On Sunday, June 19, nine of us gathered for our weekly prayer vigil for peace, including Joe from North Philadelphia, who was joining us for the first time. John Gallery, from Chestnut Hill Meeting, has sent us the following contribution:
At 4 PM as I arrive the sky is pale gray; it could rain, but it just as easily could not. I take an umbrella from the car just in case. As soon as I take my place in line with the others, there is thunder in the distance — to the southwest. It's infrequent and almost sounds like the noise of fireworks that go off early in the show when they are let off slowly and individually.
Over the course of 30 minutes the sounds become more frequent, grow louder and are clearly moving toward us. Yet, the sky doesn't change, still pale gray. I stand there knowing that a storm is approaching and that if it comes I and the others will continue to stand peacefully with our signs. I am remarkably at peace with that, with the prospect that maybe I'll get wet.
At 4:30 a few drops fall and all the tourists run for cover. In a matter of minutes it's pouring heavily and it continues like that for 20 minutes. Straight ahead, over North Philadelphia, I can see bolts of lightning coming down to earth almost parallel to the lighting bolt in Naguchi's sculpture at the foot of the Ben Franklin bridge. The rain is beautiful, and intense: my small umbrella doesn't keep it all out and it splashes all around me. My legs, sandals, feet get soaked while others, standing calmly without protection, get soaked completely. As I am watching this I am reminded of a Buddhist thought about controlling anger: "I am the landscape, not the storm." We are like that. We stand as calmly as the trees, bend with the wind, accept the rain, and in 20 minutes it's over — the sky is blue, there are big white fluffy clouds, and the sun is shining.
About a half an hour later, after the vigil but while we are meeting, a few drops fall again and the sky quickly darkens as if the earlier storm were just an appetizer and here now is the main course. The thunder is intense, cracking directly over head as if one could expect a lightning bolt to land right there at our feet. There is something wonderful about the image of an angry God hurling lightning bolts from the sky; it makes me treasure the Greek myths and Zeus, with his quiver of lightning bolts ready at hand.
The rain is intense, it floods the streets which are like little rivers along the edge of the curb. And then, again, 30 minutes and it's over. The storm is gone; the landscape remains.
In Dune, the lead character, Paul, says this prayer in times of fear: "Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." I can easily substitute the word anger for fear and this is a description of what it is like for the landscape to remain, calm and peaceful, after the storm has passed; a description of me remaining calm and peaceful in the face of any anger, hatred, violence and letting it pass through me and only I, at peace, will remain.
Marcelle writes:
As the rain poured and cool rivulets of water seeped through my body, and I realized that I would stand it out and not hide from it, my thoughts went to our first two vigils in April 1999. It rained during those vigils, too, a colder but lighter rain. Most of us had umbrellas then, but standing in the rain helped us feel in solidarity with the Kosovo refugees who were, at that same time, also enduring rain and cold.
Most of the time, our vigil on Independence Mall asks of us our time, the stamina to stand for an hour, the willingness to be public in our prayer and witness, and the act of turning to God. Sometimes the weather or other outer or inner events require something more. As the rain poured on top of me, I thought of my friend, Liz Walz. On December 19, 1999, Liz joined three fellow Catholics in a "Ploughshares" witness against the US use of depleted uranium bombs, such as had been dropped by our country in Iraq and in Yugoslavia in 1999, causing environmental damage that will last for thousands of years and contributing to diseases such as cancer and birth defects in those countries. Using hammers and their own blood, Liz and her companions damaged two fighter planes equipped with such bombs, as a witness that such weapons are against God's will. They did so knowing that they would be arrested and imprisoned. Liz will probably remain in jail until December of this year. Her letters and reports from prison make it clear that being there is very difficult, though it is also an opportunity to minister to sisters — fellow prisoners — much in need of the fellowship, caring, faith, and example that Liz shares with them.
As the cold rain poured on my head, I was reminded that sometimes we are called to witness in ways that are not comfortable or that require sacrifice. In what ways am I willing to stand for what I believe? To take action for it? To change for it? Am I willing to sacrifice for what I believe?
And, most important: what does God desire? It can be as willful to make sacrifices that God doesn't ask of us as to refuse to make those that God does ask.
At the end of the vigil, we gathered to discuss our presence on July 30th, the eve of the Republican Convention in Philadelphia. We shared information we had gleaned about events planned for that time. On April 17th, we applied for a permit to hold our regular vigil on July 30th, but it has not been issued to us. Two other groups have been issued permits to use that space on that date. We were aware that one of the groups (the Silent March, a non-profit organization that uses empty shoes to protest the lack of regulation of the firearm industry) will be on that site most of the day both Saturday and Sunday, denouncing the gun violence in this country and calling for more gun control regulations. Their action culminates with a silent vigil from 4 to 7 PM on Sunday, July 30th in front of the Liberty Bell. They will display 30,000 pairs of shoes to symbolize the number of people killed by guns in this country each year.
Friends shared their responses to several questions: Do we want to maintain our prayer vigil in the afternoon of July 30 in front of the Liberty Bell? Why? What are our motives? What would we do if we do not receive a permit? And, if we do hold our prayer vigil at that time and place, what will our response be in the case of violence? Midway though our discussion, as the pounding rain began again, we took cover in the walkway outside a nearby building, and our considerations were punctuated by the bright flashes of lightning and loud rumbling bursts of thunder.
This became an opportunity to thresh different concerns and views about our witness. Most Friends seemed to agree in the importance of maintaining our prayerful presence on Independence Mall on July 30, but several issues remained open, which deserve ongoing and worshipful consideration.
We agreed to ask the organizers of the Silent March if we could join their silent vigil while holding our regular prayer witness on that site. In the meantime, Friends, please pray for us and for our discernment.
Vigil report reader Molly Forsythe, from Ontario, sent us the following comments:
It has meant a great deal to me to receive the vigil reports. I have not been on a vigil since the spring of 1978, when I stood in Powelton village by the block where the police had blockaded Move members. The power of vigil witnessing has strengthened me, in ways other demonstrations have not. It has been a time to find my inner light. To be guided by it, instead of the distractions of life. When I get these reports I take time in silence waiting — to feel the silence, the inner light. Thank You
BACKGROUND INFORMATION ON THE
Independence Mall Vigil for PeacePlease join us at our weekly prayer vigils for peace in the world, held in front of the Liberty Bell on Market St. between 5th and 6th, every Sunday from 4 to 5 PM. For more information, contact cityquake@aol.com.
In our reports, participants share their experiences of the prayer vigils and explore beliefs related to their participation. Reports reflect the experience of each author and do not necessarily represent the beliefs or practice of all vigil participants. We welcome your responses, which are forwarded to the individual authors (when possible). We sometimes include part of a response in a future report, unless you ask us not to.
It is meaningful to us that you share in the vigils by reading these reports and in other ways, such as joining us in prayer.
Last modified: Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 08:18 AM