When one looks at current political strategies around the world, it seems that thoughts about traumas guide motives and actions. "Never again 9/11," say many Americans. "Never again defenseless," say Israelis. And in the countries of Europe, "Never again war" is what is on most minds.

Responses to the idea of war with Iraq stem from recent events in the case of the US, and from horrifying events in the past in the case of Israel and Europe. In the question of national identity, the Holocaust presents a paramount trauma for the government of Israel, leading to a hardline stance against the Palestinians. The Second World War, with its tens of millions of lives lost, is still present in the hearts and minds of people who experienced it—and also with younger people who have learned about the difficult past in nations such as Germany. And it is present tangibly, for example, in that "dead bombs" are still occasionally found in France, Germany, and Great Britain. So you could say that the US, Israel, and the European Union represent individual units, all guided by history and experience.

Like other dictatorial governments of the world, Iraq has been a direct threat to its neighbors and an indirect threat to the world for years. Also, Iraq is strategically of paramount importance when it comes to securing relative peace in the Middle East and to ensuring access to oil in the Gulf region. And Western leaders—European and even more so American—have dealt with Iraq over the years in different ways. It's not surprising that ways of dealing with this threat differ now, too. Whereas US officials have pushed toward military action against Saddam Hussein, France and Germany have been preparing an alternative plan to bring thousands of blue-helmeted United Nations soldiers into Iraq to support the work of weapons inspectors and promote reform of the country from within. They want to transform Iraq into a UN protectorate, without war.

All this said, it appears risky to live together on one planet with difficult and sometimes threatening neighbors. The world is not black and white, with the good guys here, the bad guys there. Human life is precious "here" and "there," and the world is becoming smaller as people understand this better. Jesus' words "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" (Mark 12:31) are significant in this regard.

One of the main justifications for an invasion of Iraq seems to be to ensure safety for many, especially for those who feel more vulnerable than before 9/11. But then again people worldwide are terribly concerned about the ordinary people of Iraq, who are suffering already from despotism and food shortages. Nor are many people quick to overlook the fact that almost the same number of Afghan civilians were killed in the war in Afghanistan as died in the attack on the World Trade Center. Are not these civilian victims to be weighed against each other? they ask.

I have not forgotten a thought exchange that appeared in this magazine, which took place just hours after the terrorist attacks in New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania on September 11, 2001, when the whole world was in shock. I remember that I had not been able to think and function properly that week, trying to regain peace, to find a quiet place for my fearful and shocked heart. In that exchange, one of the speakers was quoted as saying, "To respond to something like this with fear, anger, or retaliation is just to enter right into the cycle of terrorism" (October 8, 2001, p. 15).

"How to respond properly," I thought then—and I think now. Three modes of reaction to evil done, or threatened to be done, are indeed fear, anger, and retaliation. A fourth one would be to refrain from feeding fear, anger, or retaliation. To approach the situation by trying to see it more as God does—seeing men and women in more spiritual terms. "A bullet in a man's heart never settles the question of his life," wrote Mary Baker Eddy (The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, p. 277).

Fear, anger, retaliation—as reflected in the traumas that guide official government actions and national consciousness—can be counteracted and overcome by a very powerful force, by the ultimate antidote. This antidote is from heaven, not earth. It is Life—God calling us and helping us all to move from ethically good motives to spiritual motives, from mere fair play to more broad-based justice, from nationalistic emotion to humanitarian affection. The activity of prayer is already at work in our world, slowly, but steadily. Through the desire to know and do the will of God, people are helping the world's nations grow together and make up their minds about the issues of good and evil, about cross-cultrual threats and global unity.

"Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God," the Apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Christian church at Rome (Rom. 12:2). This is what, I believe, every individual, every nation, is invited to do: to look at life from the standpoint of transformation. To measure life in terms of renewed, improved thought. For this leads to the only healing and saving viewpoint there is, to the only refuge and lasting solution. It leads to "that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God." At stake is not simply the fate of individuals but also our world. I can hear Paul speaking about the goodness and supremacy of this God of love, bearing witness to an inner movement that is essentially, absolutely, spiritual. Whatever events happen in the months to come, and however history will judge those events there is something higher and bigger and better, moving beyond and above religions, denominations, cultures—moving beyond bad guys and good guys, and asserting its absolute supremacy.

After quoting Psalm 97—"'The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice'"—Mary Baker Eddy commented: "No evidence before the material senses can close my eyes to the scientific proof that God, good, is supreme. Though clouds are round about Him, the divine justice and judgment are enthroned. Love is especially near in times of hate, and never so near as when one can be just amid lawlessness, and render good for evil" (Miscellaneous Writings 1883—1896, p. 277). In this same spirit, it is up to the individual whether her or his life is bearing witness to this high standard of thinking and working and acting. What this could mean for nations and governments, I do not dare to estimate. But I know that taking God into account is important—it will purify our motives and deepen our love, strengthening our respect for the dignity of each human being. And it will support our common desire to "be just amid lawlessness."