In the early 1970s, in an effort to quell the unrest in Argentina, General and President Rafael Videla took matters into his own hands.  First, he labeled his enemies in this way, “A terrorist isn’t just someone with a gun or a bomb.  (A subversive is) anyone who opposes the Argentine way of life.”

And then the governor of Buenos Aires articulated an approach to these enemies, “First we will kill all the subversives, then we will kill their collaborators; then…the sympathizers, then…those who remain indifferent; and finally we will kill the timid.”

Which began with the disappearance of a few young men in 1971.  And then a few hundred by 1975.  By the end of the decade, over 30,000 young men had been disappeared, most tortured, many killed.

What do you do in the face of such violent oppression?

The mothers of these young men wore diapers on their heads.

Instead of pledging allegiance to a country that sought to bring peace through violence, that sought to protect a powerful few, these women pledged allegiance to a different country and a different way.

On April 30th, 1977, fourteen women showed up in the civic center of Buenos Aries wearing nappies on their heads and carrying nails in their hands, representing their allegiance to Jesus and His Way of Love.  They held no guns, nor pipes, nor any other form of violence in their hands.  

Only Jesus’ nails.

For months they protested the violence inflicted on their sons…only to have the violence then inflicted upon them: kidnapped, tortured, executed.  And yet they continued to show up, believing that their allegiance was to a Way and a Country that could not be conquered by violence or oppression. Fourteen grew to hundreds.

These women were known as the las madres de la plaza de mayo.

And they toppled their oppressive regime.  Without violence.

It is incredibly hard for us who have grown up in the United States to even believe that such a resistance is possible.  We have lived in the greatest military superpower the world has ever known.  We are the only nation on earth that has actually dropped nuclear bombs on civilian targets.

And since 9/11, fidelity and allegiance to our country has been tightly associated with fidelity and allegiance to our military.  If you don’t believe me, just watch any sporting event and see who accompanies the unfurling of our flag before game time, as fighters fly overhead.

In fact, the military pays the professional sports franchises to allow them to unfurl our flag or sing the anthem or throw out the first pitch in their parks.

Which makes it hard for us to think the world could achieve safety or justice or peace in any other way than through force of arms.

But the 20th century has countless examples of those that pledged allegiance to a different way of being, who overcame injustice and discovered peace.

This is the story of Pope John Paul II serving communion in communist Poland, the people crying “we forgive you!” as they streamed past the communist headquarters on their way to the eucharist. The Iron Curtain soon came down.

This is the story of nuns kneeling before tanks and tying yellow ribbons on assault rifles in the Philippines in the 1980s.  Their oppressive regime fled.

This is the story of Denmark during WWII shutting down their cities by refusing to work and shuttling Jews to safer regions.  They frustrated the Nazis into retreat.

This is the story of apartheid South Africa, the American South, Mongolia, Chile, India, and on and on.

There are so many who believed, believed that their spirit should not only impact the soil of their bodies, but also the soil of their land. Why haven’t we been told these stories?

Why haven’t we been told the stories of those who pledged allegiance to a different kind of power, a power found only in sacrificial, unconditional, forgiving, unrelenting love?

These stories remind us that this isn’t just true in philosophy, or theology, or theory.  

This is true in history.

This is just true.

Pledging allegiance to the Way of Love will always outlast the powers that pledge allegiance to the way of force.

As Saul of Tarsus, an early Christian sage, put it, “Love never fails.”  And that allegiance got him killed.    But the empire that killed him eventually fell while the Way of Love he proposed continues to endure.

Maybe it’s true.

Love.

Never fails.