A long time ago when I was back in high school, I had a fondness for debating theology online. One of the most annoying discussions I ever had at the age of 17 centered around moral absolutism - what is the length that we will go not to sin?
I don't remember the exact question posed to me nearly a decade ago, other than it being something about a man and a gun and being given an ultimatum to renounce my faith or someone dies.
But this past year the question surfaced again, with a new face upon it.
I was visiting two friends in Ohio, and found (to my utter astonishment) a church that I actually enjoyed attending! To most people this might be a minor joy, but to a man with an undiagnosed condition that causes him to pass out in the middle of lecture series-type events, this was nothing short of a miracle.
Until the pastor defended selling out the Jews to Nazis.
Of course, that's a bit hyperbolic. The sermon was about lying, and the importance of not making excuses for lying. One thing that I was astonished by was the fact that the pastor explicitly invited people to stay around after the sermon for a question-and-answer session. Never in my 25 years have I seen that happen at a church, and being the natural asshole that I am, I had to stay. Cue up the IRL version of Godwin's law.
And dammit, someone beat me to the punch.
What about those Christians hiding Jews during WWII in Nazi Germany? It wasn't uncommon for the secret police to go around looking for Jews that were still hiding inside the country. If you were hiding Jews, and the SS came to your door and asked, would you lie, or would you tell the truth?
I mean, hey, let's not beat around the bush, right? What might be described as the most polite, Christianly-loving all-out debating war broke out between the asker, the pastor, and myself. He thought that in such a scenario, it's impossible to justify lying simply because we think killing is worse. Myself, I was in the camp of, "I'm gonna lie my ass off to the Nazi bastards." Then again, I never was the best at public debates. We parted cordially, and I got an email address from the pastor. Again, I was really, really impressed. If I didn't live several hundred miles away from the church, I'd gladly attend there regularly.
This is the email I wrote, edited because I'm probably incredibly vain:
Hey Zach,
Jonathan here. I visited the church with [my two friends] and had a few zealous questions that got interrupted by [friend]. I wanted to complete my thoughts and get your response, but before I proceed I just wanted to make it clear that I completely respect your opinions, lest my eagerness to contradict you in the questioning session implied otherwise. :) Anyways, onto the topic:
My contention that the truthfulness should be considered a vocal absolute comes from multiple directions, but let me continue for a moment from where we left off. We discussed the example of Nazi Germany, and the idea of moral absolutism.
To be upfront, I agree with moral absolutism. I don't think there are some sins that are "more [spiritually] acceptable" than others. However, I don't think that the question of lying to a Nazi is a question of 'which moral is more important.'
I brought up the idea of honor in the ANE, and the concept of being responsible for others, and one's honor being tied (in part) to one's ability to care for those who are under oneself. If I take someone under my protection, there is a contract between myself and that person - I have promised to care for them. In the case of hiding Jews in Nazi Germany, I have promised to hide them from the Nazis and protect their very lives against what is plausibly one of the more visible forms of evil that have existed in this world.
So it is the case, that if I promise to hide someone and take them under my care, and a group of Nazi SS come to my door asking if I am hiding Jews, I am faced with a conundrum. The conundrum is NOT one of killing vs lying (aka, it is not a question of moral absolutism). Rather, the question is one of truth vs truth: do I tell a lie and say that I am hiding no one, or do I turn my commitment to protection into a lie?
I would far rather *risk* sacrificing my reputation with a faceless Nazi SS officer, than to choose to sacrifice my integrity and my honor as a man who can be trusted to protect those who come to him for help. This is the point that I wished to make previously, but perhaps wasn't as eloquent in saying: when it comes to those extreme examples, my honor and integrity to God comes first, and I think it absolutely inarguable to state that it is more honoring to God to deceive a Nazi SS officer (whether by misinformation, omission, distraction, what have you), than to give up a person to whom I have righteously promised my protection.
This of course is not to detract from the rest of your sermon, the large part of which I found myself agreeing with to a large part. I don't say that lightly, either. I rarely find sermons to be applicable (let alone accessible on a personal level), and you are the only pastor I've seen who intentionally takes questions at the end of a sermon. I cannot tell you the level of appreciation I have for both of these traits I have observed. If I lived locally in Ohio instead of visiting all the way from [my state], I would certainly be coming back next week. :)
Sincerely,
Jonathan
The pastor responded in a much less verbose manner; I've included the relevant portions:
Jonathan,
In the scenario that you paint, one of pitting a "promise" against a "promise" I don't disagree with your conclusion.
My concern, however, is that we run to that scenario - one which is very limited and very specific - and create a template for saying, "So, there might be other cases where this kind of thing is okay" and find ourselves never really dealing with our own deceit and deception.
Thanks for coming and for sending this email. Have a great week.
There you have it... sort of permission to baldly lie to the face of a Nazi.
Should you ever end up in 1940's Nazi Germany that is.
Don't forget your Nazi uniform. And maybe leave the Stars and Stripes underwear at home.
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