Self-Deception

1 Cor 3 18-23 "Let no one deceive himself"

A few years ago I sat on the grass outside the Jefferson Memorial in Washington D.C. and for an hour studied a handout published by SOA Watch. It cited the deceased Senator of Georgia Paul Coverdell in his remarks facing the 2001 decision to close the School of the Americas and the proposed opening of the Western Hemisphere Institute of Security Cooperation. He called the change merely "cosmetic". The bullet point of the sheet was making a point that although the name had changed, neither the curriculum nor the faculty had changed, and thus it proposed the slogan "new name, same shame."

I studied that sheet because I was about to witness against the SOA. I had less than ten days remaining before a symbolic direct action where I would enter the grounds of Ft. Benning and then face consequent federal charges of criminal trespassing. I felt a great weight. Though I knew the consequences of a conviction meant six months imprisonment, what daunted me at least as much, was a felt-sense of responsibility to represent the case against the SOA.

The very spiritual movement that led me toward that action, as I understand it now, came from the impelling spirit by which I resolved for action, faith-acting to bring my belief to bear light in the world. For Dr. King once said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that".  I had read the Spanish-language manual given as supplement to foreign army students enrolled at the SOA in the 1980s and thus read the descriptions of torture taught as effective counter-insurgency tactics. By way of first-hand accounts of survivors from the civil war in El Salvador, I came to believe that torture was a regular instrument used by the government-backed "death squads". As compelling as it was to learn that peasants with no guilt of criminality suffered such horrific measures of control, even more gruesome to me were lessons that not even members of the consecrated life were safe from torture.

In fact much evidence came to my attention that was of a theoretical kind, expressing notions about salvation, and the meaning of persecution. In other words, I encountered new terrains of faith, accounts of Christ, testimony from a tradition of community-based circles of theological reflection. From within this source-bed of faith-knowledge particular authorities included Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero and Ignacio Ellacuria, SJ--both assassinated faith leaders long established by popular acclaim as saints of the crucified people. With such knowledge in tow, in 2003, I attended a protest at Ft. Benning. 83 would symbolically "cross the line" that year to witness against torture. I hung back, though I wanted to cross as well, waiting for reasons of faith.

But my supposed reasons of faith could have been self-deception. Who was I to cross? I saw people of many ages and many vowed religious but for lack of trust in my own call, it appeared to me that I could not class myself with such committed activists. I had plans to graduate the following spring. Then I was considering a year of community and service with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. Only a few weeks earlier the application arrived and when I read the question "How would your peers describe your faith?" I buckled with self-doubt, wondering if they could call me a confessing Catholic. Surely, I told myself at Ft. Benning, sure I believe in the importance of witnessing against the SOA, but first and foremost I need to gain a reputation as a person of faith. Then my witness will have credibility, I reasoned.

St. Augustine once said, "O Lord, make me chaste, but not yet." Similarly, I experienced the gap between the call of  discipleship and the self-deception of the disciple, in wanting to partake in a symbolic action but delaying my commitment. Prudence often dictates caution, yet the even the simple can communicate the wisdom of God, and I doubted that the grace of God would not support me to make witness. I negotiated with God for time, like Augustine. He could not embrace the radical Christian commitment and neither could I. To this day, a similar motive from that period motivates me to conform myself more to the mind of Christ. Ultimately the journey in Christ means a richer return in solidarity with the crucified so that conformity with Christ is pursued in hopes of bringing along with me a larger crowd of the faithful. Yet how to be on guard, I wonder. Will self-deception try to prevent me from my goal of shrinking the gap between the lessons of Christ and the obedient follower?