We say we want peace...

December 10, 2011 - PARIS — In a ceremony in Oslo that repeatedly invoked gender equality and the democratic strivings of the Arab Spring, the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize was presented to three female activists and political leaders on Saturday for “their nonviolent struggle for the safety of women and for women’s rights” as peacemakers. 
(See full NY Times article at: http://nyti.ms/nobelpeaceprize2011)

In my Social Justice and Peacemaking course at NYU, I begin by telling students that I will give them an automatic A if they can tell me who the following persons are.  I then mention names such as Wangari Maathai, Mairead Maguire, Jodi Williams and Aung San Suu Kyi.  All of these women, like the most recent 2011 honorees, President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia, 73; her compatriot Leymah Gbowee, 39, a social worker and a peace activist; and Tawakkol Karman, a Yemeni journalist and a political activist who, at 32, is the youngest Peace Prize laureate and the first Arab woman to receive the award, were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. I have never been able to give away an A.

These women and so many other Nobel Peace Laureates inspire us to live lives dedicated to peace and justice in our world. We say we want peace, but many of us don't know the stories and struggles of those who invite us to create what Gandhi called a constructive program, a practical way of living and proceeding, that builds, through small deeds done with great love (Mother Teresa), what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. called "the beloved community." 

King added, we must choose between community and chaos.  In an often chaotic world where the disparity between the "haves" and "have nots" continues to grow and the "99%" cry out for justice; in a world where the "Arab Spring" is threatened by a long, desolate winter of greed and violence, these women challenge us to overcome that which divides us and work together to create a global community rooted in what Thich Nhat Hanh (Vietnamese Buddhist monk nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Dr. King) calls "inter-being."  Hanh calls us to replace the verb "to be" with the verb "to inter-be."  He adds, we cannot be outside of relationship; we exist in relationship to and with one another and our environment.  Furthermore, he adds, harm to another and our environment results in harm to ourselves - we are interconnected.  Thus, in order to create a more peaceful and just society, we necessarily need and depend upon one another.

We say we want peace... I hope that we open ourselves to the words and witness of these inspiring women, our most recent Nobel Peace Prize laureates, and allow their inspiring lives to transform our own.  Much peace to all during this most sacred holiday season.

How do we begin? Know that each of us is called by name

Each of us is called by name to live life authentically.  Mahatma Gandhi proclaims that “truth is God” and invites us all to “experiment with the truth.”  His way of life, termed satyagraha calls each of us, by name, to relentlessly pursue the truth in our lives. To do so with openness, authenticity, humility, compassion and love for our sisters and brothers, recognizing the inherent human dignity present, no matter how deeply buried, in the soul and heart of every human being.  Each of us has a particular name, given us for a particular purpose.  Each of has gifts to share and a story to tell.  Each of us has a song to sing. We are invited to listen to the depths of our own heart and soul and to obey the truth we find there.  As we do so, we invite collective movement toward deeper truth, justice, liberation and healing in the midst of our broken and fractured world. 

How do we begin?  The root of the word obey means to hear or listen.  We begin by obeying that which is the life force within us; we begin by obeying that deeply human desire to connect, with the deepest longings of our soul and with one another; thus, we begin by obeying, listening to, ‘that still small voice within’; we begin by listening actively and deeply, in silence and stillness, to the longings of our heart; we also begin by listening to others, especially those who suffer violence and oppression and who live on the margins of society; we begin by listening to the stories of people who work for and seek justice and peace; we begin by listening to the stories of people on the margins who long for healing and hope. In order to obey, to listen to, our deepest truth, our deepest self, our deepest desires and longings, we must begin in reverent silence. For only in silence can we hear and listen deeply to the truth that will bring peace, justice, healing transformation and true liberation.

September 11th Families for Peaceful Tomorrows

As we approach the 10th anniversary of the 911 attacks on our country, the story of September 11^th Families for Peaceful Tomorrows (Peaceful Tomorrows; see www.peacefultomorrows.org) provides a powerful testament to the possibility of peace and justice in our world, if we will simply listen.   

Peaceful Tomorrows takes their name from the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., “Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows.” Peaceful Tomorrows is a group of family members who lost loved ones in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, Pentagon and Flight 93 that went down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.  

In response to these horrific attacks, victims' family members came together to say, “Our grief is not a cry for war.”   

In the months following the attacks, they walked together for peace, from Washington, D.C. to New York; they prayed; they shared their stories of loss and pain; they listened deeply to the stories of grief, fear and terror suffered by other victims of war and terrorism; they traveled to Afghanistan to visit with and listen to victims of war there; and they committed themselves to finding alternatives to war and violence as a response to this horrifying tragedy.  In the spirit of Dr. King, who believed that “violence only begets more violence,” and Mahatma Gandhi, who said, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” they came together to support one another and invite the United States government to seek creative alternatives to violence and war in response to terrorism. 

Peaceful Tomorrows co-founder, Dave Potorti, poignantly and powerfully shared that he had to tell his mother that her son, his brother, had died in the World Trade Center.  When he told her, he said it was as if someone had kicked her in the gut.  As he reports it, she literally doubled over with grief.  At that moment, he said that he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want any other mother or family member to go through that kind of pain, to suffer what his mother and family suffered.

When I have shared the story of Peaceful Tomorrows with my students at New York University, almost without exception, I find that not one of them has heard of Peaceful Tomorrows.  Not one of them knows that this group exists, let alone that they were nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.   

"Why?" 

 I ask my students to ask themselves why they have never heard of Peaceful Tomorrows.   

I then name a number of recent Nobel Peace Prize Laureates, such as Wangari Mathai, Mairead Maguire, Muhammad Yunis, Shirin Ebadi, Jodi Williams, Joseph Rotblat, Rigoberta Menchu, Aung San Suu Kyi and Oscar Arias, and again my students’ eyes glaze over.  They give me that blank stare that says they have never heard of these global peacemakers.  

Once in a while, a student gives me that quizzical tilt of the head and squints as if she or he's looking far into the deep recesses of her or his mind to search for the name; "Where have I heard that name?" she/he seems to be asking her/himself.  Still, even if the name is somewhat familiar, my students know nothing about the work, words and life of these Nobel Peace Laureates.   

Again, I ask, "Why?"  I ask, "What does this say about our culture, our educational system, our news media, our desire for peace?" I also ask them to ask themselves the question, “If you haven't heard of these internationally known peacemakers, social justice advocates and Nobel Laureates, of whom else haven't you heard?" Again, "Why?" And, "What are you going to do about it?"

I challenge my students, and I challenge you, to listen to the stories of these peacemakers and to open your ears and eyes to the lives and stories that invite us, as individuals and as a global community, to find alternatives to revenge, violence and retaliation. I invite my students, and you, to listen deeply, in reverent silence, to the truth, not only in their, your, own heart, but also in the heart and soul of stories, like those of Peaceful Tomorrows, that present a third way, an alternative to flight or fighting violently, a creative alternative to violence, that seeks deeper truth and authentic transformation of heart, mind and soul, transformation that has the power to turn an "enemy" into a friend.  

As we approach the 10th anniversary of the September 11th attacks, I invite you: to visit the Peaceful Tomorrows website; to listen deeply to the stories that they and their friends, and fellow victims of war and violence, have to share, especially on their newly formed site 911 stories: our voices, our choices (www.911stories.org); to consider what other voices you may not be hearing and to find a way to listen to them; and to take action that invites understanding, global community building, and movement toward deeper truth, reconciliation and healing.

What are we going to do about it?

I begin each Social Justice and Peacemaking course I teach at NYU by offering my students an opportunity to get an extra 10 points added to their final grade.  "It's simple," I say, "all you have to do is tell me who these six people are and I'll give you the 10 points, and an 83 (B) becomes a 93 (A)." 
The students sit up, their eyes grow a bit wider, and I find that I have their full attention. "I've never been able to give the points away," I add, "I'm hoping today is the day."  My hope is genuine.  I also share that a colleague, Colman McCarthy, former Washington Post columnist and founder of the Center for Teaching Peace, from whom I shamelessly stole this exercise, offers to give away a $100 bill.  I share that on a teacher's salary, I don't have the cash to give away $100, but I can give the 10 points.  I also tell them that Mr. McCarthy tells me that regrettably, he's never been able to give away the $100 just as I've never been able to give away the points.

And so I begin with Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. All of the students can identify these individuals.  I then mention Wangari Maathai, Mairead Maguire, Jodi Williams and Aung San Suu Kyi.  Sadly, none of my students have ever heard of these living Nobel Peace Prize Laureates.  Not one. Their eager faces become blank stares. They look puzzled, eyes vacant and stunned, like deers in headlights.  Some offer curious looks, like small children, full of curiosity but clearly bewildered and clueless.  It's like I'm speaking a foreign language; and in some ways, I am.  When I explain who these international peacemakers and Nobel laureates are, I can see their minds whirling and their eyes full of puzzlement and wonder. It's almost as if a light starts to go on and they begin to consider the simple, but profound question, "Why?" "Why have I never heard of these global peace prize winners and social justice advocates?"

I then invite them to consider a few more questions: "If we say we want peace, why have you never heard of these people?"  "What does that say about our educational system?" I add, "If we have never heard of these Nobel laureates, who and what else have we never heard of?" "What else have we not been taught?"  "What else don't we know?"  "Why?"  "How has our educational system served or failed us?"  And, "What are we going to do about it?"

And so we begin our class with questions, questions that about our educational system, about what we have been taught and learned, and what we have not been taught, what we have not learned, questions about peace, what it is, how it can be achieved, and what voices and stories we need to examine as we work together to create a more peaceful and just global society.  I then challenge my students to seek out this information and wrestle with these questions by diligently researching and searching for answers. I ask them to remain open to expanding their understanding of what it means to work for peace and justice in their own lives, in their local communities and in our world. 

I seek to remain open myself, and teach my students to remain open, to the transformative power that Wangari's planting of trees, Mairead's work to heal and reconcile 'The Troubles' in Northern Ireland, Jodi's effort ban landmines, and Aun San Suu Kyi's persistent effort to work for democracy in Burma (Myanmar) have to teach us about peace, justice, persistence, love, compassion and liberation.  I invite you to ask similar questions, to study and learn about creative alternatives to violence in the pursuit of peace and justice, and to remain open to the transformative power of these people, their words and witness, and the principles that undergird their actions. 

Neftali's story

Neftali was told by his eighth grade guidance counselor that he would amount to nothing, that he was no good and should give up.  He was told that pursuing his dream to go to college to study international relations and become a diplomat or human rights attorney was out of reach; he was beaten down and told that Latino kids from Newark don't have a chance.  Neftali was put on an IEP track and told he was a failure.  He was told that he would end up in a gang and that he should not even attempt to get into a college prep high school.  Neftali didn't listen. Neftali didn't give up.  Neftali knew there was something more for him.

Neftali came to our school, Christ the King Prep, Newark's Cristo Rey High School. He was told that he is beloved, a child of God.  He was told that he could accomplish whatever he set his heart and mind to doing. He was told that he had great gifts and encouraged to pursue his dreams.  Neftali began to commit himself to improving his grades. Neftali got involved in debate and law programs for high school students.  Neftali worked tirelessly to accomplish his goals.  Neftali began to tutor younger children, to encourage them to work hard and pursue their dreams. Neftali was mentored and tutored and encouraged by teachers and counselors who believed in him.  Neftali was invited to teach law to other high school students. Neftali is now excelling.

In his personal statement, written as a part of his college application to Georgetown University, Neftali wrote:
     "I applied to Christ the King Preparatory School, a college-preparatory high school well renowned for its academic austerity.  My decision to apply to Christ the King was rooted in my belief that in order to achieve success, I needed to not only be challenged academically, but, I also needed to place myself in an environment that would support my ambitions.  My first year at Christ the King, however, started off rocky with me failing both history and chemistry classes.  Suddenly, the words of my guidance counselor began to haunt me again. I questioned myself and thought about giving up, but I knew that was not an option.   
      Although the work was exhausting, it was a catalyst for tremendous growth.  By putting myself in intellectually challenging situations, I learned how to develop greater resilience in the face of difficult academic concepts.  While I started off at a deficit, I learned the significance of hard work and perseverance, and as a result, ended up with Second Honors at the end of my junior year: an award bestowed upon students with the second highest GPA.             
      The same eighth grader who was placed on an IEP track alongside the condemning words of my guidance counselor is now making strides at a top high school in Newark, NJ. As a result of marrying perseverance and resilience, I was finally able to prove myself as a competitive academic.  For the past four years, I have been successfully building scholastic habits and skills, laying the foundation for a successful collegiate experience."

Neftali will graduate in June with Christ the King Prep's first graduating class.  Neftali is on track to go to college. Neftali has overcome all the nay-sayers and become a shining example of hope and inspiration not only for his fellow students but also for his teachers and mentors.   

Neftali and I visited Georgetown University last week.  He met with Deans and Professors, Admissions Officers and Georgetown students.  He spoke of wanting to help reduce violence in his community and his world. He spoke of wanting to study international relations at Georgetown's Walsh School of Foreign Service.  He spoke of his determination not only to improve his own life but also the lives of others, especially those who are told that they are no good and will amount to nothing.

Neftali is wating to hear from Georgetown.  As a Georgetown alumus, I hope that they accept him.  He would make my alma mater and any school proud.  However, whatever Georgetown decides, Neftali is already a light shining brightly in the darkness of an often devastating and debilitationg educational system.  Neftali is already a success. Neftali is already making us all proud. 

Neftali's story calls to mind the words of Marion Wright Edelman, founder of the Children's Defense Fund and tireless advocate for justice and human rights: "No person has the right to rain on your dreams." She adds: "If we don't stand up for children, then we don't stand for much."  And it seems to me Neftali also embodies Edelman's challenge: "A lot of people are waiting for Martin Luther King or Mahatma Gandhi to come back - but they are gone. We are it. It is up to us. It is up to you." 

Personally, I'm glad it is up to Neftali.

Silence, Story, Song

In the midst of the business of our lives, it is critically important that we take the time to enter into silence. 

In quiet and solitude, we can listen deeply to the still small voice within that invites us to live out of our deepest desires and truth. 

In quiet and solitude, we come to see and know more fully our story as it speaks to the stories of our sisters and brothers. 

In quiet and solitude, we hear the voice of the marginalized and oppressed and we know that voice to be connected somehow to our own. 

In quiet and solitude, we can come to understand that our hopes and dreams are bound up with the hopes and dreams of our sisters and brothers in greatest need. 

A mother of four was asked which of her children she loved the most.  The questioner expected her to say that she loved all of her children equally. She did not.  Without hesitation, she responded simply, "I love the one in greatest need the most."

And so it is in knowing our own great need, our own pain, our own suffering and struggles, that we are invited to love the most our sisters and brothers in greatest need and pain, those who are suffering and struggling the most. 

In quiet and solitude, each of our stories becomes a sacred song that we must sing. 

And in singing our song, we give others, especially those in greatest need, the freedom to sing theirs. 

A professor captured the essence and power of silence, story and song by presenting us with the image and paradigm of "The Joy/Pain Pendulum." She said that the experience of losing her brother and her father in the same year helped her realize a simple truth.  "My experience of loss and suffering," she said, "teaches me that the more deeply I allow myself, in quiet and solitude, to truly and deeply feel my story of pain, without running away from it or drowning it in addiction or escapism, the more deeply I am able to feel joy.  The more fully I am able to sing my sacred song." 

My wish and hope for you is that in quiet and solitude you come to more fully know your story of joy and pain to be integrally interwoven with the stories of our sisters and brothers in greatest need, and that this deep knowing liberates you to sing your sacred song and share it boldly and beautifully with others.

I believe...

I believe...

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the inherent dignity

of all human persons,

Iraqi, Afghani, Palestinian, Israeli

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the power of peace and nonviolence,

the prevailing power of love, agape,

the most durable power

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the goodness of citizens throughout the world, and the courage they possess

to speak truth to power

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the redemptive, healing power

of compassion and hope, to reconcile and mend,

to help make enemies friends

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the power of our Creator to work wonders, to beat swords into plowshares, using

nothing less or more than the work of our hands

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the Truth that

brother Bin Laden, and brother Bush,

brother Jong-Un and brother Obama,

have been created good,

in the image and likeness of God

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe that together we, as sisters and brothers, global community,

can embrace the energy of global unity and life

and overcome division and death

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in the power of the cross,

building bridges,

crossing the divide of disunity,

destruction and disrespect,

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe in justice, which restores and heals,

reconciles and reveals,

mercy and right relationship

I believe, help my unbelief

I believe that we can bomb the world to pieces

but we cannot bomb the world to peace

I believe in waging peace - paz, salaam, shalom

I believe that we shall overcome

I believe that violence anywhere

is a threat to justice everywhere;

I believe that mute prayer

is my greatest weapon

I believe in the conversion

of chants and slogans

to word made deed,

fearless and free

I believe…

Dr. King's Call for a Radical Revolution in Values

Dr. King’s invitation to a radical revolution in values is rooted in an ethic of community, complexity and connectedness. 

The definition of moral values in the wake of the 2010 United States Congressional elections is rooted primarily in individualism, personal gain and at its worse, an ethic of destructive divisiveness, devoid of civility, constructive criticism and any substantive conversation about the common good or building what Dr. King would call “the beloved community.”

Dr. King’s moral revolution asserts that each human person has inherent dignity and is deserving of respect. This revolution requires that we, together, work to build the beloved community, understanding the nuanced notion that we are called to attack evil and injustice rather than our sisters and brothers who might commit an immoral act. 

Long before President George W. Bush dangerously and disturbingly declared Iran, Iraq and North Korea to be the “axis of evil,” Dr. King poignantly, prayerfully and prophetically identified the morally true axis of evil: poverty, racism and militarism or violence.  To decry and wage war against this axis of evil is the rallying cry and mandate of Dr. King’s revolution in moral values.

Whereas Dr. King’s radical and revolutionary invitation invites us to attack injustice, as “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” our contemporary, popular culture morality often invites us to attack people and nations.  It claims to know who is good and who is evil.  It simplistically defines right and wrong, and freedom and justice, attempting to justify attacking those who disagree with us.  This secular morality is not a revolution, rather it is a devolution, a degeneration, in values.  It cries out for response.     

                                     

Dr. King’s response is a prophetic call to love. “Love,” he asserts, is “the most durable power in the world.”[1]  The love that he preached and lived was expressed in the Greek word agape.  Agape is defined as unconditional love.  It is a love that loves all because all are created good, as daughters and sons, in the image and likeness of God. He adds that

agape is understanding, creative, redemptive good will for all…. It is an overflowing love which seeks nothing in return.  And when you come to love on this level you begin to love … the person who does the evil deed while hating the deed that the person does.”[2]

In his essays, “Nonviolence and Racial Justice,”[3] and “An Experiment in Love,”[4] Dr. King outlines six primary principles or characteristics of this nonviolent love:

1)             it actively resists evil and oppression;

2)             it does not seek to defeat or humiliate the opponent, but rather to win her or his

             friendship and understanding;

3)             it attacks the forces of evil not persons perpetrating it;

4)             it requires a willingness to accept suffering without retaliation;

5)             it calls all to avoid both physical as well as spiritual violence; it mandates that we not 

                only refuse to shoot, but also refuse to hate; and

6)             it remains rooted in a undying faith in the future and a conviction that the forces of 

                the universe are on the side of justice. 

This nonviolent love has the power to transform hearts and minds, indeed the world, and it is the lifeblood of Dr. King’s radical revolution in values.

           

Thus, taken seriously, Dr. King’s revolution of moral values requires nothing less than a total, nonviolent, loving transformation of contemporary American culture and moral values. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often permits passivity in the face of social evils such as poverty, militarism and racism, while actively promoting unbridled consumerism and a self-consumed, get-as-much-as-you-can mentality. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often invites us to attack persons, such as the people of Afghanistan, persons who are gay or rival politicians. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often seeks to humiliate people rather than break down barriers between people. Political campaigns, for example, are all too often about smear tactics, humiliation and divisiveness rather than constructive criticism, respectful disagreement and a genuine attempt to understand the position of the other. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often posits and "us vs. them" mentality, and asserts that courage requires a willingness to objectify the other, “them”, and insult “them” and even seek to cause “them” to suffer, lest "they" get the better of “us” or make “us” suffer. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often justifies hatred of the enemy and fosters fear and rage resulting not only in violence to the other but also violence to our own individual and collective soul. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often fails to foster true faith in the future, but fosters instead fear and fence-building. 

           

Contemporary morality in America all too often is diametrically opposed to Dr. King’s revolutionary call to build the beloved community and radically transform our moral and social values.  Dr. King beckons, “Never succumb to the temptation of becoming bitter.  As you press on for justice, be sure to move with dignity and discipline, using only the weapon of love.”[5]

If Dr. King’s definition and vision of moral values prevailed today, there would need to be nothing less than a total transformation of our political, social and spiritual reality.  Indeed, hatred would be no more, and people would truly be prioritized over possessions and possessiveness. 

The words of Booker T. Washington, often quoted by Dr. King, would be our guide, “Let no man pull you so low as to make you hate him.”[6]  For, as King adds, “When he pulls you that low he brings you to the point of defying creation, and thereby becoming depersonalized.”[7]             

           

Practically, Dr. King’s revolution would require an all out attack on the poverty inherent in tax cuts for the wealthy, growing disparities between rich and poor, and devastating cuts in social welfare programs.  It would require an all out attack on the racism inherent in voter disenfranchisement throughout our nation, and in our racist prison industrial complex.  It would require an all out attack on the militarism inherent in the depersonalization and destructiveness of war..  It would result in an ethic of community, creativity and connectedness.  It would mandate word and deed rooted in agape.  It would require that we learn from “the enemy,” and work to make “the enemy” friend rather than seek to destroy “the enemy.” 

           

In his words to the Clergy and Laity Concerned at New York’s Riverside Church, April 4, 1967, Dr. King described the fruit of his moral mandate:

Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence, when it helps us to see the enemy’s point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves.  For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.[8] 

This radical, revolutionary morality, rooted in nonviolence and love, requires that we listen to our enemy. 

           

It requires that we see in ourselves our own immaturity, our own anger and hatred and capacity for violence. 

           

It requires that we wage war against our personal, internal, as well as societal, external, poverty, racism and militarism. 

           

It requires that we set a date to remove all troops from Iraq and Afghanistan, just as Dr. King called for the removal of all troops from Vietnam.[9] 

           

It requires that we enter into true dialogue with our “enemy,” Al-Qaeda, Osama Bin Laden, the neighbor or family member with whom we are in conflict. 

           

It requires radical openness to the power of agapic transformation in our world and in our hearts. 

           

It requires, in the words of Dr. King, a “call for a world-wide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one’s tribe, race, class and nation … a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all….”[10]

Indeed, this is the great challenge of Dr. King’s moral revolution, to mature in our understanding of ourselves as human family and global community, so that war and hatred become obsolete. 

           

If we listen carefully, we can still hear his prophetic, weary, but unwavering, voice trumpeting this call to truth and transformation:

We can no longer afford to worship the God of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation. … We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today.  We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now…. We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent coannihilation.  This may well be mankind’s last chance to choose between chaos and community.[11] 

---

[1] James M. Washington, Ed., “The Most Durable Power,” A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. Harper Collins, San Francisco, California, c. 1986, p. 11.

[2] Id., p. 13.

[3] Id., p. 5.

[4] Id., p. 16.

[5] Id., p. 10.

[6] Id., “An Experiment in Love,” p. 20.

[7] Id.

[8] Id., “A Time to Break Silence,” p. 237.

[9] Id., p. 239.

[10] Id., Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community? p. 632: “A genuine revolution of values means in the final analysis that our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional.  Every nation must … develop an overriding loyalty to mankind as a whole in order to preserve the best in their individual societies.”

[11] Id., pp. 632 – 33.

Teaching, Fasting and Inter-being

When I was teaching a social justice and peacemaking course at DePaul University in Chicago, I gave students a take-home mid-term exam that over 70% of the class failed. 

We had been studying, among others, Arun Gandhi’s book, Legacy of Love: My Education in the Path of Nonviolence.  In the book, Arun, Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson, shares the story of how his father, Manilal, Gandhi’s son, attempted to parent according to Mahatma Gandhi’s teachings. 

Arun was sixteen and had just learned to drive. He drove into town with his father to run some errands. In the early afternoon, he dropped his father at the bank and then took the car to the garage for repairs.  His father told him to meet him back at the bank at 5 pm. 

Arun took the car to the garage and the repairs were completed much more quickly than anticipated, so Arun decided to go see a movie.  He did not get back to the bank until close to 6 pm. 

When Manilal asked Arun why he was so late, Arun told his father that the repairs at the garage had taken longer than expected. 

Manilal replied, “Funny, that’s not what they said when I called the garage.” 

Arun had been caught in a lie.  Instead of punishing Arun, Manilal said simply, “Clearly I have not conveyed to you the importance of telling the truth.”

Accepting responsibility for Arun’s failure, Manilal then added, “I will walk home.” 

Arun drove the car slowly alongside his father.  It took them over an hour to get home.  Arun’s mother was terribly worried.  Arun shared that he never lied to his parents again. 

Arun’s story was on my mind when I announced to our class that most of them had failed the mid-term. 

In light of the principles we had been studying, in particular, Arun’s lesson, I said to the students, “Obviously, I did not convey clearly enough what I expected from you.” 

I then added, “We will discuss and decide together how you can redo the exam or do extra credit to help your grade. Also, in the spirit of what we have been studying, I will do a three day liquid fast for your success.”

We had read the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi and others who had engaged in fasting as a way to invite transformation of hearts and minds toward deeper truth. 

After I made this announcement, three students raised their hands and asked if they could join me in the fast.  I did not expect this. I was deeply moved.

Together we discussed ways in which students could rewrite their exam and do extra credit to help improve their grades.  All of the students took advantage of this opportunity, and not only passed, but did quite well.  Most raised their grades significantly. 

More importantly, the students who joined me in the fast shared their experiences with their classmates.  They spoke of the transformative power of fasting. None of them had ever fasted before.  They shared that they felt a spiritual power internally, and a deeper sense of connectedness to one another, as a result of fasting.  They also said that they felt a bit more connected to those who go without. They expressed a deep, visceral sense that their individual success and well-being was intimately interconnected with the success and well-being of their fellow classmates.

They also made a profound connection to a central teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Dr. King, and one of the human rights advocates we had been studying in class. Hanh believes that the verb ‘to be’ should be replaced with the verb, ‘to inter-be’.  “It is not that ‘we are’,” he says, “it is that we inter-are’.” Thus, if one is harmed, we all are harmed; if we harm another, we harm ourselves.

The students who had fasted felt this connection.  They shared that they had come to understand more deeply that our failure or success as a human community depends upon all of us seeing that we are all responsible not only for our own success, but also for our collective success or failure as a global community. 

If some are deprived of human rights, we all are. If we deprive others of human rights, we are depriving ourselves of the same rights.  One of the students who fasted said that she more fully understood the words of Dr. King that we had discussed in class: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

The students’ stories and insights were a moving testament to the transformative power of the principles we had been studying put into practice.  Seeming failure was transformed into success.

I was never more proud, for one of the greatest moments for a teacher is when your students become teachers themselves.

Prayer, Meditation and Being Present

I had the privilege of living, working and spending time with Mother Teresa in Calcutta, India.  I also had the sacred opportunity to work with Northern Ireland's Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Mairead Maguire.  Both of these women exuded peace and a profound ability to be present.  When I was in their presence, it was if I was with my Italian grandmothers, I was the only person that mattered.  It seems that both Mairead and Mother Teresa had an uncanny ability to be fully present to whomever they were with, all the time.  Of course, I had to ask each of them, "What's your secret, how do you do it?"  Without hesitation, both women responded with one word, "Prayer."

In the midst of the business of our lives, I have found that it can be extraordinarily difficult to find or make time for silence.  When I do get quiet and take the time for prayer and meditation, it makes a profound difference. I am more focused, more compassionate and more present.  As a teacher and professional who works with inner-city high school students and community leaders in Newark, NJ and college students in New York, I find that people are hungry for silence and prayer.  It provides an opportunity to stop and pay attention to the deepest longings and desires of our hearts. It helps us connect to our most profound truth, our most authentic selves, who we are called to be, what we are called to do in the world; and it helps facilitate healing. 

Dr. Mitchell Gaynor, President of Gaynor Integrative Oncology (www.drgaynor.com) and Clinical Assistant, Professor of Medicine at Weill Medical College, affiliated with Cornell University and New York Hospital, has pioneered new strategies for both the treatment and prevention of cancer. He is the author of numerous scientific papers and three books: Healing Essence (Kensington Health 2000), Dr. Gaynor"s Cancer Prevention Program (Kensington Health 1999), and The Healing Power of Sound (Shambhala 2002). His work integrating meditation, and other alternative practices, into his mind, body, spirit holistic approach to treatment has been proven to complement and enhance traditional western medical practice in a way that can help patients fight disease. His secret?  He invites patients to engage in age-old transformative practices utilized by spiritual leaders from all of the world's great traditions, including prayer and meditation. 

Author C.S. Lewis said that "the present is the point in time which most closely touches eternity." Prayer and mediation help connect us with the present eternal moment, the moment which in turn enables us to focus on, and listen to, more deeply the needs of others.  Pythagoras, Ionian Greek philosopher and founder of the religious movement called Pythagoreanism, said that silence is the music of the universe.  If one is still, standing on the earth that is in motion, spinning on its axis and revolving around the sun, one experiences lyric, transcendent silence.  The result can be a profound sense of connectedness to the present and ones present place in the world and universe. 

Thus, with Mairead, Mother Teresa, Dr. Gaynor, C.S. Lewis, Pythagoras and all spiritual seekers of truth, I invite you to make time for prayer and meditation.  I pray that in this way you will be more compassionate and more present to your heart's healing, lyrical desires.

Live justly.

I once asked a friend for advice when struggling with a difficult decision.  He paused and said to me, "Sometimes I think life is more to be lived out than figured out."  In the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of The Society of Jesus (Jesuits), "love is manifest more in deed than word."  So, we must, as my grandfather said to my father when he too was struggling with indecision, almost to the point of paralysis, "just live."  However, we also must "live justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our God."

Certainly there is truth in Plato's insight, "the unexamined life is not worth living."  I would add, neither is the over-examined life.  Faith is shallow and hollow without deeds.  However, mere reaction, without reflection, is often similarly hollow.  So what should we do?  Listen, learn and then just live. Live justly.

How do we live justly?  In the words of Mother Teresa, "it's not the great things we do, but the little things with great love that matter most."  In the words of an anonymous aboriginal woman, "if you have come here to help us, go home; if you have come here because your liberation is bound up with mine, let's work together."

For more on living a just and liberating life, here are a few good sites:
The King Center: http://www.thekingcenter.org/
Peace People: http://www.peacepeople.com/
Peaceful Tomorrows: http://www.peacefultomorrows.org/
Aung San Suu Kyi on Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/aungsansuukyi
The Freire Project: http://freireproject.org/ and 
The Gandhi Institute: http://gandhiinstitute.org/