Praying Through The Fog Of War | April 12, 2026

In this episode, we start with Iran in the headlines and then pull the camera back to something smaller and more personal: an Iranian student in an Oklahoma high school, far from home, carrying a life we barely understood. That memory becomes a challenge to how we talk about conflict, national security, and “winning” while ordinary families on every side try to survive the day. 

From there, we face the fog of war and the uncomfortable truth that certainty often outpaces knowledge. Even the people closest to the action rarely see the whole picture, and fast media can amplify confidence without adding wisdom. We ask what a Catholic view of war requires from citizens and leaders: humility, moral clarity, and a willingness to question whether policies pursued in our name actually serve the common good. 

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Father Don Wolf is a priest of the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City. Living Catholic also broadcasts on Oklahoma Catholic Radio several times per week, with new episodes airing every Sunday.

Transcript

War Still Shapes The Moment

SPEAKER_00 0:04

This is Living Catholic with Father Dumble.

Remembering An Iranian Classmate

The Human Life Behind Headlines

Why War Always Feels Unclear

The Pope’s Warning About War

Scripture On Power And Blindness

When Weapons Become Abstract

Praying For Enemies And Justice

A Poem On Limited Vision

Prayer As The Center

SPEAKER_01 0:19

Welcome, Oklahoma, to Living Catholic. I'm Monsignor Don Wolfe, pastor of Sacred Heart Parish and rector of the shrine of Blessed Stanley Rother. And as we stand here just after Easter, war is still a part of our national conversation. Our ongoing hostilities with Iran still loom large in the politics of the moment. It seems to be a national story that isn't going away anytime soon. I suppose that's only logical. We have, after all, been intimately involved with the government and governance of Iran for the last 80 years or so. What goes on there now is a logical continuance of that involvement, even if it's more violent and outright than it than what has taken place in the past. It would appear we'll be talking about this issue for a good long time to come. One of my acquaintances in high school was an Irani student named Chosuro. He went by the nickname Saum and was in my English and analytical geometry classes. I went to school at Western Heights, which has never been a place of international repute or of wide learning. It sat on the west side of Oklahoma County amid the wheat fields and cattle pastures that were still common there then. Having a student from another continent was notable in a place where kids were more normally measured by which side of the street they lived on or whether they knew their way around the football field or not, rather than being from across the ocean. We talked from time to time, and I helped him out when I could. His English was pretty shaky, and he struggled to get along in school. We didn't hang out or anything like that. Once classes were out, he went off to his life and Ida mine until the classes reconvened the next day. I imagine that if he were to come to the farm where I grew up, he'd be wondering what bizarre fate had landed him in such a place, even as the rest of us at my house would have been asking ourselves what kind of guy like him was doing in our neighborhood. But it was an example of the times. In the early 70s, we were becoming aware of the Persian presence among us, even if it was foreign and strange to us. Of course, I knew nothing of his parents or his situation. It seemed to be the case that he lived with a group of young guys like himself who'd been sent to the U.S. without a lot of direction or planning. But he wasn't very communicative about himself and what was going on with him, so I never really knew much about how he got along. And come to think of it, it was that way with most of my classmates. The more I've come to know about them post-high school, the more I re the more I realized I never knew them at all when I was there in high school. Certainly my ignorance was highlighted by the distance to be covered in our relationship with one another, I and Joshro. My world and his world were different. And all of this was before cheap communication and easy connections, so I'm sure he suffered terribly from homesickness. Plus, he had to put up with all the rest of us who had no idea of his culture or language or customs, not to mention any awareness of how strange we might have seemed to him. After all, my high school was a place where there were no African Americans and almost no Hispanics. A student from the Middle East, speaking with a notable accent, stood out, and not in a charming way. But we all mostly got along, and I liked him, and I think he liked me. After the Carter years and the turning upside down of the politics of Iran, I often wondered what happened to him. Being part of those who were educated in foreign lands would have made him a target of the new regime. Or who knows, he could have been an aspect of the revolutionary forces that sublimated the old regime. The politics of the moment was something beyond my kin. I always hoped that he made out well when the dust of the moment settled. Like most people in most places, I hope he got along with his life and the possibilities therein without too much difficulty or pain in all of the upset that followed his time in high school. Certainly, as he would be about the same age as I, he's in he's seen an entire age of change and struggle and upset in his country. I wonder what he wants, more than simply having things settle down and having the violence stop. More than that, I wonder what he sees as the situation in which we find ourselves, we in the US and he in Iran, if he is in Iran. Which is, of course, what most people do want. Before we consider the question of war and violence and regime change, we should pause to remember that the headlines and the video footage we pay attention to always take place in the foreground of our attention, while in the background are the lives and dramas and stories of the individuals who struggle to get along in their lives from day to day. When the bombs begin dropping and the ultimatums are delivered, they're not separate from the prospects of average people whose concerns are mostly to get through the day, provide for supper in the evening, and watch their kids and grandkids grow up. International diplomacy and superpower policies may grab our attention, but we should remember the guy in the street. And we should remember that in his mind, his life and his family and his future are just as important to him as ours are to us. It's easy to forget these most basic things when we begin thinking in terms of the phrases and mottos that surround our decisions and evaluations to the rest of the world. There's always another Hosuro to think about in the reign of bombs, terror, and accusations that fill our screens. As in all conflicts, this struggle is filled with a good deal of uncertainty. Uncertainty breeds differences of opinions and various pathways for the future, and these are highlighted by the costs of war and who has to bear them. Among us, this uncertainty is compounded by our almost complete lack of interest in the contexts and histories of our country, both in its diplomacy and official positions over the decades, as well as the jingoism and slogans that gather around every decision in each episode in the war. The off-sided fact that truth is the first casualty of war is blandly reassuring that none of us seems to know what's really going on. This ignorance extends in every direction and seems only to be leveraged by instantaneous media coverage. As in so many things, we'll have to wait to see what's really happening. That's nothing new, of course. In World War II, the famous war correspondent Ernie Pyle wrote about standing on the deck of a Navy cruiser during the invasion of Sicily. He and several army officers were watching the bombardment of the shore by the invading forces that were surrounding them, seeing only the dust raised by the shells hitting the surrounding hills, and noting the wakes in the water thrown up by the ships and the task force as they maneuvered. Pyle noted that in all of the movement and noise, nobody really much knew what was going on. One of the officers standing there said, I wish I was in New York so I'd know what was really happening. It was the correspondence way of noting how little the person on the scene actually knew of what was going on. Each person sees only the smallest part of the bigger scene. No one sees the whole picture all at once. It's even more confusing if we acknowledge if we acknowledge that not only does no one see what's happening when they're looking in front of them in the midst of battle, nobody really can know what's going on at the moment. Everybody has to wait until the details can flood in and the impact is truly felt in all of the options and permutations, and that they can be explored. Then we can know what's really happening. We could take a lesson from an exchange between a reporter and Zhou Enlai, the Chinese communist official during Mao's time. When he was asked what he thought of the French Revolution, Joe responded, It's too soon to tell. Of course, that's been, what, 250 years ago now? Not knowing is the norm. What's really happening is often lost to us. But we live in the right here and the right now. We have no other choice than to try to make sense of what we do and how we live in the moment as we are, doing and living. After all, those who are giving the orders as well as those who are fueling the airplanes and drawing up the plans are doing so in the present moment. They don't have the privilege of refined distance and careful perspective when they decide. They only have the decisions of the moment to make. And as they do, they are as subject to evaluation and criticism as any other person at any other time in history. On our side of this historical moment, we also have the obligation to wonder if the right policy is being pursued rightly and if we're understanding what's really happening in a manner appropriate to the situation. After all, what's going on in the skies above Iran is happening in our name and by those we have chosen. And even more profoundly, what takes place is a part of the story of the whole human family. All of us has the right to question if what's going on is good for the whole family or not. The Pope's come in for some criticism of his statement that, quote, God does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war because their hands are full of blood, unquote. This was in his address to the pilgrims in St. Peter's Square on Palm Sunday last. He stirred up quite a bit of controversy. Partly this was the case because he's an American, and the bombs being dropped and the explosions taking place have as their proximate cause the decision-making of the U.S. government. When he speaks, the note that sounds alongside of the words he says is a criticism of the governmental policies of his own people. That is to say, those words sound different when they come from the mouth of a man raised in the U.S. than if the identical words came from the mouth of someone from Argentina or from Austria or from Poland. Plus, these words sound different when the bombs are being dropped than they sound when a country opts for violence and destruction in less headline-grabbing ways than a series of bright explosions on the horizon. But amid all of the qualifications of the message, the Pope's words are apt. We don't even have to go deeply into the history of the development of the Vatican's positions on conflict, refined throughout the 20th century, in order to come, to become attentive to the pontiff's concerns. Why, we can turn even to John Adams, who wrote that, quote, power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak, and that it's doing God's service when it's violating all his laws, unquote. The Pope's not condemning the particular policies of one administration. He's commenting on the blindness inherent in all of those who make war, especially those who take the opportunity to visit violence on the weak and the suffering. His condemnation applies directly to every country and every place where power is exercised in violence. But of course, he was commenting directly on the news of the day, whose details filled the concerns and the imagination of every person in the square. This isn't a foreign concept from the scriptures. The Pope isn't simply making this up whole cloth. While there's no end of battles fought and wars and campaigns waged in the accounts from the Bible, there's also ample description of God's admonition to those who wield power. Whether by the edge of the sword or from the weight of coins, the ones who lean on those who have no one to defend them or no recourse, they are often blinded by the power of their convictions. God is most often concerned by that blindness. This is a lesson we all have to learn, and it's the point of John Adams's comment. The ones who are the least likely to know what's really happening are those who do not bear the weight of their policies or pay the price of their decisions. And in not knowing, it's easy to draw the conclusion about the justice of their policy or the rightness of their cause. One of the great themes of the prophets is the insulation of the rich from the harshness of the life they've created for everyone else. That's what the cry from Scriptures concerning those who feast splendidly every day or who lie on their beds of ivory is all about. Not that eating well is sinful or sleeping comfortably is wrong, but for those who do so and then make decisions for those who do not do so, who don't have enough to eat or sleep only on the ground, they often don't know what they're doing. They're blind. That's what we have to look out for. Not only are they blind to the truth of their world, which is a problem enough, they're also blind to the work of God. After all, to be blind means you can't see anything, not that you just can't see one thing. The prophetic insight is profound. Being unable to recognize the truth of the world today, you're not likely to be able to see the truth of the world to come, or to be more Jewish about it. If you don't see the world in all of its truth, you aren't seeing God, since God and God's law is at work in the world. And it's not just a matter of being insensitive or deaf to the cries of those who suffer. Not knowing what's happening among those who suffer is often not the case of willfully turning away from what you don't want to see. It's a matter of not knowing there is anything to see. No one is more blind than the one who doesn't know he's blind. So also the one who imagines he's seeing everything is the one who never pauses to look because he presumes there's nothing to look at. That's why the Pope's warning is not to condemn those who make war because they're perverse and condemned. It's a description of what's happened when we begin to exercise our power over the situations and circumstances of those who suffer our decisions. Once we begin to divide the world into those who are our friends and those who have become our enemies, there's often no middle ground for those whose views are more nuanced or more informed. Those who go to war can be blinded by their views and blinkered by their decisions. And the real suffering of those who bear the brunt of the tactics and movements of the armies and their weapons, they can be so distant and so removed that the tears of those who endure them are never seen. The war maker's strategy is often at a level that doesn't take into account the actual suffering on the ground as a product of the decisions and the actions that are taken. Perhaps an analog is helpful. When I was a student at Oklahoma State more than 50 years ago, I was reading an article one day in Aviation Weekly and Space Technology magazine. It was about a company and its work on a new munitions for the Air Force. The technical specifications and practical challenges of the project were described in detail, as well as the progress the company was making in meeting its obligations to produce this next generation weapon. As part of the description, the author included the fact that, of course, the munition was built with a specially designed plastic that surrounded the explosive warhead so that when it exploded, it would generate shrapnel upon detonation. This was important, the article concluded, because plastic shrapnel is translucent to X-rays and therefore can't be seen in a wound. The designers of the weapon wanted its user to vanquish the enemy it was fired at. At the same time, they wanted to cause as much pain and as much suffering as possible in order to make the weapon that much more effective. In the description of the technical marvel of this ordinance, there seemed to be no appreciation of its impact on the person who would suffer it. Unfortunately, that's an aspect of all those who choose destruction and death as instruments of action and policy. The decisions are focused on the likely achievements and results rather than on the wounds and pains of those who stand amid the fire and explosions of what actually happens as the decisions are being made and enacted. You might call it blindness by blast, and it's endemic to those who make war. By the way, the papal warning isn't limited to those who are dropping bombs here and now. All those who have been preparing for war are also involved. And those who've structured the sufferings of others as national policy, as well as those who have chosen to subvert and manipulate their neighbors, they are equally guilty. After all, to use the analogy from above, it's not just the engineers who draw up the blueprints of the weapons, who are translucent to responsibility. It's the policymakers and the beneficiaries of such arms who are also invisible to the probing truth of what is just and right. The Pope isn't condemning the prayers of those who pursue war, as if God turns his ears against those who go to war. God is the God of all, not only of the just, the good, the pure, and the poor. No, the prayers of war makers are not heard because their prayers are not those that God can grant, if they're directed only to vanquish and to subject. In short, if the prayers of the warmaker are that we might win and the other guy might lose, then it's a prayer that is incomplete and perhaps undoable. Of course, we all would hope that the prayers are that justice might be done and what is right and good be established. We pray that God's will might be realized amid all people and for all those who suffer the injustice of failed systems and the terror of ignoble hearts. Invoking God's help to protect our people from the dangers threatening them and establishing the measures of good governance and right living is a noble prayer. As G.K. Chesterton observed, the Christian goes to war not because of his hatred for the one in front of him, but for the love of the one who stands behind him, the one he protects. God is the God of battle and of victory, but so that the victory can be in pursuit of the virtues of peace and the ordered tranquility that brings good to all people. The irony of our situation and the tragedy of making war is that war makers are often the ones blinded to this pursuit and are the least able to note its achievement. History is full of those who've been unable to recognize their victory and celebrate their virtue, and therefore continue to battle long after the best victory is already realized. So, what's the solution to all of us? First of all, we should pray for an end to the fighting. This means an end to conflict and belligerence on all sides, not just one. We should also pray, according to Jesus' insistence, for the good of our enemies. We should pray that they are blessed and that they enjoy God's graces. And we do this not by pretending we don't have enemies, but by acknowledging them as those whose intentions are set against us and our good, they are our enemies, and praying that God's blessing is poured down upon them. Justice begins with holding the good of all in mind, not just of one or another of us. Our hands, lifted in prayer, should not be stained by the blood of those who have suffered, but we should marked by the calluses of those who have worked to make the world a place of blessing for all. We don't ignore our own needs, nor do we deprecate those who protect us, but we pray God's blessings and protection, and we entrust God's goodness for the defeat of evil and the righting of injustice. War is only the means to an end, and the sole purpose for making war must be the defense of good, the defeat of evil, and the insurance of the common good of all. The world is a dangerous place. It's full of those who long for the suffering of their enemies and the humiliation of their foes in any way possible. We live in a world in which we never simply begin at the beginning in any national decision as well. But instead, we're always turning a page to begin a new chapter, whose stories have its tendrils in the previous chapters and can be told only by reference to what's gone before. We're also burdened by incompleteness and temporaneity. We can never be sure our intentions are communicated and our decisions are enacted as we intended them. Even in the best of situations, we're left to do the best we can with what we have, and we all know we're seldom at our best. And the more people involved in the doing, the greater the likelihood of doing less than the best. All of these truths mitigates against a clear and easy solution to the problems of national policy and international actions. It's not easy to be a country and it's not straightforward being a people. Those truths are inescapable and incontrovertible. We shouldn't forget them. The Pope wants us to keep our eyes fixed on God's goodness and blessing as we recognize our own limitations and the fragility of our own humanity. We can become we can become so consumed in our blindness we don't notice when we begin to lose ourselves. Once our grip loosens, we face the prospect of not being able to find ourselves again. If for no Other reason than this danger, our prayer should be for the good of all and for the divine blessing poured on the whole of humanity as we seek the best version of justice that we can find. Back in just a moment. We imagine when we shall see all as it is, every part and each place, clearly so, each of our opinions would come as tis, be it high, medium, base, or low. All the world lying before us as one giant map, with each place assigned and designated, so our choices and our opinions would be apt and never a reason to be frustrated. Such is the fantasy that fills us always, a place we could never get to, never know. Still it has filled more than a few of our days, and still imagined, even if impossibly so. No, we struggle in this world fallen short, shrouded in darkness and insufficiency, an impossible dream, an armored fort, gathering our graze, our gaze in all its inefficiency. We long in truth for heaven's view, seeing all in one short look around, wish our world and options were made new, and we were built on more solid ground. But until they be so, we're left with here and now, decisions made and unmade as they are, among that which time and space will allow temporary, provisional, loose ajar. That's we imagine we can see all we begin to talk about prayer and its effect in our lives and are attentive to our responsibility to it, it's not an add-on or a supplement. It is the center part of who we are and what we are as those who honor God in our midst. In this Easter season, it's what we dedicate ourselves to. I hope in the weeks to come we can join together to continue to explore what it means to be living Catholic.

SPEAKER_02 24:38

Living Catholic is a production of the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City for Oklahoma Catholic Radio. To learn more, visit okr.org.