Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
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