Unless We Change

While my last post reveled some of my inadequacies around safety, security, and fear, when I consulted my notes for what to write about next, I found that the keynote speaker at the opening plenary spoke directly to the issue of fear and how it plays a role in the violence of this world. While this is only one piece of my reflection on the plenary speech, I am gently reminded that my experiences at the International Ecumenical Peace Convocation (IEPC), in Kingston, Jamaica are ongoing. As I live into my future, the past dances intimately with my present and my reflections offer up new creations as possibility.

To my surprise, the opening keynote speaker was a Quaker; although he was also an Anglican priest which gave him some respect among the high-church communities. When Paul Osetreicher’s name appeared on the plenary screen it had neither title nor rank, simply Paul Osetreicher, Religious Society of Friends. I almost cheered.

My enthusiasm quickly sobered as Paul spoke poignant and reveling words that challenged everyone present. Not only did Paul sincerely acknowledge the failures and sins of the church in the past and in the present, he also called the church into a new way of being:

Unless we change, unless the Church moves to the margins and become the alternative society that unconditionally says no to war, no to the collective murder that every embattled nation or tribe, every warring alliance, every violent liberation movement, every fundamentalist cause, and now the War on Terror declares to be just, until we throw this justification of war, this ‘just war’ theology into the dustbin of history, unless we do that, we will have thrown away the one unique ethical contribution that the teaching of Jesus could make both to the survival of humanity and to the triumph of compassion.

Paul challenged the use of Jesus’ teaching to kill, to destroy, and even to fear. He reminded me that the history of my own little peace church insists that love casts out fear. The Quakers of the past have witnessed to that fact despite suffering and persecution. Paul continued:

Love of those who threaten us, care for the welfare of those whom we fear, is not only a sign of spiritual maturity, but also of worldly wisdom. It is enlighten self-interest…If my potential enemy has no reason to fear me, I am safer too.

Paul’s words are strong and prophetic, but with regards my last post, I wish it was that simple. If my potential enemy has no reason to fear me, I should be safer. But with what reason do men fear women whom they rape? Do robbers fear their victims? On a large military-complex, nation-state scale Paul is surely right, but on the streets?

The issue of Right to Protect (R2P) was only glanced at throughout the IEPC. I hope that in the future, ecumenical and inter-faith communities can critically look at issues of R2P and Just Policing. Paul called the world wide community to train even its United Nations soldiers as police are trained, ‘Not to kill enemies, but to prevent or to end violent conflicts.’ This is a beginning, but even the histories of police are riddled with violence, abuse of power, racism, and economic inequality. I was taught that the police were safe; I have police officers in my family; I can go to the police in my country for help… can you? Not everyone can.

Paul also spoke about heroes. How the heroes of the military-industrial complex are celebrated for their violence instead of the number of people they save. I challenge that it is not the heroes who must be abolished but rather their prevailing myth. The hero should not be rewarded for slaying the monsters but rather for coming home, transformed by the lessons s/he learned, to lead the community into a place of Just Peace.

We need our heroes. We need the police who will save the innocent from the gunfire; the firefighter who rescues the helpless from the burning building. But my heroes are also the women who are survivors, not victims; the many people who live with disability and the react to bigotry with compassion; the diversity of peacemakers who listen, who tell stories, and in turn challenge me to be a better person.

And in such way, Paul is one of these heroes, for not only did he challenge the world wide community present at the IEPC, but he offered new visions, new creations. One of my professors told me a while back that we must first imagine a new world if we are to create it. While incredibly poetic in nature, Paul offered up an image of the Pope being received by a foreign state, not with the usual ‘soldiers carrying fixed bayonets that are designed to kill [but] rather than by children bearing flowers.’

He offered examples of non-violent direct action, of stories of people faithfully standing by their convictions to peace. Paul opened up the IEPC with a vision of peacemakers as strong, as faithful, as powerful people who can and will change this world.

Fear Not!

During our training as stewards we participated in a seminar on safety and security. Kingston, Jamaica is recognized as one of the most dangerous cities in the world and in such a climate the International Ecumenical Peace Convocation (IEPC) choose to hold a conference on Just Peace. While the campus was on high alert, various things happened that caused me to question our safety and security. From the dangers of human-kind, like the two people from our hotel who were held up at gunpoint in full sunlight on a Sunday afternoon, to the dangers of Mother Nature, like when we were on the 18^th floor of the conference center and felt the entire building shake from the tremors of an earthquake.

How do we serve others when we feel unsafe? Are we called into creating safety and security or is such an illusion? Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote “There is no way to peace on the way of safety… Peace is the opposite of security.” How then do we teach, advise, and suggest to others ways of acting, being and doing that are not based on fear but instead on smart choices. How do we help people calculate the risks of their decisions?

Jamaica is a new set of calculations for me. I’ve been to occupied Palestine, rural East Africa, and inner-city slums in the United States. I’ve felt unsafe before but my knowledge of the areas or the knowledge taught to me by locals helped me calculate the risks and make smart choices. I’ve grown aware of how fear plays a part in my feelings of safety and security and although I fully acknowledge its presence, I do not want it to control me.

One thing that we, the stewards, were told over and over was not to wander anywhere in Kingston without a local. The local stewards taught us through skits and presentations about the violence of Kingston and the dangers-- that youth in particular-- experienced daily. We internationals stood out. We didn’t know where was safe and where wasn’t.

The imposed accompaniment requirement was frustrating. I felt embarrassed and burdening to ask the Jamaican stewards to take me places. I let other stewards do the asking and then jumped on the bandwagon when the group left. (My own confession) While I didn’t want to burden anyone, I didn’t like feeling trapped inside the compound either.

In reflection, I wonder how people of Palestine, Columbia, Iraq, and Canada, feel as they are accompanied by Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) or the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). Do these people feel frustrated that they must be accompanied by internationals in order to feel safe? Or are they much more gracious and humble than me?

Safety and security also makes me think about risks. What do I have to consider in calculating my risks in any given situation? In my journal I made a list of the risks I can think that people have to consider:

+Race

+Gender

+Sexual Orientation

+Disability

+Language

+Family at Home

+Responsibilities at Home

+Valuable on Person

+Access to leave the country

+Access to one’s embassy

+Access to the police

+Access to medical facilities

I’m sure there are many more, and I’m interested in what other people come up with. In my own analysis I find that for the most part as a young, unattached, affluent, American, English speaking, straight white woman without disabilities, most of these risk factors are very low. In places where women are respected not even my gender is much of a threat. However, here in Jamaica race, gender, and even language pose risks to my ability to walk around alone on the streets of Kingston.

I have to admit, my fear caused me to think about leaving Jamaica early. I had scheduled my time here to include one week after the IEPC to travel and visit with Quakers. I joined up with a few groups of internationals and traveled a bit throughout the country. Then, my fear peaked and at the airport when I dropped off my friends, I inquired if I could travel standby on a flight that night.

Other plans were in store and as it worked out there was no way I could leave Jamaica until my original departure date. I had just enough money to get me to the Friends Center at Worthington Friends Meeting where I met amazing, kind and hospitable Quakers. My fear would have prevented me from meeting these wonderful people, learning about their life and community, and sharing with them their love for their city and their country.

While I’m ashamed that my fear prompted me to act in the ways that I did, I’m thankful that in the end grace prevailed and not fear. For as the angel said to the shepherds “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people.” (Luke 2:10) Thank you my dear friends in Jamaica; thank you for being patient with me.

Welcoming the Stranger

Way opened so that my role as a steward at the International Ecumenical Peace Convocation (IEPC) in Kingston, Jamaica, was to help out at the registration/info table. With two other stewards and two fantastic World Council of Churches (WCC) staff members we not only welcomed and registered the 1,000 participants but we also fielded every possible question from internet malfunctions to directional requests.

I loved it. To welcome the stranger, to bring folks into a space such as this international peace convocation was amazing. Not only did I get to personally meet most of the other Quakers but I also recognized names of people whom I had read about and met hundreds of faces for the first time.

There are many stories from the registration table and I have moments both humorous and heartbreaking that will stay with me in remembrance. One example of a moment that sent others laughing was when I was working with the other American steward (who was helping out with computer issues) at the registration desk and a familiar face walked into the room. Lois Wilson had been the keynote speaker at the NCC-USA meeting we both attended in November. A charismatic spry woman who is described in the book she later gave us as a ‘minister, ecumenist, educator, author, Chancellor, Senator, wife, mother of four and grandmother of twelve’ has become my personal hero. If I could do half of what she has done in her life and still have the grace and humor that she displays on a regular basis, I would be more than satisfied. And by the way the two of us Americans reacted when she came into the registration hall, you would have thought that a movie star had just walked in.

Prior to the beginning of IEPC, the stewards had engaged in ecumenical training in hopes that we would be prepared for the experience that lay ahead. One of the conversations that resulted from this training was a conversation about titles. As I mentioned in my prior post, I’m concerned about titles; Quakers don’t normally use them. So, how was I to authentically address an Orthodox Bishop, respecting my tradition as well as his? One of our leaders suggested that if I ever came across a situation where such a title was in question, I should simply ask. So in good form, when I got the opportunity to register an Orthodox Bishop (who spoke English well enough not to be misunderstood) I asked. “As an Orthodox Bishop, what should I call you?” I inquired innocently. The Bishop smiled and simply said “You can call me Mike.”

Not everyone who approached me at the information/registration table was in their best form. We had some sever issues with the Internet during the first few days of the IEPC and many people were annoyed. Have we idolized our technology so much that we cannot do without? A question for another time perhaps. However, in the middle of a rather busy registration hall a prominent member of the WCC leadership exploded his humanness. He publicly yelled at me for not being able to fix his internet connection. Shocked, I took the anger flashed at me and immediately grounded it. I closed my eyes and it took me a moment to recover. In that moment my dear friend had stormed out of the room. Running after him and addressing him by name I offered some possible solutions.

In reflection all I could think was how human each of us is, no matter our title or rank. Later on this man humbly apologized to me and in such displayed that a person holding power can be human both in his frustration and in his compassion. So, I thank him now for reminding me that all leaders are just people with good moments and bad and with my own imperfections I might have a shot to be a little like him.

The registration/info table was always full of surprises and I learned so much from the two WCC staff with whom I worked. From them I saw grand displays of patience and multi-tasking. I witnessed them take care of people in strong, calm ways that made people feel safe and secure. I have so much to work on, not to mention adding a few languages to my repertoire, so that I can continue to welcome the stranger and begin to call the stranger friend.

Being a Peculiar People

Over the last two weeks I have worked as a steward for the World Council of Churches (WCC), International Ecumenical Peace Convocation (IEPC). With over 300 member faith communities, the WCC gathered close to 1,000 people, in Kingston Jamaica, to share, discuss, and dream of Just Peace. This event was the harvest event for the 10 year WCC project, the Decade to Overcome Violence (DOV). The theme of the gathering centered on a document known as the Ecumenical Call to Just Peace (ECJP) which will be adopted by the WCC at the 2013 General Assembly in Busan, Korea.

These are my reflections on the gathering. Please feel free to post your comments below and email me at rachel.e.stacy@gmail.com.

My experience with this international peace convocation began several days before the event. Thirty-six young adults from around the world gathered to learn, work, pray, and play. We were the stewards; a selected group that during the convocation worked long hours, helping the event run smoothly.

To place myself in a bit of context with the ecumenical movement, last November, I served as a steward for the National Council of Churches-USA meeting in New Orleans. This was my first experience working alongside young adults from various Christian backgrounds in such an ecumenical setting. Like in New Orleans, in Jamaica, working with other young adults was challenging and rewarding. Most of us were, and still are, seminary students. The differences between the Orthodox communities and my little peace church are staggering, yet we all worked side by side registering, directing, and serving the events.

During this event the cultural differences accentuated the religious differences . For the first few days, before other peace church members arrived, I found myself exhausted in my attempts to explain Quakerism. In contrast to the NCC-USA meeting where one of the other stewards was a Mennonite, I was the only peace church member present. Most of the other stewards did not know much about Quakerism. On top of that, explaining your faith to another seminary student is a bit different than explaining your faith to some person on the street; most people don’t just come out and ask you about your eschatology.

Oh and the looks of people’s faces when I started explaining this peculiar faith! Trying to be fair to the diversity among Friends, I attempted to describe our lack of hierarchy, our waiting worship and our mystical sacraments. I really couldn’t get into my universalism at all—or even explain much about Jewish Quakers, Buddhist Quakers etc… so instead I tended towards listening to the questions posed and trying to slip in my passion for interfaith work where I could.

One day in particular, the peculiarity of Quakerism really got to me; being so different from everyone else is hard. I craved discussions with other peace church members where I wouldn’t have to admit that I didn’t believe in the Nicene Creed and I didn’t recite the Lord’s Prayer to display my loyalty to the church. It was draining to be different—having an appreciation and curiosity for other traditions but having no one know about you.

The tides turned quickly enough and soon I was joined not only by other peace church members but also by other North Americans. Is universalism a western phenomenon? It was sure easier to speak to Westerners about Quakerism… I’ll address this in another post.

One young Mennonite women I met spoke about attending Meeting for Worship in Spokan Washington. Later, for a seminary class, when asked to bring in pictures of the Eucharist from different traditions, she thought to bring in the picture of Christ in the midst. A simple story, but one that relieved my feelings of being ‘weird.’

I spent much of my free time during the IEPC among peace church members, both historic and living. The more knowledgeable folks were of my tradition, the easier it was to spend time with them. Though, from this experience so many questions rise up in my mind: Can I appreciate other faiths when they are intolerant of mine? When do I stand up and say “I’m a Christian, but not a Trinitarian!” “Don’t try to baptize me with water!” or more generally “You’re not including me!” and when do I let the moment pass, let the dominant voices establish the norm and appreciate the small still moments when my voice is valued?

I think in the end, I found my place. I spoke clearly and boldly and respected others. My voice is being heard and with a beautiful group of diverse peers I am rising up in this exploration and development of ecumenicalism.

It’s still hard to be of this peculiar faith. I wonder if I will ever have the opportunity to be the general secretary of the WCC since neither my faith nor my leadership as a woman are particularly recognized by patriarchal traditions. Without a title attached to my name such as Dr. or Rev. will I ever find myself among ecumenical leadership? For starters, I feel called into this work and I have faith that regardless of the obstacles, other plans are at work.