Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84Plough Quarterly • Autumn 2016 11 heard that gasp: the last of the human, of soul, of freedom. Indeed, something could be done, and was. And would be. In his 1969 bestseller, No Bars to Manhood, Berrigan wrote: We have assumed the name of peacemakers, but we have been, by and large, unwilling to pay any significant price. And because we want the peace with half a heart and half a life and will, the war, of course, continues, because the waging of war, by its nature, is total – but the waging of peace, by our own cowardice, is partial. . . . There is no peace because there are no peacemakers. There are no makers of peace because the making of peace is at least as costly as the making of war – at least as exigent, at least as disruptive, at least as liable to bring disgrace and prison and death in its wake. On September 9, 1980, Berrigan opened a new chapter in the history of nonviolent resistance. Drawing inspiration from the biblical prophet “The time has come for our church to be a living witness and to invest far greater human and financial resources in promoting a spiritu- ality and practice of active nonviolence and in forming and training our Catholic communi- ties in effective nonviolent practices. In all of this, Jesus is our inspiration and model. “In his own times, rife with structural violence, Jesus proclaimed a new, nonviolent order rooted in the unconditional love of God. . . . Neither passive nor weak, Jesus’ nonviolence was the power of love in action. In vision and deed, he is the revelation and embodiment of the nonviolent God, a truth especially illuminated in the cross and resur- rection. He calls us to develop the virtue of nonviolent peacemaking. front parlor of the charnel house. We could not, so help us God, do otherwise.” The action attracted massive press coverage and led to hundreds of similar demonstrations. In his autobiography To Dwell in Peace, Berrigan reflected on the effect of the Catonsville protest: The act was pitiful, a tiny flare amid the consuming fires of war. But Catonsville was like a firebreak, a small fire lit, to contain and conquer a greater. The time, the place, were weirdly right. They spoke for passion, symbol, reprisal. Catonsville seemed to light up the dark places of the heart, where courage and risk and hope were awaiting a signal, a dawn. For the remainder of our lives, the fires would burn and burn, in hearts and minds, in draft boards, in prisons and courts. A new fire, new as a Pentecost, flared up in eyes deadened and hopeless, the noble powers of soul given over to the “powers of the upper air.” “Nothing can be done!” How often we had “Clearly, the Word of God, the witness of Jesus, should never be used to justify violence, injustice, or war. We confess that the people of God have betrayed this central message of the gospel many times, by participating in wars, persecution, oppression, exploitation, and discrimination. “We believe that there is no just war. Too often the just war theory has been used to endorse rather than prevent or limit war. Suggesting that a just war is possible also undermines the moral imperative to develop tools and capacities for nonviolent transforma- tion of conflict. We need a new framework that is consistent with gospel nonviolence. . . .” Among other points, the statement specifi- cally challenges the church to develop its social Plough Quarterly • Autumn 2016 11