Praying Syria Through the Night

The call comes early . . . a congregant – a Viet Nam veteran and enthusiast for Jesus and for life, is awakened in the middle of the night . . . he’s been praying ever since . . . praying that God intervene somehow . . . stay the hands of the ones who decide when it comes to this business of war . . .

In his humility, this man thinks it’s not much, this praying he does in the middle of the night.

But what I hear are the words of James, The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.  –James 5.16 (The Message).

Eddie reads me what he has written, for his prayers are so big they must be put to paper.

The words flow out of his heart and onto the page . . . wisdom for leaders . . . a better way . . . let the two sides sit down together . . . the unspoken words the most eloquent of all . . . help . . . save us from ourselves . . . we need You . . .

Somehow Eddie ends by thanking me, when I know it is I who should be thanking him, for I stand reminded that when the Holy Spirit awakens you in the night, it’s time to get on your knees.

International Day of Peace: Let’s Cease Firing

One of the aspects of September 21st as the International Day of Peace, so declared in 1981 by the United Nations, is a call for a global and personal cease fire today.

I know what a global cease fire would look like.  But what about a personal cease fire?  Who am I ‘firing’ at?  And what would happen if I stopped, if only for a day, if only for this day?

Political campaigns (the very word campaign is evocative of violence, as in Sherman’s campaign in the Southern states during the Civil War) are inherently violent and in the US, we’re right in the midst of it all.

For today, I will not watch or listen to any political commentary by either side.  For today, I will not say anything about either candidate.  My own political cease fire will resemble a fast from politics, as I know of no other way just now to avoid participating, directly or indirectly, in the violence they wage.

For today, I will not speak violence against any person.  

For today, I will be at peace with my neighbors.

For today, I will pray for the world – the whole world – instead of my own personal ‘home team’.

For today, I will seek and be peace.

And who knows – maybe tomorrow will look like today.

And maybe the next day will be even better than that.

Right now . . . bombs and drones come from the sky bringing not life but death . . . Right now . . . people we know have bodies filled with cancer and the best that can be done for them is to attack and wage war against the very bodies in which they live . . . Right now . . . families are broken by misunderstanding, violence, bullying, and refusals to reconcile . . . Right now . . . Oh God, right now, we are so broken . . . so far from Your peace . . . forgive us God, we pray . . . right now.  –Adapted from Peace Prayer from last years’ peace vigil at McDowell Presbyterian.


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*For more information and ideas about how to celebrate the International Day of Peace, check out Presbyterian Mission Yearbook, CPI and The United Nations web pages.

Peace I Leave with You

“Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.”  Jesus was speaking peace into reality when he spoke these words into his disciples ears.  It was not the peace that nations understand  – the peace of stand-off or mutually assured destruction.  No – Jesus was speaking the God peace of calm and quiet, of acceptance and mutuality, of love as a verb and not a noun, Love as what we do and not what we feel.  Maybe we would better understand if we called this ‘serenity’ rather than ‘peace’:  the calm in any situation that knows its well being resides elsewhere. . . it is the calm of a Peter or a Paul who could face their own death with the assurance of Christ’s own witness from the cross.  To quote the hymn written by Horatio Spafford, this peace, this serenity, can proclaim with assurance, “whatere may befall, thou hast taught me to say, even so, it is well with my soul.”  For those in Aurora, Colorado and all over the world suffering the effects of violence today, may such peace, such serenity, pervade their and our souls.  Amen.

The Color of Loss in Iraq

During a recent visit to NYC with friends, we walked past a startling visual display along the fence line of Marble  Collegiate Church.  I had a pretty good idea the ribbons signified something about desires for peace amidst our conflict involvement around the globe.  There was a sign that explained:  It's a visual prayer for peace commemorating those who have died in our war against the people of Iraq.  (NOTE:  The peace sentiment is theirs; the characterization of our war is mine).

Having spent time in Iraq with Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) engaged in efforts towards peace, I was immediately saddened by the visual.

You see, the yellow ribbons represent, by name, all of the American service personnel who have died in Iraq. Each individual has a ribbon with their name, rank and age affixed to their ribbon.  The blue ribbons, on the other hand, represent "prayers for the families and friends of the tens of thousands of Iraqis who have lost their lives, and for all who have been wounded . . ."  Marble Church Prayers for Peace Fence

Here's the problem:  the Church has grasped the importance of individual loss in commemorating the American dead one by one, name by name.  But the Iraqi dead, number not in the tens of thousands, as their web site says, but in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions.  Iraqi Dead

The visual impact of the ribbons conveys the message that American dead outnumber Iraqi dead by a margin of something like 1,000 to one, when in fact, the truth is the absolute reverse, particularly if the wounded and displaced are included in the calculus.

Why should this matter?  Isn't it important that the faithful of Marble Church are praying for peace?  Of course it is.  Aren't the ribbons a good thing, in that they remind passers by to do the same thing?  I'm not so sure, especially when the visual message is that our suffering, as Americans, is so much bigger, and thus so much more important, than the suffering of the Iraqi people, whose land was invaded and remains occupied, whose lives were upended in ways we cannot begin to imagine unless we've seen with our own eyes, and who, to this day, struggle to find ways for we Americans to understand that their land is not ours, that their suffering is not ours, that their way to peace is for them, and not for us, to determine.

If we would convert our prayers for peace from self-interest to mutual interest or even better, other interest, we must begin by telling the story as it actually is:  for all we have suffered; they have suffered thousands of times more.  With such an understanding, maybe we in these United States can move from generic prayers for peace in our public spaces to prayers of repentance and guidance that will make the pathway to our part of the peace solutions and grant space for others to make their own pathways as we make our own.

When you see the ribbons at the Marble Church, remember that the yellow ones are lost in a sea of black, for black is the color of loss in Iraq.

Right Now . . .

Prayer offered during International Day of Peace Service

"We need to build not only geographical but spiritual bridges between people. . .”                                                        – UNESCO

TIME OF SILENCE

"The International Day of Peace is also a Day of Ceasefire – personal or political. Take this opportunity to make peace in your own relationships as well as impact the larger conflicts of our time. Imagine what a whole Day of Ceasefire would mean to humankind."  --International Day of Peace web site

WE CONFESS . . . RIGHT NOW . . . 

Right now, unless there is a last-minute reprieve[fn], Troy Davis is drawing his last breaths on earth. . .  Right now, the Palestinian people are urging the world to agree that they are a people and that they have a country and are being told ‘not here, not now’. . . Right now . . . people we know have bodies filled with cancer and the best that can be done for them is to attack and wage war against the very bodies in which they live . . . Right now . . . families are broken by misunderstanding, violence, bullying, and refusals to reconcile . . . Right now . . . churches hide their own brokenness and protect those who do the worst kind of harm . . . Right now . . . Oh God, right now, we are so broken . . . so far from Your peace . . . forgive us God, we pray . . . right now.

WE COMMIT . . . RIGHT NOW . . . 

Let us create a wall of peace, not of separation and exclusion, not of wailing and mourning, but a wall of peace . . . a visible sign of the commitment we make, right here and right now . . . the commitment to no longer be silent in the face of injustice, unkindness, and violence . . . the commitment to be God’s own peaceable kingdom . . . right here . . . right now.

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Fn.  There was a last-minute reprieve, but it only lasted hours, and Troy Davis drew his last breaths at 11:08 p.m. last night, Wednesday, September 21, 2011.  Execution of Troy Davis