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…