Celebrating a Christmas Truce

In the spirit of the season, a feel good article that should give hope to peacemakers. Found this at Progressive Dems who crossposted it at the Nation.

On November 11 of this year--the 80th anniversary of that 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month when World War I ended--there was dedicated in Frélinghien, France, a memorial to the most remarkable event not merely of that particular conflict but perhaps of all conflicts.

The memorial recalls a soccer game played on Christmas Day, 1914, between men from the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers and the 134th Saxon Infantry Regiment.

The Saxons regiment won the game 2-1.

Then, the two teams partook of plum pudding proffered by the Welshmen and a barrel of beer rolled onto the field by the Saxons. They sang a few carols and hung candles from a bush in the rough fashion of a Christmas tree.

It was "a quite social party," one soldier wrote home to his family.

This was no ordinary holiday party, however.

It was, the soldier suggested, "the most memorable Christmas I've ever spent."

Those who know their military history will recognize that what was remarkable about the game was that it involved soldiers in the service of the British king and German kaiser who, only hours before, had been battling one another--and who, in short order, would be battling once again.

They were participants in an event that was almost lost to history--the Christmas Truce of 1914.

The British and German governments denied that the truce even took place.

War historians neglected this chapter in the story of "the war to end all wars."

But those who participated in the truce remembered it.

Men like Alfred Anderson, who died in 2005 at the very ripe old age of 109.

In his last years, as rumors of the truce attracted the attention of new generations of historians and journalists, Anderson found finally that his recollection of that Christmas Truce of 1914--a brief respite from the carnage of World War I that saw soldiers of both sides in the conflict lay down their arms, climb out of their trenches and celebrate together along the 500-mile Western Front.

Anderson was the last surviving old soldier known to have participated in what he would refer to in his later years as "a short peace in a terrible war."

That peace, which was initiated not by presidents or prime ministers, but by the soldiers themselves, serves to this day as a reminder that war is seldom so necessary--nor so unstoppable--as politicians would have us believe.

So it comes as no surprise that the Christmas Truce of 1914 is a bit of history that many in power have neglected over the past 90 years.

But Anderson's long survival, and his clear memory, made it impossible to write this chapter out of history.

On December 25, 1914, Anderson was an 18-year-old soldier serving with 5th Battalion, Black Watch, of the British Army, one of the first to engage in the bloody trench warfare that was the ugliest manifestation of a war that claimed 31 million lives. But on that day, there was no violence.

Rather, Anderson recalled in an interview on the 90th anniversary of the truce, "there was a dead silence that morning, right across the land as far as you could see. We shouted 'Merry Christmas,' even though nobody felt merry."

The calls of "Merry Christmas" from the Brits were answered by Germans singing: "Stille Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Alles Schlaft, einsam wacht."

The Brits responded by singing "Silent Night" in English. Then, from the trenches opposite them, climbed a German soldier who held a small tree lit with candles and shouted in broken English, "Merry Christmas. We not shoot. You not shoot."

Thus, began the Christmas Truce. Soldiers of both armies--more than a million in all--climbed from the trenches along the Western Front to exchange cigarettes and military badges. They even played soccer, using the helmets they had taken off as goalposts. And they did not rush to again take up arms. Along some stretches of the Front, the truce lasted into January of 1915.

Finally, distant commanders forced the fighting to begin anew.

Thus, it has ever been with war. As George McGovern, the decorated World War II veteran who would become one of America's greatest champions of peace, "old men (are always) thinking up wars for young men to die in."

But Anderson remembered, well beyond the century of two world wars and too many lesser conflicts, that the young men of opposing armies often have more in common with one another than they do with the old men who send them into battle.

Once, on a Christmas Day that ought not be forgotten, young men decided to make a short peace in a terrible war.

Ninety years on, Alfred Anderson and his comrades in the Christmas Truce of 1914 have a memorial.

Like most memorials erected along what was the western front, it recalls warriors.

But this is a monument to peace.

It invites us to recall the courage of those who chose, however briefly, to see the humanity in one another, and to lay down the arms of one of the most brutal wars this planet has ever seen, offers hope this weekend, as Christians mark the birth of the Nazarene who was called Prince of Peace. Perhaps, someday, we will make a Christmas truce that lasts not merely through the hours of good cheer on this Holiday but the whole year long.

TAGS: Christmas Spirit, Peace, Antiwar

Bear With Me

I just had to reprint this brief photo essay that I just got in my inbox from Len Hart, The Existentialist Cowboy. I doubt he'll put it up on his own blog, so I feel OK in stealing it from him.

Polar Bear: I Come in Peace
Stuart Brown describes Norbert Rosing's striking images of
a wild polar bear coming upon tethered sled-dogs
in the wilds of Canada's Hudson Bay.

The photographer was sure that he was going to see the end of his dogs
when the polar bear wandered in, but ...





The Polar Bear returned every night that week
to play with the dogs.

Peace on Earth, Good Will To Men (and Polar Bears.)

TAGS: Polar Bears
Quake in fear, Stephen Colbert!
Bite Me, Sarah Palin!
MERRY CHRISTMAS, everyone else!

"Semper fi"?

Not hardly. Not if the wounds you suffer are to your heart and to your soul:

Denial in the Corps by Kathy Dobie, from The Nation

Marine Lance Cpl. James Jenkins is buried in the same New Jersey cemetery that he used to run through on his way to high school, stopping at the Eat Good Bakery to get two glazed doughnuts and an orange juice before heading off to class. When his mother, Cynthia Fleming, visits his grave, she looks over the low cemetery wall at not only the bakery but the used-car lot where James used to sell Christmas trees during the winter and the nursing home where he worked every summer and says, “Lord, son, you’re on your own turf.” James, who died at 23, is buried in Greenwood Cemetery; the owners told Cynthia they’re proud to have him there.

During his short career as a Marine, Corporal Jenkins received many commendations recognizing his “intense desire to excel,” “unbridled enthusiasm” and “unswerving devotion to duty.” It was for heroic actions performed during a fifty-five-hour battle with the Mahdi militia in Najaf that Jenkins was awarded a Bronze Star for valor. The fighting, which began on the city streets in August 2004 and moved into the Wadi al Salam Cemetery, was ferociously personal. Marines and militiamen were often only yards apart, killing one another at close range. When the battle was over, eight Americans and hundreds of militiamen were dead.

After that tour, his second in Iraq, Jenkins could barely sleep. When he did, the nightmares were horrible. He was plagued by remorse and depression, unable to be intimate with his fiancée, run ragged by an adrenaline surge he couldn’t turn off.

Back at San Diego’s Camp Pendleton the following January, Jenkins took to gambling, or gambling took to him; he became addicted to blackjack and pai gow, a fast-moving card game where you can lose your shirt in a minute. The knife-edge excitement felt comfortingly familiar. Jenkins went into debt, borrowing thousands of dollars from payday loan companies. Busted for writing bad checks, he was locked up in the Camp Pendleton brig that spring pending court-martial. In the months that followed, he was released, locked up and released again. He spoke often of suicide. The Marines never diagnosed his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). When his mother called his command seeking help, Jenkins’s first sergeant, who had not served in Iraq, told Fleming he thought James was using his suicidal feelings to his advantage. “I have 130 Marines to worry about other than your son,” she recalls the sergeant saying. When his command decided to lock him up a third time, James Jenkins ran.

On September 28, 2005, eight months after returning from Iraq, Jenkins found himself cornered in the Oceanside apartment he shared with his fiancée. A deputy sheriff pounded on the front door, while a US Marshal covered the back. The young man with the “intense desire to excel” decided he could not go back to the brig or get an other-than-honorable discharge. He would not shame his family or have his hard-won achievements and his pride stripped away. And he was in pain. “He said, ‘I can’t even shut my eyes,’” his mother says, recalling one of his calls home that month. “He said, ‘I killed 213 people, Mom.’ He said, ‘I can’t live like this.’ He said, ‘Everything I worked for is down the drain,’ and he was crying like a baby.” While the officers waited for his fiancée to open the door, Jenkins shot himself in the right temple…

The rest here. Prepare to be angry if you read it. Really. Angry. The outrage I felt after reading this piece made my heart race. What had been a good day was spoiled. The excitement I had felt on Tuesday over the primaries evaporated into a seething rage. I felt sick. Physically sick. It got my acid reflux all in a mess.

As I mentioned a while back, I have a former student who is a Marine, who is due to ship out to Iraq this month. And we just found out that another former student has just signed up. With the Marines.

When soldiers returned from the Civil War with what we know call post-traumatic stress disorder, their condition was referred to as “melancholy.” After the First World War, the doctors called it “shell shock,” and they knew it was caused by the horrors of war in the trenches. Some of those soldiers actually received some forms of treatment. World War Two? “Battle fatigue.” Many of that generation just dealt with their nightmares and flashbacks on their own, through sleepless nights, ruined marriages, alcoholism. It was only after Vietnam, with advances in psychiatry and psychology and an enlightened culture that physicians finally realized that what happens to those who serve in combat is a disorder, a mental illness, something that needs to be diagnosed and treated. Those who suffer from this condition are ill: they are sick. They are patients, not “slackers” or “malingerers” or “losers.”

It is shameful - if not criminal - that the Marine Corps, which so prides itself on espirit de corps and teamwork, which sells itself to young people as being the best of the best, the “few and the proud,” can treat its own members in such a disgracefully shabby fashion. They have turned back the clock over one hundred years. Even those who tried to nurse Johnny Reb and Billy Yank back to health were more compassionate and empathetic than the callous, cold, heartless excuses for human beings who so wrongly dealt with the young men in this article.

Rather than wasting time looking into which teams might have "illegally" videotaped the practice sessions of what other teams in the National Football League, or which over-paid, over-exposed baseball players might have used “performance-enhancing” drugs, the United States Senate ought to be investigating how America’s elite fighting force mistreats and abuses its own troops. How it ignores them at best, misdiagnoses them and cuts them off from benefits as a matter of routine policy, and, at worst, leaves them adrift, abandoning them to lives of isolation, addiction, and madness, to die at their own hands, all the while denying any complicity or responsibility for their fate. And then disrespecting their families when they have the temerity to try to get to the truth.

Read this article. But don't just be angry about it. Print out a copy. Photocopy that copy. Share this. Leave it around, in doctors' offices, on the seat on the bus, in the pew at your house of worship. And be sure to show it to any young person you might know who might be considering enlisting in the military.

Show them the truth. “Always faithful”? Not to those who serve.

They just get thrown out with the trash.

155,000 "eggs."

Give or take...

GENEVA (Reuters) Jan. 9 - About 151,000 Iraqi civilians were killed in the three years following the U.S.-led invasion of their country, according to World Health Organization (WHO) research published on Wednesday.

The new study, which said violent deaths could have ranged from 104,000 to 223,000 between March 2003 and June 2006, is the most comprehensive since the war started.

The study drew on an Iraqi health ministry survey of nearly 10,000 households — five times the number of those interviewed in a disputed 2006 John Hopkins University study that said more than 600,000 Iraqis had died over the period.

While well below that figure, the United Nations agency’s estimate exceeds the widely-cited 80,000 to 87,000 death toll by the human rights group Iraq Body Count, which uses media reports and hospital and morgue records to calculate its tally…

The White House said it had not seen the study, but mourned the deaths of Iraqi civilians.

“The unmistakable fact is that the vast majority of these deaths are caused by the willful, murderous intentions of extremists committed to taking innocent life,” said White House spokesman Tony Fratto...

The rest is here. Another “unmistakable fact” that Mr. Fratto conveniently left out is that these people would probably not have died if the Bush/Cheney regime had not launched an unnecessary, illegal, immoral, indefensible war of aggression based on lies and media manipulation against a country which posed no immediate threat to us.

But hey, these aren’t Americans we’re talking about here. During the summer after the Iraq War began, my family and I took a day trip down to the Jersey Shore. I had my “Peacemonger” and “War Is Not The Answer” bumper stickers emblazoned (as always) across the back window of my Honda CR-V. We were curbside unloading our beach paraphernalia when this guy comes by on his very expensive imported Italian racing bike (the kind with peddles) and starts heckling me. He didn’t like my stickers. My wife told me to ignore him, but that just made him angrier. So my son said, “Let him have it, Dad.” So I did. Very politely. With my usual litany of peacemongering questions:

- “How many of the September 11th hijackers were from Iraq?”

- “How can you justify attacking a country which has never attacked us?”

- “How can you say that oil isn’t what this war is about, when Iraq sits on the third largest oil deposit on the planet?”

That kind of thing. The biker guy started sputtering. And then I said, “Sir, with all due respect, I am not willing to have your president kill my sons so that he can try to prove he’s right about what is obviously so wrong.” And the guy says, “Well, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet.“ And then he rode off.

I still can’t get over that.

“Egg” count, as of Jan. 10, 2008:

- Total U.S. combat deaths in Iraq: 3921 (NINE just yesterday)

- Total U.S. combat wounded: 28,000 +

- Iraq civilian deaths: 151,000 (est.)

- Iraq civilian wounded: Only God knows

- Progress made by the new Iraqi government towards peace and reconciliation: Zero.

- End in sight: None.

Silencing the drums, before it's too late.

Chris Hedges, writing in The Nation, on the coming war with Iran:

I will not pay my income tax if we go to war with Iran. I realize this is a desperate and perhaps futile gesture. But an attack on Iran–which appears increasingly likely before the coming presidential election–will unleash a regional conflict of catastrophic proportions. This war, and especially Iranian retaliatory strikes on American targets, will be used to silence domestic dissent and abolish what is left of our civil liberties. It will solidify the slow-motion coup d’état that has been under way since the 9/11 attacks. It could mean the death of the Republic.

Let us hope sanity prevails. But sanity is a rare commodity in a White House that has twisted Trotsky’s concept of permanent revolution into a policy of permanent war with nefarious aims–to intimidate and destroy all those classified as foreign opponents, to create permanent instability and fear and to strip citizens of their constitutional rights.

A war with Iran is doomed. It will be no more successful than the Israeli airstrikes on Lebanon in 2006, which failed to break Hezbollah and united most Lebanese behind that militant group. The Israeli bombing did not pacify 4 million Lebanese. What will happen when we begin to pound a country of 65 million people whose land mass is three times the size of France?

The rest is here. I recommend this article to you, and I also recommend that we all start figuring out exactly how we - WE THE PEOPLE - are going to organize against this war. Because I firmly believe it’s coming, and soon, probably as the early primaries unfold after the holidays. The White House propaganda machine has been gining up its anti-Iran efforts for months, and every week, yet another story somehow tying Iran to the debacle in Iraq comes out. Listen to an hour or so of any conservative talk radio show. As soon as they get done with their latest anti-Hillary Clinton paranoic rant, it’s back to the “threat” posed by Iran. Hour after hour, day after day. And we know who’s feeding them this garbage. It’s just a matter of time before the covert actions across the border by U.S. forces, followed by a bombing campaign, will begin. With, I’m sure, all the dire consequences that Hedges predicts here.

So what do we do? When the Democratic candidates “debate” - that is, when they are not wasting their time and ours attacking each other like school children - the questions from the Blitzers and the Russerts of the Bootlicking Corporate Media all focus on somehow taking a stand that encourages war. NEVER is the question posed, to any candidate, on either side, “what can and should be done to avoid going to war with Iran?” NEVER are any of the candidates who now hold seats in the Senate asked “What will you do to STOP the Bush/Cheney regime from going to war with Iran, as they seem determined to do?” Instead, they are asked to show how “tough” they are by being pushed toward taking a pro-war stance.

Of course, any of them, if they wanted to, could answer differently. Only the C-list few seem interested, if they even get a chance to speak. Of course, they could make campaign speeches on this issue, but who’d listen? Bush, Inc. will find a way to scare enough people, with either fears about terr’ism at shopping malls (just in time for Christmas) or high gasoline prices as the bait. Obviously, as Hedges points out, those are two things that are GUARANTEED to occur should we launch another war.

So, again I’ll ask, what can we do? I’m going to start with composing letters to the editor of our local newspapers, and getting them out as soon as possible. If the pundit class is going to bang the drum for this war, or remain silent, as so many have so far, it’s up to us to speak out. In the newspapers, online, on call-in shows, on street corners, in our houses of worship, WE must SPEAK OUT. In fact, your church or temple or whatever would be a GREAT place to start. If Bush’s war on Iraq is illegal, immoral, and totally unjustified, what about this one? How can anyone POSSIBLY defend this action?

The point is, they can’t. Unless they truly are delusional. Or fascists. Or both. And, they can, if we let them.

The war in Iraq has been a disaster, in so many ways. A war with Iran will produce unspeakable horrors that we can only hint at now. It’s time for us - ALL OF US - to find a way to speak up and speak out. WE have to stop looking for other people to be the ones to wage peace. We have to be the peacemongers.

Silence is no longer an option. Silence means complicity. Silence means surrender.

Are you ready for that?

"Happy" Veterans' Day?

Veterans' Day is this Sunday. Try to remember the following when you go out to hit those sales:

WASHINGTON (AP) Nov. 7, 2007:

Veterans make up one in four homeless people in the United States, though they are only 11 percent of the general adult population, according to a report to be released Thursday.

And homelessness is not just a problem among middle-age and elderly veterans. Younger veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan are trickling into shelters and soup kitchens seeking services, treatment or help with finding a job.

The Veterans Affairs Department has identified 1,500 homeless veterans from the current wars and says 400 of them have participated in its programs specifically targeting homelessness.

The National Alliance to End Homelessness, a public education nonprofit, based the findings of its report on numbers from Veterans Affairs and the Census Bureau. 2005 data estimated that 194,254 homeless people out of 744,313 on any given night were veterans.

In comparison, the VA says that 20 years ago, the estimated number of veterans who were homeless on any given night was 250,000.

Some advocates say the early presence of veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan at shelters does not bode well for the future. It took roughly a decade for the lives of Vietnam veterans to unravel to the point that they started showing up among the homeless. Advocates worry that intense and repeated deployments leave newer veterans particularly vulnerable.

"We're going to be having a tsunami of them eventually because the mental health toll from this war is enormous," said Daniel Tooth, director of veterans affairs for Lancaster County, Pa.

The rest is here, at The Huffington Post.

My late father served in the United States Navy during the Korean War. His dad sailed around the world with The Great White Fleet. My late father-in-law fought the Nazis as an artillery man during the last year of World War Two. My uncle served four years on a tin can in the Pacific: he signed up the day after Pearl Harbor. This past summer, I spent a lot of time interviewing World War Two vets for the young adult novel I'm writing about conscientious objectors who served as combat medics in Europe (and as smoke jumpers here at home) during World War II. While I call myself a pacifist, and while I detest and abhor war - ALL war - I respect and appreciate the sacrifices and service of our veterans, even when they serve in conflicts with which I disagree. Which would pretty much be all conflicts. No matter where you stand on the subject of war, THIS story is an utter and complete outrage. I would challenge everyone who reads it to link to the article and to send that link to their elected members of Congress this weekend, just in time for the "holiday" we set aside each year to honor our vets. Add a simple line: "What are YOU going to do about this?"

Make them give you an answer. Something more than "I support our troops."

We need to do better. And we need to end the senseless conflicts which lead to such long-lasting pain and suffering.

Pray for peace on Sunday (or Friday or Saturday). And work for it, too.

One aspect of "The War" that Ken Burns probably won't be telling us about.

Nine days from now, PBS will begin presenting the latest documentary from one of the masters of the genre, Ken Burns. The War is a seven part series that, according to the official series web site, will “[tell] the story of the Second World War through the personal accounts of a handful of men and women from four quintessentially American towns. The series explores the most intimate human dimensions of the greatest cataclysm in history — a worldwide catastrophe that touched the lives of every family on every street in every town in America — and demonstrates that in extraordinary times, there are no ordinary lives.”

Well, I’d chime in that even in “ordinary times” (please tell me when those happen, okay?), there are no “ordinary lives," but that’s another post…

Anyway, I really like the work of Ken Burns. If I could afford them, I’d own copies of his other “masterpieces,” The Civil War and Jazz and Baseball. Yes, I know some people quibble and fuss over his work, particularly about what he “leaves out” or emphasizes “at the expense” of something else. Critics complained, for two examples, that there were “too many white musicians” discussed in his Jazz series, or that it seemed like an awful lot of Baseball focused on the teams from New York (one in particular) and Boston. Those might be fair points, but I have to ask in response, can you please tell me, of anyone else who has ever devoted 1, 140 minutes to the subject of jazz, or anything close to that, anywhere? I’ll wait… Didn’t think so. I think Ken Burns does amazing work, and I can still watch those three series over and over again and never be bored by them. It helps that I’m fascinated by the subject matter to start with, but I know many people who were especially entranced by The Civil War, who came away with a new understanding of our most important and definitive national tragedy.

Now comes The War, Burns’ treatment of World War Two. He says he wanted to do this after he learned that something like 2,000 WW2 vets die every day (correct that figure if I’m mis-paraphrasing). Realizing that there would soon come a time when all these folks would be gone, Burns wanted to get their up close and personal recollections and reflections on film, before it was too late. It’s a terrific idea. To me, oral history by the “every day people” who lived it is the most interesting kind. And now, instead of having actors and actresses read what someone else wrote about their experiences, we will see the faces of those who were there, and hear their words from their own mouths. And hearts.

I will watch every minute of this series, and I’ll be watching particularly closely to see if Burns spends any time on the issue of conscientious objectors. Several thousand Americans refused to allow themselves to be conscripted into military service during “The Good War,” a war that the overwhelming majority of people believe had to be fought and had to be won to save the world from evil. Some entered non-combat military service, and served bravely and valiantly in the military as combat medics, ambulance drivers, or hospital workers. Some were part of Civilian Public Service (CPS), and worked as smoke-jumpers, attendants in mental hospitals (who were responsible for many important reforms in the treatment of the patients in the “snake pit” institutions of the 1940s), as laborers on civilian construction projects (such as the Pennsylvania Turnpike), or as human ”guinea pigs” who allowed themselves to be test subjects in various medical experiments. Some others refused to be part of the “system” in any way, and went to federal prison for their beliefs, where they suffered as if they were common criminals. Some suffered more than that, because of why they were there.

I spent many, many hours reading about these brave Americans this past summer. I still have a couple thick books left to read. I was amazed that, even with all the stuff I’ve read about World War Two over the years (yeah, a Quaker military history nut: go figure), I’d never heard about this aspect of our history. In fact, until I became a Quaker, I’d never heard about this at all, at least in the context of World War Two. Conscientious objection was not a wide-spread movement during this war, but it does say something about the spirit and character of these men that they could stand up to what had to be enormous pressure to resist participating in something they felt was morally wrong, based on their (primarily but not always) religious beliefs (most COs were members of traditional "peace churches," such as Mennonites, Quakers, and Brethren).

There were many COs who refused to fight in Vietnam, but with the end of the draft, anyone who now wishes to opt out of service can simply refuse to enlist (although males still have to register for Selective Service or face legal penalties). At least for now, that is. Some current military personnel are refusing deployment to Iraq or Afghanistan, or they are refusing to return after having been overseas. The media is ignoring them, as are many folks who should know better here in cyberspace. (You can read about - and sign up to support - them right here, gang.) They deserve our respect and support, if we really believe in peace.

So, we’ll see if Ken Burns mentions this particular band of brothers starting on September 23rd. I’ll be watching. But I won’t be surprised if that particular brand of heroism is ignored. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with what’s in my books. And with spreading the word.

TAGS: War, Peace movement, History, Media

On gratitude.

I hope this makes sense. I'm feeling scatter-brained today, so I'm not sure if this will all come together or not. But I want to talk about something I don't think we all think or talk about enough, and that's gratitude.

I am feeling grateful today, for lots of reasons, but for one in particular: I went to my Meeting for Worship this morning (the Quaker name for "going to church"), and - thank goodness - there was one of our younger Friends (I can call him that, as he's half my age), safe and sound and sitting on one of the ancient benches. This young man is one of my heroes, although he'd blush and shuffle his feet if I told him that to his face. He's recently graduated from law school and just finished his law boards. While he was a student, he and some other students started a program to provide free legal assistance and representation for women and children who are victims of domestic violence. That program will continue now that he's left the school. We are all grateful for knowing him, and I know the people he's helped were all grateful that he and his colleagues were there for them in their time of need. But that's not the half of it.

Late last month, this young man joined a group from Christian Peacemaker Teams and went off for two weeks in Hebron, to live and work with the Palestinians there. Now, if you know anything about the Middle East, you know that this is one of the most dangerous cities on the planet, so we were all desperately worried about him while he was gone. We also all had at the back of our minds the story of the beloved Friend Tom Fox, who, as a member of a CPT group, was taken hostage and subsequently murdered in Iraq. So, we were all terrified for him the whole time he was gone. As is his way, he told us all today that the scariest part of the trip was riding with the cabbies in Hebron, because they drive "like maniacs." We took him at his word. He talked about what an amazing experience he'd had, and we all can't wait to hear more in the coming weeks.

So, as I sat in the silence today, I felt grateful for his safe return to us and to his family. I thought about how grateful I am that my own adult son is safe at home (finally, now, as I write this, after his being away for three days at a "music festival" in America's most dangerous city) with his mother, his brother, and me, and not overseas in harm's way fighting Mr. Bush's War of Empire. I felt grateful for the rain that's been falling here all day, because we so sorely need it, and grateful at the same time that we're not in the path of a hurricane, as so many folks will be tonight. I felt grateful that no one in my family has to go hundreds of feet underground to make a living, and, while I'm saddened at the thought that so many families are grieving today, I guess I'm grateful that I am not, even as I hold those families in The Light.

Most of all, though, I felt grateful just to be in that place this morning. In a week or so, the fifth anniversary of my mother's death will be upon us. My mom died exactly ninety days after my father died of a sudden heart attack. My mom had been sick for years - dying by degrees, really - and my dad's death was the final blow. She literally gave up after he was gone. It wasn't really surprising, but I was there when she died, and it was a really difficult struggle coming to terms with all that, with the experience of watching her die. It's a lot of emotional stuff with which I'm still dealing. For a good six months after she passed, I was totally consumed by the settling of my parents' estate, and I didn't really grieve much. Shortly after the final settlement and the sale of their home, my emotional roof caved in. I should have probably gone to a therapist or something, but I didn't, and I'm still picking up those pieces because of that. Being the cement-headed person I can be sometimes, I wanted to try to get my life straightened out "by myself." My wife and kids were a big help, as were my colleagues and friends at work. The September after my mom's death, I was blessed with a roster of some of the most amazingly compassionate and kind-hearted middle school students I've ever had the honor of teaching, and they helped me get through the year without even knowing what they were doing for me. Things started to work out, although they're still not all "right" yet, but they're getting there..

And I did something else back then: I went back to Meeting. I tried a spiritual route to dealing with my grief, but, at first, it was hard. I'd been away from organized religion for many years, but although I still felt like I was a believing, "spiritual" person, the old way of doing things - the United Methodist Church in which I was raised - had stopped speaking to me in my late teens. I dabbled in Buddhism, but found some its basic teachings clashed with some of my core personal beliefs, although the practice of meditation worked wonders for easing my pain, in the way that sitting in silence does now. Then I remembered having visited the same Meeting where I am now a member during another time of crisis and pain in my life. During my second year in college, my closest friend in the world was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was the first friend I'd ever lost to death, and everyone who knew him was devastated by his untimely passing. I knew Dave (yeah, we were "Dave and Dave") through my old church: we were youth group helpers together. But after he died, the very last place I wanted to be was in that church, because everywhere I went in that town reminded me of him. A close friend recommended I try a Quaker Meeting for Worship. "You'll like the silence," she said (I've never forgotten that). So I attended for about a month, four First Days in a row. I never talked to anyone there: I just went in, sat in the back, took in what was happening, and left at the "rise of Meeting" (when the Meeting for Worship ends). Then I moved on, but I had been moved. Obviously. Because when I needed that warm and trusting silence again, it was there for me, almost twenty-five years later. So I went back one day, almost without thinking, on a whim, really.

And this time, I stayed.

I've been attending my Meeting now for four years, and I've been a member for three. I have made friends there, people I think will be friends for life. I serve on two committees (Quakers love committees), and this past year, I co-led an Adult First Day School ("Sunday school") class, where we discussed and picked apart one of my favorite Quaker books. Becoming a Friend has enriched and informed and improved my life, and it has helped heal and make me whole again. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Yes, there is a point here. When we scroll down the page of this and the other blogs we read and contribute to, it's really easy to become angry or cynical or frustrated or just plain sad. There is so much pain and suffering out there, and so much that makes us angry. And I hope I haven't bored y'all too much with all this religious talk here. I don't think you have to be "a believer" to get my point. But one of the things being a Friend has taught me is the importance of gratitude: of taking the time to think about and to be truly grateful for the good things we have in our lives, whether it be our health, our families, our friends, our careers, or having a place like this to share and rant and laugh with other like-minded folks.

Or just being grateful for a quiet place to sit on a rainy Sunday morning.

TAGS: Faith, Hope, Misc. ramblings

Life lessons from football.

Soccer to you, probably.

I was driving around this morning, coming home from an appointment, and I saw the first sure sign that fall is coming (in spite of the oppressive heat and humidity today in these parts): the soccer trainers are out on the fields with the kids already, with their cones and their flags and their practice vests and their very shiny new boots (cleats to you). I coached youth and school soccer for fifteen years, and even though I "retired" from coaching four years ago, I still miss it... sometimes. I still love the game, though, and still follow it as best I can without a satellite dish (a-hem).

One of the best soccer related stories of late was the victory of Iraq's national team over Saudi Arabia in the recently concluded Asian Cup competition, a cause for rejoicing that, sadly, was spoiled when terrorists (or militants or insurgents or whatever we're supposed to call them) attacked some of the spontaneous celebrations this victory caused and killed a whole lot of innocent people.

Today's Philadelphia Inquirer featured a column by César Chelala about this victory, which featured these fascinating and insightful observations:

... Jorvan Vieira, the Brazilian coach hired by the Iraqi team shortly before
the final game, has spoken - in an interview published by Clarín, an Argentine newspaper - about animosity among the Iraqi players, especially between Sunnis and Shiites. The team was in total disarray on his arrival. Many players didn't even talk to one another, and, for the first two weeks, coaching was extremely difficult for him.

When asked how he managed to encourage civility among the Sunni, Shiite, Kurdish and Christian players enough for the team to pull together, Vieira replied: "What I did was talk with them every day and tell them that unless they decided to work together, they wouldn't get anywhere and that they would leave the Iraqi people without any happiness. Every time two players had a problem, I took them into a room and didn't leave that room until the problem was overcome."

After the victory in the semifinal match against South Korea, hundreds of
thousands of Iraqis took to the streets to celebrate - interrupted by two
suicide car bombings that killed 50 people and wounded 135. A cause for
celebration had become a cause for mourning.

"The day afterward was very difficult for us," Vieira said. "We all cried
on watching the TV images of the tragedy, and we thought if it really was
worthwhile to win, since if we won, people died, and if we lost, people also
died."

According to Vieira, it was despair that gave the team the strength needed to play and win the final game. The players had learned that a mother who lost her son during the celebrations had spoken of the happiness of her boy's final moments, thanks to their team's victory. It made them think, "We have to win this final at any price and offer this triumph to that mother."

For a few moments the Iraqi people were able to forget they were living
in a country ravaged by war and senseless killing. Their team's victory gave them hope, an example of the possibilities ahead if only they worked together, just as the team had done in order to triumph...

The rest of the piece is here, and it's the title that gave me the idea for this post. I love that part about how the coach brought these factions together to forge a winning side (man, and I thought I had problem players!). I enjoy learning how coaches deal with difficult situations, and this had to be one of the most challenging ever faced by a coach. And it made me think about what coaching and being around soccer has taught me about life, the universe, and everything. It comes down to these six basic "rules," the things the game taught and reinforced in me:

1.) Life, like soccer, has very few, and very simple, rules. There are only seventeen laws (rules) for soccer. It's a pretty simple game, actually. Like life. Basically, as in soccer, you can get by day-to-day with a few simple rules for living. Love your neighbor as yourself. Or at least like her or him. Be honest: don't cheat or lie or steal. Keep your hands to yourself (unless invited to do otherwise). Don't touch what isn't yours. Be respectful. Value your life, and the lives of other living things. If you can't help someone, at least don't hurt them. Show up ready to do what needs to be done. Simple things like that. Play the game the way you want the rest of the world to play it, because how they play effects you, too.

2.) Not everything is that simple. The offside law in soccer seems relatively simple, and yet it can be so subjective and so subtle as to be maddening. Over the years, I saw more arguments and ejections over the calling (or not) of offside than I did for anything else besides rough play. That's because it's called based on a) what an official sees, and b) what she or he knows about the law. It's not really open for interpretation (if you really understand it), but people do see it that way. In other words, it's not always black and white. They are grey areas, open for debate and discussion, based on knowledge, interpretation, experience, and bias. Like... life.

3.) Everyone can - and should - have a place on the team. One of the great things about soccer is that you don't have to have some sort of genetic enhancement or glandular abnormality to play. Tall and short, slim and stocky, all kinds of folks can play. My older son, who I had the honor of coaching for many of those fifteen years, is somewhat short, not real muscular, wasn't gifted with great speed or a big leg, but he could see the field well, understood the game and played smart, was a good leader on the pitch, and was an absolutely fearless goalkeeper. As a coach, I had all kinds of players to work with. I always had a system for my teams, but I tailored it to their strengths (and weaknesses). And within that system, there was always room for each kid to shine. It was like a very together jazz quartet: everyone knew the basic tune we were playing, but everyone also got his chance to solo. In life, there's a spot for everyone. At least there should be. Everyone brings something to the table. We all do better when we use our collective talents together, and when we don't dismiss or overlook those with skills and abilities that might seem "different." And besides that, there is the fact that we can rarely do it all on our own. Players usually score because someone else on the team made an equally good play before they did. Trying to go through life alone - especially the hard parts - means you may not have as good a life as you could have.

4.) Everyone deserves a second chance. When you make a mistake in soccer, the ref shows you the yellow card, which means that you're on notice: do that again, and you're out of the match (which means you get a dreaded red card). Unless you do something really dangerous or disrespectful of the "laws," you can get a second chance and can continue playing. If a soccer ref can do this for players, we should do this for our fellow everyday humans, too. And it also means giving yourself a second chance, too.

5.) Decisions have consequences. If you decide to play the ball at exactly the right moment, you can set up a goal. Wait a second too long, and the play falls apart. No big deal: you learn from that and play on. However, if, for example, you commit a dangerous foul, or go rudely bananas over a ref's call, you've decided to break the few rules we have, for which you can be dismissed from a match. Because you made a bad choice. You now have forced your team to finish with only ten players. Ask Zinedine Zidane of France whether he regrets his blockheaded decision to head-butt that Italian defender in the final match of the last World Cup, a game France could (and should) have won but for his bad decision. His glorious career will be remembered for nothing else but that one incredibly bad choice. He has to live with that. The difference between being a little kid and being a grown-up means finally recognizing that when you make a bad choice, you gotta deal. Sadly, some people haven't seem to have learned this yet, or maybe they never will.

6.) You will work a lot harder, and suffer a lot more, than you will exalt in your successes. Americans who don't get soccer often wonder why soccer players do such crazy dances and celebrations after they score a goal. It's because scoring a goal in soccer is hard to do, and rare. The field is huge, the games are long, and - take it from me - making everything come together to make a scoring strike happen is a difficult, complicated physical and mental process, usually involving lots of people other than the lucky player who finally slots the ball into the back of the old onion bag. Just like life. I don't entirely suscribe to the Buddhist notion that all of life is about suffering, but, let's face it, life can be a... difficult, complicated physical and mental process. After a while, most of us recognize that this is a given fact. So when good things do happen, it's okay to do the happy dance. In fact, there should be more happy dancing in the world. On a daily basis, preferably.

Here's hoping that someday, the people of Iraq can dance in the streets - together - and celebrate - together - for real. Without fear. Maybe this coach is on something as to how to get them all there. Together.

TAGS: Soccer, Iraq

And They'll Know We Are Christians...

...by our bombs, by our bombs, yes they'll know we are Christians by our bombs.

Here I was all upset that my 'puter had crashed and that it would take weeks for TimeWarner to hookup my new dsl and that any thoughts I had on the passing of Falwell would by then be rendered obsolete. That is until I heard about the counterprotest being planned by at least one Liberty University student, Mark David Uhl, who apparently planned to use the devices to thwart protesters at Falwell’s funeral.

Naturally, my mind wandered to that other great christianist bomber who has apparently has signed a "nonlethal presidential finding" that puts into motion a CIA plan that reportedly includes a coordinated campaign of propaganda, disinformation and manipulation of Iran's currency and international financial transactions.

Nonlethal. Hmmmm. Maybe that's because of the calming and loving influence of that other great christianist who counseled the nonlethal president on Iran just last week.

“You know, the President seems to me does understand this, as I told you from that meeting I had with him the other day, but even there it feels like somebody ought to be standing up and saying, ‘We are being threatened and we are going to meet this with force — whatever’s necessary.’”

Whatever force necessary. Makes me wonder if any of these peace bombers have actually consulted Jesus recently.

Certainly if anyone had reason to drop a bomb, it was Jesus. Sold out for a few coins by his best friend. Arrested on trumped up charges. Tortured. Tried in a kangaroo court in the middle of the night. So how did Jesus respond to this terror? He forgave his accusers. He forgave his torturers. He forgave his executioners. He made sure his mother would be cared for when he was gone. He even had a word of good news for a thief hanging with him.

But the President continues his saber-rattling towards Iran with the blessings of the Religious Reich. And one of Falwell's students brings a bomb to the funeral.

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23a

TAGS: Jerry Falwell, Iran, Peace, Antiwar

A Faithful Way Out of Iraq

Led by the Rev. Tony Campolo and Rabbi Michael Lerner, religious leaders have proposed an Ethical Way to End the War in Iraq. At its foundation are the concepts of repentance and generosity as central to the way to the end this illegal and immoral war. The plan has three parts:

First, that American and British troops be replaced by an international police force composed of those who better understand the Iraqi culture...Americans and Brits are not only devoid of any grasp of the language and the religion of the Iraqi people, but are defined by many Muslims as a Christian army that has invaded a sacred Islamic land. Our army’s presence is perceived by many in the Muslim world as a rebirth of the medieval crusades.

Second, that the United States appropriate $50 billion to rebuild the towns and cities that the invasion of Iraq has left in shambles. This would be a small price to pay, considering the $2 billion we are presently spending every week in order to keep this war going.

Third, that our president go before the United Nations and ask the world to forgive America for what we have done to Iraq, and how we have set back efforts for world peace...

This way forward calls for a new worldview where safety and security comes not from toughness and the barrel of a gun but from generosity and caring for others, and that when we've done something wrong, we need to acknowledge it as a society. It's a radical proposal, but it's not new. It was embodied in the life and death of a prophet from Nazareth over 2,000 years ago. But maybe, just maybe, it's day has finally come.

TAGS: War in Iraq, Peace, Religion