Thinking about the theology born in the trenches of World War 1.
Paul Tillich was a German chaplain whose encounter death and suffering were so intense that he said, "The World War in my own experience was the catastrophe of idealistic thinking in general." For years after, he suffered from PTSD.
Tillich's understanding of God literally was shattered on the fields of WWI.
Eventually, Tillich would see God as the "Ground of Being," the ground upon which all exists.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, scientist and Jesuit, carried stretchers in Morocco and won a Legion of Honor for his courage.
He wrote, "It goes without saying that at the front you no longer look on things in the same way as you do in the rear; if you did, the sights you see and the life you lead would be more than you could bear. "
Later he'd say, "What a vast ocean of human suffering spreads over the entire earth at every moment! ... In suffering, the ascending force of the world is concealed in a very intense form. The whole question is how to liberate it & give it a consciousness of its significance."
He, like Tillich, would suffer from PTSD.
And suffering would become central to his mystical vision of new creation:
"All the sufferers of the earth joining their sufferings so that the world’s pain might become a great & unique act of consciousness, elevation, and union. Would not this be one of the highest forms that the mysterious work of creation could take in our sight?"
Swiss theologian Karl Barth was a pastor in WWI. The horror of the war shifted his whole understanding of sin and human nature -- and, as a result, his theological reflections changed the shape of 20th century Christianity.
Rev. Giuseppe Roncalli was an Italian army chaplain. He later became Pope John XXIII and convened the 2nd Vatican Council (1962-1965).
One of Vatican's II's chief contributions to theology is its commitment to unity -- unity of the church, unity of religions, unity of world community.
John XXIII is now a saint.
Rabbi Solomon Freehof served as chaplain for the US Army. He experienced the difficulties posed by Jewish ritual in war -- and emerged with lifelong questions about the relationship between freedom and tradition.
He became one of the most important figures in Reform Judaism in 20th century America, especially in ritual and liturgical renewal and guiding the Jewish community into political prominence post-WWII.
All of this makes me wonder: What does a post-9/11 theology look like?
A century ago, chaplains and soldiers who returned from war ruminated on suffering, God, tradition, and community -- their experiences sparked a theological renewal of Protestantism, Catholicism, and Judaism.
And created versions of their traditions that ran from the mystical and universal toward justice and global community. All these visions emerged from the horror of gas and mud and bullets and bombs and the uselessness of a hideous war.
The theologies were more honest about human nature and doubt, more attuned to the suffering of the world, appreciative of freedom, restructured on love, and emphasized the authority & voice of regular people, the "laity," as God's body.
They set a theological table for much that would come later -- the theologies of liberation and ecumenism and liturgical renewal -- by either opening new theological conversations or inviting argument with their shortcomings.
So, it is our turn. In the wake of this century's 11/11 is our 9/11. Where is God? What of suffering? What is sin? How do we live? Who is our neighbor?
Let us work with passion and heart, taking our experiences seriously, re-reading and wrestling with our ancient texts, searching for paths of love, hints of beauty and grace.
Our spiritual journeys are not only ours, but they belong to the next hundred years. The future calls us.
And think of those in the "trenches" today -- soldiers returning from war, women who say #metoo, teens crying over their slain classmates, immigrants cowering in shadows, mothers weeping, truth tellers, justice-seekers -- these are not victims.
They are the future's saints and seers. Spiritual guides, renewers of tradition, makers of wonder, embodiers of grace. Listen well to those who seem wounded. For they are the bearers of God.
