestled with the same question over the centuries.

John’s hesitation might have been simply a difference between his expectations for ‘the coming one’ and what he actually heard about Jesus and his ministry. Maybe the miracles are just fanciful stories? If Jesus is the Messiah, why doesn’t he fast like an observant Jew? And he keeps company with a cast of characters normally to be avoided.

Was John experiencing a crisis of faith or uncertainty about Jesus’ identity? John’s expectations of the Messiah may have leaned toward a judgmental, apocalyptic deliverer, as seen in his preaching (Mt 3:10–12: “The axe is already at the root of the trees…”). Jesus’ ministry, by contrast, emphasized healing, mercy, and forgiveness, not immediate judgment. Imprisoned and possibly facing death, John might have wondered why the Messiah had not yet acted to bring justice or vindicate him. This view emphasizes John’s humanity, not a lack of faith per se, but confusion in light of unfulfilled messianic expectations.

Maybe John himself was not doubting, but he sent his disciples so they might be convinced of Jesus’ identity. knew his disciples needed to see for themselves. By sending them to Jesus, John directs them to the true Messiah, transferring their loyalty from himself to Christ. In this case, Jesus’ response (“Go and tell John what you hear and see..”) is a teaching moment for the disciples more than a rebuke of John. This view preserves John’s prophetic certainty and aligns with his earlier witness: “He must increase, and I must decrease” (Jn 3:3)

Prophets often posed questions to elicit revelation and John being a prophet might have deliberately posed this question to reveal Jesus’ identity more fully, using the moment as a teaching device for his followers and whoever happened to be around when Jesus answered.

To be fair, before Easter, no one fully understood the Messiah’s mission of suffering, redemption, and mercy. John’s question, then, mirrors the broader tension in Second Temple Judaism between expectations of a conquering Messiah and the reality of a suffering servant. Jesus’ answer, “Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me,” acknowledges this tension with compassion and understanding.

Another view is that John’s question stands at the threshold between Law and Gospel. Afterall, John is the last prophet of the old order and seeking confirmation that “Day of the Lord” has arrived, to use the older prophetic expression, or as we would say, has the Kingdom of God arrived? St. Augustine cleverly frames this view as the “Law asking the Gospel” whether it has come in the fullness of revelation.

The Baptist, whose proclamation introduced Matthew’s presentation of the Messiah (3:1–12), is now appropriately called as the first witness to the meaning of Jesus’ ministry. Even if in a round about manner.


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain

Salvation History: a Play told in three acts

I love the readings that are chosen for this celebration. I am convinced that all of Scripture is a single narrative that weaves and wanders its way through people and history to tell us a single story:  “God desires that all be saved” (1 Tim 2:4) These readings invite us to step back and look at the entire story of salvation from the first pages of Genesis, through the great hymn of grace in Ephesians, all the way to the quiet home in Nazareth where the angel Gabriel greets Mary. These three readings trace an arc through salvation history and reveal that God’s plan to save us has always centered on a woman, her Son, and the triumph of grace. It is like a grand, universal play written in three acts:

  • Genesis: The Wound and the Promise
  • Ephesians: The Plan from the Beginning
  • Luke: Grace Meets Freedom

Genesis: The Wound and the Promise

Our first reading from Genesis takes us to one of the saddest moments in Scripture: Adam and Eve hiding from God after the Fall.  Sin has entered the world. Fear has replaced intimacy. Trust has been broken. And yet God’s first response to human sin is not to abandon us, but to promise a Redeemer.

In Genesis 3:15 the Lord says to the serpent: “I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers.” This single verse, called the Protoevangelium – the “first Gospel,” is like a distant star at the edge of salvation history. It points forward to a woman who will be the enemy of the serpent, not his partner; a woman whose child will not fall but will crush the power of evil.

The early Christians saw in this promise the beginning of Mary’s story. Eve’s disobedience brought the Fall; Mary’s obedience opened the door for the Savior.  Eve listened to the serpent; Mary heard and trusted the voice of God.

For Mary to stand in perfect opposition to the serpent she must be free, from the very first moment, from the wound and burden of sin. Genesis shows us the problem and announces the promise. The Immaculate Conception is the first precursor to the fulfillment of God’s desire that all be saved.

Ephesians: The Plan from the Beginning

Our second reading from Ephesians tells us that God’s plan of salvation is not something He invented after the Fall. St. Paul proclaims: “He chose us in him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and without blemish before him.” Think about that. Before the world was made… before Adam and Eve walked in the garden… before there was sin… God intended to raise us up in Christ. Wow!

And in that eternal plan, God prepared one human person in a singular way: Mary, the woman who would freely bear His Son. The Church teaches that Mary was saved by Christ, as we are saved, as we depend wholly and solely on Jesus. But Mary was saved in a unique way. Christ’s saving grace reached into the very moment of her conception, preserving her from original sin so that she could be a wholly free, completely loving participant in the Incarnation. The moment in salvation history where God so loved the world, He sent his only Son into the world as one of us.

Ephesians shows us that grace is not random.  Grace flows from a plan “before the foundation of the world.”  And Mary is the singularity in the arc of that plan.

Luke:  Grace Meets Freedom

And then, in the Gospel, we see that plan come to the full. The angel Gabriel enters the quiet of Nazareth and speaks a word spoken to no one else in Scripture: “Hail, full of grace.” This was not meant as a simple compliment. It is an acknowledgment and description of who she is. Who she is! Grace is not something that occasionally visits Mary; it is her whole being. Her very life is like she feasted on the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. Her roots are the deep foundations of grace, her branches and leaves are her graced interactions with the world. “Blessed is the fruit of your womb.” She is full of grace and because of that she is completely free. When Gabriel asks her to become the Mother of the Messiah, Mary is able to give a free, unforced, wholehearted yes: “May it be done to me according to your word.”

This is the moment that Genesis foresaw. This is the moment that Ephesians anticipated. This is the moment when the Word becomes flesh because a young woman, prepared by grace, freely embraced her vocation.

What has been revealed in these readings?

This celebration and these readings are a wonderful source for our ongoing reflection about our lives here in the Season of Advent. 

We can be assured that God’s grace always comes first.  Before we act, before we choose, God is already at work preparing our hearts. The Immaculate Conception is the great sign that God’s grace precedes and surrounds all our efforts. Are we attentive to that already and always present grace? Are we willing to choose grace and let it form us as a person of faith?

In these readings, Mary shows us what redeemed humanity looks like. Where sin has wounded us, Mary enables us to imagine what healing looks like. Where fear paralyzes us, Mary shows us what trust looks like. She is the fulfillment of the promise of what God desires to do in us and for us.

All this and more, but especially Mary’s “yes”, is the pattern of Christian life. We may not encounter an angel, but each day the Lord asks us:  Will you trust me?  Will you let my grace work in you?  Will you say yes to the plan I have prepared for your life?

Perhaps the “big take-away,” Mary’s life teaches us that holiness begins not with perfection, but with availability and a heart open to God.

It is a lot to think about and reflect upon, but I hope that this Advent you take time to be available to the Lord with an open heart inspired by the life and gift of Mary, Mother of God.

Amen.


Image credit: Catholic News Service | Immaculate Conception | CC-BY

A History: The Immaculate Conception

It’s important to understand what the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception is and what it is not. Some people think the term refers to Christ’s conception in Mary’s womb without the intervention of a human father; but that is the Virgin Birth. Others think the Immaculate Conception means Mary was conceived “by the power of the Holy Spirit,” in the way Jesus was, but that, too, is incorrect. The Immaculate Conception means that Mary, whose conception was brought about the normal way, was conceived without original sin or its stain—that’s what “immaculate” means: without stain. The essence of original sin consists in the deprivation of sanctifying grace, and its stain is a corrupt nature. Mary was preserved from these defects by God’s grace; from the first instant of her existence she was in the state of sanctifying grace and was free from the corrupt nature original sin brings.

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In the narrative flow

This coming Sunday is the 3rd Sunday in Advent, lectionary cycle A, and again John the Baptist features prominently in the gospel text. Where last week we encountered him as the herald of the Messiah, this week John has been arrested and is jailed. Before moving into the study, let’s consider where this story fits into the narrative flow of Matthew’s gospel – there has been a lot that has happened in the narrative flow between the two Sunday gospel readings.

A key phrase in the first verse of the gospel reading is the expression “works of the Messiah” (Mt 11:2). That forms an all encompassing summary of what Jesus has been doing in Matthew chapters 5–10. Along the way Jesus’ acts and teachings provoke different responses from different groups. These responses, most of which consist of misunderstanding if not outright rejection, are examined in chapters 11–12, and explained in the parables of chapter 13. Further examples of the response to Jesus will occur in chapters 14–16, until the true response is found in Peter’s confession in 16:13–20, which will bring the second main part of Matthew’s Gospel to its climax. This is the thread which runs through these chapters. Through them we are led from a view of Jesus as others saw him to the true confession of him as Messiah which eluded most of his contemporaries, conditioned as they were by their own assumptions or some inadequate ideas of the nature of the promised Messiah.

More immediately, this passage marks a transition. “When Jesus finished giving these commands to his twelve disciples, he went away from that place to teach and to preach in their towns” (Mt 11:1).  With this one verse, Matthew signals the end of the missionary discourse (Mt 10) in 11:1 with nothing said about the disciples’ actual mission or their return (as in Luke 9). The spotlight remains on Jesus as he continues his work. The themes of unbelief and rejection that were so prominent in the missionary discourse are continued, but we are given more information about Jesus’ identity as the Messiah (11:1–6), the Wisdom of God (11:25–30), and the Servant of God (12:15–21) in the coming gospels.

That’s the context of the narrative flow, but this passage also has a liturgical context in its use as the Gospel of the 3rd Sunday in Advent, Gaudete Sunday. On the 2nd Sunday of Advent, our Gospel reading presented the preaching of John the Baptist. Near the end of that reading, Matthew portrays John, not only as a prophet, but as a forerunner to Jesus. John is quoted as speaking about “the one who is coming after me,” who “is mightier than I” (3:11), which makes that selection especially appropriate for Advent.  On the 3rd Sunday of Advent this year, we read the episode in which John, already in prison, sends some of his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (11:3). Jesus does not respond directly, but simply points out that he is doing the things Isaiah mentions in describing a time when people will experience God’s glory and splendor, restoration and salvation (alluding to Isa 35:1-6, the 3rd Advent Sunday’s first reading). It is this accent, in anticipation of its joyous fulfillment that gives Gaudete Sunday its focus.

In either its scriptural or liturgical focus, a key point is that if both prophet and Messiah have appeared, then their joint call to repentance (recall 3:2; 4:17) must be urgently heeded – be it John’s message unremittingly austere or Jesus also preaching the joy of the kingdom (11:16–19).


Image credit: Christ Presenting the Keys to Saint Peter, c. 1636-40, by Nicholas Poussin, Public Domain

Protecting the Soul of the Warfighter

Over the last month I have had numerous people ask me about my views on the U.S. military action in the waters, Atlantic and Pacific, off the coast of Central America. About half of the conversations began with some form of “since you are a Naval Academy (USNA) grad, former Naval officer, and a priest…”  Which makes sense as they hope a fusion of training and experience can offer a more insightful view of the ongoing dynamic.

At one level there is a complex legal question about the legitimacy of kinetic military action at all as opposed to law enforcement action. On the seas, military action is in the purview of the U.S. Navy while law enforcement in the U.S. Coast Guard. A long time friend, also a USNA grad, career naval officer, and PhD in international relations and security affairs – year ago did a Masters degree at Naval Post Graduate School, Monterey – some 35 years ago. While there he wrote an article that was published in US Naval Institute Proceedings: “Interdicting Drugs on the Big Pond.” Of the many insightful points of the article, he noted that the sea-based drug trafficking was quickly outstripping the Coast Guard’s ability to act in its law enforcement role. He observed that, in the role of national security, a path forward was the stationing of Coast Guard officers on US naval vessels to be able to bring authorized law enforcement to at sea encounters. It was insightful as it looked well “over the horizon.”

There are laws and precedence about declaring war, presidential authority to initiate armed conflict apart from Congressional action, and more. In the course of my lifetime we have moved from armed conflict between state actors (i.e. nations, including civil wars within nations) to armed conflict with non-state actors such as ISIS, Hezbollah, Abu Sayyaf, Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan and more. There are laws to designate such organizations as terrorist groups. This January President Trump designated several drug trafficking organizations as Foreign Terrorist Organizations (FTOs) and Specially Designated Global Terrorists (SDGTs), and has declared the U.S. to be in an “armed conflict” with them. The legality of such executive orders I leave to others eminently qualified and more knowledgeable than me.  Even if one accepts such designations, operations in international waters is one question, and that is just the start of the list of questions.

In the conversations one thing keeps cropping up – a conflation of the Law of War and rules of engagement (RoE) for combat. Any veteran who served in the last 20-25 years can tell you they have operated under these guidelines. RoE outlines the specific conditions and circumstances under which military personnel are authorized to use force. These rules are not static and can change depending on the specific mission, location, and conflict, and can include guidelines on lethal and non-lethal force, geographic restrictions, and specific instructions such as “do not fire unless fired upon” directives. RoE are based on international laws, but are specific military directives – and are not independent of the Law of War but are based upon them. A RoE can never violate the Law of War to which the United States is a signatory. The primary international agreements determining the Law of War are the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and their Additional Protocols of 1977, which protect victims of conflict (wounded, POWs, civilians) and set rules for conduct, alongside earlier Hague Conventions of 1899 & 1907 that govern methods and means of warfare, forming a core body of treaties supplemented by customary law. The laws of war reflect the mandatory, minimum level of lawful conduct, and all combatants are legally obligated to obey them at all times and in all conflicts. “Following orders” is not a defense.

Those agreements are incorporated into the Department of Defense Law of War Manual. Let me quote two passages: 

  • “The requirement to refuse to comply with orders to commit law of war violations applies to orders to perform conduct that is clearly illegal or orders that the subordinate knows, in fact, are illegal. For example, orders to fire upon the shipwrecked would be clearly illegal.”
  • “It is forbidden to declare that no quarter will be given.” A no quarter order is an order directing the warfighter to kill every combatant, including prisoners, the sick and the wounded. The DoD manual is specific, “Moreover, it is also prohibited to conduct hostilities on the basis that there shall be no survivors, or to threaten the adversary with the denial of quarter.”

What did the Secretary of Defense order/direct/make clear about the strikes in general? How was that understood and communicated down the chain of command to the Special Operations units that executed the kinetic strike against the boats, especially the September 2 engagement in which the initial strike severely damaged the vessel but there were at least two survivors who were clinging to the side of what was left of the vessel?  Executive declarations and subsequent orders aside, the Law of War established the bottom line of conduct that may not be breached. Any order to violate those laws and to carry them out constitutes a violation of the Law of War and subjects those people to action under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ).

The “bottom line”nature of the Law of War as implemented via international agreement and incorporated into the Department of Defense Law of War Manual is essential. Essential because no president or senior officer may abrogate the law or its intent because of what is at stake – the soul of the warfighter.

The laws of war are an effort to contain the brutality of combat and war. These limits make peace possible. Recently I produced a series of articles on the War in the Pacific. When one reads about Guadalcanal, Biak, Saipan, Pelilui, Manilla, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa one wonders how the war in the Pacific was so unrelentingly horrific and so different from the war in Europe (the Russian front aside). I would suggest that the Japanese military did not share a common value with the Allies that gave credence to anything remotely similar to the Law of War. Before WW2, the law of war was defined by the Hague Conventions and the 1929 Geneva Conventions on Prisoners of War. To be clear, Japan signed the 1929 POW convention but did not ratify it, though they pledged to follow rules. The history of the War in the Pacific and in Asia make clear that the Japanese army never made the slightest pretense of complying with the laws of war. Theirs was a checkered history of rescuing sailors from the ocean; some were simply shot. Of those rescued and those captured, the records were consistent. They tortured prisoners and used them as slave labor and for a few unlucky, performed biological experiments. Those responsible were subject to War Crime trails.

It is fair to say that the Allies operating in the Pacific and Asia were not free of violations. As the war trudged on and knowledge of Japanese crimes became known and circulated, incidents of fury and revenge happened. Added to this was the battlefield experience that the Japanese would not surrender. In the battles after Guadalcanal, less than 3% of Japanese garrisons were captured and most of those unwillingly. It was only because they were diseased, starving and left behind. The bushido of the Japanese army was that death was preferable to surrender. Slowly the object of war in the Pacific was changed from from victory to annihilation in the face of a defeated enemy who would not surrender.

The Laws of War also serve to help preserve a soldier’s soul. The foundational documents of our nation are based upon the idea of the dignity of the human person. Even more so the foundations of our Catholic faith which holds that human beings possess incalculable worth. It is a foundation that is deeply ingrained in an individual’s moral code.

If our warfighters are ordered to contradict this intrinsic value, we can inflict a profound moral injury on them. These are injuries that burden them, haunt their memories, and they may carry for a lifetime. Even when they follow the Law of War and RoE, they can be haunted by their own actions or inaction in something they witnessed and unable to stop. Armed conflict is something that might be necessary, but I would suggest the experience of it leaves an indelible mark on the spirit and soul. Moral injuries in combat are unavoidable even when following the RoE and Law of War. What is avoidable is the guilt of criminal conduct by deliberately killing the people we are charged to protect.

Be they drug smugglers or not, one should have compassion for the two men who clung to the side of their sinking vessel and faced the uncertainty of what was to be their fate. Their fate is known to God alone. But years from now, somewhere in the quiet of the night, a veteran will be haunted by the actions of that day.

The Law of War and RoE are in place to protect the soul of the warfighter as best as can be expected. They are in place to protect and defend the honor and integrity of the American military, one of the most-trusted institutions in the United States. They are in place to remind us who we are as a nation and who we are as people before God. For we are that and nothing more.