The following is a compilation of reports from four of the five people who vigiled on December 24th.
From Dan Homan:
I come to the peace prayer vigils because I believe God is Love, I believe God tells me to go, and I love to do it. (...although that does not always mean that it doesn't feel like a chore, sometimes!)
From Kathryn Gordon:
Ten minutes or so into the vigil I noticed the house-high Menorah at the other end of the field opposite Liberty Plaza. It was directly in front of me, maybe 300 yards away. At the very moment I noticed it, the fourth light, for the third day of Hanukkha, went on. I imagined an invisible hand, in proportion to the menorah, descending with a flame. Later, as a bus load of tourists hurried to glimpse the liberty bell before its pavilion closed, I was moved — no, shaken — by the symbolic import of the bell and the fact that it would soon be moved across the street, to a new pavilion, one now partly built and standing not far from the menorah. Let that flame-bearing hand light the ideals got which the bell stands anew: liberty, freedom, democracy; let them be the real lights they were intended to be, and not historic artifacts, things to be photographed, attractions to be attractively housed.
It was one of the colder vigils, but the people passing were warm, it being Christmas Eve. By example and question a vigiling Friend asked what it would be like if we lived as if every day were Christmas, every season a season of light and love and peace, or at least the reaching for them, the dreaming of them, the praying for them to come — to us, and through us? And isn't that how the early Quakers tried to live, and why they didn't celebrate the holidays?
Later, after the vigil, huddled for warmth in the lobbey of a Market Street Right-Aid, four of us were met by a young package-laden man leaving the store. "They got great gift-sets on sale in there," he said, "I loaded up." He must have thought we were desperate, last-minute shoppers; he must have been trying to help us out. We thanked him, and I remembered past Christmases when I was a desperate last-minute shopper, and how all those still out hunting shared a comaraderie, a conviviality, the sort of real good cheer that were it to last throughout the year could transform society. But who has the energy for that? It would take a superhuman energy, a divine energy. And who has the means to open consistently to that?
Us, me, you, with God's help, with the satellite dish of a gathered community, with the light that leads us to the promised birth in each of us of light, love and peace — forces needing no attractive pavilion to house them, nor even an unattractive manger, only the human heart.
From Jorge Aráuz:
Several months ago, as I spoke to a visiting Friend about our vigils, the image of the flickering flame of a candle helped me illustrate its meaning, but also its fragility. Throughout the time we have been bringing to the Mall our prayerful witness, I have felt humbled by the overwhelimg disparity between the conflicts afflicting the world and the size and impact of our presence. I have also felt the modesty of our effort, compared to the sacrifice of people who, around the world, face persecution, torture and death for the sake of peace and justice. I have also contemplated the shapes of my own strifes against the background of the peace I was praying for and seeking.
In the last weeks this awareness of the fragility of our witness has been sharp in my mind. Our numbers have dwindled to six, five, sometimes four. At least for some moments at the beginning of our vigils we can be one, two or three. One of our fellow vigilers had been struck with the news of serious illness, and later he underwent surgery. I know that other Friends who come regularly also struggle with pain or fatigue. On Sunday before last one of them showed up while battling a cold. As darkness takes over the place in the cold evenings of fall and the number of passersby diminishes, I have felt the sting of loneliness. For how long will we be coming? How long will it take for our numbers to go even lower? How will each of us discern whether it is time for her, him to stop, that this no longer is what God intends us to do?
On Sunday 24, only two days after the winter solstice, darnkess seemed to come earlier than ever. Still, I felt especially joyful. It was as if another kind of light were burning inside. It was as if the fragility of our witness were lifted up, redeemed by the fragility of a child born in a stable, small, vulnerable, humble. The Light seemed to shine brighter in this cold Christmas evening.
From Marcelle Martin:
Over the twenty-one months that I've been participating in this prayer vigil for peace in the world, there has slowly grown in me the understanding that the way to true peace involves a tremendous transformation of every aspect of the way we live. During this vigil, on the eve when so many were preparing to celebrate Christmas, I was particularly aware of the horses drawing the carriages that passed by on Market and 5th Streets. Perhaps the drivers expected more passengers on Christmas eve. I didn't see any passengers, however, on this cold late afternoon. Instead, I saw beautiful, powerful animals pulling carriages down paved streets, in the midst of traffic, squeezed between buses on one side and cars coming at them from several directions. They wore blinders and were required to stop and turn at the direction of their drivers. I had recently watched some videos showing horses out on the plains, including a herd of wild mustangs, and so I was attuned to the life of these creatures much more keenly than I usually am. Their presence on the streets was a reminder to me of how much we live in a man-made environment, how much we have altered the natural world, and how alienating this is. As I prayed for peace in the world, I felt certain that the way to peace also involves a return to a more natural way of life. I am convinced that only with God's help can we learn how to live in such a way, in which we will be at peace with one another, with peoples and creatures all over the globe, and with the Earth itself. During the vigils I believe that God is slowly, gradually opening my mind and heart to a vision of what the world could be like if we lived in harmony with God's loving intentions for all.
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