Political discernment using Quaker testimonies

As a Quaker, I am helped in turbulent times by considering the five Quaker “testimonies.”

The testimonies are: Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community and Equality. (You can remember them with the mnemonic “SPICE”)

Recently I’ve weighed the three major presidential candidates against the testimonies and tried to assign grades to them. ABCDF.

I found it difficult because media reporting on the candidates often fails to provide necessary information to make a judgment on these topics.

Then again, much of the news coverage is relevant and helpful.

I also realized that I first needed to revisit the “SPICE”s for myself, particularly with regard to politics and public life.

It was a humbling experience. The “grade” I gave myself was, at best, a “gentleman’s C.”

Here are some of the questions I pondered.

Do I measure “simplicity” guided by my spirituality or do I surrender to cultural/political norms?

Am I at peace with myself? Am I at peace with paying taxes to support American military involvement (which includes atrocities)? Am I at peace with our system of "justice"?

Do I understand the word “integrity” in all its meanings, “strength” being one of them?

What community, or communities, am I part of? What are my responsibilities to them. What are my responsibilities to other communities beyond my own?

Do I truly believe we are equal? If so, how?

Now to the presidential candidates....

How do the testimonies apply to being president of the United States? It's easier to answer for some ("integrity" for instance) than others ("simplicity"?) Or are the testimonies simply important as measurements of personal character? Should we consider the "personal" and "presidential" as one? Are presidents forced to make decisions they would never want to make as individuals? Decisions about life and death, for instance. What does personal/presidential bifurcation say about "integrity"?

In an earlier draft of this little essay, I actually assigned “testimony” grades to the three leading candidates. Now I realize that my assessment is helpful only to me. It is filtered through my unique experiences, values and discernment.

What’s most important to you is yours.

So have at it. Take your time….

Donald Trump

Simplicity?
Peace?
Integrity?
Community?
Equality?

Hillary Clinton

Simplicity?
Peace?
Integrity?
Community?
Equality?

Bernie Sanders

Simplicity?
Peace?
Integrity?
Community?
Equality?

A message for Quaker non-Quakers

I have many friends whom I consider to be Quaker non-Quakers. By that I mean they hold the values of Quakers without knowing it.

There’s part of me that would like to whisper, “Pssst. You are a Quaker non-Quaker.”

There’s another part that tells me to let it be.

First what are the values we share? Quakers call them “testimonies” and they are usually listed as Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community and Equality. They happen to create the acronym “SPICE." Some add Stewardship or Sustainability to the list. Make that “SPICES.”

In these times, each deserves long, deep contemplation and consideration. We need to consider whether we, Quakers and non-Quakers, truly live by these testimonies.

But for me, as a Quaker, there’s more. Quakers add a spiritual dimension to the testimonies. We believe we are “spirit-led” to these values and that the spirit will lead us to incorporate them into our lives.

So while I share the Quaker testimonies with many non-Quaker friends, I also want to explore the spiritual dimension with them as well.

Our secular culture does not invite such exploration. To push into matters of the spirit smacks of unseemly proselytizing. I hear the voice again, “Let it be” (The voice, by the way, sounds suspiciously like John Lennon’s.)

Quaker author Robert Lawrence Smith “speaks my mind” (as Quakers say) when he writes in the introduction to his illuminating and highly accessible book, “A Quaker Book of Wisdom”:

"It is my ever-growing conviction that the compassionate Quaker message badly needs to be heard in today’s complex, materialistic, often unjust, and discriminatory society. Every day brings new public debate over issues Quaker have always addressed: war and peace, social justice, education, health care, poverty, business ethics, public service, the use of world resources. The list goes on....”

Later he says, gently touching on the timeless leadings of the spirit, “To me, Quaker values of simplicity and silent contemplation, truth and conscience, seem more important now than ever before....the basic humanistic Quaker precepts of valuing racial and gender equality, promoting social justice and nonviolence — and, yes sometimes civil disobedience —seem to me to me so modern, so relevant to today’s society, that when I thought about writing this book I was suddenly surprised that no one had written one like it. What particularly struck me is that the Quaker ideals formulated in the Seventeenth Century remain contemporary in every sense, and the basic injunction to ‘let your life speak,’ to live each day in accordance with these beliefs, seems totally untarnished by the passage of time.”

That is exactly the message I want to share with you, Quaker non-Quakers.

For more, much more, on Quakers, go to www.quaker.org.

Transcending bin Laden: Beyond hatred to peace

The death of Osama bin Laden has not inspired me to dance in the streets, chant "USA! USA!" or wave the American flag.

The death we desperately need to be able celebrate has yet to happen.

It is the death of war, fighting and the slaughter of innocents — everywhere.

It is the death of conditions that allow the Osama bin Ladens of the world to rise to power. We need the death of ignorance, hatred, inequality and poverty.

Recall that Osama bin Laden came to power because of his family wealth. Those fortunes were made in a Saudi economy sustained in large part by oil-addicted Americans and American politicians.

And so this wealthy Saudi scion exploited and spread hatred and fear.

He was hardly alone in doing that. Will his death breed more of the same?

Are those dancing in our streets and waving our flag so unlike the vengeance-seeking crowds protesting bin Laden’s death? Are both sides not shackled together in hatred of each other?

And who is exploiting their hatred?

There is no doubt that the death of Osama bin Laden and the public reactions to it are events made epic by the media. The vengeful, the self-serving and the religious self-righteous will feed on the frenzy.

But what is the true significance of this event? How do we derive new meaning and direction from it?

I suggest that American celebrants and the congratulatory politicians — that the protesters and the mourners in the streets of the Middle East — stifle their joy — and outrage — fold up their flags and take down their placards.

Instead take a pause for peace.

Vow to end the hatred and the fighting. Change the world by reaching out to each other. Yes, love your enemy. Make yourselves one for peace and for the "deaths" that will sustain life.

Clear, concise goals in troubled times

It lacks the punch of a crowd's chant. It won’t fit on a bumper sticker. It is unlikely to topple wayward, compromised and corrupted governments.

But if you are looking for a concise summary of essential needs in these troubled times, consider the official objectives of the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL), the Quaker lobbying arm in Washington, DC:

We seek a world free of war and the threat of war.
We seek a society with equity and justice for all.
We seek community where every person’s potential may be fulfilled.
We seek an earth restored.

Europe to Gates (and Obama): Peace is the way

A.J. Muste’s familiar saying, “There’s no way to peace; peace is the way,” is being questioned by none other than America’s very own Defense Secretary Robert Gates.

Last week he publicly bemoaned what he described as Europe’s “demilitarization,” saying that the coolness for fighting was jeopardizing the war in Afghanistan.

Jeopardizing war? That sounds like what Muste had in mind. The way to peace is — peace.

A New York Times story on Feb. 23 noted that polls in Europe show that the Afghanistan war “has grown increasingly unpopular in nearly every European country.”

As Gates noted, NATO members just aren’t putting enough money into guns. The story had Gates complaining that “only five of 28 countries have reached the defense spending target of 2 percent of gross domestic product. Here in the USA — where we still have underfunded schools, miserable health care and a crumbling infrastructure — we spend more than twice that percentage on fighting or preparing to fight.

Indeed we spend more on “defense” than all the other nations on the planet combined.

One nice thing about small democratic countries is that what the people want they get — health care, education etc. Here, we leave it to corporations and the defense industry to call the shots. Vis. the recent Supreme Court decision on corporate political contributions.

So Europe, a cluster of relatively small nations, which feel the impact of Islam’s presence far more than we do, is turning thumbs down on Mr. Gates’ (and President Obama’s) war.

The counter to Gates (and Obama), of course, is Muste (and Gandhi and King and Jesus).

If you want peace, don’t fight wars.

With regard to Afghanistan, there’s a long conversation that Mr. Gate should have with the Russians and the British of the 20th Century. The problem is this: that was then and this is now.

History is not on Mr. Gates’ side. Nor, it would seem, is Europe.

Missoula's Peace Center

I reported yesterday on my trip to Missoula, and on the ways the Montana city has created several amenities that we here in Hillsdale have often discussed but not yet implemented.

Another Missoula institution merits mentioning, the Jeannette Rankin Peace Center.

The center is just south of the Higgins Street Bridge in a cluster of "alternative businesses." A fair trade shop is in the store's front, and a private, subscription lending library is to the rear of the space.

Rankin, a native Montanan, was a suffragette and the first woman member of Congress. She voted against this nation’s declarations of war in both world wars. In the case of World War II, hers was the solitary vote in opposition. She cast it in full knowledge that it would ensure she would not be re-elected.

In Hillsdale, we have a small cadre of peace activists, and some of us have talked of forming a membership lending library with a quiet, comfortable reading room.

Entering the Rankin Peace Center, you wander through the cheery, colorful shop. It is stocked with exotic musical instruments, peace books, radiant textiles, pottery, reed baskets, peace buttons and inexpensive, handmade jewelry. Most of the offerings are from other parts of the world.

The small library, reached through a doorway, is focused on peace, social justice and sustainability, and is a serene, comfortable haven. It is also suitable for small meetings. Along one wall is a kitchenette.

In Hillsdale, we could create such a center in the space we will be using for our community book sale (this Sunday, 10 to 3). Our focus could be on community building.

As you look at these photographs of the Jeannette Rankin Peace Center library and the shop, imagine what it would be like to have a place like this in Hillsdale.

An Embrace of Peace

One of my fellow worshippers at this morning’s Quaker meeting shared with us that she had spent her Memorial Day with her father, a World War II veteran. He loves war , she said, and part of her visit to Indiana entailed enduring a VFW event where all things militaristic were venerated.

My Friend/friend had suffered through the ceremony in silence and in respect for the dead.

When it came my turn to speak this morning, her ordeal moved me to share that my father also had been a World War II veteran.

He had come home from the Asian theater with a deep, abiding hatred for war. A flight surgeon, he often had the duty of rushing to the wreckage of B-29s that had crash-landed at the air base.

He would search through the burned out hulks, searching for the broken and charred bodies of his friends.

He found no glory in war.

Before the war, my father had been a religious man, my mother confided in me. After it, he was cynical about the spirit and a benevolent God. Life had become a kind of fool’s game. He seemed to hold much of it at bay.

I told my colleagues sitting in our circle at the meeting this morning that my father’s hatred of war was a major reason for my being among them, for my being a Quaker. He had instilled his aversion to war in his son.

When, in my teens, I had occasion to visit the vast and somber World War I military cemeteries in northern France, I again witnessed the evil of war. When I became acquainted with Quaker beliefs in college, I found a spiritual refuge.

I remember when I was faced with a middling draft lottery number during the Vietnam War, my father had advised enlisting in the Coast Guard. A safe alternative, it seemed a “patriotic” accommodation with what he saw as, at best, a dubious conflict.

I had served three years in the Peace Corps in Africa. My work among the Kenyan people had nurtured “peace” in my heart. I told my father that I would either flee to Canada or go to jail.

As events played out, I never had to make the choice.

To this day, I cleave to the Quaker Peace Testimony of 1660: “We utterly deny all outward wars and strife and fighting with outward weapons for any end or under any pretense whatsoever; this is our testimony to the whole world . . , ,”

If only the whole world would accept our testimony. In our quiet, persistent way, Quakers extend the invitation, urging the embrace of peace.

At work with thoughts of war and peace

This Saturday morning as I cleaned up the flotsam from a week’s construction at our Quaker meeting house (above), it occurred to me how much it takes to build, and how our time and labor, far more than our money, bonds us to what we create.

And then I thought of war’s instantaneous destruction.

Its destruction of life. How much work we put into our own lives and into those of others, starting with the lives of children.

I thought of the destruction of those who escape death but live on in misery and anger, in hatred and pain.

To say they are the victims of war is wrong. War is a word for our own human failing. The death and destruction is not caused by some uncontrollable, outside force; it is caused by us, by all who declare, support and wage war.

Because of the physical nature of my labor at the meeting house, as I swept and shoveled and hauled debris, I thought most of the destruction of buildings, homes, schools, hospitals, factories and, yes, places of worship like this one.

When we destroy a place, we do not simply obliterate a building, a neighborhood, a village, a town, a city. We kill all that went into them: the dreaming, planning, building, caring, nurturing and using.

As I worked, I felt the preciousness of creation and peace, and rededicated myself — with each whisk of the broom and scoop of the shovel— to opposing the terrible destruction that we do to each other in the name of war.

Driving home the point

We were down to three peace vigilers (vigil-antes?) at Sunset Boulevard and Capitol Highway during this evening’s rush hour. Not that our numbers have ever been overwhelming. The most I can remember is 12 or 13 waving placards at two thousand or so commuters headed home. We’ve been protesting since January or February.

Some commuters, call them Group A, must wonder what good we think we are doing. It reminds me a little of Emerson’s famous exchange with Thoreau when the latter was in jail for refusing to pay his war tax.

“Henry, what are you doing in there?” asked Emerson, to which Thoreau retorted, “What are YOU doing out there?”

It’s important to prompt Group A’s 400 or 500 commuters simply to hesitate, even if only to question our motives. At least they will be forced to think of this tragic, wasteful war.

You might say that I’m standing at Capitol and Sunset, a sign in both hands, in order to get Group A to think about something other than mowing the lawn, the weekend sale at Macy’s or the price of gasoline.

If Group A commuters pause a single instant to reflect on this war, my half hour at Sunset and Capitol is more than worth it.

And then there are all those Group B folks who obviously do understand our protest. Group B still honks and gives us thumbs up. And, like us, they too draw the attention of Group A.

Even if our numbers dwindle to one, each Friday evening from 5:30 to 6:00, the protest will still have Group B, honking and helping — driving home the point for peace.

Blessings of Wilson's peace prank

The “restoration” of the Wilson High School plaza after peace pranksters cleverly transformed it into a “Peace Garden” was a feel-good event at mid-day today.

On Sunday night 3o seniors (pictured below), among them Maggie Collins and project leader Daniel Ronan (pictured upper right), created a huge peace symbol (last picture) out of 2,000 marigolds.

When Collins openly admitted to her involvement, school administrators threatened to withhold her diploma until she paid the $1000 restoration costs.

Today, friends, family and community came to her rescue.

Many of the pranksters, along with parents, other students and community volunteers, moved the marigolds and filled in the spokes of the symbol with sod. There may have been 100 people on hand for the work.

Today’s event came with many blessings, to say nothing of pizza, croissants and Gail Baack’s chocolate chip cookies, oh, and a minor media feeding frenzy of two TV film crews and an Oregonian reporter.

Blessing number one was that we found more work to do and had the hands available to do it. We weeded the garden, and then a small team went off to pull ivy in the trees north of the Wilson campus.

Blessing number two was that the newly sodded grass will contrast with the old grass. A subtle peace symbol lives at Wilson.

Blessing number three was that many businesses contributed to today’s project: Safeway — bananas and cream cheese, Noah's (bagels), Three Square Grill (beignets, French donuts), Baker and Spice (various baked goods), Rudy's pizza on Powell (pizzas), Wild Oats (water) and Portland Nursery (sod).

Blessing number four was that in the course of digging and scraping, someone hit a solid object under the turf next to the round garden’s perimeter. More scraping unearthed a square of a mosaic. Roman perhaps? No, more scraping revealed it to be definitely Trojan, as in the Wilson High School Trojans.

Still more Scrapings and the crew unearthed a 19-foot-long mosaic of letters spelling “Wilson High School — 2002.” A mere five years old, it was well along to becoming an archeological artifact.

So the class of 2007’s prank, a gift of peace, unearthed a bounty of new blessings.

One, we are told, leads others.

Peace Garden blooms at Wilson High

Daniel Ronan, the Hillsdale Neighborhood Association Board's first student member and a Wilson High School senior, reports that last Sunday night 35 seniors used marigolds to transform Wilson's central courtyard into a peace sign.

The planting was the seniors' graduation prank and bears the signature "Seniors 07."

The work, which involved planting more than 2,000 flowers, took approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes.

Daniel writes, "The peace sign has a history at Wilson high school this year. In late February and early March, students from the Peace and Social Justice Club put up peace signs and messages with washable paint on various classroom windows. The depictions were done with the consent of each teacher whose classroom was used. But a parent's complaint about the signs sparked a debate as to whether the messages of peace were political."

The school administration instructed the students to take the peace messages down .

Sunday's prank planting will be removed and the original sod restored this Saturday at 11 a.m. The pranksters are inviting the community to help with the work.

It should be a fun event in a good cause.

Peace at the end of a dark week

In a week askew with tragedy in Virginia — and yet again in Iraq, our Friday evening peace vigil at Sunset Boulevard and Capitol Highway seemed a kilter too.

The usual steadfast stream of evening commuters motored by, of course. Because the spring sun was still bright in a clear sky, I paid closer attention to what the home-bound drivers were doing behind their wheels.

Free of slapping windshield wipers and dapples of rain, they too seemed more aware of us, the eleven peace vigilers staked out on the four corners of Hillsdale’s busiest intersection.

We got more honks than usual—easy toots for peace.

Across the street, the coltish ballerinas pranced and pirouetted behind the glass doors of the old garage turned modern dance studio.

A few high school guys, a military recruiter’s dream, hung out at the Union 76 gas station/food mart. Once, 10 years ago, a real mechanic changed oil and filters there; he didn’t sell lattés and Doritos.

We, largely a gray-haired lot, brandished our peace signs so that the loitering boys wouldn’t have to fight for oil and Union 76 in some distant, searing desert.

We got a lot of support from passers-by, but a burly, goggled biker on a growling, bronze and buff Harley flipped me off with a raised, black-leathered middle finger.

Glad he saw me, I thought.

No, the truly dangerous commuters were the multi-taskers on cell-phones who felt compelled to talk AND flash us the V—with the one remaining hand that should have been on the wheel.

The sign in front of the high school announced that the “community clean-up” scheduled for tomorrow has been canceled. No room on the sign for a reason. Could our community, like an oven, now be self-cleaning? If only.

The best news is that Jerrod, the Hillsdale Marine stationed in Iraq, is wending his way home aboard a ship cruising to Australia.

I got the word from his grandmother, a vigil regular. Safe though Jerrod is, she continues to come, hoisting the “Honk for Peace” sign I gave her back in February when 6 p.m. was dark and cold and sodden.

Her presence inspires us to keep our Friday vigil at Sunset and Capitol, to insist that all our Jerrods—and Janes—be brought home in the name of peace.

The political courage to love

The Vietnam vet who confronted me on the streetcar Sunday (see previous post) has led me to a sobering conclusion.

We are one domestic terrorist attack away from electing a war-hardened John McCain as our next president.

Seen this way, the absurdly premature polls now pointing to a Democratic victory in 2008 are numbers from nowhere.

Suppose a terrorist cell, or a solitary suicide bomber (or, perish the thought, an agent provocateur) detonates a bomb in an all-American shopping mall some Saturday in the next 18 months.

Two hundred dead? Four hundred? One thousand gravely wounded. Many victims are children. Depictions of the devastation and agony are delivered again and again to the TVs in every living room in the land.

Baghdad suffers such carnage each day.

Here, once will be enough.

Will a vengeful, flag-waving, self-righteous America then vote for a Clinton/Obama ticket or Obama/Edwards? An Edwards/Richardson pairing? How about Al Gore?

Not a chance.

A “United We Stand” America will send a McCain/Giuliani or a McCain/Brownback war team to the White House.

And the killing goes on and on and on.

The important point is this: The likely winners, like all the candidates in both parties, will be, self-proclaimed “Christians.” Once again, they will be too weak, yes, too cowardly, to put into practice Christ’s most challenging commandment: “Love your enemy.”

As a people we should ask, where do we find leaders with the moral strength and courage to chance such love?

Can our system of government even nurture them? Do we, a frightened people steeped in “might makes right,” bar them from the halls of power? Would we, who venerate a Christ or a Gandhi or a Martin Luther King, ever actually have the courage to elect such a person—to act in the name of love?

I fear that unless we (and here I mean all humanity) quickly evolve so that we vest such leaders with real power, we as a species are doomed.

I don’t think that my streetcar acquaintance had any of this in mind when he challenged me about my service to our country; but this is where his challenge has led me.

A post-peace march encounter with the past

So Portland’s Peace march was bigger than Seattle’s. Who knows, it may have topped San Francisco’s.

Well, never mind. This is not some March Madness peace play-off between cities.

Besides, the evening news tonight is spending more time on a handful of anarchists jousting with police in front of the Justice Center than it is on shots of the winding, quirky, sardonic, bitter march for peace.

And then there was my ride back from the march on the trolley….

An in-your-face guy in his fifties seated across the aisle spots my “Wage Peace” sign and says, “So you’d rather fight them here than over there?”

I’m never good with impromptu retorts, which is probably just as well, but this guy won’t let my silence stand.

“So you’d rather fight them here than over there—and, believe me, we WILL be fighting them here.”

Silence.

“Serve in ‘Nam?” he asks.

“What?”

“Did you serve in Vietnam?”

“No,” I say.

“Did you ever serve anywhere?”

“I was in the Peace Corps in Africa for three years helping people,” I offered.

“Some people don’t want help.”

“Well the people I helped sure did.”

“Some people don’t want help,” he repeated.

“The people I helped CERTAINLY did.”

It was his turn for silence.

Two more trolley stops and he got off in stony silence.

They call Portland “weird,” but they don’t know the half of it.

When my antagonist watches the news tonight, will he remember the Returned Peace Corps Volunteer he encountered on the bus, or will he be focused on the hand-cuffed anarchists being carted off by the police?

Or will we be one in the same?

As for me, I wonder what this Vietnam vet went through 40 years ago that delivered him into the hands of George W. Bush, who never served anywhere for this country.

And still doesn’t.

A man with a candle in the rain

Friday evening was cold, wet and gusty. Still, he decided to make his way to the busy intersection of Capitol Highway and Sunset Boulevard to stake out his candle-holding, placard-waving place on the northwest corner next to the crosswalk signal.

Being there helped sustain the six-week-old Friday night peace vigils.

He was alone on the corner, but across Capitol were four others, and he could see his friend Joan catty corner from him with her battery-powered string of lights and her rainbow-striped peace banner.

The Hillsdale peace vigil was small on this nasty night, but its spirit was alive.

The weather cut through his raincoat. He really should have put on another layer of clothes. The wind whipped the rain around him, soaking his jeans. The little candle in the jar blew out three times, and the matches grew moist making it harder to spark a flame.

But the more miserable he became the more he thought of the true misery of war, the fear, the agony, the death, the destruction, the hatred.

The vigil’s small but palpable discomforts fed his resolve to oppose war—to “Wage Peace,” as his placard proclaimed,

A stranger bearing a bulky camera suddenly appeared next to him and asked whether he had another candle. The one he was holding had gone out, again. He thought the stranger, who introduced himself as Joe—Joe Cantrell—wanted to hold one himself, but it turned out he wanted to take a photo.

Joe is drawn to taking photos with a social message. He had been driving home in the busy, rain-splattered commute and spotted the soaked, slightly stooped figure cupping a glowing candle, balancing a placard at his feet, and somehow managing to keep an umbrella canted over his head.

Now Joe wondered whether the sodden man could light the candle again because he wanted to record what he had seen.

Here it is.

The Quaker in the back of the room

Before I began attending Quaker meetings in the mid-Sixties, I was an “almost-Unitarian.”

When I returned from civil rights work in Mississippi in 1964, the Unitarians were among the most eager to learn of my experiences there.

To this day, as they say, “some of my best friends are…” Unitarians.

So when one of those friends told me that the congregation of the First Unitarian Church here in Portland was meeting to consider replacing “just war” theory for “pacificism” as its guide for responding to war, I accepted her invitation to observe.

A large downstairs room was packed. I purposely sat in the back with the coffee urns, carrot sticks and cheese dip.

The minister welcomed everyone, noting that the meeting was the largest of its kind ever for the congregation. Then the group dove into respectful but intense debate. An advocate for a “pacificist” position spoke, followed by one for the “just war” stance.

Clearly George W. Bush’s militarism had prompted a deep and growing concern.

We next broke into small discussion groups to try to allow each person to speak and to measure opinion.

Five neighboring Unitarians gathered me into their group. I introduced myself as a Quaker but excused myself from discussion or voting.

They would have none of it. They wanted to hear what I had to say. I reluctantly agreed to share my perspective but only after I had listened to them.

At the end of its discussion, the little group voted, feeling that they had to choose one side or the other. They were divided.

Then they turned to me. I began by saying what all Quakers do…I represent only myself, not all Quakers. That said, Quakers hold to a “Peace Testimony” grounded “…in the virtue of that life and power that (takes) away the occasion of all wars,” in the words of Quaker founder George Fox.

Early Quakers, invoking Christ’s teachings, put their conviction clearly: “We utterly deny all outward wars and strife and fighting with outward weapons for any end or under any pretense whatsoever; this is our testimony to the whole world.”

But Quakers also believe that each person needs to seek that “still, small voice within” to decide matters of conscience. While most Friends, as we call ourselves, have chosen to object “conscientiously” to war, a few have chosen to fight. After 9/11, some, most notably Scott Simon, a Quaker and an NPR "Weekend Edition" host, publicly broke with the testimony.

The important point, I explained, is that Quakers, unlike Unitarians, do not begin by analyzing armed conflict through an intellectual “Just War” screen. Our litmus, if it can be called that, begins with cleaving to peace for as long as each of us can or will.

When the discussion groups reported to the whole group, the congregation was also torn. In a final show of hands, a substantial majority deemed the entire deliberation to be an exercise in “false dichotomy.”

The Unitarians’ struggle cast new light on my own Quaker beliefs. Quakers have a deep conviction about peace. It seems impossible for anyone to have such a conviction about “Just War.” The Unitarians certainly didn’t, although one man vowed to leave the congregation if it declared itself “pacifist.”

Moreover, if Quakers were to address such a “weighty matter,” they would assuredly have done so “out of worshipful silence.” Quakers conduct all business, even the most mundane, only after first “settling into the silence,” seeking guidance to be found there.
The Unitarians, with no such tradition, threw themselves into debate and discussion.

The Unitarians also seemed to believe that it was important for the congregation to take a position, if it could. And they were willing to vote and count hands. Quakers famously strive for a unified “sense of the meeting” through discussion and reflection, and never through potentially divisive voting.

I came away from the Unitarian meeting feeling that, for all they share with Quakers, particularly on matters of social justice, the Unitarians saw peace from a very different perspective.

Days later I regretted that I had not shared A.J. Muste’s assertion: “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.” Quakers chose that way 350 years ago. It has made all the difference.

"Picturing" Peace in Hillsdale

Wilson High School senior Daniel Ronan is a real spark plug for change in our Hillsdale neighborhood. One of his many causes is the peace movement.

Daniel has taken some photos from last Friday's Hillsdale peace vigil and posted them on his Flickr site. When you pass over the site photos with your cursor, his comments pop up next to the pictures. His photo to the right is of a girl whose brother is a Marine in Iraq.

Please join us at Capitol Highway and Sunset Boulevard this Friday evening, and every Friday evening, at 5:30 for our peaceful demonstrations.

For a half hour, we share the message of peace with hundreds of homebound commuters.

Thoreau's words grip us in our times

All great literature reaches out and touches readers of all times.

But in these times Henry David Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” grabs us by the lapels, stares us in the eyes and firmly demands that we act on what we believe.

We are reading “Civil Disobedience” for our Hillsdale Book Group. For me “Reading” doesn’t quite describe the experience. Call it an encounter or engagement.

I’ll find out about the others’ experience when we meet next Thursday at 7 p.m. at the Multnomah Art Center Senior Lounge. (I provide the specifics because you are invited.)

Thoreau’s essay has sought me out in this time of war, moral depravity, subservience to the state and political posturing.

Thoreau’s words hold me accountable, and I am coming up short.

His essay published in 1849 resounds across nearly 16 decades—two end-to-end life spans.

He doesn’t have to mention “Iraq” or “George W. Bush” or even “Hillary Rodham Clinton” for us to know that he somehow anticipated them—and us.

Listen.

“A common and natural result of an undue respect for law is that you may see a file of soldiers—colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and all—marching in admirable order over the hill and dale to the wars, against their wills, ay, against their common sense and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed….The mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies….

“Yet such as these even are commonly esteemed good citizens. Others—as most legislators, politicians, lawyers, ministers and office-holders—serve the state chiefly with their heads; and, as they rarely make any moral distinctions, they are as likely to serve the Devil, without intending it, as God.

“A very few, as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense,…serve the state with their consciences also, and so necessarily resist it for the most part; and they are commonly treated as enemies by it…."

And then he adds:

“What I have to do is to see… that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.”

Re-reading those words, I thought of our Hillsdale protests against the war. A dozen or so of us gathered at Sunset Boulevard and Capitol Highway again on Friday evening, bearing witness to our opposition as the evening commuters droned past.

It is not enough. Through our taxes and or polite opposition to our government’s policies, we are still “lending ourselves to the wrong which we condemn.”

In protest to America’s war with Mexico, Thoreau famously refused to pay his poll tax. He spent a single night in the Concord jail. The stay was a one-night wonder, an example, but he didn’t make civil disobedience a habit.

That said, “Civil Disobedience,” which recounts the experience, inspired others, among them Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King Jr.

Today, the words of the 19th Century Concord recluse hold a mirror before our faces and ask: And what about you?

A vigil of protest, peace and remembrance

We convene again this Friday, Jan. 26, at the corner of Sunset and Capitol to show our opposition to the war in Iraq.

Here are the names of the 49 Oregonians who have died in the conflict so far:

Nettles, Marcques J. Petty Officer 3rd Class 02-Apr-2006;
Newman, Randy Lee Lance Corporal 20-Aug-2006;
Moothart, Travis A. Sergeant 27-Jan-2004;
Blickenstaff, Joseph M. Specialist 08-Dec-2003;
McKinley, Eric S. Specialist 13-Jun-2004;
Fennerty, Sean P. Sergeant 20-Jan-2007;
Zyla, Michael S. Staff Sergeant 13-Dec-2005;
Loveless, Jeremy M. Corporal 29-May-2006;
Thornton, Steven W. Major 18-Apr-2005;
Whitman, Chase R. Specialist 08-May-2004;
Rogers, Philip G. Specialist 04-Apr-2004;
Plumondore, Adam J. Sergeant 16-Feb-2005;
Mitts, David A. Sergeant 04-Dec-2004;
Simpson, Jacob M. Sergeant 16-May-2005;
Lee, Marc A. Petty Officer 2nd Class 02-Aug-2006;
Kesterson, Erik C. Chief Warrant Officer 15-Nov-2003;
Hill, Ryan J. Private 1st Class 20-Jan-2007;
Van Leuven, Gary F. Lance Corporal 17-Apr-2004;
Kelly, Bryan P. Lance Corporal 16-Jul-2004;
Warren, Mark C. Sergeant 1st Class 31-Jan-2005;
Davis, Kevin Dewayne Staff Sergeant 08-Apr-2005;
Tucker, Thomas Lowell Private 1st Class 16-Jun-2006;
Jones, Robert L. Specialist 17-Jun-2006;
Bradachnall, Travis J. Corporal 02-Jul-2003;
Wessel, Kevin S. K. Private 1st Class 19-Apr-2005;
Roberts, Bob W. Lance Corporal 17-May-2004;
Stever, Robert Anthony Staff Sergeant 08-Apr-2003;
McCrae, Erik S. 1st Lieutenant 04-Jun-2004;
Linden, Justin W. Specialist 04-Jun-2004;
Ramirez, William C. Private 1st Class 11-Feb-2004;
Wesley, Christopher Jude Rivera Specialist 08-Dec-2003;
Johnson, David W. Specialist 25-Sep-2004;
Kent, Aaron A. Seaman 23-Apr-2005;
Tobler, Brandon Scott Specialist 22-Mar-2003;
Weisenburg, David J. Staff Sergeant 13-Sep-2004;
Henkes II, Richard J. Sergeant 1st Class 03-Sep-2006;
Haag, Chase A. Corporal 01-Oct-2006;
Moore, James Lee Corporal 26-Jan-2005
Bright, Dean Private 1st Class 04-Oct-2006;
Eyerly, Justin L. Sergeant 04-Jun-2004;
Jones, Derek W. Lance Corporal 08-Oct-2006;
Isenberg, Benjamin W. Specialist 13-Sep-2004;
Contreras, Aaron Joseph Captain 30-Mar-2003;
Walker, Ryan D. Specialist 05-Jan-2006;
Troyer, Tyler J. Lance Corporal 19-Nov-2005;
Gibson, Brennan C. Sergeant 10-Dec-2006;
Huston Jr., James B. Lance Corporal 02-Jul-2004;
Leisten, Ken W. Private 1st Class 28-Jul-2004;
Rockholt Jr., Ricky W.

Hillsdale Peace Vigils set for Friday evenings

Do you have a half hour to give for peace?

Many Hillsdalites will gather at the corner of Capitol Highway and Sunset Boulevard from 5:30 p.m. to 6 p.m. this Friday, and on future Fridays, to show our community's resolve for peace.

The location at the entrance to Wilson High School is worth noting for those who are skeptical about the effectiveness of peace demonstrations, large or small.

These vigils teach peace to a whole new generation that has seen little of it for six years. This young generation, here and around the world, will continue to bear the strife and suffering resulting from our doing nothing.

They will learn from our doing something—together.

Please join us. Bring a peace sign. Join in reading the names of those Oregonians who have died in Iraq.

If you find yourself driving through the intersection, honk, or flash your lights, for peace!

See you Friday evening.