Sen. John Kerry: Service and Faith

Despite this New Englander's past reticence

of talking publicly about my faith, I learned that if I didn’t fill in the
picture myself, others would draw the caricature for me.  I will never let
that happen again.

 

 

 

 

Senator John Kerry

“Service and Faith”

Pepperdine University

Malibu, California

September 18, 2006

Remarks as Prepared
for Delivery

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Thank you. It’s wonderful to be here. For some time, I havenlooked forward to this opportunity to come here to talk about my faith, and thenrole of faith in public life. And I’m very grateful to Pepperdine—anninstitution explicitly founded to shine the light of God’s truth through thenservice of its graduates—for giving me this opportunity.

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There will always be those bent on corrupting our political discourse,nparticularly where religion is involved. But I learned how important it is tonmake certain people have a deeper understanding of the values that shape me andnthe faith that sustains me. Despite this New Englanders’ past reticencenof talking publicly about my faith, I learned that if I didn’t fill in thenpicture myself, others would draw the caricature for me. I will never letnthat happen again—and neither should you, because no matter your party, yournideology, or your faith, we are all done a disservice when the debate isnreduced to ugly and untrue caricatures.

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I was born, baptized, and raised a Catholic. Needless to say, mynfirst and formative sense of religion came from my parents, Richard andnRosemary. My mother was a Protestant but went out of her way to see thatnI learned my catechism, attended Church, and prepared for FirstnCommunion. Both my parents taught me early on that we are all put on thisnearth for something greater than ourselves. Later, I was an altar boy atnmy Church. My parents taught me my faith and they taught me to live bynit. “,1]
);
//–>

 

Thank you.  It’s wonderful to be here.  For some time, I have
looked forward to this opportunity to come here to talk about my faith, and the
role of faith in public life.  And I’m very grateful to Pepperdine—an
institution explicitly founded to shine the light of God’s truth through the
service of its graduates—for giving me this opportunity.

 

There will always be those bent on corrupting our political discourse,
particularly where religion is involved. But I learned how important it is to
make certain people have a deeper understanding of the values that shape me and
the faith that sustains me.  Despite this New Englanders’ past reticence
of talking publicly about my faith, I learned that if I didn’t fill in the
picture myself, others would draw the caricature for me.  I will never let
that happen again—and neither should you, because no matter your party, your
ideology, or your faith, we are all done a disservice when the debate is
reduced to ugly and untrue caricatures. 

 

I was born, baptized, and raised a Catholic.  Needless to say, my
first and formative sense of religion came from my parents, Richard and
Rosemary.  My mother was a Protestant but went out of her way to see that
I learned my catechism, attended Church, and prepared for First
Communion.  Both my parents taught me early on that we are all put on this
earth for something greater than ourselves.  Later, I was an altar boy at
my Church.  My parents taught me my faith and they taught me to live by
it. 

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nn

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I went to a high school called St.n Paul’s, an Episcopal school where we attended chapelnevery morning and twice on Sundays in addition to the Catholic service in townnwhich a group of us would go to. I studied religious studies and as younwould imagine at a school called St. Paul’s, became more than familiar with St.nPaul’s letters to just about everybody.

nn

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The Catholic church that I grew up with didn’t focus on scripture thenway we do today. The Mass was in Latin. But with the Second VaticannCouncil, that changed. Now, revised prayers for the Sacraments and othernparts of the liturgy use Biblical language almost entirely. It elevatesnboth our practice and our understanding of our faith. And despite ourncontinued historical and theological differences, it has helped to emphasizenwhat unites Christian churches rather than what divides them. The longnand short of it is that today we are far more “Bible”-focused and knowledgeablenbased on several clear principles, chief among them the centrality of Jesus.

nn

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I confronted my own mortality head-on during the Vietnam War, wherenfaith was as much a part of my daily life as the battle itself. But Inhave to say that in retrospect my relationship with God was a dependent one—an“God—get me through this and I’ll be good” – relationship. As I becamendisillusioned with the war, my faith was also put to the test. For me,nwar was a difficult place for faith to grow. Some of my closest friendsnwere killed. I saw things that disturb me to this day. Theologiansnoften talk about “the problem of evil,” the difficulty of explaining whynterrible and senseless events are part of God’s plan. In combat, younconfront the problem of evil in an up-front and personal way that is hard fornothers to fully understand.”,1]
);
//–>

 

I went to a high school called St.
Paul’s, an Episcopal school where we attended chapel
every morning and twice on Sundays in addition to the Catholic service in town
which a group of us would go to.  I studied religious studies and as you
would imagine at a school called St. Paul’s, became more than familiar with St.
Paul’s letters to just about everybody. 

 

The Catholic church that I grew up with didn’t focus on scripture the
way we do today.  The Mass was in Latin.  But with the Second Vatican
Council, that changed.  Now, revised prayers for the Sacraments and other
parts of the liturgy use Biblical language almost entirely.  It elevates
both our practice and our understanding of our faith.  And despite our
continued historical and theological differences, it has helped to emphasize
what unites Christian churches rather than what divides them.  The long
and short of it is that today we are far more “Bible”-focused and knowledgeable
based on several clear principles, chief among them the centrality of Jesus.

 

I confronted my own mortality head-on during the Vietnam War, where
faith was as much a part of my daily life as the battle itself.  But I
have to say that in retrospect my relationship with God was a dependent one—a
“God—get me through this and I’ll be good” – relationship.  As I became
disillusioned with the war, my faith was also put to the test.  For me,
war was a difficult place for faith to grow.  Some of my closest friends
were killed.  I saw things that disturb me to this day.  Theologians
often talk about “the problem of evil,” the difficulty of explaining why
terrible and senseless events are part of God’s plan.  In combat, you
confront the problem of evil in an up-front and personal way that is hard for
others to fully understand.

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D(["mb","

nn

nn

So, yes, I prayed hard while I was in Vietnam and I made it back, but thenexperience, the “problem of evil,” took some time to reconcile. When Inreturned stateside, I went through a period of alienation. I was inspirednby the Christian moral witness of people like Martin Luther King, Jr. in thencivil rights movement, Reverend William Sloane Coffin in the peace movement andnother voices of Christian conscience. But still I was searching –n somewhat spiritually adrift, unsure of my relationship with God and thenChurch.

nn

nn

Within the Catholic Church, we talk about being born Catholic—but as innany faith community, there’s a moment when you first consciously choose whethernto fully participate in your heritage, or look elsewhere. For me thatncame a number of years later after the war.

nn

nn

For twelve years I wandered in the wilderness, went through a divorcenand struggled with questions about my direction. Then suddenly andnmovingly, I had a revelation about the connection between the work I was doingnas a public servant and my formative teachings. Indeed, the scriptures providedna firmer guide about values applied to life – many of the things you arenwrestling with now today.

nn

Inremember how difficult it was to be your age – so many decisions to work out,nsuch a tangle of choices and possibilities, whose consequences seemnunknowable – and yet life-shaping. For you here at Pepperdine, it’s antime when you’re exploring your commitment to God, embarking on a journey tonfigure out how to lead a good life, how to translate your values—who you love,nwhat you are passionate about, how you worship—how you translate that into thendaily fabric of your existence.”,1]
);
//–>

 

So, yes, I prayed hard while I was in Vietnam and I made it back, but the
experience, the “problem of evil,” took some time to reconcile.  When I
returned stateside, I went through a period of alienation.  I was inspired
by the Christian moral witness of people like Martin Luther King, Jr. in the
civil rights movement, Reverend William Sloane Coffin in the peace movement and
other voices of Christian conscience.  But still I was searching —
 somewhat spiritually adrift, unsure of my relationship with God and the
Church. 

 

Within the Catholic Church, we talk about being born Catholic—but as in
any faith community, there’s a moment when you first consciously choose whether
to fully participate in your heritage, or look elsewhere.  For me that
came a number of years later after the war.  

 

For twelve years I wandered in the wilderness, went through a divorce
and struggled with questions about my direction.  Then suddenly and
movingly, I had a revelation about the connection between the work I was doing
as a public servant and my formative teachings. Indeed, the scriptures provided
a firmer guide about values applied to life – many of the things you are
wrestling with now today.

I
remember how difficult it was to be your age – so many decisions to work out,
such a tangle of choices and possibilities, whose  consequences seem
unknowable – and yet life-shaping.  For you here at Pepperdine, it’s a
time when you’re exploring your commitment to God, embarking on a journey to
figure out how to lead a good life, how to translate your values—who you love,
what you are passionate about, how you worship—how you translate that into the
daily fabric of your existence.

<!–
D(["mb","

nn

One of my favorite passages from scripture, a familiar story from thenGospel According to Mark 10:35-45, sheds a lot of light for me on how tontranslate my faith into action.

nn

nn

The Apostles James and John ask their teacher Jesus if they can sit,none at his right hand and one at his left hand, and bask in his glory. nThey want to be seen as first among the disciples. And Jesus tells them,nwhile they can drink from his cup and share in the baptism, the specialnposition they want isn’t his to grant—it’s only for those who are up to thentask.

nn

nn

When the other ten disciples heard about James and John’s request, theynwere angry. And so Jesus gathered them all together and said to them,n“You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulersnlord it over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to benfirst among you must be servant of all. For the Son of Man came not to benserved but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

nn

nn

This is the third time Jesus’ disciples have misunderstood the naturenof their discipleship in the Gospel of Mark. And I suppose you could saynthat James and John are trying to become the first political appointees in thenNew Testament—trying to get special favors for their proximity to power. nBut Jesus responds with an essential lesson. He contrasts greatness innthe Kingdom of God with Roman political power. nWhile greatness in the Roman Empire is based on brute force—lording it overnthose less fortunate for the worst possible reason—simply because you can,ngreatness in the Kingdom of God is based on humble service, on being servant tonall.” “,1]
);
//–>

One of my favorite passages from scripture, a familiar story from the
Gospel According to  Mark 10:35-45, sheds a lot of light for me on how to
translate my faith into action.

 

The Apostles James and John ask their teacher Jesus if they can sit,
one at his right hand and one at his left hand, and bask in his glory. 
They want to be seen as first among the disciples.  And Jesus tells them,
while they can drink from his cup and share in the baptism, the special
position they want isn’t his to grant—it’s only for those who are up to the
task.

 

When the other ten disciples heard about James and John’s request, they
were angry.  And so Jesus gathered them all together and said to them,
“You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers
lord it over them.  But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to be
first among you must be servant of all.  For the Son of Man came not to be
served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

 

This is the third time Jesus’ disciples have misunderstood the nature
of their discipleship in the Gospel of Mark.  And I suppose you could say
that James and John are trying to become the first political appointees in the
New Testament—trying to get special favors for their proximity to power. 
But Jesus responds with an essential lesson.  He contrasts greatness in
the Kingdom of God with Roman political power. 
While greatness in the Roman Empire is based on brute force—lording it over
those less fortunate for the worst possible reason—simply because you can,
greatness in the Kingdom of God is based on humble service, on being servant to
all.” 

<!–
D(["mb","

nn

nn

Those lines in Mark had a profound impact on me: “The Son of Man camennot to be served but to serve.” Well, I consider public leadership to bena form of Christian service and an expression of my faith. I believenthe most important teaching of the Gospels is that it is not enough justnto say one believes in Jesus. Believing in Jesus requires action—it requiresna bona fide effort—commitment to live in the example of Jesus and nowhere in mynjudgment is the expectation of service more clearly stated than in Matthewn25:34:

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“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave mensomething to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,

nn

nn

I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care ofnme, I was in prison and you visited me.”

nn

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So it is important for me to share with you how we might move from thenexample of Jesus as a servant into addressing the pressing needs of ourntime. The Catholic Bishops in their 2004 election guide provided greatnspiritual wisdom and guidance as they set forth a series of questions aboutnexpectations in public life.

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I think they are questions any Christian needs to wrestle with:”,1]
);
//–>

 

Those lines in Mark had a profound impact on me: “The Son of Man came
not to be served but to serve.”  Well, I consider public leadership to be
a form of Christian service and an expression of my faith.  I believe
the  most important teaching of the Gospels is that it is not enough just
to say one believes in Jesus.  Believing in Jesus requires action—it requires
a bona fide effort—commitment to live in the example of Jesus and nowhere in my
judgment is the expectation of service more clearly stated than in Matthew
25:34:

 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me
something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,

 

I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of
me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

 

So it is important for me to share with you how we might move from the
example of Jesus as a servant into addressing the pressing needs of our
time.  The Catholic Bishops in their 2004 election guide provided great
spiritual wisdom and guidance as they set forth a series of questions about
expectations in public life.

 

I think they are questions any Christian needs to wrestle with:

 

 

1. After September 11,
   how can we build not only a safer world, but a better world—more just,
   more secure, more peaceful, more respectful of human life and dignity?

2. How will we protect
   the weakest in our midst—innocent unborn children?  How will our
   nation resist what Pope John Paul II calls a “culture of death”?  How
   can we keep our nation from turning to violence to solve some of its most
   difficult problems—abortion to deal with difficult pregnancies; the death
   penalty to combat crime; euthanasia and assisted suicide to deal with the
   burdens of age, illness, and disability; and war to address international
   disputes?

3. How will we address
   the tragic fact that more than 30,000 children die every day as a result
   of hunger, international debt, and lack of development around the world,
   as well as the fact that the younger you are, the more likely you are to
   be poor here in the richest nation on earth?

4. How can our nation
   help parents raise their children with respect for life, sound moral
   values, a sense of hope, and an ethic of stewardship and
   responsibility?  How can our society defend the central institution
   of marriage and better support families in their moral roles and
   responsibilities, offering them real choices and financial resources to
   obtain quality education and decent housing?

5. How will we address
   the growing number of families and individuals without affordable and
   accessible health care?  How can health care better protect human life
   and respect human dignity?

6. How will our society
   combat continuing prejudice, overcome hostility toward immigrants and
   refugees, and heal the wounds of racism, religious bigotry, and other
   forms of discrimination?

7. How will our nation
   pursue the values of justice and peace in a world where injustice is
   common, desperate poverty widespread, and peace is too often overwhelmed
   by violence?

8. What are the
   responsibilities and limitations of families, community organizations,
   markets, and government?  How can these elements of society work
   together to overcome poverty, pursue the common good, care for creations,
   and overcome injustice?

9. When should our
   nation use, or avoid the use of, military force—for what purpose, under
   what authority, and at what human cost?

10. How can we join with
    other nations to lead the world to greater respect for human life and
    dignity, religious freedom and democracy, economic justice and care for
    God’s creation?

 

I believe these questions can be gathered around four issues where people
of faith from every background can work together with other people of good will
towards public policies that contribute to the common good.

 

The first and perhaps most obvious common challenge is to take
practical steps to address global issues of poverty, disease, and despair.

 

The cares of the poor and the troubled should be the focus of all our
work.  Today extreme poverty shackles one sixth of the globe’s population,
one-fifth lack access to safe drinking water.  Here in America twenty one percent of our
children live in poverty.  Eleven million under 21 don’t have health
insurance.  Thirty thousand children worldwide perish each day because of
hunger and disease attributable to poverty.

 

A few weeks ago, we passed the one-year anniversary of Hurricane
Katrina.  And, amidst the howling wind and rushing flood waters, you could
practically feel Americans’ emotional recognition—our shock—at just how far we
still have to climb to fulfill our Christian responsibility to care for the
worst off among us.  Jesus told us “Whatever you do to the least of these,
you do unto me,” but when the great flood of our time came, we weren’t
ready.  Interestingly, the most rapid and effective response came from the
faith community, but as a country, we left people to die on rooftops and in
hospital beds.  The failure should sting and it should shame all of us,
but it should also bring a renewed sense of mission: We’ve lapsed in our
covenant between the people and the government, between rich and poor people
and between rich and poor countries, that nobody should be left behind. 
No American, no country, no human being. 

 

You – each of you — can do something about this and get involved in a
multitude of ways including joining something like the ONE Campaign.  And
for those who ask the inevitable question, ‘why does that matter to me here at
home as a citizen of our country?’ With the right political leadership,
 we can end extreme poverty in your lifetime if we commit the resources to
do it.

 

Evangelical Christians have honored the best traditions of Christianity
and of patriotism in tirelessly fighting to end the genocide in Darfur. I’ve often referred to the words of the Epistle
of St. James 2:17: “faith without works is dead”—and Christian work in
Darfur—day in and day out to make sure that “never again” isn’t just a
convenient lie we tell ourselves to sleep better at night- is the embodiment of
that Christian—of that American—ideal.

 

Christians like Rick Warren are also working to fight AIDS.  How
can we sit idly by when this plague of our time sweeps across the world? 
How can we not do everything in our power to make sure that our life-saving
treatments are spread far and wide to those in need?  There are forty
million cases today, and last year 3 million people died from AIDS.  Jesus
did not “heal the sick” only if they had the money to pay for it, only if they
could afford antiretroviral drugs—no, he sought out people in need.  And
we need to do the same today.

 

A second common challenge arises from the deep concern virtually all
people of faith are enjoined to maintain toward sustaining and protecting God’s
first creation.  Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians 10:20 says, “The
earth is the Lord’s, and everything on it.”  The Prophet Isaiah (66:2)
says, “has not my hand made all these things, and so they came into being?”

 

These days we face problems on a biblical scale—floods, storms,
plagues, the destruction of entire cities.  And it is my belief that
confronting manmade climate change is, in the long run, one of the greatest
challenges we face. 

 

Evangelicals talk about “creation-care” — that any damage that we do
to God’s world is an offense against God.  God called us to be stewards of
the earth and its creatures, and since most of the climate change problem is
human induced, its’ pretty clear that we haven’t done that good of a job. 
The warnings are loud and clear for all to see—rising waters, melting caps,
storms of ever-greater proportions, and ironclad scientific evidence. 
Surely this is an issue where people of faith can come together and demand
action. I can assure you, when I cast a vote in the Senate on environmental
issues, I try to act as a steward of the earth.

 

A third area where we can find common ground is on one of the most
emotional cultural issues of all: abortion.  Obviously the issue of
abortion has been enormously divisive,  but there is also no denying there
is common ground.  There are 1.3 million abortions each year in America.
Everyone can agree that that is too many and on a shared goal of reducing the
need for abortion in the first place.  And I believe our first step is to
unite and accept the responsibility of making abortion rare by focusing on
prevention and by supporting pregnant women and new parents. 

 

Even as a supporter of Roe V. Wade, I am compelled to acknowledge that
the language both sides use on this subject can be unfortunately misleading and
unconstructive. Unfortunately, this debate has been framed in an overly
partisan setting with excessive language on both sides – none of which does
justice to the depth of moral conviction held by all. There’s been demonization
rather than debate. Distrust rather than discussion. Everyone is worse off for
it.  Instead of making enemies, we need to make progress.

 

What would progress look like?  Many people are surprised to learn
that the most dramatic decline in America’s abortion rate took place
under the last Democratic administration when poverty declined, more people
graduated from college, employment grew at record rates, and the economy grew
at record levels.  Unfortunately, the economic policies of these last six
years increase the pressure on women with unplanned pregnancies to seek
abortions.

 

In addition to focusing on policies that will prevent unintended
pregnancies in the first place, I believe we should also embrace and expand a
proven set of economic measures to again make significant progress on reducing
the number of abortions in America.  This would mean raising the minimum
wage, expanding educational opportunity, giving tax credits for domestic
adoptions, providing universal health insurance, expanding the Earned Income
Tax Credit, and expanding federally funded child care.

 

The fourth and final example of where people of faith should accept a
common challenge is perhaps the most difficult and essential of all: rekindling
a faith-based debate on the issues of war and peace.  All our different
faiths, whatever their philosophical differences, have a universal sense of
values, ethics, and moral truths that honor and respect the dignity of all
human beings.  They all agree on a form of the Golden Rule and the Supreme
importance of charity and compassion. 

 

We are more than just Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims or atheists:
we are human beings.  We are more than the sum of our differences — we
share a moral obligation to treat one another with dignity and respect—and the
rest is commentary.  Nowhere does this obligation arise more unavoidably
than in when and how to resort to war.

 

Christians have long struggled to balance the legitimate need for
self-defense with our highest ideals of justice and personal morality.  Saint Augustine laid the
foundation for a compelling philosophical tradition considering how and when
Christians should fight.

 

Augustine felt that wars of choice are generally unjust wars, that
war—the organized killing of human beings, of fathers, brothers, friends—should
always be a last resort, that war must always have a just cause, that those
waging war need the right authority to do so, that a military response must be
proportionate to the provocation, that a war must have a reasonable chance of
achieving its goal and that war must discriminate between civilians and
combatants.

 

In developing the doctrine of Just War, Augustine and his many
successors viewed self-restraint in warfare as a religious obligation, not as a
pious hope contingent on convincing one’s adversaries to behave likewise. 
Throughout the centuries there have been Christian political leaders who argued
otherwise; who contended that observing Just War principles was weak, naive, or
even cowardly. 

 

It’s in Americas'
interests to maintain our unquestionable moral authority — and we risk losing
it when leaders make excuses for the abuses at Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo or when an Administration lobbies
for torture. 

 

For me,
the just war criteria with respect to Iraq are very clear: sometimes a
President has to use force to fight an enemy bent on using weapons of mass
destruction to slaughter innocents. But no President should ever go to war
because they want to—you go to war only because you have to. The words “last
resort” have to mean something.

 

In Iraq,
those words were rendered hollow. It was wrong to prosecute the war without
careful diplomacy that assembled a real coalition. Wrong to prosecute war
without a plan to win the peace and avoid the chaos of looting in Baghdad and streets full
of raw sewage. Wrong to prosecute a war without considering the violence it
would unleash and what it would do to the lives of innocent people who would be
in danger.

 

People of
faith obviously don’t have to agree with me about how we keep America safe, how we prevail over terrorists, or
how we end our disastrous adventure in Iraq.  But I do hope people of
faith step up to the challenge of rejecting the idea that obedience to God
somehow stops when the fighting starts.  We need a revival of the debate
over what constitutes Just Wars and how they must be conducted, and all people
of faith, whatever their political allegiances, should participate in the
debate.

 

I lay out
these four great challenges—fighting poverty and disease, taking care of the
earth, reducing abortions, and fighting only just wars—as godly tasks on which
we can transcend the culture wars and reach common ground.  And for all
the anger and fear so often expressed about the intersection of politics and
religion, I believe that a vision of public service based upon serving rather
than being served is ultimately a vision of hope and not despair.  The
Scripture says, again and again, “be not afraid.”  God is not through with
humanity.  Shame on us if we use our faith to divide and alienate people
from one another or if we draft God into partisan service.  Shame on us if
we sow fear for our own advantage. 

 

As God gives us the ability to see,
let us take up the tasks associated with loving our neighbors as
ourselves.  We can take up God’s work as our own.  The call of Jesus,
and of every great religious leader, to everyone is one of service to all and
not the pursuit of power. Each of us needs to do our best to answer that call,
and help each other hear it in a common spirit of obedience, humility and love.

 

 

 

Catholic
Bishops 2004 voting guide: "Faithful Citizenship: A Catholic Call to
Political Responsibility"