Like a bear’s first fishing in the trout stream, I was full of energy yesterday, almost ravishing. I do believe it was a holy time, though a bit frenzied. Twenty-two people and myself worked on our inner violence and how to make the peace campaign as strong as the military tanks. Working towards peace and justice is the same, like the two sides of a mobuis strip. Without justice, peace is a facade “Why can’t we all just get along?” pleaded Rodney King. Without peace, justice is a brutal taskmaster.
Love encircles both peace and justice. So us twenty folk practiced deescalating anger, intervening when teenagers come to blows, preventing street violence. It was practicing over and over how in the face of rage to calm your blood pressure, state your truth with conviction, show acts of kindness during tragedy.
I am a commited peacebuilder. I drafted myself into the army for peace about 30 years ago after living in Tchad, Togo, Greece and Swtizerland over a period of 2 years. But is the peace sustainable? It can only be sustainable if it includes justice.
At one of my nonviolent workshops we built a community by first naming our good points and then by affirming in different ways participants’ strengths. We laughed, threw a ball around. We tried to throw as many as eight balls around in a circle of 15 people. With cooperation, and lots of neighborly assistance, one can keep 8many balls tossed in the air.
Then, once there’s trust in the group, we look deeper at how each of us contribute to violence. I know I’m complicit in the Iraq war because of my dependence on oil. I consume too much energy. Guilty. I know that I’ve slapped my kids in anger. Ouch. Can you hear them wail? Heck, I’ve even slapped my spouse. Boom. My offenses are stacking up. I’ve shoplifted. I’m a common theif. These are a few actions that mark me as guilty.
And I haven’t even mentioned the emotional violence I commit to others. Often. Yet I’m Quaker. I work diligently to help the voiceless and I join with the immigrants. I love other people all the time. I am loved. I spend time every day working on myself.
Today in radiant worship I was looking at my serious mistakes. Someone said love your enemies and I raved (silently) at my taciturn Dad. Another speaker prayed how everyday we receive a new gift and I was angry at Spirit for my hard lessons. Inwardly I cried. It’s hard to really, unconditionally love yourself. I tilled my heart, I pruned my distress. Remember, we’re on this earth to work ourselves as if it’s a clay sculpture; our bodies are objects of beauty sculpted by our thoughts and movements. I’m just learning to be that foot soldier for peace. I’m joining in on the shanti sana. (Gandhi’s peace army, 1940s)
I like eating in the soup kitchen at one of Harvard Square’s historic church. The tables are set carefully, with 15 tables serving 8 customers. I help prepare the meal. This is charity. After serving plates with fresh cooked meats and produce, I sit down and eat with the guests. I meet people who know more than I do but for many reasons they don’t have a day job like me. One woman about 70 said she’d like to have kept working as a secretary, another told me he couldn’t tolerate noise anymore so lost his work doing construction. Many have medical conditions. A few don’t like to chat. I talk with them about children, schools, Barack Obama, the Red Sox nation, seeing the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I try to listen to them the same as to friends at a Christian barbeque. This is similar to my nonviolent workshops where I’m looking for common ground and how to affirm the good in us all. This is not charity strictly: it’s loving the stranger (albeit for a short time). I’m changing venues to eat wtih the dispossessed. Except that I’m not sharing my personal nor my food possessions per se. I’m sharing a slice of my time and heart with a meal for 70 people. It borders on justice because there’s more mutuality. I wouldn’t call sharing loaves and fishes justice exactly?
What does the Lord require of thee? To love mercy, do justice and walk humbly with thy God. —Micah 6:8