Editor’s Note:
The following speech was delivered to The Fifth Christian Conference: "The Church in the Service of Peace and Humanity," held in Baghdad, Iraq from May 15-20, 2001.

The Church Against the Sanctions
by Marilyn Borst

If anyone were to wonder whether admissions of guilt and responsibility for wrongdoing have any significance outside of the confession box at church or in intimate prayer with God, that person has only to open the morning paper or turn on the television for the evening news. For it was only a few weeks ago that U.S. relations with China were jeopardized, when, after having unexpectedly landing one of OUR spy planes in THEIR territory, our government was reluctant to offer the words, "Our fault. We are sorry." And more recently, Pope John Paul II, while visiting Greece, attempted to heal a thousand-year split with the Orthodox Church by offering this apology: "For the occasions past and present, when the sons and daughters of the Catholic Church have sinned by actions and omissions against their Orthodox brothers and sisters, may the Lord grant us the forgiveness we beg."

"If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, [God] is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (John 1:8-9). Almost every Sunday, back at First Presbyterian Church in Houston, Texas, I hear those words. They are offered, by the pastor, as an assurance of pardon, following, in the liturgy, a collectively-spoken prayer of confession. Within the Protestant tradition, such a public, group confession is not meant to replace a private, individual one, but rather to supplement it. As is stated in the Book of Order, which is the constitution of the Presbyterian Church: "In confession we acknowledge repentence for what we as individuals and as a people have done or left undone."

When I was a young child — perhaps 7 or 8 years old — I learned my first major lesson about the importance of confession and the power of forgiveness. At the church in Michigan in which I grew up, there were no children’s Sunday School classes held during the summer months. But in the spring, before we were dismissed for the vacation time, our teachers gave each of us a little wooden box into which, each week, we were asked to put a few coins. At the end of the summer, all of us returned to our Sunday School classes with our little boxes full, which were then collected together, and the funds sent to support a project for needy children somewhere in the world.

My best friend back then was a neighbor girl named Nancy. As best friends, we talked about all the things that mattered to us in our young lives, so Nancy knew about my little wooden box with the money inside. One day, towards the end of the summer, Nancy casually suggested to me that we take a few coins from the box with which to buy some candy. "We wouldn’t take much", she reasoned, "and there were so many coins in the box, that no one would ever know what we had done. Besides, the money was really yours to begin with, so you weren’t really taking anything that didn’t already belong to you". Suddenly, I was put into what, for an 8-year-old, was a great dilemma. I knew instinctively that this was wrong: yes, that money had come from me, but once I had put it into that box, I had, in effect, already given it to God: He just hadn’t gotten around to collecting it yet. I also knew that she was wrong in thinking that no one would know what we had done, because I had been raised to understand that God sees and knows everything. And experience had already taught me that there wasn’t much that your parents missed, either! The dilemma came from the fact that I was reluctant to say "no" to Nancy’s plan; I did not want to disappoint her, and besides, since she was a whole two years older, maybe she did know better than me and it wasn’t so wrong, after all…

I told Nancy that I needed time to think about this, and I remember spending several days weighing the implications of my possible actions. What it finally came down to was this: disappoint God, or disappoint Nancy? I wasn’t happy with either prospect, but I finally acted upon my decision: I quietly opened the little box and took out some coins — it couldn’t have been much, maybe half of a dollar, but I felt like I was robbing a bank.

I spent the next few days in inner turmoil. I hardly dared look my mother or father in the eyes for fear that they would see the guilt in my mine. And the nicer they were to me, the worse I felt in having betrayed their trust. I couldn’t stand it any longer and so I finally resolved to make my confession and bear the consequences — at least I would be relieved of the burden of my guilt.

That night, I lay awake, listening for my parents to go to bed. I slipped out of my room and came to stand in the dark outside their door, which was open just a few inches. "Mom? Dad?" I barely whispered. "Yes, dear?" they replied. The confession of my deed poured forth from me, along with an ample amount of tears. They listened quietly, and waited for my sobbing to end. Then my father spoke. "It’s obvious to us that you know what you did wrong, honey, and that you are very sorry. Of course, you must pay back the money you took. But we forgive you — and we love you. Now go back to bed." What a sense of relief I felt! Little did my parents know that in that simple act of grace, that gift of forgiveness to a little girl for a little sin, that I would forever find a model of God’s forgiveness and an assurance of His love — even as the girl grew older and the sins became larger.

I learned my second major lesson about confession and forgiveness three years ago right here in Iraq, having come for this very same conference — an experience, by the way, which was nothing short of life-changing for me, as I’m sure it will be for many of you who are visiting Iraq for the first time. For despite the devastation brought upon this country and its people by the imposition of inhumane sanctions for which MY country was largely to blame, I, as an American, was received everywhere with nothing less than open and gracious acceptance and warm hospitality. In the case of Iraq, forgiveness seemed to have preceded confession! But confession came easily after being overwhelmed by the undeniable responsibility I felt.

This past February, when American aircraft renewed their strikes in the southern "no-fly zone", one of our church members, having heard the news, came rushing up to me with a look of panic: "But we have friends there…". Iraq now had a face — and it was the face of a friend.

With the words of St. James echoing in my head, that "Faith without works is dead" (James 2:17), I returned to Houston with a profound sense of calling to DO something, however small: to educate people about the realities in Iraq, to advocate against the sanctions, and to participate in activities which would give signs of hope to and solidarity with the people of Iraq. And so, at First Presbyterian in Houston, we began a unique partnership program with the National Presbyterian Church in Basrah. Working through its pastor, Rev. Gilbert Albazi, and an elder, Dr. Zuhair Fathallah, we connected 29 families in our church with the 29 families of that Presbyterian Church in Basrah. We began writing one another and praying for each other, slowly but surely building bridges of understanding that spanned all barriers of distance, language, culture, and political ideologies. One of those Houston families, Bill and Somchay Harnack, are here with me today, having come in eager anticipation of finally being able to meet their family in Basrah. This past February, when American aircraft renewed their strikes in the southern "no-fly zone", one of our church members, having heard the news, came rushing up to me with a look of panic: "But we have friends there…". Iraq now had a face — and it was the face of a friend.

Educate, Advocate, Participate

I would encourage my fellow visitors here to follow this model.

Educate: A wealth of material is available that can be easily shared with colleagues, friends, and parishioners, be it written reports of human rights organizations like Voices in the Wilderness, or videos like "Compassion: Iraq," which was produced by Conscience International and its director, Jim Jennings. Share with your congregations the official statements made your church’s own national governing bodies, as there is hardly a mainline denomination in the U.S. or elsewhere that has NOT come out against the sanctions, as mine did at its General Assembly in 1998.

Advocate: Make your will known to your elected officials at the highest level, as in the case of U.S. citizens to representatives of Congress and to Secretary of State Colin Powell. Urge Mr. Powell to eliminate the 661 Sanctions Committee and other obstacles that prevent the restoration of civilian economic life and health to the people of Iraq. Ask your Congressperson to support humanitarian legislation like H.R. 742 (the Humanitarian Exports Leading to Peace) Act of 2001 which would allow farmers, relief organizations, and companies to export food, medicine, and agricultural goods directly to Iraq, by-passing controlling institutions and signaling an end to a cruel trade embargo which continues to claim the lives of thousands of children each month.

Participate: Seize the opportunity, while you are here, to build a bridge of friendship with an Iraqi whom you meet here at the conference — and then maintain and sustain that friendship through prayer and correspondence. Perhaps your church can envision a family-to-family partnership similar to the one we began with Basrah and have now extended to include the Presbyterian church in Kirkuk. Believe me, it’s a blessing felt on BOTH our respective sides of the world!

In November of last year, I returned to Iraq with a small, national delegation of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), meeting not only with the Presbyterian/ National Evangelical churches but also with representatives of the Orthodox and Catholic communities. The Middle East Council of Churches coordinated our logistics and made our appointments, which also included visits to the offices of the Red Crescent and UNICEF. At one of several meetings we had with Iraqi government officials, I was particularly moved (and humbled), by the remarks of Dr. Ali Janobi, a Muslim and the Deputy Minister of Health. He reminded us that "In spite of the suffering…the Iraqi people hold a warm spot in their hearts for the American people. The reason for this…is that we have learned that we have a common longing for God…. What has brought you to Iraq is the logic of faith." Once again, another profound lesson about forgiveness — which drove me, yet again, to the need for confession. We are wrong in having done to the Iraqi people what we have done, and what we continue to do, even against the advice of almost the entire international community!

We have created this injustice. We have sustained this injustice. We have the power to remove this injustice. This is the raw truth.

If, indeed, as Dr. Janobi points out, faith possesses a "logic", then, by contrast, the singularly most disturbing illogical "truth" in Iraq is the unjust sanctions. The alleged purpose is to check the power of Iraq’s government and effect its downfall, but the devastating and cataclysmic reality of such has been to systematically dismantle the infrastructure of an entire country and promote unrelenting disease, malnutrition and death — which the combined efforts of many well-intentioned humanitarian organizations have been largely powerless to alleviate. We have created this injustice. We have sustained this injustice. We have the power to remove this injustice. This is the raw truth which we in the West — who have been given a voice within our communities of faith — must urgently communicate.

Since we serve a GOD who is just, we must be a people who are just. And at the same time, tell your communities of faith something else that they may not know. Tell them that the Church in Iraq — be it Orthodox, Catholic, or Protestant — is faithful and vital. Tell them that, just like our churches, they worship regularly, preach the Word reverently, instruct their children diligently, praise God enthusiastically, and serve the community around them selflessly. Tell them that we in the West have much to learn from these churches: from their perseverance in difficulty, from their faithfulness of witness, from their joy in adversity, from their work of reconciliation in the midst of brokenness. The Apostle Paul’s words, describing the state of the Church in the first century, I found to be an apt description of the Church in Iraq at this moment of the twenty-first century: "…hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair… struck down, but not destroyed. (II Cor 4: 8,9)"

On World Communion Sunday, our church has often used this prayer:

…Take away our regionalism, Lord ¾ it is an offense to your global sovereignty. Take away our exclusivism ¾ it makes a mockery of your ecumenical love. Accept our self-centeredness ¾ it is a burden to the forgotten faithful around the world.

Finally, tell your communities of faith that God requires just such a confession and that the people of Iraq deserve it…and that both stand ready with their gift of forgiveness.

Related Links:

Read an article on "Christianity in Iraq: A Small But Respected and Multi-Faceted Population" from the March 1999 issue of the Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, at: www.washington-report.org/backissues/0399/9903081.html