- Special Announcement:
The 5 PM prayer vigil on September 12th at the Liberty Bell will be followed from 6 to 7:30 PM by Dances of Universal Peace, led by Jeanne Ayesha Lauenborg, who has led these dances regularly at Media Friends Meeting for years. These easy circle dances are accompanied by simple chants or songs drawn from different world religions and peace traditions. The songs and dances will be taught on the spot; all are welcome to join. Pass the word to friends, your monthly meetings, or churches, and please join us!
The following report of the Philadelphia vigil was written by John Gallery, who has attended the vigils since they were first held in April:
Five Friends gathered on Independence Mall on Sunday August 29th to continue the vigil for peace. Now that we have moved to the south side of Market Street we face north, toward the demolition now going on in the second block of the mall and to North Philadelphia beyond. As I gazed at this site on Sunday I recalled that when I first moved to Phila. 35 years ago (wow!) this part of the mall was under construction for the first time. Though it looks much the same, the surroundings have changed. That led me to think of how much has changed in the course of my life time — not just physical changes in Philadelphia, but social ones as well — and also to think that in the distance beyond in North Phila. not a lot has changed in that time period. That gives me optimism that peace is possible, things can change much more than we think if we set our minds and hearts to it. But they won't change unless we indeed set our minds and hearts to it.
Our vigil on Sunday seemed quieter than usual. Some people stopped and asked questions and others took our literature that explains why we are there and also some of the literature about Quakers. There seemed fewer tourists, fewer cars passing by. But the day was beautiful, the sky bright blue and filled with fragments of clouds and a strong wind blowing around us. God is good, was the only appropriate response.
The highlight of our day was a visit by two young boys who wanted to know what we were doing. They fooled around with one another and in a sense they "baited" us. One stayed around asking questions, picking up our literature and putting it down, not wanting to leave but not really engaged with what we were doing or saying. Afterward one of us observed that he wore a t-shirt with a statement on the back that said "I don't get angry, I have MAD skills." We didn't know what this meant but it seemed a contrast to our own ideas of peace and non-violence. In the end this young man knocked over our little table, sent our literature flying in the wind and ran off with his friend, laughing all the while. A silly prank, but it made me feel we hadn't reached him, we hadn't known how to engage him. How could we make him understand that if he were living in Serbia today, he could be in a refugee camp and his family dead; or if he were in Iraq, he could be dead already from malnutrition or some easily curable disease? And that those consequences are results of the actions by this country? We could only remain faithful, pick up our papers and continue. But it made me wonder — how do we engage all those out there who think that peace is an irrelevant issue, living as we do in the peace and economic ease of the US? (End of John's report)
Here is Jorge's report of the simultaneous vigil held in Quito, Ecuador:
Marcelle has told me about the interaction our Philadelphia group had with two boys at the last prayer vigil. This brought my attention to a conversation with two children in Quito. Hola, they said, loud and clear. Are you a Christian? they asked, like so many people at our prayer vigils for peace here. Yes, I said to the children, and added: I am a Quaker. Do you read the Bible? was another question they asked. Yes, I said. Do you believe it? they asked again. They were curious and concerned. I tried to communicate my views of the Bible and God in a way that would affirm them. They were about ten to twelve years old. Gandhi, the youngest, had his dark eyes wide open, eager for contact, and was amazed that he had been named after a peacemaker and lover of God who was not a Christian. The oldest was a little shy, but shared in the interest and bewilderment of the other. They came from a group of believers from the other side of the park, whom I could see dancing and laying on hands. They walked away happily. Later on, they came back with a little troupe of other children, racing by and saying Hola again. These children, like so many other people asking me about my beliefs, particularly my attitude towards the Bible, challenge me once more to consider a most transcendental question: What is the good news that God brings to us now, that God asks us to share in these times? What do my eyes see, my ears hear, my bones and bowels tell? What's the Spirit's answer?
The usual group of believers sang, read the Bible and preached to my right. I've come to feel close to them, and tender. Their songs, some of them in the vernacular rhythms of the country, move me. I feel sadness at the narrowness of their message and their apparent loneliness. I wonder about their lives, which seem to show the same contradictions and inconsistencies as the lives of probably all of us. As I stood on the steps of the cathedral and unfolded my sign to start the vigil, I saw how a woman from that group poked a wretched man on his belly, pushing him away with her cane. To me he didn't appear threatening, but he was obviously drunk. Some men talked to him with stern faces, pushing him with their hands, with another (or the same?) woman joining them. She looked exasperated. The man recoiled, walking backwards as they advanced. Then a policeman went over, took him by the arm and walked him away. The group returned to their praising hymns and their preaching.
Patricio, the man of poverty, my companion for the previous prayer vigils, came again. He had left his job early so that he could be there, and was happy he received his salary. Patricio gave thanks for the daily bread that God gives him and the people around the park, for the light of the day, and for the bit of wisdom that God has given him, that makes him seek God and talk to others about the Divine. Before leaving, not being sure he would see me again, he asked once more who I am. A Quaker, a Friend, words that he wrote on a piece of paper, did not seem to tell him much. Suddenly, he scribbled his own understanding: Que reza (that who prays).
Gustavo, who attended our first prayer vigil in Quito, also showed up, unannounced. At one point he sat down with his head bent over his knees. Two men approached us, one of them saying thank you and bowing his head, apparently by impulse. They stared at the sign I held. The other commented to his companion the apparent connection between the sign's invitation to pray and Gustavo's prayerful attitude, and the goodness of it. I felt they had joined us in prayer and that, when they left, prayer was going along with them.
Two other men came over who were rather contemptuous. One, limping and with only one tooth in his mouth, criticized the sign, like the old man weeks ago: It is not enough to pray for peace and justice; it is not even enough to practice them — we need to fight for them, he said. He meant even making war. The other said that, according to the book of Revelation, in the end of times there will be war, not peace. The first said that the kingdoms of the world are of capitalists who do not want peace, much less justice. Pointing to the face of his hero printed on his T-shirt, he said that we need to follow his example: Che Guevara was himself a true follower of Christ. The other said that the only peace we can strive for is inner peace. They seemed to personify the dilemmas of peacemaking, and the anger and impotence of many. Still, I felt they were able to leave in (some) peace, after I affirmed the grains of truth they shared and I had shared with them one or two.
It may be difficult to conceive how one could remain prayerful in the stream of people coming to ask questions and share their reactions, people in battle for bread, both for their bodies and their soul. Still, these encounters bring me to the grace of being in prayer and being in contact, and I myself feel surprised and wonder how such grace came about. Could it be that those people come in a prayerful way? They are seeking, are struggling. Some say, and I have experienced it, prayer is search, is struggle. Could it be that the the whole landscape, a landscape of pain and confusion, where the earth itself seems to cry for peace and justice, makes it easier to pray?
After the prayer vigil was over (Is our vigil ever over? Is our prayer ever over?) Gustavo and I sat on the cathedral steps, while he shared the profound impact that his first prayer vigil four weeks ago had on him. He has been talking about it to colleagues and students and everybody who has wanted to hear. Gustavo stretched his arm and hand forward to show how people, like himself, seem to be looking for something, reaching out for another hand to guide them, to show them the way. This is the same feeling I've had about where people seem to be. It is hard not to be prayerful, then, not to struggle and search.
One old-looking man (Rafael H.), his small body, face and mouth ravaged by hunger and who knows what else in life, his eyes sparkling in a smile, came over early on to ask where I was from. He and his friends had assumed I was Colombian, the neighbor country torn by war, based on my sign pleading for peace (Or Jewish, because of my beard?). I was folding the sign at the end of the prayer vigil when a young couple came by. The man asked me to unfold it, so he could read. I could tell by his accent: he was Colombian.
It was dark when Gustavo and I departed, and I walked to take the bus. I was curious, though, about a group of about twenty people standing in a circle. There was Rafael, talking with passion and lucidity. He was talking about the international debt! He tried to persuade us that this is a debt that each of us pays for, and that drains each of us. I stayed to hear others. None spoke like him, but people stayed, listening to others disgnose the ills of the country and prescribe cures. Again, the search for something was all over, as if in the air. People, all of humble looks, probably blue-collar workers and unemployed, not only seemed to be searching, grieving, struggling: they seemed to show a great patience for those offering answers. I felt the desire to set some things straight, but refrained myself, knowing that I would not speak if I did not feel moved to do so. I asked questions to people beside me: The open forum was hosted by a group, Libre Pensamiento (Free Thinking), that was apolitical, non-religious. Suddenly, I was raising my hand, asking if I could speak, speaking.
Great transformations are needed! The words of John Woolman came to me during my speaking, when I urged us all to examine and transform our ways, which perpetuate oppression, to be able to confront the powers that oppress us. And the words of Micah: What does God want from us, but to love justice and walk humbly with God? At the end, there was silence. Some voices said: There, he shut them up! I left with reluctance, but my daughter was waiting for me at home, and I felt I had discharged my duty.
Hours earlier, I had finished our second-level AVP workshop in Quito. Sixteen people graduated, many wanting to get into the third level, the training for trainers, next weekend. The learning experience had deeply touched all of us, and I left the workshop filled with sacred emotion and gratitude. I have been praying about the place of AVP in my ministry and have felt that AVP is just like a little window. What is the door? Where is God calling me to? Our ministry in Fairhill, I feel, is part of the door. Being in Ecuador is, I feel, too. Being in both worlds, and being in the world of Friends, also. But the questions remain. Speaking in the the Plaza Grande in Quito has unexpectedly confronted me with an inspiration I've had for years: speaking in the street corners of North Philadelphia, calling people to repentance, to change, sharing more directly and openly my faith with others, neighbors near and afar. The sobering reservations of Friends have restrained me, and I've acknowledged the need to be patient and to prepare. Am I ready?
What is the good news that God brings to us now, that God asks us to share in these times? What do my eyes see, my ears hear, my bones and bowels tell? What's the Spirit's answer?
Great transformations are needed, hands are reaching out for guidance. Are we ready? Let us pray for guidance and be faithful!
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