The question: Are there beliefs to die for?
Jesus preached "Love your enemies" and chose to die on the cross, in a supreme act of self-sacrifice. As a Christian, I can't think of a good cause to kill for, but I can think of plenty of reasons why I might be ready to die.
When I was a child, I was always drawn to the stories of the early Christian martyrs. This may have had something to do with gore factor – the beheading of St Agnes, the strapping of St Catherine to a wheel – having a particularly gruesome appeal. Yet it was more than childish horror that attracted me to these tales – there was something of the personal courage and strength of the individuals that moved me. Indeed, a more mature understanding of martyrdom recognises that it is not the manner of death, but the manner of living that is important. But I have often wondered since – if I was faced with such a choice, what would I do?
As I grew up and developed political awareness, I discovered that martyrdom was not a thing of the past. The stories of Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Anne Frank are of course well known, but there have been many more people who have inspired me. People such as Fr Callisto Caravario and Fr Luigi Versiglia, murdered in China; Archbishop Romero and the six Jesuit priests and their housekeeper, killed in El Salvador; Sr Dorothy Stang in Brazil; Rachel Corrie, Tom Hurndall, Basam Abu Rahma in Palestine; Margaret Hassan in Iraq; Rosemary Nelson and Pat Finnucane in Northern Ireland. The list is endless.
What I find inspiring about such stories is how ordinary all these people were. Romero was a career priest, till the sufferings of his parishioners caused him to act; Rachel Corrie longed to go home and dance; Rosemary Nelson was a normal working mother. I doubt any of them deliberately sought death. What they had in common was a willingness to follow their convictions – even if it put them in harm's way.
I'd like to think I could die for any of the causes they fought for – to defeat imperialism, racism, oppression, corruption, to defend the weak and the vulnerable, or my right to practice my faith. Not in an abstract way, but because there are real people suffering at the end of one of those isms. But I couldn't know unless I was actually faced with it. I have to always consider the possibility that I might – like Conrad's Lord Jim – bottle it if the moment came.
Today, Friday, is International Conscientious Objector's Day and we remember those who will risk imprisonment or worse by choosing not to kill. I'd like to finish by remembering one conscientious objector in particular – Franz Jaegersatter. Jaegerstatter was a Catholic, as I am, and like me, parent to three beautiful children. Unlike me, he was an Austrian faced with an awful dilemma during the second world war – to join the army and fight, or to refuse and be killed. As a Christian, he felt he had no choice but to do the latter, and withstood not only the condemnation of the army, but his whole community. Supported only by his wife Franciska, he did what he knew to be right, even though he believed no-one would ever know of his actions. I'd like to think, that, faced with similar circumstances, I'd have the courage to do the same.