Holy Trinity Lenten address:
From Violence to Peace
March 20, 2003
Presented by Margaret Knapke
Good
evening. It’s really a privilege to be with you this evening.
Ordinarily, when I talk to people about issues, I simply speak from my
head and my heart. But tonight my heart is broken and my head a little
rattled, with the onset of the war. So, because I have some important
things to share with you, ideas that deserve to be stated clearly, I
plan to stick closely to my notes tonight, at least at times. So
forgive me for not looking at you more often, please.
I was pondering my approach to this evening’s topic, From Violence to
Peace, when the bombing of Baghdad began last night. Just one hour
earlier I had mentioned to a friend that I hoped this invasion still
could be averted -- for the sake of the Iraqis, for the sake of friends
of mine from the US who are doing accompaniment work there, and for the
sake of all the combatants. But no, threats had been made, and they
were acted upon. And so I come here this evening with a very heavy
heart - as have you, I’m sure. But I think, in a way, our heaviness is
appropriate for Lent, the season that bids us to hold Christ’s
Crucifixion close to our hearts, even as we anticipate and prepare for
His Resurrection.
I feel that tension between Lenten grief and Easter joy at other times
of the year, too. In fact, I feel it whenever I observe, study, and
respond to world events. Surely, it’s important to look at our reality
straight on and with our eyes wide open -- even when that reality is
difficult and when it challenges our comfortable beliefs. But it’s
important, at the same time, to keep an eye on life-affirming
possibilities for a better, more just and peaceful world.
I think it is precisely in that life-affirmed, transformed world that
we find Micah’s ploughshares and pruning hooks replacing swords and
spears, replacing the cluster bombs and cruise missiles that are such
big, big business today. And notice, please, that Micah does not talk
about this better world as a mere possibility, but as our future -- a
future we are called to help create!
I must tell you, when my friend Mary asked me to speak with you, I was
very surprised, because I’m not any kind of theologian. But I am a
person with deep faith in the sacredness of creation and in our
capacity as human beings to love deeply and largely. That is, to love
not only those who are close and familiar to us, but also those who are
physically distant and culturally strange. I believe that God wants us
to recognize that all persons are, indeed, extended family -- and
therefore deserving of familial consideration. Christ, after all, was
crucified by an empire that was determined to view him and all aspiring
Christians as alien. And, in my opinion, Christ is re-crucified every
time any empire anywhere degrades the value of human life in order to
pursue economic and political ends.
What better time could there be than Lent to consider the ways we
possibly have failed our extended family? What better time to hold
ourselves to an accounting? And what better time to re-commit ourselves
to the work of Love and Justice? -- work that requires of us
"compassion," i. e., the ability to suffer along with others, but that
also promises Micah’s joy.
I have already mentioned the people of Iraq - they are a warm and
beautiful people who have been nearly invisible to us despite all the
attention focused on their dictator Saddam Hussein. My heart is
especially with them tonight. But I also want to bring to your
consideration this evening the people of Colombia. Iraqis and
Colombians have suffered much in recent years, in two very different
parts of the world. In both cases, the people have called out to us in
the US to take the time to understand their situation and our
government’s policies toward them. Both have asked us to value their
lives, and their children’s lives, as we value our own. To begin
practicing large, familial Love toward them, I think we must be willing
to study our foreign policy and to draw uncomfortable conclusions
whenever they are warranted. And then, because real Love is not merely
thought or spoken but is acted upon whenever possible, I think we must
be willing to work for more just policies. Working for Justice within
the extended family is called solidarity.
Last August I had an opportunity to visit Colombia as part of a US
delegation organized by two peace groups, Witness for Peace and SOA
Watch. We met some truly amazing people who are actively engaged in a
nonviolent struggle for justice that is rooted in deep, deep community.
I can’t go into a lot of detail now about that particular visit, nor
about US policy toward Colombia, due to our time constraints.... But I
can tell you that what those Colombians told us about US policy toward
their communities was VERY different from what we have been told by our
government. Our State Department would have us believe that our
government’s motives for bestowing large amounts of military aid are
always noble and benign (and in Colombia, that military aid is well
over $1 billion now). But the experiences of ordinary Colombians
suggest that US motives have more to do with acquiring wealth than
promoting democracy or human rights.
Let me say, I understand from my own past experience that it is hard to
hear and consider criticism of one’s own country. It’s more comfortable
to adopt a totally trusting attitude and assume that we are always a
force for good in the world. But, if we are to extend our Love beyond
what is easy and familiar to those who are far away, to God’s other
peoples, we must be willing to investigate and consider our policies
which affect them. We must be willing to look at how we have become the
superpower we are and then watch carefully how we wield that power.
Similarly, in my opinion - but not only my opinion -- the idea of
"supporting our troops" needs to include keeping our young men and
women out of armed actions that are illegal or immoral. Both moral law
and international law require this of us.
I’ll give you just a few stories that show how human rights are getting
short shrift in Colombia, in large part due to a US policy called Plan
Colombia.
First, my delegation visited Soacha, a relocation community for
displaced Afro-Colombians located in what is called a "misery belt"
around the capital city. These people had fled their traditional lands
in the province of Chocó - a process they described as being "torn from
their very soul" -- because of massacres perpetrated in their
communities by paramilitaries with support from the Colombian military.
When we asked these displaced people why they thought they were being
persecuted, why driven from their lands, they answered that their
traditional lands lie over large oil deposits, and that additionally
the Colombian government has plans to construct an inter-oceanic canal
through their lands. Both the oil deposits and the canal are very
lucrative economic propositions, being pursued at the expense of the
rural Afro-Colombians. And US corporations are deeply involved.
Nevertheless -- despite the loss of their homes, and despite the fact
that they are living in dirt-floor shacks with little to no opportunity
for making money -- these people are alive with a sense of community
and possibility. They are determined to help each other "live with
dignity" until they are able to return as a community to their lands in
Chocó. They taught us much about living in conscious community.
We also met a beautiful man named Hector who is an economist. He is
especially committed to helping indigenous people secure their legal
rights; unfortunately, their lands are also very desirable to oil
companies and so they have become special targets for intimidation and
repression. Hector has himself been tortured by the Colombian military,
and lives under such a threat to his life that he has long since sent
his family to Europe to live. Hector never sleeps in the same bed two
nights in a row, so that he might see the morning.
When we asked Hector how he could continue his dangerous work under
these conditions, his face lit up in a smile and he said, "We are on
fire with a passion for justice! And we find great joy in the
struggle." He modeled to an amazing degree the idea of extended family,
first with his own story of being a young man who saw Christ in the
homeless and destitute living on the streets around him, and later as
someone capable of seeing his own torturer as someone he could love!
Hector said of him: "Oh, my torturer - I forgave him the first day! If
I saw him on the street today, I would embrace him." And I’ll only add
that if you could have seen the light in Hector’s eyes, you’d know as I
do that he meant what he said.
Padre Pacho is another stunning example for us. He is a Catholic priest
who works for a church-based human rights organization that has been
harshly repressed. Many of his colleagues have been murdered by armed
actors, and he has himself received many death threats. But the good
Padre has taken courage and diplomacy to a new level! When he receives
a death threat, he goes directly to the person or organization that has
threatened him, and begins a dialogue with them. He tries to convince
them to lay down their arms and to work for change nonviolently. I
don’t know how many people he has affected and how deeply, but change
takes time, and I’m sure he has planted many deep seeds. Obviously, he
minimally has talked them out of killing him, so far.
I’d like to end by going back to the beginning. I’d like to ask you and myself some questions.
If we can find it in our hearts to feel compassion for Christ in His
suffering and death, then can’t we also learn to love all those He
loves?
And if we can love so easily our immediate family and friends and
neighbors, then can’t we also learn to love those we might never meet,
but who also have their own loved ones, friends, and neighbors?
And if we can empathize from a distance with people we have never met,
but who share our country, our language and our culture, then is it
really such a stretch to feel the pain of someone far away, who loves
their spouse and children as we do, who makes breakfast in the morning
and happily falls into bed at night - even though they might speak a
different language, give their children unusual names, and eat
different foods?
Lastly, if we can allow our hearts to be broken by the pain of those
who are far away and unknown to us, then can’t we take the energy of
our heartbreak and use it to do some work for justice - whatever might
be appropriate for each of us?
It could be learning to live more simply and consuming less; perhaps
learning more about a domestic issue and then educating others; perhaps
advocating for the homeless or the abused; perhaps studying some aspect
of foreign policy and then educating others; perhaps writing letters to
your Congresspeople; perhaps raising money for an overlooked cause.
There are endless opportunities, and they are endlessly rewarding.
One last thing. We will be hearing much about the war in the coming
days, but little about the casualties. I want to ask you to practice
putting faces on all the stories you hear. Put faces on the soldiers
you hear about; put faces on the Iraqi children, their parents and
grandparents, the aunts, uncles, shopkeepers, nurses, and farmers. Let
them be real to you, because they are real, and their lives and deaths
matter to God, and should matter to us, too.