I was with them for the first two days, and continued the liquids-only fast thru day five. Witness Against Torture organized a 12 day fast and vigil in Washington DC calling attention to our nation’s lawless policies in continuing to detain prisoners at Guantanamo in violation of U.S. and International law. The demonstrations began January 11,th the anniversary of the opening of Gitmo, and ended January 22nd, the second anniversary of President Obama’s pledge to close Guantanamo within his first year in office. He has failed to deliver on his promise.
Day one, we donned orange jumpsuits. Our march leader, Carmen was dressed in army fatigues and barked out orders to us detainees. “Detainees form up two by two.” “Put on your hoods.” One hundred of us lined up to march to the White house for the opening Press Conference. From the first steps we took together, heads bowed, covered in back hoods and hands behind our backs, we walked in eerie silence.
A nation of laws, I was taught, followed its laws no matter what. Until now. Post 9-11 we have abandoned our rule of law to incarcerate men, 89 of whom our investigators have deemed “ready to release.” But they remain held illegally. We heard the names of the “men under the hoods,” and we shared their stories. I, like many, were moved by peace poet, Luke Nephew’s poem “There is a man under that hood.” Not a number, not “a detainee” but a man with a name and a family, and once upon a time, a country.
We stood at attention for the news conference and then began our march to the Department of Justice, a silent, solemn, anonymous witness through the streets of the nation’s capital in a lightly falling snow. Outside the DOJ, sixty of our hooded number blocked the entrance to the building, risking arrest. After calling for busses to carry off the protesters, there appeared to be a sudden change in plan and no one was arrested. A voice from inside building reported to us the White House did not want any arrests. They wanted no more attention to their sins against humanity than our silent presence brought.
I’ve been to many protests in the last 35 years, but I was profoundly moved by wearing the hood and jumpsuit. As light as the hood was, I struggled to breathe. I was ashamed of how long it took me to stand against this injustice. I was, and am ashamed of us as a nation; both for our rejection of law in the name of ‘homeland security’ and for our apathy in the face of such blatant human rights abuses “in our name.”
I knew I was only there for two days, fasting, marching in the cold, sleeping on the floor in a church. The men in Guantanamo don’t even have the “luxury” of sentences so that they could count down the days remaining. They are being held indefinitely, illegally and immorally.
The young folks who organized the protest give me hope. Frida’s father and uncle wrote the books that I read in 1970 as a college freshman that began the change in my outlook from the Goldwater republican I was raised to be. Matt grew up in the same exclusive suburban town where we raised our kids and where I still live. And the White Rose folks in DC from Chicago: Jon, Amy, Jerica and Jake (who urged me to come to DC), continue to challenge me and inspire hope that we can indeed live by another way…a way of love and nonviolence that offers hope of true peace.
The hope they inspire is not for the future of this country. The intransigence we witnessed demonstrates no willingness to change. But there are people, young and old who know what it takes to live in peace and to create communities of welcome. They will be light in the dark years to come.
” The people who live in darkness have seen a great light, On those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has risen. From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say, “Repent, for the kindom of God is at hand.” Mt. 4:16-17
If you would, find here the open letter by Witness against Torture to the Attorney General. I invite you to use it to join me in crafting your own letter to Mr. Obama and to Mr. Holder. Tell them to put politics aside, embrace human rights and the law of our land and put an end to this injustice. Close Guantanamo now. Give them trials or set them free.
For more details about the organization and the Fast and Vigil, visit the WAT website.
He came to Nazareth, where he had grown up,
and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the Sabbath day. He stood up to read and was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah.
He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” Lk. 4:16-19America was founded with a healthy love of independence balanced by a vision of equality among all persons. The rejection of monarchical tyranny was a huge step forward in human development. It becomes dangerous however when independence becomes idealized without the responsibility to maintain relative equality. The swagger of rugged individualism today risks losing that balance.
The ever widening gap in wealth and rhetoric that condemns victims of poverty for their victimhood puts our democracy at risk and does violence to our founding vision. Have we replaced the divine right of kings with the absolute rights of the well to do?
For just over six months a small group of us trying to live by another way, have been meeting the first Tuesday evening of the month to watch a movie about nonviolence. We learn how ignorant we have been about the youthful movement that used humor as a “weapon” in the bloodless overthrow of Milosevic in “Bringing Down the Dictator”, or the peaceful, popular rejection of the rigged election in the Ukraine depicted in the “Orange Revolution”.
This Tuesday evening we were moved by the video “The Road to Fondwa”, a story of self-development in Haiti.
Joseph Philippe is a man born in Fondwa, but educated overseas. He became a priest and returned to his hometown to bring good news to the poor. In 1988 he founded the APF, a peasant’s organization that began the community’s development by digging a new road– by hand– thru the mountains. With less than a nickel, they founded Fonkoze, a bank that when the film was made in 2006 was worth $10 million dollars and served 35,000 Haitians with micro loans. They worked to provide potable water for the town, and a University was founded.
Fr. Joseph Phillipe
What is so remarkable is the contrast between American ‘rugged individualism’ and the broader, more inclusive vision held by the peasants of Fondwa. They knew they depended on one another. Students from throughout Haiti invited to the University are expected to return to their hometowns to pass on what they’ve learned and to spread the development. The people knew that Fondwa was but a finger of the hand that was Haiti. They were all in it together.
By contrast, our New Jersey towns fight each other for tax ratables and conspire to keep affordable housing isolated in low-income communities. Apparently, our affluent isolation entitles us to be free of the ‘burden’ of low income families.
The earthquake 51 weeks ago devastated the infrastructure of Fondwa, but not the commitment of its people to one another. A December 2010 post on the progress of the people of Fondwa and their needs can be found in an Families Health Ministries update. With each blow they rally to help one another get up and move forward.
It is often stated that Haiti is the poorest nation in the hemisphere. But with commitments to each other as witnessed in the film and the earthquake’s aftermath they prove themselves richer that their wealthy northern neighbors. But outside monetary help is still needed.
Saturday, January 8, 2011 from 10-1, there will be a peaceful protest at the Offices of the Bill Clinton Foundation at 55 West 125th Street in Manhattan, “Give Aid to the Haitian People Now” seeks delivery of the billions of dollars in aid collected for relief of Haiti. The Facebook Event profile will provide details. See you there?
“They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.” Mt. 2:10-12
I’ve felt a need to start a blog for a while. The last words of this morning’s gospel gave me the title I’ve been seeking. You might call it an epiphany.
By another way… is about a nonviolent path of seeking peace, not through the avoidance of conflict but by creating right relationships and seeking justice. Nonviolence is not pacifism but the use of moral force to stand up against evil and injustice. Gandhi called it soul force…satyagraha.
I hope to communicate the struggles I have with this path.
I am a first born white male born into the American culture of the late 20th century raised on the myths of redemptive violence. I was raised in an all white suburb in Bergen County, NJ to be a Goldwater Republican. Our family was an early part of the Irish exodus (white flight) from the South Bronx. I was 2 years old. (Future posts will explain why after so many years of absence I spent two of the last four days in the Bronx again as part of seeking another way.)
An awakening of sorts began as a college freshman and prospective seminarian at Seton Hall University in the fall of 1970. I read some books by the brothers Berrigan and heard the gospel in ways never preached in my home church. I had a whole lot of new theology, some new actions like marching to protest nuclear weapons, but theology alone doesn’t create peace.
I left the seminary in 1977 started a family and worked as a carpenter. I lived the axiom that when you’re a hammer everything looks like a nail. I swung hard, ate and drank hard and worked long hours with no regard for the physical tolls each took.
After some hospitalizations I began to revaluate; call it a mid-life crisis. In 2003 I was offered a fresh start after the kids were all off to college. Out of necessity I began to pray anew. Finding ‘God’s will’ for my life was important and offered some surprises. My bride offered me a sabbatical to get out of the business I was in (by this time a high end kitchen and bath designer) to find more meaningful work. I went to work for Family Promise, as Director of the Just Neighbors program; we spent three intensive years doing and then leading Just Faith and we joined the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace as Associates. We have a small faith community that meets in our home.
My reawakening to nonviolence was sparked by Fr. John Dear’s challenge to the CSJP community at our Chapter in 2008. “Become prophets, mystics and teachers of peace and nonviolence.” And so my journey continues… this year with a Pace e Bene program to train agents of nonviolent change.
The wise men of this morning’s gospel followed a distant star on a long journey to find the Prince of Peace. This blog will witness to the experiences and people I meet on my own journey to that Peace.It’s not too early to think about bringing my own journey Home. My road has not been a straight one, nor do I expect it to be be. Being a peacemaker does not come naturally. What I share may be counter cultural, or at least it ought to be. (Unfortunately.) But there are lights to follow and I count myself undeserving to have met, worked with, and loved some of them.
I can’t close this first entry without giving a shout out to one of those gentle stars on her birthday. Happy Birthday Mom, rest in the peace you so richly deserve. We miss you.
