Know that you are love and are living on Earth to love. This is not a social media announcement. I’m probably breaking the rules~not the first time.
We can do acts of kindness. We can give more from our larder, walk in the shoes of a mother from Honduras, tutor in a poor school with immigrants, open our homes to Syrians. This is Christian charity, and it is good. We can give from our hearts. And often in charity we only give from our excess. Is this all we are called to do? Is kindness in safe measures what Jesus did? Or what the Holy Spirit today is asking us?
Prepare yourselves. Let’s make straight any crooked (privilege/unjust/uncivil) paths in the US. “Prepare ye a way for the Lord.” The Messiah has come AND is coming. We need to stretch our wings and do courageous acts. And we need to make these paths together. Some Quaker leaders have done intensive spiritual practice like the School of the Spirit. Let’s combine these practices with the discipline of the Highlander Center where Rosa Parks and other Black leaders were trained in the 1960s.
Sometimes with our teens we offer tough love. We set down limits about swearing, or using drugs, or doing dangerous behavior. Love is not maudlin with rosy hearts and teddy bears. I never knew Jesus to carry one stuffed animal. We need Awareness and to Practice Love as a discipline. We need to learn new ways to love Trump and to love when he (and our government) lash out against others- that’s tough love. When bullies set public policy we need to act, not just talk. If hate is the language on Capitol Hill, what ways does our community offer a haven? (I like the slogan “Love Trumps Hate”) Let’s think together what tough love looks like in the 2017 political pantheon and coliseum.
Coming home after a sabbatical is a love-hate journey. I love connecting with friends. I hate shopping and all the ‘stuff.’ I love curbside recycling; I hate all the plastic packaging in the US. Many friends are interested in the trip: What did you learn? What was the highlight? How did the 10 month sojourn change you? I hate-and love- all those questions.
Does a long trip change me more than if I had stayed home in Cambridge? Yes, my body changed for me; my mind paced itself differently; my synapses fired in different circuits; my prayers seemed more intimate and yet broader too.
I can say for certain as I traveled to Israel and then East Africa, my eyes changed. A few times in Jericho and Jerusalem, I saw Jesus walking on the marble steps. Jesus’ eyes were piercing; his sandals were made of rope. When he looked my way, my prayers glowed. Jerusalem was beautiful and so disturbing. My eyes couldn’t get enough, and daily acquaintances mentioned the killings, stolen dignity, imposing walls.
Whenever I saw Jesus, I recognized how Occupation in his time and in our time is similar. Jesus’ first ministry from the pulpit was “repent, the kingdom of God is upon you.” I didn’t know I was repenting at first, but my eyes repented in Israel. I don’t know how to say this, but I saw olive trees and headscarves and fences differently. As if before I was only seeing a reflection of them. While walking there with Jesus under the occupation, I was processed my landscape differently. It made me humble. I had an about-face–repent means to turn or a change of heart.
Last October I took a bus from Jerusalem to Nazareth. I was struck with the high cliffs, the many churches, Jesus’ laughing at a fishmonger, a hometown dude in Galilee. I walked through Capernaum and Canaan. the people near Galilee over the centuries were occupied by many armies. I met some parents who were resolute, many were despondent. When will their nets be bursting with that huge fish catch? When will the people of Judea and Samaria embrace? Isn’t justice available to both Jews and Palestinians? I saw Jesus with his ‘homies’, and the words of the gospels were grounded in the land. The clean sweep of the hills, the rugged land, the fact that the major trade route from Asia to Egypt passed through Galilee. It brought me up short.
I am ending my sabbatical with 4 days in Varanasi, the holy Hindu city, thousands of years old. Varanasi, maybe the oldest city in the world, is also known as Kashi, the City of Light. Temples, all 800 of them, light torches and ring bells twice a day. Shiva, the creator and destroyer was born here. Twodaughters, the Varuna and Assi Rivers, join their mother Ganga at this place. The Ganges begins in the mountain streams of Himalayans. It is beyond beauty–and terribly damaged.
The river is the longest in South Asia and serves the highest population density. Flowing through 29 cities, it provides water to 40% of India’s population. Too bad Mother Ganga is treated like a septic tank–sewers, piles of trash, cows and humans take daily ‘dumps’ into the river. Diseases and fecal coliform rates are sky-high. Yet people daily swim, fish, and do their laundry. It is truly amazing how Hindis trust the health of their Mother, and I try to fathom such respect. During the two Hindu holy weeks, 70 million bathe in mother Ganga to ‘cleanse’ themselves.
It is revered–to die here removes one from the cycle of reincarnation which means to my novice eyes, one obtains eternal peace. Thus cremations are common along the stone steps leading down into the bilious river. Several categories of Hindus are not to be cremated, including holy men, pregnant women and children under 10 years old. These are often thrown into the river with weights on the bodies. Taking a row boat north along the river, many lit candles that floated across, flickering spots of flame on the dark surface. The lights spoke to me of lost friends and forgotten dreams as the boatman rowed past the ancient ghats (steps).
The monsoons have started, rains pouring down every other day. Deep gutters carve through mud, flooded streets; but also the fresh sweep of the air, tree leaves with a waxy shine. Rain, rain, heavy rain, and change. My soul has grown weary from human cruelty, hate crimes, children condemned by poverty. But the change in weather lifts my plodding feet over all the dust and crap. Read the rest of this entry »
What makes the city of Bhopal in India famous? It is crowned with a huge lake, and is dubbed the City of Lakes. Have you heard of its amazing inter-religious harmony- Christians, Jains, Hindus– all respect each other– and almost a third of its population Muslim? Have you heard of Bhopal’s prosperity with small commercial enterprises of jute, textiles and pottery along with a predominance of farming?
For those of us over 40 years, we know Bhopal as having the largest ever industrial disaster in 1984 with 4,000-16,000 deaths. The villain, Union Carbide, leaked 40 tons of deadly methyl isocyanate gas (MIC or cyanide), being produced for pesticides. As with Cherynobol and BP’s Deepwater explosion in the Gulf, the safety mechanisms were inadequate and the danger was minimized so that profit could be maximized.
I talked with several who remember the travesty. One Friend at the church, Sumand, worked day shift at Union Carbide, and missed direct exposure. Supervisors at the plant on Dec 3, 1984, turned off the alarm system and denied to police for two hours that anything was amiss. Most Bhopal residents exposed to the MIC gas were first aware of the leak by exposure to the gas, or by opening their doors to investigate commotion, not by being instructed to evacuate. Those that ran actually suffered more (sharp inhalation), as did children who breathe closer to the ground.
Another Friend, Devdas, told me he volunteered those first weeks at the under equipped hospitals. Some doctors had never heard of MIC, much less how to treat its effects. Trees lost their leaves, animals became bloated and died. Thousands died the first three days, (the total toll is not clear). Many babies were born with birth defects.
Devdas also pointed out that during the disaster mutual help was palpable. All religions and many from different classes worked in unity. That year the Bhopal Friends joined a project to help children return to school and to help victims earn a livelihood by teaching sewing handbags.
Union Carbide was bought by Dow Chemical Co. in 2001. Dow says the legal case was resolved in 1989 when Union Carbide settled with the Indian government for $470 million, and that all responsibility now rests with the state of Madhya Pradesh, which now owns the land. Thirty-three years later the local rivers where I take my morning walk are still contaminated. I passed the site of the chemical plant, now a dry blot with some steel towers encircled with barbed fences.
We are all haunted by wraiths of these disasters. They are accidents, and they aren’t. Since I was 8 years old living on the Chesapeake Bay I’ve watched how we poison the earth. Every Spring a couple of bald eagles (who mate for life) laid eggs on Marshy Point in a huge nest. But the eggs never hatched because of the DDT concentrated in their bodies. Those thin-shelled unhatched eggs linger on the edges of my mind.
We pay the price of pesticides, nuclear energy, methane mining, and excessive use of vehicles. We are greedy, we won’t give up our addictions to chemicals and fuel. Another description of being greedy is suicidal. Do we lack imagination or are we frozen in fear?
The good news: our lives can be different. I know we can be a better people. Despite of Deepwater, Exxon-Valdez, Orlando, and Bhopal we can turn the tide.
A Friend, Jay O’Hara says, “When I sit on a mountaintop, or next to the ocean,… and I know that the world is such a way, and I know that the world needs to be such another way, am I able to live with myself and act according to what I know is true? Have I done what needs to be done?” We can stop the use of pesticides, we can stop fracking, we can travel by bike and train, we can grow kitchen gardens, we can…. We can. We have the technology to live differently, but how do we develop the will?
The Jewish prophet Micah asks, “What does the Lord require of you….”
The first of June saw the last day of our Nepal marathon—6 days straight doing AVP workshops.The last three days were at PsychDesk, a counseling/training center. Eighteen graduate psych students and social workers came, about ten were turned away for lack of space.
During AVP we often ask around the room, “Where would you most want to visit in the world?” 60% of the participants wanted to visit special temples, or natural phenomenon like Mustang, Muktinath or Manag — all within Nepal. Any other workshop people want to visit new countries. But there’s no place like Nepal. Please enjoy some photos posted below. Read the rest of this entry »
We facilitated an AVP workshop in Ramecchap Nepal for 18 Evangelical Friends. These Friends are not used to workshops on peace, social issues or self-esteem. The church has no running water nor chairs. But these Quakers were very savvy about social justice. They survived an earthquake; they heard about the generous world-wide donations after this disaster, and they knew that this money wasn’t distributed fairly.
These friends are not scholars, but they are wise in the ways of structural violence. They are fishermen and farmers living where the rivers run more and more turbid and the soil is too rocky to support crops. They live on steep mountainsides with frequent landslides. Nepal government released $150 for any earthquake family victim. Now the monsoon season has begun and the government’s many promises to disperse the international aid has not occured. Fifty years ago people in Ramecchap lived with milk and honey, their land a jewel. Now, what are they?–the salt of the rumbling earth. Read the rest of this entry »
So what’s different about doing AVP in Nepal? Alternatives to Violence is very needed and very welcomed in this country. Nepal, lying on the backbone of the world is wedged between 2 military giants: China and India. Nepal is around the size of New York, although it takes over 2 days to travel across east to west. AVP started in Nepal in 2006. Nepal will host the AVP international gathering in Nov. 2017. AVP leaders are excited to welcome peacemakers from 40 countries here. It’s a dream come true. Read the rest of this entry »