Dear Friends,
On August 8, 1999, five Friends gathered on Independence Mall for our weekly prayer vigil for peace in the world. This was the first time we held our vigil in front of the Liberty Bell; in the past we were on the opposite side of the street. Yolanda Covarrubias of Haverford Meeting, a regular at the vigils, usually holds a banner showing a dove of peace. This time she decided to also wear a sign on her back, so that those behind us in the glass Liberty Bell pavilion would know why we were standing there. Tourists had often photographed or videotaped us from a distance, but few had crossed the street to ask us questions. Now we were standing right in the midst of them, and they were more directly confronted by our presence and our signs. We, too, were face to face with their gazes, their comments, and sometimes their averted eyes.
For me (Marcelle), it required a different kind of prayer. In an exercise at my meeting recently, as we have been exploring ways to pray, we sat quietly, eyes closed, seeking to enter as deeply as possible into a state of prayerful openness to God. Then we had opened our eyes and attempted to remain in that same prayerful state. Then we had walked around the room. The exercise was a way to practice remaining in prayer even while open to the outer world, even in the midst of activity. At Sunday's prayer vigil, many people sought to make eye contact with us. One woman told us to smile. I felt challenged to be simultaneously responsive to the people there and to remain in prayer. At moments I was able to do this.
In the past, we've faced Independence Hall during our vigils. This time we were reoriented. Now we were facing North Philadelphia. Jorge and I live there as part of a Quaker ministry of presence to the Fairhill Square neighborhood, and Kaki and Kathryn live as a similar ministry to the Norris Square neighborhood. Both neighborhoods, once part of a large Quaker estate, suffer from poverty and neglect, and are threatened by the drug trade and its associated violence. Living in solidarity with the residents, we hope to nourish the spirit of community and love that exists in the hearts of our neighbors. At Sunday's vigil it seemed significant that now there were no glamorous historic monuments on the horizon, now we were facing that part of the city some of us have come to know so well, a community in great need of peace, healing, and prayer. At our vigils, we pray for communities everywhere in the world that suffer from violence, poverty, or oppression, or where the roots of those things exist.
This past Sunday, Jorge missed our Independence Mall vigil for the first time since they began on April 4th. He is in his home country, Ecuador, where he will be leading Alternatives to Violence Program workshops, as he has done previously there, and as he does for Spanish-speaking inmates at Graterford prison here. He writes by email:
This last Sunday, in Quito, I stood in prayer with my friend Gustavo at the same time that Friends would have been gathering in Philly. We kept our prayer vigil in the plaza grande, the Grand Square, in the colonial part of the city. (The president's and the archbishop's residences, the cathedral, and city hall surround the place that is dedicated to celebrate the independence of the country.) I felt moved in ways I find difficult to describe, connected deeply to the pain of the poor people sitting or walking around, and those beyond my sight, confronting God, imploring God...
When we started our prayer vigils in Philadelphia, at least some of us hoped and expected that they would be replicated everywhere else. We celebrated when we heard of other gatherings happening in so many other sites! Part of our witness was that it is possible to take a public stand and utter our knowing. I knew that I would take this stand wherever I go.
As I faced the opportunity of doing this in Quito, I was afraid that I would be asked to leave the place by the police and sought guidance about how I was called to respond (because of its location and significance, the site is frequently the site of clashes between people and the police and the military, as the latter try to block its access to protesters.) It was not until Sunday morning that I had a more definite sense that I was called to stay in the plaza, refusing to leave if asked to. Still, I felt that I needed to remain open to how I might be led at the moment, and continued to pray for clear guidance and firm obedience. With Gustavo, we reviewed some possible reactions to the police asking us to leave the scene. This was a crash course on nonviolence with Gustavo's young, gentle wife helping as a coach.
As Gustavo sat down to think on what he would write on his sign, he asked his twelve year old son why he thought we were doing it. His son said that we all are in bad shape, that we needed to change our attitudes and start thinking of the other instead of ourselves. The child gave Gustavo the words for his sign: Say a Prayer for the Well-being of your Neighbor. Later, Gustavo regretted not having brought the boy with us to the prayer vigil, which the boy had seemed to be ready for.
The Grand Square was filled with people, sitting on the benches or the cement edges of the grassy areas. We stood on the steps of the cathedral. To our left a number of preachers took turns haranguing people sitting on the adjacent benches. Occasionally, four or five musicians and singers intoned hymns. One person read a piece from the Hebrew Scriptures. One line, stating God's care for the fate of the stranger, struck me.
There were at least three different kinds of uniformed police on the square, but they did not disturb us. We were, however, approached by several people who asked questions and offered comments. (Gustavo said later that one of the preachers had referred to us as examples to follow and that some of the people who came to ask questions had come from the group listening to them.) A man, probably in his sixties, shouted at us, indignant: To pray for peace and justice is not enough! We must work for it! (my sign asked people to pray for peace and justice in our hearts and the world.) I sympathized with him fully. Another, a man of obvious poverty, asked how to pray. He also wanted to know where we worship, for he would have liked to hear what we say there. Overcoming his fear that people would say that he was crazy, he joined us and prayed aloud. His was a simple, very moving request to God for employment and for daily bread for himself and everybody around us, including those who might have thought that he was nuts. Then, he continued to pray silently, by our side. I was shaken in the depths of my being. Tears ran down my face throughtout most of the vigil.
When I left, I ached in my spirit, but I felt also peace and gratitude. Having been there in close communion with the people and with God, willing to offer my witness and face the involved risks, open to God's guidance, this was a grace that even now I am learning to accept. I was also a little surprised and relieved: I was going home that evening.
This coming Sunday afternoon, God willing, I will be in my little town center square, for I am visiting my mother here. She, like the man of poverty last Sunday, is afraid that people might say I am crazy.
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