“Peace is the Way”
September 2001
Reading from Thich Nhat Hanh, Peace is Every Step.
The roots of war are in the way we live our daily lives -- the way we develop our industries, build up our society, and consume goods. We have to look deeply into the situation, and we will see the roots of war. We cannot just blame one side or the other. We have to transcend the tendency to take sides.
During any conflict, we need people who can understand the suffering of all sides. We need links. We need communication.
Practicing nonviolence is first of all to become nonviolent. Then when a difficult situation presents itself, we will react in a way that will help the situation . . .
Reconciliation does not mean to sign an agreement with duplicity and cruelty. Reconciliation opposes all forms of ambition, without taking sides. Most of us want to take sides in each encounter or conflict. We distinguish right from wrong based on partial evidence or hearsay. We need indignation in order to act, but even righteous, legitimate indignation is not enough. Our world does not lack people willing to throw themselves into action. What we need are people who are capable of loving, of not taking sides so that they can embrace the whole of reality.
We have to continue to practice mindfulness and reconciliation until we can see a child’s body of skin and bones in Uganda or Ethiopia as our own, until the hunger and pain in the bodies of all species are our own . . .Then we can look at all beings with the eyes of compassion, and we can do the real work to help alleviate suffering.
Sermon:
The tragic events of this past week have left us deeply shaken. We grieve for the thousands of innocents who died so shockingly, and for their loved ones and friends who mourn their loss. Those acts of terror were barbaric and evil acts, no question about it. It is easy to take the side of the innocent who have died so horribly.
Outrage is a natural human response, not only from righteousness, but as a defence against fear. For we do fear – we hear many in the news saying their world will never be the same again. The crust of the world as we have known it in North America has broken under our feet – as those towers broke before our eyes. We now know we are vulnerable. No longer are we cocooned and sheltered from the insecurities commonplace in the rest of the world. We are no longer set apart from the pain and suffering and violence which are a part of life for a majority of the human family. In our vulnerability, we affirm our common humanity. I wonder -- could there be a possibility of salvation in this painful discovery?
As we move a few days away from the immediate shock of this tragedy, we struggle to move beyond the easy response of demonizing those responsible. Can it be possible that Thich Nhat Hanh is right? That what we need at this tragic moment in North American history are “people who are capable of loving, of not taking sides so that they can embrace the whole of reality”?
Is it possible to put ourselves in the shoes of those who have been taught that the United States is a demonic force, and that they will go to paradise if they die to strike a violent blow against this evil? Can we imagine such hatred, such sincere devotion to a fanatical cause that not only will a person take thousands of lives, he will offer his own? Humans need meaning and purpose, empowerment and hope as much as they need food and shelter – and if their lives have deprived them of such meaning and hope they are achingly vulnerable to those who would offer them purpose – even if they must sacrifice their lives for it. The pain of life without meaning or hope is intolerable. Let us remember that – let us remember that when we look at our own youth at risk right here where we live. If we do not offer them hope, what then?
Last night there was a documentary on television which was remarkably sympathetic in its portrayal of Islamic extremist groups. It showed boys in refugee camps being raised to understand their purpose in life as dying for Allah – in the war to liberate the Islamic world from the domination of a western culture which is alien to it. It revealed the role of the U.S. in training and arming the first Islamic freedom fighters in order to use them as a tool to push the Russians out of Afghanistan. It was they who trained Ben Laden himself. And it was the U.S. government who supported the Talaban as a result of a bargain of expediency, despite their appalling record on human rights, especially the rights of women.
The presence of U.S. bases upon Saudi Arabian soil since the Gulf War – the US support of corrupt and repressive governments in Islamic countries in return for favourable access to oil – the suffering and deaths of innocents in Iraq from the boycott – the support by the U.S. of an Israeli government which does not hesitate to use military reprisals against innocent Palestinian civilians – the intrusive presence of Western corporations and customs – a disinterest in understanding and respecting the faith and customs of an old and complex civilization – Do not mistake me—none of these excuse what has been done. But they have contributed to a climate in which fanaticism and violence can breed.
I am American by birth. I take pride in some of the ideals upon which that country was founded, especially those ideals shaped by our Unitarian and Universalist forebears. Yet I confess my birth country suffers from a spiritual flaw – Its sense of its own identity depends upon always being victorious. An obsession with victory – with winning – with control – warps individuals, and it can warp a country. It requires denial. It cannot permit vulnerability. Like a family which has lived in a mythic reality until something happens which shatters the myth, the US faces more than the loss of thousands of lives and the mourning of many thousand others, as terrible as that is. It faces a shattering of its self-understanding. Perhaps – just perhaps – that shattering will open the possibility for a re-examination of what really makes a people strong and good. But that may be too much to hope. What perhaps we can hope, closer to home, is that Canada, so much more at home with its humanity, can be an example to our world of another way.
This has been both a sorrowing and a powerful week for me. As President of Multifaith Saskatoon, I have been called upon to be a spokesperson for unity across faiths. I brought together 10 faith groups for a service on Wednesday night, attended by 360 people. I couldn’t attend the vigil at our Centre, because I was supposed to be on CBC TV at that time, but that didn’t come off due to technical failure. But Friday, as many of you know, I was on a two-hour CBC call-in show on what we could take away from this experience into the future which could move us in a positive direction. Then Friday night, I spoke in a service at the Anglican cathedral.
The Multifaith service, in particular, was a powerful experience. Voice after voice called for us to reaffirm, in the face of this tragedy, our commitment to build a more peaceful world – to acknowledge the soil of prejudice, ignorance, misunderstanding so prevalent in our world—soil in which hatred, violence and fanaticism can grow -- to do what we can to change that soil – here and now, where we dwell. With Thich Nhat Hanh we agreed that the roots of war are in the way we live our daily lives.
Nothing can bring back the lives which have broken upon the wheel of violence – not the lives of those lost last week – nor the lives lost in Israel or Ireland or Bosnia, or South Africa, or the 100,000 Sikhs murdered half way around the world in 1985. Yet there is one thing we can do which can give these tragic deaths a modicum of redemption. There is one gift we can give those whose lives have been cut so tragically short, their potential denied to the world. We who live can commit ourselves to building bridges rather than barriers between people of different faiths and cultures in this diverse country in which we live.
As we grieve those who have died, let us pledge ourselves to work together in their names for a world which is truly one human family, dwelling together in peace.
Can our actions make a difference? Several callers Friday struggled with that question. I shared a story I heard some years ago from a man who had been on President Eisenhower’s staff. It was 1952, in the middle of the Korean War. Eisenhower would gather his staff in the briefing room every few days to discuss whether they would bomb China and North Korea. However, there was a famine in China that winter. The Fellowship of Reconciliation had started a campaign, asking people to send the President small bags of grain, upon which was written “If thine enemy hunger, feed him.” Each time the Secretary of Defence suggested bombing, the President would turn to this man, and ask, “How many of those small bags of grain have we received?” First there were 10,000, then 30,000, then 50,000, then 100,000. At that point Eisenhower turned to his staff, saying, “Gentlemen (they were all men then), if 100,000 Americans want to feed the blankety-blank Chinese, I don’t believe we have the public support to bomb them.”
Yes, the crust of the world as we know it has broken. We are no longer set apart in a charmed circle from the suffering of our sisters and brothers throughout the world. It is time to take a hard look at the roots of that suffering. It is time to become more skilful in non-violent means of conflict resolution – to examine our own souls for patterns of prejudice and judgment – to strengthen our generosity of spirit – to address the poverty which violates the spirit and destroys hope for millions of people throughout the world – to, in Eisenhower’s own words, “want peace so badly that the governments will have to get out of the way and let us have it.”
All the faiths which gathered Wednesday night have this in common: we are called – not to be victorious – in control, or even to be safe – we are called to be faithful. The language may differ – some are faithful to a God of love – some are faithful to a vow of loving kindness – some are faithful to a principle of respect for the worth and dignity of every person. But we all look to the spirit of love and compassion to help us find strength and wisdom, spiritual deepening and renewed commitment out of this time of sorrow.
The roots of war are in the way we live our daily lives -- the way we develop our industries, build up our society, and consume goods. We have to look deeply into the situation, and we will see the roots of war. We cannot just blame one side or the other. We have to transcend the tendency to take sides.
During any conflict, we need people who can understand the suffering of all sides. We need links. We need communication.
Practicing nonviolence is first of all to become nonviolent. Then when a difficult situation presents itself, we will react in a way that will help the situation . . .
Reconciliation does not mean to sign an agreement with duplicity and cruelty. Reconciliation opposes all forms of ambition, without taking sides. Most of us want to take sides in each encounter or conflict. We distinguish right from wrong based on partial evidence or hearsay. We need indignation in order to act, but even righteous, legitimate indignation is not enough. Our world does not lack people willing to throw themselves into action. What we need are people who are capable of loving, of not taking sides so that they can embrace the whole of reality.
We have to continue to practice mindfulness and reconciliation until we can see a child’s body of skin and bones in Uganda or Ethiopia as our own, until the hunger and pain in the bodies of all species are our own . . .Then we can look at all beings with the eyes of compassion, and we can do the real work to help alleviate suffering.
Sermon:
The tragic events of this past week have left us deeply shaken. We grieve for the thousands of innocents who died so shockingly, and for their loved ones and friends who mourn their loss. Those acts of terror were barbaric and evil acts, no question about it. It is easy to take the side of the innocent who have died so horribly.
Outrage is a natural human response, not only from righteousness, but as a defence against fear. For we do fear – we hear many in the news saying their world will never be the same again. The crust of the world as we have known it in North America has broken under our feet – as those towers broke before our eyes. We now know we are vulnerable. No longer are we cocooned and sheltered from the insecurities commonplace in the rest of the world. We are no longer set apart from the pain and suffering and violence which are a part of life for a majority of the human family. In our vulnerability, we affirm our common humanity. I wonder -- could there be a possibility of salvation in this painful discovery?
As we move a few days away from the immediate shock of this tragedy, we struggle to move beyond the easy response of demonizing those responsible. Can it be possible that Thich Nhat Hanh is right? That what we need at this tragic moment in North American history are “people who are capable of loving, of not taking sides so that they can embrace the whole of reality”?
Is it possible to put ourselves in the shoes of those who have been taught that the United States is a demonic force, and that they will go to paradise if they die to strike a violent blow against this evil? Can we imagine such hatred, such sincere devotion to a fanatical cause that not only will a person take thousands of lives, he will offer his own? Humans need meaning and purpose, empowerment and hope as much as they need food and shelter – and if their lives have deprived them of such meaning and hope they are achingly vulnerable to those who would offer them purpose – even if they must sacrifice their lives for it. The pain of life without meaning or hope is intolerable. Let us remember that – let us remember that when we look at our own youth at risk right here where we live. If we do not offer them hope, what then?
Last night there was a documentary on television which was remarkably sympathetic in its portrayal of Islamic extremist groups. It showed boys in refugee camps being raised to understand their purpose in life as dying for Allah – in the war to liberate the Islamic world from the domination of a western culture which is alien to it. It revealed the role of the U.S. in training and arming the first Islamic freedom fighters in order to use them as a tool to push the Russians out of Afghanistan. It was they who trained Ben Laden himself. And it was the U.S. government who supported the Talaban as a result of a bargain of expediency, despite their appalling record on human rights, especially the rights of women.
The presence of U.S. bases upon Saudi Arabian soil since the Gulf War – the US support of corrupt and repressive governments in Islamic countries in return for favourable access to oil – the suffering and deaths of innocents in Iraq from the boycott – the support by the U.S. of an Israeli government which does not hesitate to use military reprisals against innocent Palestinian civilians – the intrusive presence of Western corporations and customs – a disinterest in understanding and respecting the faith and customs of an old and complex civilization – Do not mistake me—none of these excuse what has been done. But they have contributed to a climate in which fanaticism and violence can breed.
I am American by birth. I take pride in some of the ideals upon which that country was founded, especially those ideals shaped by our Unitarian and Universalist forebears. Yet I confess my birth country suffers from a spiritual flaw – Its sense of its own identity depends upon always being victorious. An obsession with victory – with winning – with control – warps individuals, and it can warp a country. It requires denial. It cannot permit vulnerability. Like a family which has lived in a mythic reality until something happens which shatters the myth, the US faces more than the loss of thousands of lives and the mourning of many thousand others, as terrible as that is. It faces a shattering of its self-understanding. Perhaps – just perhaps – that shattering will open the possibility for a re-examination of what really makes a people strong and good. But that may be too much to hope. What perhaps we can hope, closer to home, is that Canada, so much more at home with its humanity, can be an example to our world of another way.
This has been both a sorrowing and a powerful week for me. As President of Multifaith Saskatoon, I have been called upon to be a spokesperson for unity across faiths. I brought together 10 faith groups for a service on Wednesday night, attended by 360 people. I couldn’t attend the vigil at our Centre, because I was supposed to be on CBC TV at that time, but that didn’t come off due to technical failure. But Friday, as many of you know, I was on a two-hour CBC call-in show on what we could take away from this experience into the future which could move us in a positive direction. Then Friday night, I spoke in a service at the Anglican cathedral.
The Multifaith service, in particular, was a powerful experience. Voice after voice called for us to reaffirm, in the face of this tragedy, our commitment to build a more peaceful world – to acknowledge the soil of prejudice, ignorance, misunderstanding so prevalent in our world—soil in which hatred, violence and fanaticism can grow -- to do what we can to change that soil – here and now, where we dwell. With Thich Nhat Hanh we agreed that the roots of war are in the way we live our daily lives.
Nothing can bring back the lives which have broken upon the wheel of violence – not the lives of those lost last week – nor the lives lost in Israel or Ireland or Bosnia, or South Africa, or the 100,000 Sikhs murdered half way around the world in 1985. Yet there is one thing we can do which can give these tragic deaths a modicum of redemption. There is one gift we can give those whose lives have been cut so tragically short, their potential denied to the world. We who live can commit ourselves to building bridges rather than barriers between people of different faiths and cultures in this diverse country in which we live.
As we grieve those who have died, let us pledge ourselves to work together in their names for a world which is truly one human family, dwelling together in peace.
Can our actions make a difference? Several callers Friday struggled with that question. I shared a story I heard some years ago from a man who had been on President Eisenhower’s staff. It was 1952, in the middle of the Korean War. Eisenhower would gather his staff in the briefing room every few days to discuss whether they would bomb China and North Korea. However, there was a famine in China that winter. The Fellowship of Reconciliation had started a campaign, asking people to send the President small bags of grain, upon which was written “If thine enemy hunger, feed him.” Each time the Secretary of Defence suggested bombing, the President would turn to this man, and ask, “How many of those small bags of grain have we received?” First there were 10,000, then 30,000, then 50,000, then 100,000. At that point Eisenhower turned to his staff, saying, “Gentlemen (they were all men then), if 100,000 Americans want to feed the blankety-blank Chinese, I don’t believe we have the public support to bomb them.”
Yes, the crust of the world as we know it has broken. We are no longer set apart in a charmed circle from the suffering of our sisters and brothers throughout the world. It is time to take a hard look at the roots of that suffering. It is time to become more skilful in non-violent means of conflict resolution – to examine our own souls for patterns of prejudice and judgment – to strengthen our generosity of spirit – to address the poverty which violates the spirit and destroys hope for millions of people throughout the world – to, in Eisenhower’s own words, “want peace so badly that the governments will have to get out of the way and let us have it.”
All the faiths which gathered Wednesday night have this in common: we are called – not to be victorious – in control, or even to be safe – we are called to be faithful. The language may differ – some are faithful to a God of love – some are faithful to a vow of loving kindness – some are faithful to a principle of respect for the worth and dignity of every person. But we all look to the spirit of love and compassion to help us find strength and wisdom, spiritual deepening and renewed commitment out of this time of sorrow.
