Because war is killing us.
our souls. our bodies.
our best intentions.
our imagination.
our friends. our adversaries.
our hopes and dreams.
our youth. our future.
our sense of humanity and dignity.
our civility.
our infrastructure of mind and matter.
our economy. our compassion.
Because war is killing us, suddenly and slowly,
and surely,
every last one of “us” and “them”...
Because my cousin came home from Iraq
all together...in pieces...
I cannot not sit here and interrupt
war as usual.
By John Heid
Saturday, March 27, 2010
On Breaking International Law (Spring 2008)
By Mike Luetgeb Munson
The Geneva Conventions define the following actions as war crimes; “murder, ill treatment of civilian population of or in occupied territory; murder or ill treatment of prisoners of war of public or private property, wanton destruction of cities, towns, or villages.”
In Article 35 the document expands to say, “In any armed conflict, the right of parties to choose methods or means of warfare is not unlimited. It is prohibited to employ methods or means of warfare which are intended, or may be expected, to cause widespread, long-term and severe damage to the environment.”
We know of the United States of America’s use of indiscriminant cluster bombs, environmentally disastrous radioactive Depleted Uranium munitions, torture and sexual humiliation in detention centers in Iraq. Thus we are implored by the signers of the Geneva Conventions and the framers of the Nuremburg Principles, if not bound by international law, to intervene in order to end this crime against humanity.
The Nuremberg Principles proclaim, “individuals have international duties which transcend national obligations of obedience.” What do these duties look like in regards to the war in Iraq? How do we respond to crimes of war being committed today?
I suggest that we stop condoning the crimes being committed in our name and call for an end to the Iraq war. The first step to take is to end military recruitment in our schools and in our town.
The Geneva Conventions define the following actions as war crimes; “murder, ill treatment of civilian population of or in occupied territory; murder or ill treatment of prisoners of war of public or private property, wanton destruction of cities, towns, or villages.”
In Article 35 the document expands to say, “In any armed conflict, the right of parties to choose methods or means of warfare is not unlimited. It is prohibited to employ methods or means of warfare which are intended, or may be expected, to cause widespread, long-term and severe damage to the environment.”
We know of the United States of America’s use of indiscriminant cluster bombs, environmentally disastrous radioactive Depleted Uranium munitions, torture and sexual humiliation in detention centers in Iraq. Thus we are implored by the signers of the Geneva Conventions and the framers of the Nuremburg Principles, if not bound by international law, to intervene in order to end this crime against humanity.
The Nuremberg Principles proclaim, “individuals have international duties which transcend national obligations of obedience.” What do these duties look like in regards to the war in Iraq? How do we respond to crimes of war being committed today?
I suggest that we stop condoning the crimes being committed in our name and call for an end to the Iraq war. The first step to take is to end military recruitment in our schools and in our town.
Confronting War in Our Own Community (Spring 2008)
By Becky Lambert
War is not the answer, violence is not the answer. We live in a society today that believes both can bring about desired outcomes. Specifically, those who advocated for the war in Iraq believed that our intervention there would allow Iraq to become a beacon for democracy in the Middle East. What have we learned during the last five years but that our brothers and sisters in Iraq, who have no voice and no choice, do not look to this occupation as the liberation they were told it would be. Hundreds of thousands dead, millions displaced, cities bombed beyond recognition, no electricity, no security, no food. We have literally bombed them back to the Stone Age. And for this we need to take responsibility.
So, I must confront the war in my own community. Because I am sick of hearing the statistics: …nearly 4,000 dead; 29,000 irreparably damaged; the suicide rate of soldiers is at the highest it has ever been, as is the rate of soldiers who commit homicide when they are on leave or after they come back from Iraq; at the minimum, two-thirds of women in the military are sexual harassed or raped; hundreds of thousands of Iraqi’s are dead…I choose to confront the war starting with the recruiting center. It is there that I see our youth disappearing, where I see teenagers recruited to fight the wars of old men. When we talk to the recruiters they tell us that they are just part of the system, soldiers following orders. We can let ourselves get away with a whole lot when we start thinking in those terms, when we take no responsibility. I will sit in front of the recruiting center because I need to be true to myself, I need to take responsibility for what is happening in my community.
War is not the answer, violence is not the answer. We live in a society today that believes both can bring about desired outcomes. Specifically, those who advocated for the war in Iraq believed that our intervention there would allow Iraq to become a beacon for democracy in the Middle East. What have we learned during the last five years but that our brothers and sisters in Iraq, who have no voice and no choice, do not look to this occupation as the liberation they were told it would be. Hundreds of thousands dead, millions displaced, cities bombed beyond recognition, no electricity, no security, no food. We have literally bombed them back to the Stone Age. And for this we need to take responsibility.
So, I must confront the war in my own community. Because I am sick of hearing the statistics: …nearly 4,000 dead; 29,000 irreparably damaged; the suicide rate of soldiers is at the highest it has ever been, as is the rate of soldiers who commit homicide when they are on leave or after they come back from Iraq; at the minimum, two-thirds of women in the military are sexual harassed or raped; hundreds of thousands of Iraqi’s are dead…I choose to confront the war starting with the recruiting center. It is there that I see our youth disappearing, where I see teenagers recruited to fight the wars of old men. When we talk to the recruiters they tell us that they are just part of the system, soldiers following orders. We can let ourselves get away with a whole lot when we start thinking in those terms, when we take no responsibility. I will sit in front of the recruiting center because I need to be true to myself, I need to take responsibility for what is happening in my community.
Week of direct action at the Armed Forces Recruiting Center (Spring 2008)
The Winona Catholic Worker community joined forces with friends and fellow peacemakers for a week of direct action at our local Armed Forces Recruiting Center. After weeks of preparations, meetings and research the group made a plan for three specific actions and a slough of letter writing. Monday, February 25, was declared “Women’s Day,” and was planned and implemented by the 6 women of the group. Two women entered the Recruiting Center and had a lengthy conversation with the recruiter and a recent Iraq veteran. The group of women then stood vigil outside of the recruiting station for 3 hours. At one point they hung a sign over the door of the building stating that it was “closed for business.” The sign was later removed after police were called. Wednesday, February 27 was a more festive day centered around the sharing of food. The group set up a large table directly in front of the Recruiting Center and served free food to passersby. The hot soup and homemade cookies were a hit with everyone on that chilly afternoon. A simple sign that hung on the table read “eating with each other makes fighting amongst ourselves impossible.” Thursday, February 28 concluded our weeklong campaign with a somber but serious message to the Recruiting Center and the town of Winona. John Heid and Becky Lambert planned to chain the doors of the center closed before anyone had the chance to enter. The group felt it necessary to make it clear that because the Recruiting Center was operating in violation of international law, business cannot go on as usual. The original plan was slightly altered by the fact that someone was already in the building, but Becky and John quickly amended their action by taking a seat directly in front of the door. No one would be entering without first moving Becky and John. Diane and Mike Leutgeb Munson joined the mini-blockade until warned by police that they would be arrested for trespass. Becky and John remained and were quickly handcuffed, removed from the property, processed, ticketed and released (John was held for much of the day on account of his refusal to identify himself). Local media coverage of the weeks events was thorough and the slough of letters to the editor written by the group itself brought many key issues to the attention of the Winona community. We are hopeful that this is the first step towards truly ending recruitment in our town.
Saint Mary's University Veterans Memorial (Spring 2008)
By Mary Farrell
A few months ago, we at the Catholic Worker were alerted to a project of the Alumni Board at Saint Mary’s University. The desire of the board was to honor SMU alumni who have served in the United States military with a memorial on campus. With some of us being SMU alumni and others concerned on behalf of peace and justice, we believed it was necessary to become more involved with this veteran’s memorial project. Our concern was that it did not reflect the Catholic and Lasallian mission of this Christian Brothers University. The design of the monument included five arches representing each branch of the armed services, as well as a “design element that will strike a beam of sunlight on an inscribed plaque of those who have died in the military…on the11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month” (Veteran’s Day). Our Catholic and Christian conviction is that this design seemed to honor the institution of war rather than the veterans who made personal sacrifices.
We wanted to take a stand on this issue, and learned that some members of the faculty had attempted to do so in the past. As we spoke with some of our regular student volunteers, their interest was striking as well. Our community began our work by writing letters of concern to Brother Louis DeThomasis and other university personnel. As word spread among concerned students, staff, faculty and alumni, we began holding regular meetings in the living room of Bethany House where we gathered our thoughts together and discussed action steps; a blog was set up to post letters by those who wrote to the university. As a result of our community letters, we were given an invitation to meet with the university president and his staff to talk about the project and voice our concerns. The students attended a separate meeting with the president during the same week.
In the meetings we asked that the university consider a moratorium on the project until more people were included in the decision making process. We believed that widening the circle of people who were informed would give the university a broader picture of what people think about this controversial subject. The discussion continued with Br. Louis assuring us that SMU is not glorifying war with this monument and only wishes to honor those who served. Even so, the fear is that the monument could be perceived as a war memorial. We felt it necessary to highlight the fact that this monument may not reflect a Christian witness for a non-violent response to personal and world conflict. We expressed a hope that the university would choose to foster a culture of peace, especially at a place where students are learning how to live out the gospel message of how to love one’s enemies. We also pointed out that there have been many examples of people who have worked or studied at SMU who have chosen to volunteer their time to serve people who live without the basic necessities of life. Brother James Miller, a farmer and teacher, gave his life for the people of Guatemala with whom he witnessed brutal oppression and murder carried out by a military dictatorship during the 1980’s. Brother Miller serves as a clear example of the peacemakers that we would like to see memorialized on campus.
We were grateful for this opportunity to meet in person with those who are making decisions regarding this monument. As a result, Br. Louis proposed a forum on campus to hear from the university community regarding this project, as well as allowing our group to make a presentation to the Board of Trustees. We thanked Br. Louis for responding to our concerns with these two proposals.
Both the forum and the meeting with the Board took place in the last month. The forum was well attended by SMU staff and students and the university heard from many people who expressed their concerns on both sides of the issue. An artist pointed out that the arches in the design represented triumphalism, a theologian said it would be hard for her to teach her Catholic Social Teaching class if the monument was erected on campus and an Iraq veteran was disappointed by the opposition because he believes in the just war theory.
A small group of students, alumni and faculty represented our interests at the Board of Trustees meeting. They expressed our views that a moratorium would allow time for more discussion and reflection on how this monument might affect the university permanently.
The final result from both of these efforts was not to grant a moratorium but to completely redesign the monument; the pillars were abandoned and were replaced with a glass monument etched with an olive branch with an inscription stating “Peace through Service”. The design is an improvement and we thank those who took our concerns to heart; however we still take issue with this quote as well as one cited from the Catechism of the Catholic Church: “Those who sworn to serve their country in the armed forces are servants of the security and freedom of nations. If they carry out their duty honorably, they truly contributed to the common good of the nation and the maintenance of peace.”
These words taken out of the context of the surrounding paragraphs, as well as the words “peace through service” erroneously insinuate that peace can be obtained through military force. Our Christian faith teaches us otherwise. A letter has been written to the Board of Trustees and other University officials to acknowledge our gratitude for their time and energy, and to explain our concerns with the new wording and overall lack of communal involvement in the redesign process. We hope that there is still room for input and dialogue on this issue.
In all of this, we give thanks for this learning opportunity and for all who gave of their conviction and passion. It was a joy to be in the midst of the SMU students who invested their spiritual and intellectual energy into making their university campus a place where their voices were heard. It was truly an opportunity to learn from each other and to stand with each other. We were also grateful to discover that those with decision-making power opened their hearts and minds to a viewpoint that was different than their own.
A few months ago, we at the Catholic Worker were alerted to a project of the Alumni Board at Saint Mary’s University. The desire of the board was to honor SMU alumni who have served in the United States military with a memorial on campus. With some of us being SMU alumni and others concerned on behalf of peace and justice, we believed it was necessary to become more involved with this veteran’s memorial project. Our concern was that it did not reflect the Catholic and Lasallian mission of this Christian Brothers University. The design of the monument included five arches representing each branch of the armed services, as well as a “design element that will strike a beam of sunlight on an inscribed plaque of those who have died in the military…on the11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month” (Veteran’s Day). Our Catholic and Christian conviction is that this design seemed to honor the institution of war rather than the veterans who made personal sacrifices.
We wanted to take a stand on this issue, and learned that some members of the faculty had attempted to do so in the past. As we spoke with some of our regular student volunteers, their interest was striking as well. Our community began our work by writing letters of concern to Brother Louis DeThomasis and other university personnel. As word spread among concerned students, staff, faculty and alumni, we began holding regular meetings in the living room of Bethany House where we gathered our thoughts together and discussed action steps; a blog was set up to post letters by those who wrote to the university. As a result of our community letters, we were given an invitation to meet with the university president and his staff to talk about the project and voice our concerns. The students attended a separate meeting with the president during the same week.
In the meetings we asked that the university consider a moratorium on the project until more people were included in the decision making process. We believed that widening the circle of people who were informed would give the university a broader picture of what people think about this controversial subject. The discussion continued with Br. Louis assuring us that SMU is not glorifying war with this monument and only wishes to honor those who served. Even so, the fear is that the monument could be perceived as a war memorial. We felt it necessary to highlight the fact that this monument may not reflect a Christian witness for a non-violent response to personal and world conflict. We expressed a hope that the university would choose to foster a culture of peace, especially at a place where students are learning how to live out the gospel message of how to love one’s enemies. We also pointed out that there have been many examples of people who have worked or studied at SMU who have chosen to volunteer their time to serve people who live without the basic necessities of life. Brother James Miller, a farmer and teacher, gave his life for the people of Guatemala with whom he witnessed brutal oppression and murder carried out by a military dictatorship during the 1980’s. Brother Miller serves as a clear example of the peacemakers that we would like to see memorialized on campus.
We were grateful for this opportunity to meet in person with those who are making decisions regarding this monument. As a result, Br. Louis proposed a forum on campus to hear from the university community regarding this project, as well as allowing our group to make a presentation to the Board of Trustees. We thanked Br. Louis for responding to our concerns with these two proposals.
Both the forum and the meeting with the Board took place in the last month. The forum was well attended by SMU staff and students and the university heard from many people who expressed their concerns on both sides of the issue. An artist pointed out that the arches in the design represented triumphalism, a theologian said it would be hard for her to teach her Catholic Social Teaching class if the monument was erected on campus and an Iraq veteran was disappointed by the opposition because he believes in the just war theory.
A small group of students, alumni and faculty represented our interests at the Board of Trustees meeting. They expressed our views that a moratorium would allow time for more discussion and reflection on how this monument might affect the university permanently.
The final result from both of these efforts was not to grant a moratorium but to completely redesign the monument; the pillars were abandoned and were replaced with a glass monument etched with an olive branch with an inscription stating “Peace through Service”. The design is an improvement and we thank those who took our concerns to heart; however we still take issue with this quote as well as one cited from the Catechism of the Catholic Church: “Those who sworn to serve their country in the armed forces are servants of the security and freedom of nations. If they carry out their duty honorably, they truly contributed to the common good of the nation and the maintenance of peace.”
These words taken out of the context of the surrounding paragraphs, as well as the words “peace through service” erroneously insinuate that peace can be obtained through military force. Our Christian faith teaches us otherwise. A letter has been written to the Board of Trustees and other University officials to acknowledge our gratitude for their time and energy, and to explain our concerns with the new wording and overall lack of communal involvement in the redesign process. We hope that there is still room for input and dialogue on this issue.
In all of this, we give thanks for this learning opportunity and for all who gave of their conviction and passion. It was a joy to be in the midst of the SMU students who invested their spiritual and intellectual energy into making their university campus a place where their voices were heard. It was truly an opportunity to learn from each other and to stand with each other. We were also grateful to discover that those with decision-making power opened their hearts and minds to a viewpoint that was different than their own.
Notes From the House (Spring 2008)
By Becky Lambert
And life once again returns to Dan Corcoran House! Thanks to the hard work and dedication of so many people and all of the answered prayers, we were able to reopen our family house at the beginning of January. We are incredibly grateful to all of our friends who have helped in this process over these last eight months. That time was spent not only fixing and repairing Dan Corcoran House, but also growing and renewing our own community. Like so much else in the Catholic Worker, the date of reopening the house was left up to Providence. With John joining the community in September and both of us moving into the family house, we were able to use those four months to make real connections with the house, the wider Winona community, and each other.
The opening of the house brings with it all the joys of a renewed friendship. Once again we are able to see our cooks every week and catch up on all the news and happenings in one another’s lives. The enthusiasm to restart their monthly or weekly commitment reflects the importance of the Catholic Worker in so many people’s lives. For John and me, it is a chance to meet the wonderful people that have been connected with our community for so many years and develop our own relationships with them.
We have also added new cooks to the schedule, friends who have answered our call for volunteers (but don’t worry, there are still many nights that cooks and volunteers are needed). There is hardly a day that goes by that we don’t get a visitor stopping by to do some laundry, drop off a food donation, or just chat (or, in Louie’s case, bring donuts and sit and eat them with whoever is lucky enough to be around). I still can’t get over the peaceful feeling that spreads from my heart when I reflect on how wonderful it is to have Dan Corcoran open again.
The return of overnight hospitality in Dan Corcoran brings with it the return of children to the house. We have been truly blessed to have had a young boy stay with us who is so imbued with life and energy that it was hard not to have some of the energy rub off on me. Not only has it been life affirming to have children in the house again but it has also been a joy and a wonder to be able to see my housemate live and interact with children. His patience and kindness with and toward them has been a great calming influence throughout the house, and his ability to match their energy is something to marvel at. Starting our days off with prayer has never seemed so important. Our quiet meditation in the morning as a community helps us to bring perspective to our often hectic and energy-filled days.
With kids now at Dan Corcoran, much of our attention is focused on hospitality, but we are still working on projects around both houses. I am continually delighted by the many different experiences that fill the days here. Bethany House has just had its attic windows replaced and its kitchen and dining rooms repainted. The prayer room has also gotten a new coat of paint as it waits to be completely gutted and re-roofed in the spring. We all feel so blessed that our days are spent in our homes and communities doing the work that we love, with people that we care about.
Bethany House is still open Monday through Friday from 4 to 7 for hospitality, with dinner at 6 pm. During this transition time, though, overnight hospitality has been put on hold. Dinner at Bethany looks different everyday; with more families coming consistently to meals it has expanded our table and our hearts. All are welcome for dinner. Dan Corcoran, as a family house, has dinner every night at 6 pm but does not have an open hospitality time. If you would like to help with meals at the Dan Corcoran House, please give us a call or stop by.
So thank you again and again to all of you who have helped bring life back to this house.
And life once again returns to Dan Corcoran House! Thanks to the hard work and dedication of so many people and all of the answered prayers, we were able to reopen our family house at the beginning of January. We are incredibly grateful to all of our friends who have helped in this process over these last eight months. That time was spent not only fixing and repairing Dan Corcoran House, but also growing and renewing our own community. Like so much else in the Catholic Worker, the date of reopening the house was left up to Providence. With John joining the community in September and both of us moving into the family house, we were able to use those four months to make real connections with the house, the wider Winona community, and each other.
The opening of the house brings with it all the joys of a renewed friendship. Once again we are able to see our cooks every week and catch up on all the news and happenings in one another’s lives. The enthusiasm to restart their monthly or weekly commitment reflects the importance of the Catholic Worker in so many people’s lives. For John and me, it is a chance to meet the wonderful people that have been connected with our community for so many years and develop our own relationships with them.
We have also added new cooks to the schedule, friends who have answered our call for volunteers (but don’t worry, there are still many nights that cooks and volunteers are needed). There is hardly a day that goes by that we don’t get a visitor stopping by to do some laundry, drop off a food donation, or just chat (or, in Louie’s case, bring donuts and sit and eat them with whoever is lucky enough to be around). I still can’t get over the peaceful feeling that spreads from my heart when I reflect on how wonderful it is to have Dan Corcoran open again.
The return of overnight hospitality in Dan Corcoran brings with it the return of children to the house. We have been truly blessed to have had a young boy stay with us who is so imbued with life and energy that it was hard not to have some of the energy rub off on me. Not only has it been life affirming to have children in the house again but it has also been a joy and a wonder to be able to see my housemate live and interact with children. His patience and kindness with and toward them has been a great calming influence throughout the house, and his ability to match their energy is something to marvel at. Starting our days off with prayer has never seemed so important. Our quiet meditation in the morning as a community helps us to bring perspective to our often hectic and energy-filled days.
With kids now at Dan Corcoran, much of our attention is focused on hospitality, but we are still working on projects around both houses. I am continually delighted by the many different experiences that fill the days here. Bethany House has just had its attic windows replaced and its kitchen and dining rooms repainted. The prayer room has also gotten a new coat of paint as it waits to be completely gutted and re-roofed in the spring. We all feel so blessed that our days are spent in our homes and communities doing the work that we love, with people that we care about.
Bethany House is still open Monday through Friday from 4 to 7 for hospitality, with dinner at 6 pm. During this transition time, though, overnight hospitality has been put on hold. Dinner at Bethany looks different everyday; with more families coming consistently to meals it has expanded our table and our hearts. All are welcome for dinner. Dan Corcoran, as a family house, has dinner every night at 6 pm but does not have an open hospitality time. If you would like to help with meals at the Dan Corcoran House, please give us a call or stop by.
So thank you again and again to all of you who have helped bring life back to this house.
Works of Mercy, Works of War (Spring 2008)
By Diane & Mike Leutgeb Munson
In our regular vigils at the National Guard Armory in Winona, we choose to use the banner “Works of Mercy Not Works of War” as our primary declaration. This message is a basic one, encompassing the principles from which the Catholic Worker was originally born. It seems simple for passersby to grasp and even easier for us to explain. Our struggle to live out the works of mercy on a daily basis at our houses of hospitality is a clear one. So, too is our belief that violence, especially that perpetuated by the military industrial complex, is never a solution. Thus active personalism is the path we attempt to follow.
Within this slogan that we have embraced so fully exist ideals that we regularly reexamine and yet strongly believe. The works of mercy are not only a set of moral guidelines that we choose to hold, but are in fact the basis of personalism. The works of mercy require that we connect with other human beings in a basic, sincere manner, and in doing so we strive to improve our own lives and the lives of those around us. They demand that we leave bureaucracy and protocol at the door, abandoning the social, racial, gender and class-based advantages we too often cling to. The works of mercy require us to humble ourselves enough to truly feel the suffering of others, to walk with the hungry, naked, and imprisoned far enough to be able to see God in their midst.
The works of war ask us, as citizens and as a nation, to completely abandon personalism. In order to have the ability to kill another, we must first remove their humanity, the traits that make “them” like “us.” As we hear of the deaths of dozens of “insurgents” each day, our mind’s eye provides us with images of people who are less intelligent, religious fanatics, living a life of savagery in a landscape we have never seen. We could not, and will not, fight people who look and think and speak like we do. War must be impersonal, which is why wars are often decided and waged by the leaders of large government structures. Naomi Klein, an investigative journalist, once said, “Those who profit most from war are never near the battlefield.”
Our political system is not conducive to stopping the works of war, a reality that is exemplified by the current election year process. As political candidates make mention of eventual troop withdrawal, we know that our military presence in Iraq is indefinite, due to the permanent U.S. bases that have been constructed in the last five years of the occupation. There is a blinding hesitancy to speak the truth about war and our reliance on it, economically and culturally. The jobs created by our need for vehicles, weapons, armor and supplies in Iraq keep individuals and communities afloat in an uncertain time. Our elected officials are keenly aware of the advantages of being at war for national morale and economic growth. War has long been a political tool, used by various administrations and countless rulers both here and abroad. Real voices do not often reach the minds and hearts of our elected leaders with the same force that real money does.
Unfortunately, the utter lack of personalism in war leaves soldiers and their families, victims and their families in dire need of the works of mercy. Soldiers are returning to our country daily, wounded physically and emotionally from battles waged in our name. We are proud of their sacrifices and terrified of the scars that have been left in our young people. The works of mercy have never been easy, but they seem to be all the more painstaking when we are called to care for those suffering from the Effects of war, which we so strongly oppose. Unfortunately, we too support our troops, but here in our houses of hospitality, most of our support comes post-war—when all the flags have stopped waving, the counselors have stopped listening, the memories have continued raging, and the bottle becomes the only solution. It is then that we cry, more fervently than ever, “Works of Mercy, Not Works of War.”
Lenten Reflection (Spring 2008)
by John Heid
“All our problems stem from our acceptance of the filthy rotten system.” Dorothy Day
Lent is upon us. These days I see many souls in our local community walking a contemporary Way of the Cross.
The First Station: Last month local police brutally apprehended a young man who recently had lived at Bethany House. Officers repeatedly tazered the man after a conversation-gone-sour devolved into a footrace and altercation. Several of the seven policemen wound up with bloody noses, and our friend with a manila folder full of charges. The city newspaper spun the incident into an epic drama including bold-faced headlines that made it Winona’s crime du jour.
The Second Station: State regulations kept another guest in jail more than a month after her three-day sentence was served. She was prohibited from returning to her family and home state, despite the nonviolent nature of her charges, until probation workers completed paperwork and secured state approval. Thus, she was both incarcerated and exiled because of policy and bureaucratic torpor. The filthy rotten system has a high tolerance for suffering. Her story is not an exception to the rule.
The Third Station: A young family who often shares evening meal with us hovers on the precipice of abject poverty, one crisis away from collapse on any given day. Social service regulations rule them out as often as eligible for one needed service or another. There is no shortage of genuinely thoughtful, caring social workers attempting to support our friends. Yet policy and procedure encumber them like shackles on a long distance runner. Our society’s social services are rarely either. . . .
The Fourth Station: Dwindling resources and sky-rocketing health care insurance premiums are forcing local social service agencies to opt for high-tech appliances, like remote camera monitoring, in lieu of human presence, in adult foster care homes during nighttime hours.
What do these vignettes say to us? What is a humane response to the myriad and cavernous needs we witness up close and in the newspapers? Who suffers and who is nurtured? Who profits while others languish?
Would training in nonviolent conflict resolution minimize bloody noses and tazered bodies? Would compassionate social service policy humanize our communities? Would a radical restructuring of fiscal priorities from a weapons-building economy to a people-nurturing one create beloved community? Is technology a worthy substitute for human touch? In catholic worker parlance, what will make it easier for people to do good, every last one of us?
It is easy to rant—to make believe we are somehow bystanders. It is hard not to be discouraged, if not downright infuriated, by the daily onslaught of bad news, especially when one recognizes the names and knows something of the life stories behind the mug shot images in section A of the newspaper.We are a small town in a small world in one of countless big galaxies. We often know the police and the policed. The social worker and the client. The health care worker and the patient. The newspaper editor and the face in the mug shot. They are James and Jane. Sam or Susan. Betty or Bill. Neither are villains nor hero/heroines. Rather, they are neighbors or friends or acquaintances, our sisters and brothers. All of these, all of us, are dehumanized when the inherent violence of the “filthy rotten system” insinuates itself into our relationships.
Can we, one by one, disengage from that which encourages, codifies, legalizes, reinforces a myth that we are not fundamentally one, i.e. brothers and sisters in the human family? Can we evolve beyond our acceptance of this filthy rotten system? Do we believe that personalism trumps state responsibility? Can we seek out and nurture “those tiny molecular forces that work from individual to individual” (William James)?
How can we begin (again and again) to build a new world in the shell of the old?
Can we start by recognizing the humanity of every single person mentioned in the daily news—from athlete to terrorist, from CEO to lotto winner, from dealer (car and drug) to nurse of the year? Can we go beyond just thinking outside the box to climbing out of the damnable ideologies that box us in?
Is it public policy that holds us together or our shared humanity? Is it law that liberates us or is it genuine, unfettered, works of mercy and compassion that are the warp and woof of our social fabric? How can we move beyond bystander status in the fray of the daily Stations of the Cross? How can we evolve beyond the frigid terrain of charity to the fecund fields of justice?
Gandhi commented: “Imagine the face of the poorest person in the world and then ask yourself if the step you are about to take will make any difference in that person’s life.”
I’d add . . . let’s look at ourselves and ask if the next step we take will make us more fully human . . . or less.
“All our problems stem from our acceptance of the filthy rotten system.” Dorothy Day
Lent is upon us. These days I see many souls in our local community walking a contemporary Way of the Cross.
The First Station: Last month local police brutally apprehended a young man who recently had lived at Bethany House. Officers repeatedly tazered the man after a conversation-gone-sour devolved into a footrace and altercation. Several of the seven policemen wound up with bloody noses, and our friend with a manila folder full of charges. The city newspaper spun the incident into an epic drama including bold-faced headlines that made it Winona’s crime du jour.
The Second Station: State regulations kept another guest in jail more than a month after her three-day sentence was served. She was prohibited from returning to her family and home state, despite the nonviolent nature of her charges, until probation workers completed paperwork and secured state approval. Thus, she was both incarcerated and exiled because of policy and bureaucratic torpor. The filthy rotten system has a high tolerance for suffering. Her story is not an exception to the rule.
The Third Station: A young family who often shares evening meal with us hovers on the precipice of abject poverty, one crisis away from collapse on any given day. Social service regulations rule them out as often as eligible for one needed service or another. There is no shortage of genuinely thoughtful, caring social workers attempting to support our friends. Yet policy and procedure encumber them like shackles on a long distance runner. Our society’s social services are rarely either. . . .
The Fourth Station: Dwindling resources and sky-rocketing health care insurance premiums are forcing local social service agencies to opt for high-tech appliances, like remote camera monitoring, in lieu of human presence, in adult foster care homes during nighttime hours.
What do these vignettes say to us? What is a humane response to the myriad and cavernous needs we witness up close and in the newspapers? Who suffers and who is nurtured? Who profits while others languish?
Would training in nonviolent conflict resolution minimize bloody noses and tazered bodies? Would compassionate social service policy humanize our communities? Would a radical restructuring of fiscal priorities from a weapons-building economy to a people-nurturing one create beloved community? Is technology a worthy substitute for human touch? In catholic worker parlance, what will make it easier for people to do good, every last one of us?
It is easy to rant—to make believe we are somehow bystanders. It is hard not to be discouraged, if not downright infuriated, by the daily onslaught of bad news, especially when one recognizes the names and knows something of the life stories behind the mug shot images in section A of the newspaper.We are a small town in a small world in one of countless big galaxies. We often know the police and the policed. The social worker and the client. The health care worker and the patient. The newspaper editor and the face in the mug shot. They are James and Jane. Sam or Susan. Betty or Bill. Neither are villains nor hero/heroines. Rather, they are neighbors or friends or acquaintances, our sisters and brothers. All of these, all of us, are dehumanized when the inherent violence of the “filthy rotten system” insinuates itself into our relationships.
Can we, one by one, disengage from that which encourages, codifies, legalizes, reinforces a myth that we are not fundamentally one, i.e. brothers and sisters in the human family? Can we evolve beyond our acceptance of this filthy rotten system? Do we believe that personalism trumps state responsibility? Can we seek out and nurture “those tiny molecular forces that work from individual to individual” (William James)?
How can we begin (again and again) to build a new world in the shell of the old?
Can we start by recognizing the humanity of every single person mentioned in the daily news—from athlete to terrorist, from CEO to lotto winner, from dealer (car and drug) to nurse of the year? Can we go beyond just thinking outside the box to climbing out of the damnable ideologies that box us in?
Is it public policy that holds us together or our shared humanity? Is it law that liberates us or is it genuine, unfettered, works of mercy and compassion that are the warp and woof of our social fabric? How can we move beyond bystander status in the fray of the daily Stations of the Cross? How can we evolve beyond the frigid terrain of charity to the fecund fields of justice?
Gandhi commented: “Imagine the face of the poorest person in the world and then ask yourself if the step you are about to take will make any difference in that person’s life.”
I’d add . . . let’s look at ourselves and ask if the next step we take will make us more fully human . . . or less.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Welcome ShaNiya! (Fall 2008)
By diane leutgeb munson
In the endless unknowing of hospitality, we find ourselves in incredible situations. When we choose to build relationships, be it with guests, friends or family, we knit ourselves into a web of discovery and pain and occasional chaos hoping that our mutual love and respect for one another will carry us through. Sometimes that love not only carries us through but also floods our lives so completely that we are changed to the core.
Muffy has been a part of my life for a few years, dancing in and out of our homes as a teenager with her parents. Her striking beauty and depth of character have always been her mothers’ pride. She and her family rejoined our household this past spring, at which point she was well into her first pregnancy. Working towards finishing her senior year of high school, Muffy was determined to learn all there was to know about pregnancy, labor, delivery and parenting on top of math and social studies. As a community, we fell in love with Muffy’s baby long before she went into labor, and we decided early on that we would be a part of this journey with her to whatever extent she would let us.
As her pregnancy progressed and her world continued to be shaken with the uncertainty that has long followed her, Muffy made more explicit requests about what lay ahead. She wanted to live with us (namely, Becky) before and after the birth of her child; she needed help getting to some doctors appointments; and she wondered if I would be a part of the birth of her child. She had heard that I am interested in being a doula and was looking for more support during the labor and delivery of her child. I was ecstatic, to say the least, as were we all, to know that we would be able to welcome another generation of a family we adore.
The final weeks of Muffy’s pregnancy were challenging for a number of reasons, in addition to the fact that it was mid-July and quite warm. She moved back into the Dan Corcoran House a mere week before giving birth, leaving many of her belongings at her former apartment. Her mother was lucky enough to receive time off of a new job in order to rush back to Winona from Illinois for the birth. Pre-labor contractions lasted for nearly a week, sending Muffy and her mother and I to the hospital 10 days in a row. Yet it is true that many things become trivial upon seeing a child be born!
At 2:15am on July 23, 2008, we welcomed ShaNiya to this world. Muffy did an amazing job throughout labor and delivered as though she had been waiting her whole life to do just that. ShaNiya greeted her mother quietly, with an air of patience about her. Their personalities seemed to mirror one another, even from their first encounter. Grandma Robin switched swiftly from being a birth coach to officially announcing the new arrival to all relatives, despite the early hour.
And there I stood, soaking it all in. On the tail of the flood of emotions that comes with witnessing your first birth, I paused to contemplate the place in which I stood. I stared at Muffy, glowing in a way I had never seen- who could have thought that she could be more beautiful than ever after labor and delivery? I watched ShaNiya carefully, conscious of each person who touched her and what they did. Indeed, I felt a little bit like a new parent myself, sure that I did not know what to do, but not confident that someone else should be doing anything to that child without my permission. I listened to the cell phone conversations with relatives and realized that I did not know anyone on the other line, and yet I was the person standing in the room with this new mother and baby.
Then I thought briefly of how it was I came to be here, now. After all, I live in a men’s house of hospitality. I feel much more comfortable living with adult men with mental illness, addiction and extensive criminal records than I would living with small children. Yet, here I stood, with a young woman, her mother and her baby girl, surrounded by attentive female nurses and a midwife. At 3:00am it all seemed just a bit ironic and almost funny, and there was no place else I wanted to be.
I learned only after the birth of ShaNiya that another former guest had invited members of our community to be present at the delivery of her first child. A number of people with whom she had connected during and after her stay at the house were able to attend the birth. She and her two children now eat dinner at our table regularly. With gratitude, those very community members who helped to welcome Uyen (pronounced ee-an) into the world have been able to watch her grow for over 12 years now. As she celebrates her birthday this fall we all give thanks for her life and the energy she brings to our houses.
Over the years we (meaning the dozens of us who have been live-in volunteers) have had the sincere joy of developing relationships with many, many children and their families, a handful from the time of birth. Loving children who live in perpetually precarious situations is a painful job. This community has seen a generation grow up and have children of their own- there are numerous women who lived with us as young girls that visit us with their own kids in tow. We are grateful that the overwhelming joys of birth and youth seem to lighten the intense burden that meets many children on their first day of life. And we yearn to continue to shoulder even a portion of that load for the young ones in our lives.
Witnessing the birth of a child is a life changing experience. There is no purer love than that of a mother and father for their newborn child and there is no more feminine an act than giving life to another. Beautiful as it is, birth is punctuated by pain, fear and doubt, feelings that only continue when you hold a life in your hands and realize your responsibility for this person’s safety, care, education, etc. Perhaps the most poignant element of my participation in ShaNiya’s birth was that all of us involved came home to a community that embraced us in our ragged and elated states and took some of the weight off.
Muffy and ShaNiya will undoubtedly continue to weave their lives in and out of this community and of my life. They will rejoin us at the house this fall for a time and there will surely be stiff competition for time with baby ShaNiya. Muffy will always have a home with us as she always has. ShaNiya will always hold a place in my heart because I watched her take her first breath, and because this community knit itself into her web of life long before she arrived.
A Celebration of 75 years of the Catholic Worker (Fall 2008)
By Eileen Hanson
This July, Becky and I traveled to Worcester, MA to attend the 75th Anniversary celebration of the Catholic Worker movement. It was a chance to reflect on the history and present of the movement that inspires our work here in Winona. It was also a great time to meet and connect with Catholic Worker friends from far and wide.
In its early years, the Catholic Worker began in New York City by publishing a small newspaper advocating the idea of care for the poor, and justice for the worker. Soon, the Catholic Worker newspaper office was inundated by those same poor, seeking food and shelter from those who wrote so movingly about the responsibility to provide for one’s neighbor. Houses of hospitality soon sprang up around the country to meet those needs. But while the needs must have been overwhelming at times, Dorothy Day always commended fellow Catholic Workers to stay small. She knew that large, institutional shelters might provide the basic needs of food and shelter, while the needs of the person, the needs of the soul, could not be well attended. Catholic Worker co-founder, Peter Maurin encouraged a house of hospitality in every parish, a Christ room in every Christian home. In this way, we could all take responsibility for the needs of our brothers and sisters, and welcome Christ into our homes.
In keeping with this Benedictine tradition of seeing Christ in the stranger, the Catholic Worker movement has developed a global vision of justice, where all people around the world are acknowledged as our own brothers and sisters. Over the years, many Catholic Workers have gone to places like Iraq, Sudan, Palestine and Afghanistan to stand with those directly affected by war. Claire Schaeffer-Duffy, of the Ss. Francis and Therese community in Worcester, sees the Catholic Worker involvement in such overseas peacemaking efforts as united with the work of hospitality in our own home communities. Just as we open our homes to those society often does not value, we also open our hearts to those the world sees only as collateral damage. In her remarks opening a roundtable discussion, Schaeffer-Duffy encouraged us all to “persevere in knowing the outcast, embracing them, keeping the doors unlocked, the gates open, crossing the borders that are cropping up so fast now, making holes in the walls, embracing those we are told are enemies.”
As part of this anniversary gathering, the assembled Catholic Workers drafted a statement that reaffirmed our commitment to pacifism and solidarity with victims of violence and torture and condemning in no uncertain terms the continuing US war and occupations in Iraq and Afghanistan. In this statement, the Catholic Worker movement of today echoed the voice of the movement from sixty years ago, when as the US declared war and with Japan and Germany, the front-page of the Catholic Worker newspaper proclaimed, “WE ARE STILL PACIFISTS”.
It is an amazing thing to see this movement, in all its facets, still flourishing after 75 years. There are still small groups of people, all over this country and the world, committed to seeing Christ in the stranger. Even nearly twenty-eight years after the death of Dorothy Day, when many predicted a decline and even death of the movement, Catholic Worker communities continue to prosper. In a recent book, The Catholic Worker Movement after Dorothy, Harvard Professor Dan McKanan argues that the movement is healthier now than ever.
The vibrancy of the current Catholic Worker movement was evident in the roundtable discussions during the weekend. Topics like, “Green Revolution - Sustainability and Farming in the CW Movement”, “Campaign to Stop Torture”, “Confronting Racism”, “Offering Hospitality to the Undocumented” and “The Miraculous Insanity of CW Finances” were all well attended and lively discussions.
It was also wonderful to see how this wide-spread and motley community celebrates with such joy. Catholic Workers share a basic commitment to solidarity with the poor, often living and working in the most distressed and impoverished places. And yet, there is great joy in the movement. Life is not a drudgery. Children are present in many communities; Catholic Worker families are no longer exceptional in the movement. Catholic Worker kids bring vitality and joy to any gathering as they run and play with one another as their parents sit in roundtables discussing the urgent (often depressing) issues of the day. But, as the dance party and hilarious evening talent show attest, even grown-up Catholic Workers know how to have fun. (Even if Dorothy Day appeared in one skit, scolding “no fun allowed!”)
But, we know that Dorothy Day did find great joy in life. “The duty of delight” is a frequent refrain in Dorothy’s diaries, available in a newly released book of the same name, edited by former Catholic Worker editor Robert Ellsberg. Ellsberg opened the gathering by sharing some of his reflections from Dorothy Day’s nearly fifty years of journaling. In her diaries, Dorothy comments on many of the day-to-day trials and tribulations of a life of hospitality and community. Always, she finds a way to give thanks to God and find some source of hope or joy. She often wrote of her daughter Tamar, and in later years of the joy she found with her ten grandchildren.
The 75th Anniversary celebration was a wonderful time to reconnect with old friends and fellow travelers in the movement. We are grateful to the Worcester, MA Catholic Worker communities, The Mustard Seed and Ss. Francis and Therese, for all their hard work in organizing the gathering. We are grateful too for the opportunity to see how each community lives out the vision, each in their own circumstance. A gathering like this one serves to fertilize and nourish the whole movement, in the sharing of experiences and insights among the varied communities. Becky and I came back to Winona rejuvenated by the time we had to celebrate and reflect with the wider community of the Catholic Worker.
The Intersection of Motherhood and the Catholic Worker (Fall 2008)
By Susan Windley-Daoust
Eight years ago, when my eldest child was a baby, my husband Jerry and I visited our friends living at the Winona Catholic Worker for a potluck and roundtable. It was held at Bethany house, our home for single men needing hospitality, and the potluck was a lively mix of long-time guests, friends of the house, live-ins, and visitors. My husband, Jerry, was talking to a guest (let’s call him Jim) living there at the time, a huge man with a fierce beard but friendly manner. Our son drew attention to his cute self by gurgling, and when one of the men said “that’s a fine baby there,” Jerry said, “Thanks—why don’t you hold him?” Jim resisted (“naw, I’d drop him for sure, he’s so little”), but our little one added to the conversation by flinging open his arms and smiling expectantly. So Jim gingerly picked him up and held him to his chest, and suddenly began to cry. “No one’s ever trusted me with a baby before,” he said.
So many times the intersection of the work of hospitality and raising children has yielded moments like this. I never thought that at age six months, my son would be doing the works of mercy more effectively than anyone else in the family. Other times, my six year old middle daughter is the quiet and graceful one who is ready to play fairies with any young guest at the house. And my youngest daughter asked me most of her two year old year if we could pray for a near-age guest of the house: not that she knows the exact nature of this child’s steep challenges, because we never mentioned them to her. But I can’t believe she didn’t sense something, especially if you believe that prayer is initiated by the Holy Spirit.
Catholicism validates the value of motherhood as a vocation in a way many traditions do not, but still, I have never been perfectly comfortable in understanding what that vocation means. The voices buzz like static. To believe what the world says, motherhood is about giving your children every toy they want, making sure they grow up geniuses, and that they will respond to dinners with melting smiles. Certainly that’s how motherhood is marketed. So much of motherhood is commodified, perhaps sensing that women are so naturally nervous about this huge responsibility that giving us something to buy (Babies R Us, anyone?) makes us feel more prepared. Of course, the answer is not in buying things. Mothering is an act done in community, for love and formation, that relies heavily upon the allowing God to work through us for the good of others. These children are entrusted to our care, and in this upside down world, so much can go wrong. So we try: we do our best to raise them in our faith, and to teach them what we value. We try to model non-violence; we try to model respect for each person’s human dignity.
Certainly there are differences between family community and CW community, but I live with gratitude that being a small part of the life of the Winona Catholic Worker helps me understand what motherhood is truly about, and indeed, helps me be a better mother. There is an ancient Vietnamese story about chopsticks and the Kingdom of God: beyond this world, we are each given one meter chopsticks. Hell is when we despair and starve, unable to eat with our too-long chopsticks. Heaven is where we are fed because we understand we must feed each other. Both family community and CW community know something of that insight, that the Christian life is best lived generously, together. Being around people who value and live out that generosity and ingenuity really “feed” my mothering by example. Motherhood and being a Catholic Worker are vocations where life, by definition, is openhandedly shared. And, by hook and by crook and by God, we are fed.
But it would have been hard to see this intersection without the experience of bringing our kids with us to the Catholic Worker meals for years. Some would say it is a risk, but it is a far greater risk, I’d say, not to be doing our best to raise our children to be aware of the realities of the world and the medicine of the works of mercy: it is only in reality do we find God. God breaks through on the jagged edge of reality, where we realize the chopsticks are long and the hunger real. We cannot buy our way off this jagged edge, or pretend it is not there. Any authentic spiritual life must be grounded in reality, and there is not a delusional vapor in these houses. It’s bracing tonic for me and for my kids.
A Grammy winning rock/gospel singer with a jagged edge past, Ashley Cleveland, wrote a song about finding motherhood as a calling. “Rebecca” (which you can download for free at ashleycleveland.com) comes after an album of songs on addiction, near death, and reliance on the mercy of God. Yet at the end of this CD, you find this quiet acoustic lullaby to a sleeping infant. The refrain is sweet:
“Rebecca… you are the laughter in your mama’s eye, the stars are bright, but not like the shine I’ve taken to you…Who gave who the gift of life? We’ll call it a toss-up… but these changes in me tell the real truth…I’m grateful for you.”
Motherhood certainly surprised me that way. No one knows the depths of love, grief, and joy that a child elicits from you. But in the last verse of the album, she finds a kind of triumph within her musical chronicle of struggle:
“I look for my future and I feel a peace about my past
Surprised by joy, I've seen my Father's mercy in you
You make a fine tutor and my vocation is clear at last
I can't wait to hear you call me something, and see the world as you do”
It’s a beautiful statement about motherhood and clarity and joy. But…does it stretch too much to imagine singing the first three lines to anyone to whom you are linked by hospitality? To anyone whom you are connected as brother or sister in Christ? In the end, all vocations are calls to generous love, calls to mirror the love of God. Dorothy Day knew that, giving birth to and raising Tamar in difficult circumstances. One of her favorite saints, Therese de Lisieux knew that, writing down in capital letters in her life narrative, “MY VOCATION IS LOVE!” Sometimes we don’t even know the gift God prompts us to give, such as when Jim broke down in gratitude after being trusted to hold our infant son. The Catholic Worker houses remind me that life is to be shared, without cost, in concrete ways. And it’s a good place for my children to begin practicing that life-long project: to allow our darkest reality can be embraced by God, give us a peace about our past, and yield to being surprised by joy.
The Real Cost of Change (Fall 2008)
By Becky Lambert
As the election this November hijacks our nightly news and threatens to completely take over our daily conversations, I too am overwhelmed by the desire for change. However, I don’t think it is the type of change Barack Obama and the Democrats are chanting for. Our Winona Catholic Worker community does not have a TV, but we are still subject to the bombardment of ads that cost thousands of dollars to make and millions of dollars to air. For all of the opinions, rhetoric and millions of dollars being thrown around by these ads I am truly at a loss as to how the Democrats’ “change” will actually effect my community in a positive way.
Money, especially the candidates’ constant struggle with raising more of it, is a never-ending topic among pundits, news anchors and politicos. But never, it seems, do they question the morality of the soliciting and spending of these impossibly large sums. John McCain and Barack Obama have raised, between them, $563,589,000--over half a billion dollars; when four other recent presidential candidates’ (Clinton, Edwards, Giuliani and Romney) fundraising has been factored in, the amount rises to over a billion dollars. This money goes mainly to two basic costs: administrative and media. As of August 20, over $434 million had been spent on the administrative sector and over $307 million on media, including $235 million on TV commercials. By November 4th of this year, five of these six candidates will be unable to show anything for their efforts. And what will we have to show for it?
Only imagine what this billion dollars, put into the right projects, could have accomplished within the current system: 300,000 people with health care, 17, 000 elementary school teachers, or 9,000 new public housing units, but instead we get attack ads and pop-ups. However, thinking in these abstract thoughts is exactly why Americans are so willing to part with their money…it allows us to distance ourselves from direct intervention within or without of the system. The current structure, in which authority is distributed from the top down in order to keep the power/money concentrated in the fewest hands, is only sustained by our reluctance to really involve ourselves in our communities on a personal level, at a personal sacrifice. Can we advocate for a radical new system in which money is not given to campaigns, but to people; where money is used not to spread slander across your TV screen, but to invest in family farms and health care? We do not need to be pacified by those in Washington or St. Paul who again and again tell us that they are representing our needs and our concerns, and sorry but there just isn’t any money there for your school or bridge or voucher program to get fresh vegetables to low-income families.
It is possible to do better for ourselves. We have to let go of our own distrust, greed and hate so that it can no longer fuel and propel the system. Barack Obama and John McCain and all the others believe that ordinary Americans are too self-absorbed to really care what they are doing. And to be completely honest we are, and we don’t. So little of what is done in Washington has no direct immediate effect on our everyday lives that we just forget that in a democracy the citizen is supposed to have the control. We forget that this small homogenous group of individuals controls everything that we do, to save us from anarchy (and thinking). I’m pretty sure that my voice is not welcome in the halls of Congress. I’ve seen what they do to friends who give voice and action to their concerns, who do not believe that working through the system is morally or ethically responsible.
What happens when we involve ourselves in our own communities, give money to local groups instead of the multi-billion dollar players in this crazy scheme?
(We will have an opportunity to discuss these and other thoughts concerning the Catholic Worker and voting November 7th. Please join us for a roundtable and potluck at Bethany House at 6pm.)
I Walked Because I Could: Witness Against War Walk (Fall 2008)
By Marie Kovesci
Ahh, summer..time to kick back:garden, read, and, take a walk, then walk again…then walk some more. The Witness Against War group did some of those things this summer, especially the “take a walk” part.
Witness Against War is a project supported by the Chicago-based Voices for Creative Non Violence (www.vcnv.org) . Their objectives are straight-forward: *Withdrawal of all forces from Iraq *End all military action against Iraq *Full health care, housing and education benefits for veterans and families *Reconstruction of Iraq *Redirection of US resources away from war to improving our community’s – health care, education, housing, retirement, etc
The walk was designed to raise these issues and meet with local communities to open discussions on peace and justice issues. The group began from Chicago on July 12th and ended in St. Paul, MN on August 30th, covering about 500 miles. They carried signs, had a support bus and stayed in local homes, churches and camping grounds along the way.
Our local Catholic Workers hosted the walkers in Winona for a rest day which included organizing a potluck supper, a community discussion and setting up a rest day for the walkers. Many days later the walkers were highly complimentary of their stop in Winona, thanks to the Catholic Workers! They also gave out advance word of the group and provided a link for the Witness Against War project. “This walk is a 6 week campaign to challenge and non-violently resist the war,” says Dan Pearson one of the coordinators.
Their goals challenged me- If I am a supporter of nonviolent protest against the war, I should be walking with them. Several Winona walkers did join the core group of walkers from Trempeleau to Winona. We gathered early at the Catholic Worker House and drove to meet at Perrot State Park at 7:00am, walking early to avoid the day’s heat.
We set off, maintaining a 3 mile per hour pace through the back country roads. The early morning was crisp and green. Somehow we were near a gun club or a shooting range and the sounds of the random gunfire made the Witness Against War walk a surreal event. We shared stories as we walked and our Wisconsin gunfire became background noise although unsettling. In other places the gunfire would injure or kill walkers who might be on their way to the market or school.
During the walk I saw the business of the Witness Against War project firsthand. People stopped to talk about the war, some with anger and others just curious about our signs. The discussions were forthright and I was listening to both sides and learning how to deal with curbside discussions.
It was an amazing walk-seeing the white dome of St. Stan’s and the County Courthouse form along the way on highway 35, sticking out above the treeline. Finally we turned to head for Latsch Island where a welcome was waiting-food, music, and even motivational chalk drawings on the sidewalk for about the last mile! Alice Gerard, a core walker from Buffalo, NY dipped her feet in the mighty Mississippi and their rest day was off to a great start.
Somewhere during the next day I decided I could join the walkers for a week. I packed-mostly socks since “care of feet” had reached a new priority. We met for breakfast in Fountain City and I stowed my camping gear in the bus and we were off. For the next 5 days we followed a routine including hearty food, clear weather and the scenery of highway 35 all the way to Red Wing.
I had a chance to meet people in their front yards as we went through Alma, to discuss our commitments as we walked the miles and to generally enjoythe company of this talented group. We had many joiners who walked for a day or so and the energy was high.
I left the group Sunday afternoon in Red Wing and went to my first day back to school on Monday. My mind and body were much too restless! I now have a new sign on my office door – “I walked because I could…ask me about it.” So , the discussions continue.
Now, my challenge is to continue to live the objectives of the project and to bring them more closely into my life. If possible, I can be more available and open to discussion with co-workers, friends, and neighbors. Overall, it was a fantastic opportunity to join the group for this time and be a part of this project!
A Triptych of Summer Reflections from the Sonoran Desert (Fall 2008)
By John Heid
“What did you go out to the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? Someone dressed in fine clothing? Those who wear fine clothing are in royal palaces. Then why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.” Mt. 11: 7-9
The three of us had been hiking since breakfast. It was now midday and the August heat was bearing down full force. We were exploring and mapping migrant trails in preparation for future water drops-offs. The relentless Sonoran sun soaks the body and dries the throat at the same time. I was overdue for a break as we descended into Bartolo canyon.
The spiral trail took us down into a sheltered wash. As my eyes adjusted to the shade, my mouth opened wide. Was this a mirage? Was I in a cathedral or the middle of the Sonoran desert? Ahead in nooks and crevices along the canyon wall were holy card pictures of saints alongside family photos peering out at me. A large Virgen De Guadalupe cloth hung prominently on the side of a boulder. Scattered about were food tins, most empty, some unopened. Clothing and crushed water bottles covered the rocky ground. Small statues of saints with pesos and pennies at their feet were lying on ledges. A rock altar with rosaries and used votive candles was centrally located.
In the muggy stillness we realized one candle was still burning. Had we interrupted someone’s vigil? What pilgrims had just passed through? I put down my pack, removed my hat and entered into prayer. What else does on do on holy ground?
“Migrant shrines” like the one we encountered dot the desert like way stations on a modern Via Dolorosa. Like the saguaro cactus these shrines embody the character of the contemporary Sonoran desert along the U.S./Mexican border.
* * * * *
The desert is the locus of wonder. Triple rainbows. Wrap-around-the-horizon sunsets. Midnight coyote serenades. Four a.m. dawn chorus from a choir of unseen birds. Clouds of butterflies. Monsoon showers that soften the arid, leathery terrain into a lush green carpet. It is no wonder that prophets and prophetesses sought the Sacred in these environs. The margins. The wilderness.
The desert is also the locus of pathos, brutality and death. The fragile terrain is lethal. The tiny luminescent scorpions pack the meanest bite. Radiant cactus flowers are protected by fish hook spines. In minutes dry washes become raging rivers. Trails can seem like a gauntlet of needles and thorns. And the heat. Always the heat. The desert floor reaches 140 degrees at midsummer.
None of these natural features of the Sonoran haunt me as much as the sight of a child’s footprints in a muddy wash or a toddler’s discarded clothing along a migrant trail; or family photos strewn beneath a mesquite bush. Or half-filled bottles of filthy cattle tank water which kill our sisters and brothers in transit.
How can we blame the desert for these deaths? The autopsies of the thousands of migrant workers whose remains have been found in the desert over the past decade and a half say “exposure” or “coronary failure”. While the medical diagnosis may be accurate, the real cause of death is not the heart failure of migrants, but ours. In the deserts of the southwest the soul of our nation is dehydrating, atrophying and dying.
* * * * *
Shortly before leaving the desert, I visited a shrine dedicated to Josseline Jamileth Hernandez Quniteros. Beside a brook which flows year round this 14 year old El Salvadoran girl’s remains were found in mid February. She was unable to keep up with her companions en route north and was left behind. Weeks of search and rescue efforts had failed to find her.
Central to the shrine is a chalk white cross with a plaque that reads: “Cuando sientes que el camino se te ha vuelfo duro y dificil, no te des por vencido y sigue adelante, y busca la ayuda de Dios. Te llevaremos siempre en el Corazon.” [“When you feel the way has become hard and difficult, don’t give up but move forward and you will find God’s help. We will carry you in our heart always.”]
The site of Josseline’s shrine seems so antithetical to the grim reality of a vibrant young girl’s life cut so brutally short there. Bird song filled the air. The sweet fragrance of gardenia wafted like incense from the shrine. Serenity presided. Sacred ground. I felt oddly at peace. Grieving lead to clarity. A Mother Jones remark came to mind. “Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.”
At this shrine I came to recognize that it was time for me to leave the desert. Josseline’s path on earth, not mine, ended beside this clear running stream. While it is critically important to place food and water in the desert for our brothers and sisters in
migration, it is absolutely necessary that we
seek and address the cause of this migration beyond the desert. How long does one carry gallons of water (each weighing 8 lbs.) deep into the desert before one asks why there are people in the desert in the first place?
Somewhere deep in the Sonoran a candle burns. A light of hope. Can we find that same light in our hearts and by its flicker recognize that all our paths are woven into one?
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