“Ozymandias,” written by Percy Bysshe Shelley, is my favorite poem. The inscription on the ruined statue lying in the empty wasteland reads: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:  Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” In the long run, empire and all the power in the world meant nothing. The great king was long forgotten, his empire turned out to be an illusion, and the only remaining memory of either was the crumbled remains of a statue said to exist by a mysterious traveler.

Likewise, among my favorite popular songs are those about failure, such as Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida.” The latter tells the story of a king suddenly fallen from nearly almighty power who now has to hide out in order to survive. The revolutionaries who’ve taken over aren’t interested in keeping around a relic of the previous government. “Hallelujah” touches on David and Sampson falling from grace, failures in love, and crises of faith, ultimately concluding: “And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.”

Macbeth enjoyed a brief and bloody reign as a tyrant, confident of the security of his station by the witches’ prophecy that “none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.”  His hubris, as well as he himself, are short-lived, though, as Macduff – “from his mother’s womb Untimely ripp’d” – gets his revenge for his wife and household who were slain by Macbeth. One might, however, have more sympathy for Hamlet, haunted by the past but reluctant to do his bloody duty. On the other hand, this Shakespearean hero, though fallen in his efforts, is ultimately a success story.

King Priam was compelled to beg Achilles, killer of his son Hector, for the return of the latter’s mutilated body, and this shortly before the fall of his great kingdom. This story, told in the Iliad, is yet another great king brought down to the dust in humility.

Failure is a central theme of the great literature both of the present and of past ages. It is appropriate then, that the story of Jesus is one of failure. Jesus was the God that failed. As the promised Messiah that came to redeem Israel, he ended up killed by his own people. But more than this, as the greatest philosopher of all time, he died an obscure teacher in some barbaric corner of history’s greatest (and in the end, failed) empire.

The story of Jesus is the greatest tragedy I’ve ever been privileged to read. He taught peace, and sought to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to mankind by teaching them nonresistance. Men would give to the poor and refuse to seek revenge for the wrongs committed against them. This was the gospel of love. Unlike other fallen heroes, Jesus both taught a good philosophy and lived it. In fact, living his own philosophy was his fall: His refusal to fight back against his enemies left him easy prey, and they arranged for him to be tortured and killed in one of the cruelest manners imaginable.

His death however, was mere metaphor for the greater failure. The true tragedy has been the perversion of his teachings since his death. A modern Christian would consider ridiculous the idea of taking seriously and literally the teachings in the Sermon on the Mount. Modern Christianity embodies fanatical soldier worship (the very profession whose practitioners nailed Jesus to the cross), the seeking of wealth, and derision and abuse of the poor. In short, the very things Jesus spent his life preaching against. The horrific irony is that those who call themselves followers of the pacific moral teacher often titled the “prince of peace” sought (and continue to seek) violent revenge for a horrible attack that took place back in 2001 – revenge that involves killing hundreds of innocent civilians for each death in the original attack, and does so in various nations beyond the one accused of being instrumental in the attack.

Despite what Christ taught, Christianity is characterized by a thirst for blood.

Politically, Christians tend to fight against laws limiting the ownership of guns – they love their tools of murder – and against laws protecting the poor. This from the self-proclaimed disciples of one who taught peace and charity. Worship of state and wealth is substituted for worship of God. The gospel of love is now the gospel of guns and money.

This, more than his death in relative obscurity, is what makes Jesus the God that failed.

Yet his philosophy touches the hearts of those who truly understand it, and they can’t help but acknowledge its goodness, even if following it condemns them to failure as well. Two thousand years haven’t been sufficient to change the world into a humane place. How can a philosophy doomed to failure ring so true to the soul?

The only hope lies in the rest of the stories of failure. If the mighty always fall, who but the meek will be left to inherit the earth in the end? If that which starts with success always ends in failure, the failed but persistent philosophy of egalitarian peace must emerge triumphant in the end. Tolstoy taught that this was the natural and inevitable progression of the human race. Indeed, though still not a humane place, much of the world is much more humane than it once was, and this despite the protestations of Christians.

One cannot count on the inevitable fall of the American Empire – whenever that will occur – to bring the long hoped-for peace and end of poverty to the world. In fact, it is likely that it will be replaced by something far worse than what it is now. Nonetheless, humanity marches on, and we hope that despite any stumbling we’re still on the path toward the destination we seek. In the meantime I’ll continue worshipping the God that failed. To follow in his footsteps, to learn to love, to strive for peace and equality among humanity, and to fail alongside him would be a great honor.

One must continue to strive, even without the vision of success that we pretend to foresee.

But I still hope Tolstoy was right.

“And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.” (Revelation 11:7-9)

I've been reading Tolstoy's "The Kingdom of God is Within You." Although taken as a whole his teachings are opposed to the Church (whether by that word one refers to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Catholic Church, or one of the various Protestant churches), his main thesis of pacifism is quite compelling. Ironically, a notable portion of mainstream Christianity has adopted the anti-church portion of his philosophy while rejecting the aforementioned main thesis of his work. Indeed we should freely take what is true from anyone's teachings while discarding the false (and holding no malice toward anyone for simply being mistaken), but I find the rejection of an organized church -- while appealing to the antiauthoritarian mind -- to be untenable, while some degree of nonviolence was an obvious part of Christ's teachings. Nonviolence combined with the other aspects of charity taught in the Sermon on the Mount are so important, in fact, that were followers of the anti-church philosophies to accept and live according to them, I would be inclined to believe that they were more likely candidates of salvation than the member of the Church who rejected said teachings (though it is my fervent hope that God will somehow be able to provide salvation for most, if not all, of humanity).

That a church, in the sense of there being at least some recognized authorities, was left behind by Christ seems clear both historically and scripturally. Christ's statement to Peter about the rock may not alone be sufficient to prove that the Church as we know it was divinely established, but the fact that apostolic epistles containing both doctrinal instructions and specific commandments were sent out to various congregations of believers seems to imply a general recognition of certain authorities within the faith. Tolstoy seems to reject the equivalency of Acts and the epistles to the gospels -- as well he should: are not the words of God Himself greater than those even of his spokesmen the prophets and apostles? -- but at the very least they give us a clue into the understanding of those who were closest to the Savior, including his witnesses and those who knew those witnesses personally. Without an additional revelation from heaven these men are our best sources for knowledge of what Christ taught, for surely not every act of His is recorded in the gospels. We know from the first chapter of Acts that from the beginning they called new men to the apostleship. We know from Paul's writings to Timothy that there were bishops, and from his writings to the Corinthians that there were a variety of vocations, presumably in some sort of hierarchy.

We cannot get much further from reason alone. One may come to a knowledge of Christ and believe in his heart the teachings of the Son of God, but when he looks around there is a myriad of organizations professing to be Christ's. He may see that the Roman Catholic Church appears to be the oldest, and decide that it must be the one telling the truth. He may sympathize with the protestants that the Catholic Church fell away from the true principles, or with the Latter-day Saints that if the Catholic Church fell, we are not permitted to rebuild ourselves without a revelation from God. Even were I convinced that my reasoning thus far were entirely accurate, I must be obliged to admit that reasoning alone could carry me no further. Perhaps God chose not to provide proofs to demonstrate which Church, if any, is the true one, because now that reason has taught us about faith, we should no longer rely on reason alone. It is therefore up to the conscience of the individual seeker of truth to learn what he can, and then turn to God in hopes of receiving an answer from Him.

However, assuming we have rejected the anti-church stance, and perhaps other Tolstoyan doctrines such as complete non-participation in government, must we completely reject his philosophy? The answer is a resounding no: As I previously stated, we should welcome all that is good from any source it may come. Which of his teachings and to what degree one accepts them is up to individual conscience. I will speak from my point of view, since I am not qualified to speak for anyone else's, which will be a discussion of nonviolence from a Latter-day Saint perspective. Writers from other Christian faiths may, or may have already, expressed similar ideas from a perspective corresponding to their own Church's teachings.

Terms like "Zion" and "the United Order" clearly don't refer to any of the present governments in the world, yet Latter-day Saints are instructed to participate in government. Government belongs to God, yet because we have rejected God's government, in His mercy He has allowed us to establish our own less than perfect governments so that we would not suffer complete lawlessness. See John Taylor's "Government of God" for a more thorough treatment of this. In this sense we owe our allegiance to worldly government in a similar sense that the children of Israel owed obedience to the Law of Moses: as a second best to us who are unworthy of all God has to offer. However, our allegiance is owed only to the degree that government doesn't require us to break our obligations to God's law, as was demonstrated by the story of Daniel. In this sense we agree with Tolstoy that human government is not God's ultimate will, but we diverge from his doctrine in admitting that we the wicked must first obey the schoolmaster before the Kingdom of God can be established in its political as well as spiritual entirety. Hence the teachings that we are to thoughtfully and prayerfully participate in elections and general civic involvement. I personally vote as long as there's someone worth voting for, but I entirely refuse to vote for the "lesser of two evils" as that dichotomy leaves us choosing evil in some form or another.

Government and civic involvement is a side issue, however. If we are to talk of government, we must attend to the aspect most closely related to Tolstoy's main thesis: military service. The history of the one time state military service was explicity requested of the saints provides an interesting case study. Five hundred men at Brigham Young's request took part in the Mormon Battalion. This service was considered a practical necessity for the church, but the key in this case was that upon being asked to serve they were promised "that their only fighting would be with wild beasts." It is interesting that when the saints were asked to perform military service, they were promised that they would not have to engage in violence.

The Church is necessarily vague on its teachings of nonviolence with respect to the military. It's not necessary to speak out in a detailed message, because the teachings of Christ as recorded in the gospels are clear. Indeed, it is better to be welcoming to all, even those in the military, that salvation might be provided to all. It is better that they accept as much of Christ's law as they can in their current condition, and build on it "precept upon precept; line upon line" than not accept any of it at all. Additionally, the Church has repeatedly expressed, as in a First Presidency Statement in 1942, that those who take the lives of others in combat under the direction of those in command will not be subject to the penalty God has disposed for those who kill. However, we must remember that not being subject to a penalty is not the same as receiving the blessing corresponding to keeping a commandment. There are, and always have been, degrees of expectations corresponding to particular abilities, such as the Law of Moses versus the higher expectations in the Sermon on the Mount. Likewise we are blessed for keeping the law of tithing, but we don't expect the same blessings as we would receive if we kept the law of consecration in its fullness. That to kill for the military may be justifiable in some cases doesn't mean that it's not better not to kill at all. Indeed, the same First Presidency Statement cited Doctrine and Covenants 98:16 -- "Therefore, renounce war and proclaim peace" -- saying:

"Thus the Church is and must be against war. The Church itself cannot wage war, unless and until the Lord shall issue new commands. It cannot regard war as a righteous means of settling international disputes; these should and could be settled -- the nations agreeing -- by peaceful negotiation and adjustment."

In a 1945 statement against universal military service, the First Presidency stated many potential ill effects of military service, including: "We shall give opportunity to teach our sons not only the way to kill but also, in too many cases, the desire to kill, thereby increasing lawlessness and disorder to the consequent upsetting of the stability of our national society. God said at Sinai, 'Thou shalt not kill.'" The same message protested strongly against the creation of a large standing military as a threat to our liberties, a temptation to wage war, an obstacle to peace, and a heavy tax burden on the people. I would venture to say that we have seen this come true in its entirety with our present military establishment. The message concluded saying, "Should it be urged that our complete armament is necessary for our safety, it may be confidently replied that a proper foreign policy, implemented by an effective diplomacy, can avert the dangers that are feared. What this country needs and what the world needs, is a will for peace, not war. God will help our efforts to bring this about."

The Book of Mormon also spends a lot of discussion on the topic of war. The Nephites, contrary to Tolstoy's teachings, believed that war in self defense is justified. They did not, however, believe in revenge or "pre-emptive war." Indeed, they only defended themselves from Lamanite attackers on their own lands, and when those attackers withdrew or surrendered, they were allowed to leave without any sort of penalty or show trials for war crimes. At the point when they finally engaged in "preventive war" in chapter three of Mormon -- "the Nephites ... began to swear before the heavens that they would avenge themselves of the blood of their brethren who had been slain by their enemies. And ... that they would go up to battle against their enemies and would cut them off from the face of the land." -- the Lord withdrew from them and by the following generation they had been completely destroyed. Hopefully our reaction to the events of September 2001 are not an accurate parallel.

Interestingly, the group of pacifists mentioned in the Book of Mormon -- the "Ammonites" -- are thought of as being especially righteous. When converted to the gospel, they lived an even higher law than the Nephites, preferring to be killed rather than engage in violence. Even they were not Tolstoyan in their beliefs, however, being willing to pay taxes for the support of a defensive military that would protect them.

Yes, Tolstoy's doctrine conflicts with the Church. This does not, however, mean that it should be rejected wholesale. Those aspects of it not in direct conflict with the Church merit further examination, and upon detailed study show themselves to reflect a higher law whose application has not often been expected of the general body of self-proclaimed Christians, but which has always been followed by a more faithful minority. There are indeed degrees of righteousness: The rich young man that asked Jesus what he lacked had kept all of the commandments, but still fell short of Christ's ideal of perfection. "All men cannot receive this saying," said Jesus, reminding us that humanity naturally falls short of his commandments. For this reason we need to forgive others. The truly charitable Christian will apply the commandments to himself as strictly as they are written (and, of course, be willing to explain his behavior so that others may learn as well), but be willing to accept, without condemning, a much broader range of behaviors from his neighbors.