Religion and War

The notion of a “holy war” reverberates in the human heart with odd implications. On one hand, we are stirred and ignited with the prospect of the flourishing of goodness with the destruction of evil. On the other, we see how labelling something as sacred can often - intentionally or no - give it a free pass, in regards to its otherwise horrific vices. The temple prostitutes of Sumeria and Babylon, for example, come to mind; were a faith to encourage such behaviour today, I imagine many would flock to it but those of a sincere spiritual mindset would find it somewhere between repugnant and laughable.

Among atheist circles is the concept of the “Flying Spaghetti Monster,” meant to scoff at the words of some believers that say “Well, God has not been proven not to exist, therefore he must,” etc. While such statements do deserve their share of scoffing, the lesson I take away from the Flying Spaghetti Monster is somewhat different: anything can be labelled as sacred, but what actually is? What, in a real way, is truly holy? To bring the question around, what can be a holy war?

A quick purveyance of the Catholic Encyclopedia has no entries at all on “holy war.” The Torah refers to a hundred wars, none of them considered holy. Indeed, that readily misunderstood faith, Islam, has no concept of a holy war, despite popular belief, the term “jihad” referring to the internal struggle of the soul between good and evil. Even the faith most obliged to promote conflict  - Sikhism, which calls its believers to be sacred warriors - never engages a war as a holy or aspirant matter.

The common theme I find, rather, is precisely what jihad means to be the matter of a holy war: elemental and spiritual, with shells of lust and love, with bullets of despair and hope. I imagine militant parallels are used in describing these matters because it is as equally desperate a conflict. A frequently forgotten virtue is the counter to sloth: diligence. The only proper real-world example that can be used in parallel for diligence is conflict and protection.

I think this was understood well in the 7th century; war was not sacred nor profane, it was like a hurricane or an earthquake. It was treated like a force of nature - it was attempted to be understood, dealt with, and from the Church, maybe even communicated with, as we see with the encounter of Attila the Hun. Violence was not something to love and endorse, but not to fear, either.

Now, wars are a human matter, obviously - we do not see mice and cats arraying against each other with spears and bows - yet, I think we should not dismiss the elemental concept of war. If nothing else, it keeps the brutality and excuses of “holy war” at bay. There is nothing sacred about war, and anyone caught in the matter knows that all too intimately. No war is considered sacred unless they who call it such have given themselves over to the abyss, to madness, or both. Fighting can be holy; struggle is enlightening. War is, as they so rightly say, Hell.