A Prophet with Honor

by William C. Martin

  Whatever the President and Vice-President thought, the State Department adamantly opposed Graham’s participation in the conference, fearing his appearance and comments would be used to stir public opinion against American plans for a significant increase in missile deployment, a measure designed to force the Soviets to begin serious disarmament negotiations. Both Arthur Hartman and William Wilson, U.S. ambassador to the Vatican, repeatedly importuned Haraszti to urge Graham to rescind his acceptance. “Whatever he says,” they contended, “will be good for the Russians.” During Haraszti’s repeated visits to the Vatican (“Just about every time I went to Moscow,” he blithely explained, “I also went to Rome”) Wilson “warned me, begged me, cajoled me, in no uncertain terms,” always claiming that the State Department and the President himself opposed Graham’s going to Moscow, but always stopping short of stating, in so many words, that the President had specifically authorized him to tell Graham not to go. Haraszti dutifully reported what both ambassadors had told him, but Graham stood firm. “If the President is so [dead set] against it,” he said, “he’s welcome to tell me. But until and unless I hear it in person from him, I will not accept coded messages.” Unquestionably, the simple desire to preach in the Soviet Union played a role in Graham’s decision to press on. In retrospect, however, he insisted that his controlling motive was to draw attention to his increasing commitment to the avoidance of nuclear war. “I had started speaking out against nuclear weapons and calling for the elimination of all weapons of mass destruction, whether chemical or nuclear, but it was never in the press. So I decided the only way I could make my statement known was to accept the invitation to come to the peace conference in Moscow. ‘Then they will listen to me,’ I thought.”

  Whatever other motives may have been operating, Graham’s assertion that he wanted to draw attention to his increased concern for peace was not an ex post facto rewriting of history. At least as early as 1963, he allowed that he would be in favor of universal nuclear disarmament, but that was an occasional and quite lightly sounded note. More typical were his reminders that Christ had described himself as one who brings fire and bears a sword, and that Christians and other freedom-loving people must also stand ready to bear a sword against any who would try to destroy their families or their country. No single event was responsible for what would be a notable shift in tone and emphasis, but several Graham associates observed that he seemed to regard issues of peace and disarmament in a new light after his early visits to Eastern Europe, particularly after his 1978 pilgrimage to Auschwitz, where the meaning of the Holocaust burned itself into his consciousness. In addition, said one man who had accompanied him on the tour of Poland, “He saw that the commitment of [Eastern European] religious leaders for peace and reconciliation was serious.”

  A few months after the Polish tour, when the World Council of Churches began to call for approval of the new SALT II accords, Graham added his voice to their chorus. “The people of the U.S. want peace,” he observed, as do the people of China and the Soviet Union. “Why can’t we have peace?” He conceded that defenses were necessary “to keep madmen from taking over the world and robbing the world of its liberties” but noted that he had begun to take a new view of nuclear weapons. Moreover, he observed, it seemed his fellow Evangelicals were beginning to share his concerns—the Southern Baptist Convention had passed resolutions calling for multilateral nuclear disarmament and support of SALT II. Perhaps they had reached the same conclusion he had: “I didn’t really give it the thought that I should have given it in my earlier years, but I have come to the conviction that this is the teaching of the Bible.” While denying he was a pacifist and insisting he did not favor unilateral disarmament, he flatly declared, “I’m in favor of disarmament. I’m in favor of trust. I’m in favor of having agreements, not only to reduce but to eliminate. Why should any nation have atomic bombs? As I look back—I’m sure many people will disagree with me on this—but as I look back, I think Truman made a mistake in dropping that first atomic bomb. I wish we had never developed it.” In short, he seemed to be saying communism might be bad, but not so bad as to risk global annihilation to stop it. “I have seen,” he said, “that we must seek the good of the whole human race, and not just the good of any one nation or race.”

  From these beginnings, Graham began to call for “SALT 10,” a leapfrogging over the small incremental gains that might be won in a series of arms-limitation talks to “the bilateral, verifiable eradication of all nuclear, biochemical and laser weapons used for mass destruction.” Noting that “we are spending a million dollars a minute on armaments all over the world” while “people are hungry and starving in Somalia and other places,” he raised reasonable questions: “Have we gone mad? Are we seeking the genocide of the whole human race? . . . Suppose we were spending that much for food?” Such statements began to crop up not only in press interviews but also in crusade sermons, but that was different from voicing them in a setting organized and controlled by America’s most formidable rival, and Graham was hesitant. “Ruth and I prayed about it, of course, and I vacillated quite a bit as to whether or not I should go. I called a number of friends, including Mr. Nixon, Henry Kissinger, people like that, and asked their opinions.” Nixon, who had surprised the world by reestablishing ties with the People’s Republic of China, pondered the matter for several days, then called to tell him, “Billy, you know I believe in taking big risks. This is a big risk, but I believe that in the long run it will be for the benefit of the gospel that you preach. You’ll be criticized, but take the long view.” Kissinger also approved and even helped with the speech he eventually delivered at the conference. “But the thing that finally turned it for me,” Graham said, “was the Bible.” Getting up to select a Phillips translation of Paul’s epistles from a row of Bibles on a bookshelf, he turned to the ninth chapter of I Corinthians. “The Apostle Paul’s experience has been a key to my decisions on this sort of thing,” he explained. “When he had a doubt as to where he should go and how he should handle himself, he said, ‘I have, in short, been all things to all sorts of men that by every possible means I might win some to God. I do all this for the sake of the Gospel; I want to play my part in it properly.’” He closed the book and said with utter conviction, “Those verses have been the key to a great deal of what I have done in my life. I decided I was going to do my very best to preach the gospel in Eastern Europe or China or wherever else, whatever government they have. I never had a doubt from the moment I made the decision that the Lord was with me in this.”

  The decision made, Graham and his colleagues carefully drafted a letter of acceptance, which Haraszti delivered to Filaret and the Soviet Baptist leaders with strict instructions that it not be announced until Graham had a chance to prepare his supporters and the public for the news, and to work out several tricky scheduling problems. One such problem was extricating himself from a series of addresses at college campuses in New England. He managed that by postponing part of the appearances until after the conference and by using the rest to draw wide public attention to his still-developing views, with the result that his trip to Moscow would not be a complete surprise to either his supporters or his critics. His announced topic for full-house appearances at Harvard, MIT, Boston College, Northeastern, the University of Massachusetts, Dartmouth, and Yale was “Peace in a Nuclear Age,” and at some campuses his appearance coincided with an antinuclear effort known as Ground Zero Week. Students at some gatherings were disappointed that he seemed to use nuclear issues simply as a ploy for segueing into a standard crusade address. (At UMass, he received a standing ovation at the beginning but not at the end, and some students walked out when he shifted into evangelistic gear, and at MIT, students were stunned when he proclaimed that lasting peace could never be achieved until Christ returned to inaugurate the millennium.) Still, he made an impression. To be sure, his message was far from radical, but it was equally far from the hawkish sentiments with which he had long been associated. He plu
mped repeatedly for “SALT 10,” and, at Yale, even endorsed Ground Zero. “You and I,” he told the Elis, “have a responsibility to work for the poor, the needy, the starving of the world. And also for peace now.” At Harvard he not only denounced the arms race but called for an end to South African apartheid, racial discrimination anywhere in the world, and “American exploitation of a disproportionate share of the world’s resources.” The response was gratifying. An unlikely ally, the Christian Century, observed that Graham “has used his prestige to announce his opposition to the arms race. He obviously does this out of conviction, not for ego enhancement, as some of his secular critics assume.” Other socially liberal churchmen who remembered his reluctance to criticize the war policies of Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon praised his new stance. Harvard theologian Harvey Cox gave him credit for having the courage to take a position sure to be unpopular with many of his conservative supporters, and Will Campbell declared, “I once accused him of being the court prophet to Richard Nixon, but I have to say, he’s God’s prophet now.”

  A second scheduling problem gave Graham another opportunity to score important points before leaving for Moscow. He had been named recipient of the prestigious Templeton Award, given to persons who had made outstanding contributions to religion—other winners have included Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, and Mother Teresa—and was slated to receive the award from Prince Philip in London on May 9, the same date he was scheduled to preach in the Orthodox and Baptist churches in Moscow. He was able to get the date of the award presentation shifted, a circumstance Haraszti used to good advantage in his conversation with the Russians. He told them Billy Graham was a man of his word who would stick by his commitment to come to Moscow, even if it meant giving up the $200,000 that came with the prize, a revelation that stunned the Russians, particularly after Haraszti informed them Graham would donate the money to charity and various evangelistic efforts. But also, he noted, the evangelist had been received at Buckingham Palace and had visited with the Queen of England many times, whereas he had not yet met President Brezhnev even once. Did Graham expect to see Brezhnev, the Russians asked? That, Haraszti replied, would be up to Soviet authorities; as a guest, Graham would not dream of making any demands. Still, Brezhnev had received Muhammad Ali, and it did seem that Billy Graham represented far more people than Ali, whether one used American citizens or world Christians as the relevant constituency.

  In late March Filaret’s office and BGEA released news of Graham’s intention to participate in the peace conference. Against Haraszti’s strong pleadings, the BGEA release, picked up and relayed to the Soviet Union by the Voice of America and Radio Free Europe, announced that Graham would preach in the patriarchal Cathedral of the Epiphany at eleven o’clock on May 9, the Sunday morning prior to the conference, and in the Baptist church at six o’clock that evening. The Soviets had strongly urged that the dates and times not be publicized lest the crowds be so large as to be either dangerous or simply embarrassing to the state, and thus ultimately troublesome for the churches. But Graham, revealing an apparent belief that believers can bombard heaven with pinpoint precision, insisted that “I just cannot tell the American public that I will preach in Moscow and not tell them when, because they won’t know when to pray for me.” Not surprisingly, the Russian announcement contained no mention of appearances outside the conference, and when a wire-service reporter in Moscow checked with both churches, he received the same response: “We know nothing about it.” In both cases, Haraszti explained, church leaders had routed the calls to low-ranking members who could honestly profess ignorance of the entire matter. Embarrassed, Graham wanted to release the text of the invitation to the press, but Haraszti prevailed against that notion, convincing him that publicizing the confidential document would result in withdrawal of the invitation and would destroy his credibility with both church and government leaders in the Soviet orbit. Eventually, Graham agreed to a brief statement that simply reaffirmed the truth of the first release and indicated no further comment would be forthcoming.

  The gaffe left its mark. When Graham’s party arrived at the Moscow airport on Friday afternoon, a troubled Alexei Bychkov, the Baptist leader, explained to Haraszti that the plans had changed. Instead of preaching at the Baptist church on Sunday evening, as part of a scheduled five-hour visit, Graham would preach at the 8:00 A.M. service. He would then rush to the Orthodox church, whose service would already be in progress, and deliver a brief message. The evening period would be devoted to a visit to the publishing department of the Orthodox Church, to allow the American evangelist to see for himself that Bibles and other religious materials could be printed in the Soviet Union. Haraszti protested vigorously, but to no avail. The new schedule would stand.

  Graham’s insistence on announcing his preaching schedule had offended the government. On the day after his arrival, he gave equal offense to the Orthodox Church, though he did not realize it until after he left Russia. The evangelist was informed on Saturday morning that he was to go immediately to a meeting with Georgi Arbatov, director of the U.S. Canada Institute, a member of the Central Committee of the Communist party and a confidant of Yuri Andropov, who had succeeded Brezhnev as leader of the Soviet government. Graham and his colleagues thought it awkward that his first official visit would be with a secular leader, since he was a guest of the Orthodox Church, but the Arbatov contact was a good one and they decided not to question the instruction. In fact, Orthodox leaders viewed Arbatov’s first-strike offensive as a blatant attempt to upstage the Church, and they fumed quietly throughout the week at what they took to be a callously opportunistic slight on Graham’s part.

  After preliminary pleasantries, Arbatov gave a long presentation about the need and the prospects for world peace, and particularly about Soviet concern over America’s continuing buildup and deployment of missiles. Graham countered with his own concern for peace and his now-standard SALT 10 proposal. Then, as he did in all his meetings with Eastern bloc leaders, the Christian diplomat shared his belief that the only true peace was peace with God and bore witness to his own belief in the transforming power of Jesus Christ. Arbatov, an intelligent and sophisticated internationalist, listened attentively, with no hint of how he felt about what he was hearing. When the three-hour visit ended, he told Graham he hoped they would visit again. Graham leapt at the bait: “Now that we know each other and have become friends, why don’t you call me Billy?” Not overly eager to lose control of the situation, Arbatov responded, “Of course, my name would be George. But why don’t we wait till next time?” Graham had no choice but to accede, which he did with grace; he also promised that when he returned to the United States, he would give a thorough report of their conversation to the President.

  Throughout the rest of the visit, a deputy of Arbatov’s stuck so close by Graham’s side that he became a source of considerable irritation to Billy and his associates, as well as to a Baptist official who jockeyed with him constantly to see who could stand closer whenever a camera pointed in the evangelist’s direction. At times Graham grew almost desperate to rid himself of his uninvited companions, but lack of certainty over exactly whom they represented and what authority they possessed left him with little alternative but to follow the example of the Apostle Paul and regard them as thorns in the flesh which he must bear for the gospel’s sake. Despite this irritation, he felt confident the meeting with Arbatov had opened a wide door for his ministry. Unable to sleep that night, he called Haraszti to his room at 2:00 A.M. “Alex,” he said, “I feel that I’m in the will of God. I feel that my present visit will have an effect upon the fate of our two nations, and also upon the fate of mankind.” Haraszti readily agreed. This was the beginning, he felt, of Evangelicalism’s penetration of the Soviet Union. “Other people write history,” he said. “We are making history.”

  Despite such high expectations, the long-awaited day of triumph, when Billy Graham would finally preach Christ in the capital of communism, was, quit
e simply, a fizzle. Exhausted and still suffering from jet lag, he was pulled out of bed early Sunday morning and trundled over to the Baptist church. The unannounced change and the early hour, when public transportation was limited, short-circuited the development of an unwieldy crowd. As a further control, entrance to the service was by government-approved passes dispensed by Baptist leaders, with at least some direction from state officials. Of nearly 1,000 people present for the service, only about one third were from the church; another third were reporters and delegates from the peace conference, and the remainder were “outsiders,” generally conceded to contain an undetermined but probably substantial contingent of KGB security personnel. (Questioned later about the presence of KGB agents at the service, Graham said he hoped that was true: “Those are the kinds of people I’ve been trying to reach for a long time.”) Several hundred Soviet Evangelicals arrived late, but instead of being allowed to sit in normally open overflow rooms, they were kept behind barricades a block away, where they sang hymns to signal their presence, a bold gesture that could have led to their arrest under normal circumstances.