Peace & War

We haven’t been able to think about anything else recently. The images of unarmed protesters in Ferguson facing down cops in riot gear through a haze of tear gas are on loop in our brains. If you’ve been watching the news at all, you know some version of the story: an unarmed 18-year-old African American named Michael Brown was shot by a police officer while he was walking home. The circumstances of the shooting are disputed. Riots and looting ensued and heavily militarized cops rolled in.

The events in Ferguson, Missouri have captivated the world of social media this week. On Saturday afternoon, eighteen year-old Michael Brown was shot and killed by police while walking home with a friend. A candlelight vigil to remember Brown turned violent on Sunday, leading to looting and more than thirty arrests. Monday and Tuesday saw tensions rise as residents gathered for peaceful demonstrations, demanding the officer’s name be released and details about the incident be made public.

On our Salaam Project Facebook page, the post that has received the most views is one called “We are Iraqi, we are Christian.” The article describes Muslims standing alongside Christians in Baghdad protesting together the persecution of Christians in Mosul by ISIS or Islamic State. This parallels the #WeareN hashtag that is spreading over social media and that was recently highlighted in a post by Phil Reinders.

“If you go to any small town and ask about the local church, it is certain that you will find one…the church has been an important space for all those who have suffered from acts of violence. Listening to them, you can understand how their faith as allowed them to process what has happened and support their acts of resistance,” says Angelica Rincon, reflecting on her work in the Political Advocacy and Historical Memory program.

You’ve most likely read about the unprecedented number of unaccompanied children arriving at the U.S.-Mexican border, more than 50,000 since October of last year, with 40,000 more projected to reach the border by this coming October. That’s more than 245 children showing up at the border each day without their parents.

"It is more dangerous to be a woman than a soldier in modern conflict.”* According to the United Nations, women and girls are targeted as a tactic of war to “humiliate, dominate, instill fear in, punish, disperse and/or forcibly relocate members of a community/ethnic group ” around the world. This information provides a lens to understand the news of this month, both at home and around the world.

So this is personal – not just to Ron Geerlings and me but to the CRCNA. I remember this area, its farmers and church leaders. We have been at schools just like the burned-out shell you see on the news.

My heart was racing. The chairs, which had been placed in a large circle, were moved to the side of the town hall we were meeting in. Once they were cleared away, we took our places in two lines facing each other. I found myself across from my opponent – a sweet-faced woman with shoulder length grey hair who smiled at me kindly. We introduced ourselves, shook hands. Still shaky with nervous energy, I turned my attention to the Christian Peacemaker Teams delegation leader who was facilitating the activity.

Every day at five am in the small rural community of Basurú, on Colombia’s Pacific Coast, a group from the local Mennonite church gathers to broadcast the events of the day. Using a microphone connected to megaphones hoisted high above the community on bamboo poles, the technology may be archaic but the messages are not. The only way to reach the community is by boat on the San Juan river; access to local news is a way to keep the community connected and informed of what is going on in the world around them.

On the last afternoon of Christ at the Checkpoint conference several hundred of us stood on the ancient, stony terraces among the olive trees to celebrate a Eucharist of solidarity with the people of Beit Jala (pronounced ‘bait-yala’) –Bethlehem’s smaller sister. It was icy cold and rainy. “Why don’t we do this inside the nice warm monastery?” I thought to myself.

I would find out why a little later.