By January 1915, the world had been at war for almost four months. Schooled in the doctrines of Nelson and Wellington, generals had dreamed of swift breakthroughs, rapid advancement and vast encircling movements that would capture the capitals of Europe. Instead, massive opposing armies dug in along a thin corridor of ground that divided one side of the Continent from another. By 1915, the Great War had become a static war, characterised by trenches, barbed wire and seemingly incessant artillery bombardment. It was the first industrialised war of the twentieth century and it was fought on a scale, and with an intensity, past generations would not have thought possible.

As the new year dawned, the churches of the Allied nations summoned their congregations to prayer. Australian and New Zealand troops had barely begun their garrison duties in Egypt, and Gallipoli had not yet been thought of. Even so, everyone at home knew it was only a matter of time before their loved ones joined the fray. By 1915, the war had claimed the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers from across the British Empire. Our turn was coming.

The first Sunday that year saw fiery sermons right across the nation. Catholics and Baptists, Anglicans and Presbyterians pleaded the righteousness of the Empire’s cause and called young men to service. But the small Methodist congregation of Hay, in the New South Wales Riverina, found themselves listening to a different kind of address. At the outbreak of war, Hay’s Methodist minister, the Reverend Bernard Linden Webb declared himself a pacifist. Three months into the slaughter, his belief that war was wrong remained unshaken. ‘This war is not in keeping with our profession of Christianity,’ he thundered from the pulpit. ‘It is the outcome of materialism, worldliness, godlessness.’ 1

Reverend Webb called on his congregation to remember that Christ’s message was one of peace. And he reminded them of the terrible price they would pay for racing unthinkingly into conflict:

Science is being prostituted to the terrible business of making instruments of destruction; and thousands upon thousands of lives are being ruthlessly sacrificed . . . the days are coming when tales of blood and iron will no longer thrill us but sadden and disgust.2

Hay’s Methodist congregation found itself divided. Many thought their preacher’s views were ‘idealistic and impractical’, but not a few were swayed by his passionate advocacy of peace. Twice more Webb took to the pulpit to denounce the war Australia and the Empire were fighting. Hay was one of the first communities in Australia to openly debate the justice of a conflict that would eventually divide the nation. But the beginning of 1915 was still a long way from the bungled battle of the Somme or even the bloodletting of Gallipoli. Enthusiasm for the war was such that conservatives had not yet sought to impose conscription.

Fifteen young men from Webb’s parish joined up, almost 20 per cent of the congregation. Each new recruit left a father, mother or sibling behind to take the pews every Sunday morning. It says much about the man that so few of these families chose to stay away. Perhaps because this pacifist priest, resolutely opposed to war, attended the farewells for each and every one of those boys, waved them off at the railway station, and presented every one of them with a ‘lucky’ keepsake. Webb never placed his own principles above the welfare of the young men who now, more than ever, needed his strength, support and spiritual guidance. Nor did he avoid donating what he could to help the sick or wounded in their hour of need.

In time, the Great War claimed the lives of four lads from the congregation, and another nine were to become seriously sick or wounded, some returning home with missing limbs and horrific facial injuries. Faced with such grievous loss, the people of Hay found their difficult priest harder and harder to tolerate. A junior circuit steward of the church quit his position when his son was maimed in France. Others still turned to their minister for comfort, religion a stronger force than politics. Some quite probably came to accept Webb’s position – and no doubt wished they’d opposed their sons joining up in the first place. 3

The Reverend Webb’s views made him something of a celebrity – and not just in one quiet town in the Riverina. Supported by William Cooper, a well-known Quaker and pacifist, Webb published his three sermons as a pamphlet. It was read by many within and beyond the church and attracted savage criticism.

The Religious Significance of the War: Three of Reverend Webb’s pacifist sermons of 1915 were published as a pamphlet by Quaker William Cooper. Webb’s views on the immoral and injurious nature of the war caused heated debate in Australia’s Methodist circles. Courtesy National Library of Australia.

A bitter debate broke out in The Methodist newspaper. Webb was accused of ‘turn[ing] the blind eye’ to the realities the Empire would face if it were not to meet German aggression with force.4 Church officials publically censured him for his ‘extreme narrowness of vision’; some reviled him as a traitor.5 Only two like-minded souls defended Webb’s pacifist convictions. They did so anonymously. A church founded by the prince of peace was now a staunch ally of the Empire.

The debate came to a head in 1916. That year the Methodist Church – like most other churches in Australia – declared their support for compulsory military service. It may have been a real possibility that the Empire faced defeat, or perhaps the belief that compulsion would somehow share the sacrifice more evenly. Whatever the reason, compulsion is always at odds with tolerance, diversity and freedom. Many thought this meddlesome priest would have to go.

Reverend Webb was always a man of principle. He could not remain in a church that had departed so fundamentally from Christ’s teaching. A week before the first plebiscite was held, he handed his resignation to the president of the Methodist convention, regretting that his views on the war ‘did not coincide with the attitudes of the church upon that question’. One of the ten commandments Webb had been taught as a novice was ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’; to force others to kill was simply unconscionable.6

Not long after leaving the church, Linden Webb left Hay for Sydney. It was easier for a discredited parson to make a living there, and no doubt his position in so small a country community was now untenable. But many were sorry to see him go. Even those with family serving overseas had come to value their preacher’s care and friendship. With the defeat of the first conscription referendum and then a second, the views of Linden Webb seemed vindicated.

The Great War in general – and the conscription referenda in particular – divided Australian society. The smaller the community, the deeper the fault lines, particularly in country communities. Debate over the justice of the war and the means to fight it would divide homes, neighbourhoods and congregations for many years to come. And those debates claimed their own kind of casualties, the Reverend Webb, a good man hounded from his church, amongst them.

The question that divided Australia: Australians were sent to the ballot box twice during the Great War to decide the question of conscription. It was a debate that split Australians into two camps with ramifications that continued for years to come. Courtesy State Library of Victoria.

We’re Off. Join Us. It’s Up To You: Of the sixteen men in this photo who left Hay for war in 1915, two were killed in action, and another three died of wounds or illness. Eight were wounded at the front, and ten hospitalised for illness. Two men were shell shocked, two contracted venereal disease, and another two returned to Australia permanently incapacitated. Two of those men won Military Medals, while four were punished for misdemeanours. All were under thirty when they enlisted, with the average age being 21. Courtesy Laura James.

SOURCES AND FURTHER READING: This story is based on Webb’s 1915 publication The Religious Significance of the War (Sydney: s.n., 1915) and accounts from contemporary newspapers, most particularly The Riverine Grazier and The Methodist. The authors also gratefully acknowledge the work of Ian Beissel on the life of Reverend Webb. For further sources see Robert Linder, ‘ “Galilee Shall at Last Vanquish Corsica”: The Rev. B. Linden Webb Challenges the War-Makers, 1915–1917’, Church Heritage, vol. 11, no. 3, March 2000, pp. 171–83; Don Wright and Eric G. Clancy, The Methodists: A History of Methodism in New South Wales (Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1993); Michael McKernan, Australian Churches at War: Attitudes and Activities of the Major Churches (Canberra: Australian War Memorial, 1980).

1 B. Linden Webb, The Religious Significance of the War (Sydney: S.N., 1915).

2 ibid.

3 Robert D Linder, ‘Galilee Shall at Last Vanquish Corsica: The Rev. B. Linden Webb Challenges the War-Makers, 1915–1917’, Church Heritage (Historical Journal of the Uniting Church in Australia) vol. 11, no. 3 (2000).

4 Methodist, 26 June 1915.

5 ibid, 26 June 1915.

6 Riverine Grazier, 24 October 1916.