Marching for Peace

When asked to write something about “following our bliss” for the April edition of our school journal the Theolog, I thought long and hard about what that truly would be. To tell you the truth, following my bliss has always been about a lottery win and the presidential suite at the Bellagio in Vegas. But, after a semester and a half at Claremont School of Theology, I am much deeper than that now. I say that with tongue firmly in cheek because although I am sure I would still enjoy the lotto money, there are things stirring in me that have much greater meaning and much deeper significance.

I write this on Sunday, March 19, 2006. Tomorrow is the third anniversary of the beginning of the second war in Iraq. Like many I must say, quite superficially that I am pissed off about this war, but let me get back to that some other time.

I had a profound experience today. My local Unitarian Universalist minister organized an event of faith leaders to protest this anniversary and the war as a whole. He was concerned about the lack of an organized clerical movement to oppose the war and did something about it. He made a few phone calls to begin with and a number of months later there are fifty clergy from numerous faiths who have joined this group. Today, there were almost one thousand people who participated in a multi-denominational service and a silent, prayerful, meditative walk for peace. This was where my profound experience occurred so let me tell you how that relates to “following my bliss.”

I have become increasingly frustrated with some in the anti-war movement. I am grateful and thankful for their passion and commitment, but I must admit that I am weary from the mutual finger pointing, anti-violence slogans couched in violent tones, focus on demonization and retread chants from the Vietnam era. I am fed up with the us verses them mentality of both sides and I am quite sure that most, if not all, people who end up at the protest marches don’t really need to hear a speech about how George Bush has lied and the neocons want to control the world. I think at this point there are many of us who believe that he did and they do and we can stop preaching to the choir about that. What we cannot stop preaching about is how this is an abomination against the teaching of all faiths, and how their policies are contrary to the ideals that this country was founded on. Most of all, we must be able to have a conversation with those that don’t traditionally already have a tendency to believe that, we must engage those who voted for Bush and people of faith who don’t consider themselves in the traditional antiwar category. The coolest sign I saw today was one that said something to the effect of, “Another Veteran, Christian, Republican Against the War.”

There is another side of all of this and since I am writing this for a journal entry, this is also about what happened inside me today. I have been to protests before but it has been a long time and this was perfect reentry. There I was sitting in a huge Episcopal cathedral and onstage were Rabbi’s, Priests, UU Ministers, Methodists, Muslims, Buddhists, Baptists and a host of others. Watching the gray haired woman two rows over from me with a huge cross around her neck singing a song of peace with Hebrew and Arabic words was surreal and awe inspiring. I wanted to be up there on that stage leading that group, preaching and inspiring all this. And I thought about that, why do I want to do those things? Is it the old actor in me wanting the limelight, is it my desire to change the world, is it wanting the opportunity to have my views heard—of course the answer to all those questions is yes. It is all those things.

I think we bring who we are to whatever we do both blessing and curse. As an old boss of mine used to say, “what makes us good makes us bad,” in other words, I do my best with what I have and always try to be a little better where possible. I would like to be less vain. I would like to be more magnanimous. I would like to care a little less about my happiness and care a little more about the happiness of all those whose lives I touch, but indeed, I am human.

That is what I noticed when I left the cathedral and walked for the next thirty minutes in silence; we are all human, with all the frailties, strengths and challenges that humans possess. As we walked reporters were there to report on this common experience. We had honks of support, we were yelled at for not supporting the troops and one woman walked by and called us names. We also had car after car flash us the peace sign in return of ours and, although I don’t like “protests,” there I was with almost a thousand other people, silently holding up traffic and weaving together all those different stories, frustrations, fears and hopes—together in silence. I hate to be trite, but to me, on this day, that silence was indeed deafening.

I know that after today I will not quit school to go off and protest the war. I am also sure that I will not be the same person that I was yesterday. I am even more committed to make every moment count. Whether it be in something I write, or helping to organize Claremont’s Seminarians for Social Justice, or dealing with one person in need next year in my internship, I am convinced that we all need a new language of peace, kindness, love and justice and “we need to be the change that we want the world to become.”

With all my challenges, faults and frailties, I hope that this will be the “bliss” that I follow. To badly paraphrase the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, if you set off on a journey and try to reach the North Star you never will, but you will make a lot of progress in a northerly direction. A few months back my minister, Arvid Straube took a step in that direction and today a thousand people took a few steps closer to the North Star.