On Sunday, September 5, the Philadelphia prayer vigil for peace began in a light rain. I (Marcelle) was feeling some confusion and inner conflict that day, and found it hard to settle into prayer. In several areas of my life I was experiencing tensions about how to share space with other people who are different. I recognized the conflicts I was experiencing as being the similar in essence to conflicts all over the world, some of which lead to war.
I chose the sign that said "Seek Peace" because that's what I needed to do. During most of the vigils in August, I had felt a blissful love that flowed out of me toward the passers-by. This week, having identified someone else as our group's "spokesperson" for the day, I felt some freedom not to focus on the passers-by; I could just focus on prayer, on seeking peace and surrendering the situations of my life — and the world — to God's control.
It rained intermittently, and words from Thomas Kelly came to me: "[Individuals and groups] must learn to endure spiritual weather without dismay. Some hours of worship are full of glow and life, but others lack the quality. The disciplined soul, and the disciplined group, have learned to cling to the reality of God's presence, whether the feeling of presence is great or faint."
After a while, as I relinquished control to God, I began to feel peaceful.
Even during the early part of the vigil, while I was feeling much inner turmoil, I also felt a sensation of energy. It seemed to come from being at the vigil, as though simply in showing up I was plugging into a source of electricity, of divine power. Towards the end, I noticed that in some part of me I was aware of Light, and in that Light I felt connected to Jorge in vigil on the steps of the cathedral in Quito.
Here is Jorge's report of his last vigil in Ecuador before returning to Philadelphia:
I arrived almost 45 minutes late to the prayer vigil place, the Plaza Grande, in Quito. The third-level AVP training workshop had gone past the scheduled ending time, with intense work and a short, heart-felt closing ritual. I rushed, trying, with difficulty, to remain prayerful. As I arrived at the crowded square, I slowed my pace. The hymns being sung while I took my place on the cathedral steps and unfolded my sign helped me relax. I tapped my feet and rocked myself to the music.
Soon after I settled down, Patricio, the man of poverty and our friend from previous prayer vigils, came. He had been looking for me, and was starting to leave when he saw me. He looked much better than before, with a more upbeat attitude, well groomed in his humble attire. He had quit his job just the day before, but was expecting to be employed again the next day. His employer had been making him work from Monday to Sunday and, still, had reduced his wages. Patricio had decided not to take it. He usually left promptly to attend a Hare Krishna gathering, but said he would stay in the vigil: he needed to be alone and think.
We moved into prayer. I felt joy, peace, thankfuness and reverence. Soon Patricio asked a question: What is God for you? Shocked, I was trying to articulate an answer when a woman from the group singing praises to Jesus and preaching came over. She had a frown and her voice was hard, although she tried to be polite, even friendly. She inquired what we were doing. I tried to answer, but she interrupted me with other questions: In whose name are we praying? Have we acknowledged Jesus as our saviour? She described four steps one needs to take before trying to practice peace and justice, of which I can only remember the first: to acknowledge one's sins. She addressed Patricio, particularly, as if she wanted to drive him away from praying with me, but he confronted her: What we are trying to do is very simple, to pray, and you are bringing contention. Would you just join us? She harangued him, while two other men joined the argument. One man tried to embarrass Patricio, the other bluntly challenged the woman. While trying to remain prayerful, I felt how the grains of truth each of us carry are trampled in our to efforts to prevail over each other. Suddenly, Patricio, who had been showing a lot of deference for all, asked the woman: Tell me about your suffering. The woman staggered backwards as if hit by a bolt, muttering a few words, then withdrew with her friend. The other man, who had talked to us on previous occasions about spiritual disciplines and enlightment, continued to lecture about prayer and meditation. Patricio gently confronted him also —You are talking about prayer: pray with us now. The man refused: distraction drains energy. Patricio replied: if you have energy that could be wasted, use that energy to pray, and it won't be wasted. The old man left.
Patricio and I continued alone. Then Patricio asked his question again. How do I conceive of God? I told him that God was mystery to me, but that I liked Jesus' way to address God as papa, and that I continuously talk to God as papa or papacito (daddy). I told him this helps me feel myself and everybody being a child of God, close to God, trusting and loving God. Patricio looked thoughtful, his eyes bright. He said he would still like to address God as Celestial Father, though. Then, he prayed: Celestial Father, give me a drop of your mercy... He wanted science, so that he could converse with learned people. I told him how Jesus wanted us to be simple, like little children are, and how he, Patricio the simple, had humbled the woman and the man who showered us with their learning. He marvelled that he had been able to do that, thought for a while, and said that it was something that he needed to remember.
At the end, I told Patricio that I would not be back, at least for a while, for I was going away. He said: Good! Then, I don't have to come again! I could work all day on Sunday if I had to, he added. He was obviously relieved, and oblivious about what effect his statement could have on me. (I felt amusedly surprised.) As we talked, however, I felt a streak of sadness. Patricio walked with me towards the bus terminal (I was heading to my hometown to do some work in a high school there) until I encouraged him to go home: he was limping, his shoes being too tight. I told him that, if he felt moved, he could come and pray on the cathedral steps every Sunday at the same time. He seemed quite frightened that I would impose such expectation on him. No, he said, I cannot promise you that: alone, I am scared.
I knew what he was talking about.
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