WomenPowerPeace

Around the 4th of July: From our Faith in Action program

The Story Behind the Story
by Rev. Amanda Hendler-Voss

On the 4th of July, in the swirl of children dripping with watermelon juice, as the day's sweaty fever breaks into a thousand sparks in the evening sky, I often find myself caught somewhere between celebration and dissent.

Almost a decade ago, my studies dropped me squarely into the raging winds of Hurricane Mitch during a semester abroad in Honduras. My stay coincided with Honduran Independence Day, when children don traditional dress and dance in community wide parades. While festivities whirled, an indigenous tribe poured blood-red paint over the capitol's statue of Cristobal Colon (or Christopher Columbus, as we like to call him). This symbolic act protested the injustices perpetrated against native peoples since the founding of the nation of Honduras. 

I think about that act every 4th of July, when I remember that there's a story behind the story of our nation’s independence. Growing up, there was a story we all learned in American history--the birth of a nation founded upon the deeply held principles of liberty, equality, and justice for all. Textbooks and teachers told us how America was built by the labors of pioneers and those who had been cast out of other lands--the poor, immigrants, and religious minorities. The founders of these United States fashioned a new nation that declared each individual's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Our ancestors cast off the chains of servitude to a far off king and made of themselves a new, free world. This is the story we celebrate publicly every 4th of July. 

And then there's the story behind the story--the accounts of the mass slaughter of native tribes inhabiting the "new world," the tales of millions of Africans brought to this nation in chains, the stories of immigrants scaling impossible walls, risking life and limb to find work and wages in America. These stories remind me that ours is a nation of contrast and complexity. Even as freedom was proclaimed and refuge offered to many escaping persecution, the blessings of liberty and justice (as Frederick Douglass once observed) have not been shared by all. And it is the struggle to narrow the gap between what we believe in and how we live that's shaped an achingly beautiful nation in whose heritage I take pride. I am proud of the principles on which our nation was founded, but I take even greater pride in the diversity of voices required to live them out. I am proud of the abolitionists, suffragists, civil rights activists, labor organizers, and immigrants who thought so highly of our nation that they imagined it could be even greater than its past. 

The spirit of those patriots emboldens those of us who labor for peace. Historian Howard Zinn proclaims that war almost always breaks the promises set forth by the Declaration of Independence. War does not, this veteran claims, "enable the pursuit of happiness, but brings despair and grief." Zinn asks the pointed question: "Should we not begin to think beyond this war? Should we begin to think, even before this war is over, about ending our addiction to massive violence?" Should we seek the story behind the story?

In a piece in the New Yorker that has created too small a stir this week, Seymour Hersh declares that George W. Bush and Dick Cheney are indeed already thinking beyond the Iraq war, with Iran as their next target. According to Hersh, with $400 million approved by Congress, the Bush Administration is "funding a major escalation of covert operations against Iran," which may include a major air attack and "a nuclear option." Broadly dismissed by the American public as absurd, the red flags have been raised by those closest to the heat.

Secretary of Defense Robert Gates has long favored talks with Iran while strongly discouraging military action.  In an off-the-record lunch meeting with the Democratic caucus in the Senate, one senator recalls that Secretary Gates warned of the consequences of a pre-emptive strike on Iran, saying "We'll create generations of jihadists, and our grandchildren will be battling our enemies here in America."Admiral Fallon, described by Esquire magazine as the only thing standing between the Bush Administration and war with Iran, resigned from his role as Commander of the U.S. Central Command, citing complications with the administration. And Hersh reports that the nuclear option "created serious misgivings inside the Joint Chiefs of Staff." While the American public rests easy believing that those surrounding Bush oppose war with Iran, those talking to Hirsh on the condition of anonymity spoke out precisely because they don’t believe Bush and Cheney are listening. Even more troubling, Hersh reports that "some members of the Democratic leadership… were willing, in secret, to go along with the Administration in expanding covert activities directed at Iran."

While our young men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan fight two wars, and Bush and Cheney contemplate a third, the 4th of July reminds us of our convictions: that all are created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, among these life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. In this election season the American public has the opportunity to ask of our candidates for higher office the hard questions. We can, as Martin Luther King Jr. did, entreat them to endorse the platform of peace and in so doing take part in living into our nation's tremendous promise. 

For many of us who are people of faith, our highest allegiance is not to our nation, but to the God of all the nations. For this reason, we view each person as one created in the image of the divine, no matter their nation of origin. We see this world as God's earth. We know we are just visitors passing through. And so we affirm a great love for our nation while loving those of other nations, and seeking peace among the people of God’s world.

This Is My Song

This is my song, O God of all the nations,

A song of peace for lands afar and mine

This is my home, the country where my heart is:

Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;

But other hearts in other lands are beating

With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,

And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;

But other lands have sunlight too, and clover,

And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.

O hear my song, O God of all the nations,

A song of peace for their land and for mine.

Prisoners of Hope

From Rev. Amanda Hendler-Voss, the coordinator of WAND's Faith in Action program.... Her column for December.

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Prisoners of Hope
by Rev. Amanda Hendler-Voss

As the days grow cold and the nights long, the warm lure of the holiday season beckons. Daily, I discover my mailbox stuffed with magazines that feature smiling couples draped before a blazing fireplace, steaming mugs in hand. We are wrapped head to toe in cozy consumerist culture, prisoners to this irresistible world.

The simple irony that dawns on many people of faith at some point as we rush about, credit card in hand, is that this holy season was never supposed to be about grandiose gifts or lavish table settings. For some of us, it is about a young woman birthing God into the world in an animal stable, because there was no room at the inn. For others, this holy season is about a scant pool of oil miraculously feeding a menorah for eight days. For most of us, it is about the inward movement of the spirit as the days shorten. It is about anticipation and hope, waiting for God to do new thing in our lives.

We know better, but somehow we've been roped into the wrong cultural habits. And the tide is so strong we've opted not to resist. With every commercial proclaiming this the season of cheer, we sequester those parts of ourselves that grieve a world at war, lost loved ones, estranged families, communities in which cupboards are bare and gifts meager. 

Why is it that we are so easily swayed by media messaging? This year's political climate has boasted incendiary rhetoric over the drumbeat beckoning us to war with

Iran

. We know better, but somehow we've allowed fear to dominate our national discourse and determine the tone of our dialogue with the world. Perhaps the tide is so strong we've opted not to resist.      

Last week the world heaved a sigh of relief at the news that there's no excuse to go to war with

Iran

. An intelligence report summarizing the findings of 16 agencies, commissioned by the Democratic leadership in Congress, did not mince words when it proclaimed: "We judge with high confidence that in fall 2003, Tehran halted its nuclear weapons program... We judge with high confidence that Iran will not be technically capable of producing and reprocessing enough plutonium for a weapon before 2015." [1] Despite the tough talk of the Bush administration, which has tossed about phrases like "World War III," these intelligence findings have stripped Bush of an excuse to pursue war. How easy it has been to mislead and be misled. But the tide is turning. The credibility gap, exposed by the wrongheaded claims made to justify the invasion of

Iraq

, erodes further with each misstep. 

To be clear, there is reason for concern about

Iran

's nuclear aspirations and the bitter season of fevered communication between our nations. The report does not suggest we can kick back and relax in the struggle to eliminate nuclear weapons from the face of the earth. Most Americans grasp the vital nature of our nation's leadership in the efforts to dismantle nuclear weapons, if we want our children to live in a peaceful world. And a good leader does not lead by intimidation and inflammatory rhetoric. A good leader leads by example. 

When the people lead, our elected officials will follow. On the first day of December, I sat at a table with Muslims and Christians, as we spoke from the heart about nuclear weapons, one of the most urgent moral issues of our day. The thing about authentic dialogue is that we don't always have to agree. Around the table, we were devout people who chose different faith traditions in which to raise our families, be in community, and be in relationship with God.

Authentic dialogue does not minimize our differences, as if the headscarves worn by the Muslim women around the table were a casual choice in style. Authentic dialogue names and respects our differences, while honoring our common commitments. All of us around the table agreed to sign on to a statement authored by our respective traditions' leadership, which calls upon "the

United States

and other countries of the world to, gradually and in a verifiable manner, finally eliminate nuclear weapons from the face of the earth." [2] We concurred that dialogue between Muslims and Christians is essential to the peaceful world that we are all hoping, praying, and waiting for.   

Very few Christians in my community have the opportunity for regular dialogue with devout Muslims on issues that matter. In fact, I never realized how segregated our communities tend to be until I had the opportunity to talk with these Muslim women. One participant spoke of her native home in

Pakistan

, and her sorrow that the simple hospitality offered to American travelers in

Pakistan

has eroded like the good will between Muslims and Christians. We reached consensus on the conclusion that nuclear weapons are incompatible with the Muslim and Christian traditions. 

Perhaps this type of dialogue--which reaches out across the boundaries that divide us to take up an issue vital for the common good--might offer a model for our political leadership. In recent months, faith leaders have been traveling to

Iran

to "build a bridge of peace" between our nations. The fascinating thing about having a President who refuses to speak with nations that he deems to be "evil" is that the responsibility falls back on ordinary Americans to extend the hand of peace and diplomacy. We know all too well that the will of a nation's people is not always at one with the will of its leadership. And so I invite you into this vital dialogue that seeks the common good in the midst of our differences. I invite you to cross boundaries and extend the hand of peace. 

It is, after all, the season of hope. Theologian Cornel West recently called himself a "prisoner of hope," stating: "Hope is a qualitatively different category than optimism. Optimism is a secular construct, a calculation of probability... Hope wrestles with despair, but it doesn't generate optimism. It generates the energy to be courageous, to bear witness, to see what the end will be." [3] In this holy season, I pray that we might huddle together as prisoners of hope, waiting to see what new thing God will do among us to birth peace into the world again.

---

[1] The New York Times,

December 4, 2007, front page and page A10.

[2] To sign the Muslim-Christian Initiative statement on the nuclear weapons danger, visit www.mci-nwd.org.

[3] Rolling Stone Magazine, 40^th Anniversary issue, www.rollingstone.com. 

The Costs of War -- from our Faith in Action Reverend

From our own Rev. Amanda Hendler-Voss...

I just returned from an exhilarating experience at the WiLL/WAND national conference in Washington D.C.! We were over 200 strong, with about one hundred women state legislators, about one hundred women activists and advocates, and about 15 young women.

We discussed everything from the cost of the Iraq war to our priorities as women for our nation and the federal budget. We heard from women announcing their candidacy for Congress, from young women interested in running for office one day soon. And some of us gathered at a dine around dinner in a Washington home to discuss faith and the politics of peace. Many visited Capitol Hill on Tuesday to talk with elected officials about downsizing Pentagon bloat and funding the true priorities of our nation.

For this month’s web column, I want to share with you my remarks from a panel presentation I made at the conference.

I also want to remind you that October 8th marks a day of interfaith fasting and prayer for a season of discernment in ending the Iraq war and bringing about peace. Fasting and prayer have long been spiritual practices that have deepened my faith, and I believe that this day has the power to transform our thinking about war and the roles we play in standing up for peace. If it’s your first time fasting, consider just forgoing one meal, spending that time in prayer, and donating the money you would have spent on lunch to a group that is working hard to create change. Together, I believe we can!

In Peace,
Amanda

Interdependence Day

by Rev. Amanda Hendler-Voss

My community of faith recently embarked on a dialogue concerning a "hot" issue. You know the kind... an issue that has polarized segments of our community, divided our body, invaded conversations, meetings, and services like a pesky summer weed.

The issue? Language for God. What names do we give the un-nameable One? Which metaphors free us up, which images tear us down? How has the language of our ancestors in the faith been alternately harmful and healing? As a community committed to mutuality and gender equality, how do our images of the Holy One shape the children in our midst?

It's a difficult conversation, one involving passion, perspective, and the potential for provocation. I have a deep commitment to gender inclusive language when it comes to God talk. As a clergywoman in a society and religious tradition that have fallen short in affirming women's gifts, I've encountered my share of scrapes and bruises along the spiritual path. So this conversation about language for God was not one I was eager to engage. I'd just as soon let old wounds heal.

But when it came time for this divisive dialogue, something extraordinary occurred. We sat in a circle, shifting uncomfortably, when our facilitator invited us to listen deeply to one another. Instead of theological debate, she asked us each to tell our stories about meaningful language for God. There was to be no cross talk, no debating someone else's experience. Just listening. Deep listening. We would honor each story with a short, reflective silence before the next voice spoke. We, who had been prepared to do battle, were completely disarmed by this gracious invitation to tell our stories. God's Spirit was in our midst, despite our differences.

As we celebrate Independence Day in the heat of July, I often find myself thirsting for--as Howard Zinn would say--"the people's" stories of our nation. I know what I was taught in his-story class, but I want to hear the voices on the fringe, telling stories that may sound strange to my ears. We celebrate Independence Day, but what became of the Native communities who roamed with the buffalo before Europeans discovered the "new world"? I'm hungry for the troubling stories of African women who cared for children in the Middle Passage even as they were tossed about in the stormy sea of slavery. I want to hear the stories of those who live and labor in the shadows, having risked their lives to enter our borders from Mexico.

I recently discovered a new definition of "enemy" as "the one whose story we have not heard." Perhaps an enemy is one whose story we do not want to hear, one whose experience we do not want to know, one whose grief we do not want to touch. But the truth, as Senator Obama recently said in a forum on faith and politics, is that we are all in this together.

We celebrate independence, but it seems that we’re more interdependent today than ever before. Beyond the borders of nation states that we have lined with fences and patrol with force, there’s an interdependency to our world that cannot be denied. Birds and butterflies migrate across borders with the ease of passing seasons. Disease, violence, and pollution travel quite freely between nations. A war on one side of the world means a change in prices at the pump on the other side. Such interconnectedness means that everything we do to others we also do to ourselves in light of our one, shared earth.

Alice Walker puts it like this: "It is always us and only us that we wound when we harm another. There is no way to be separate from the rest of creation. We indulge the fantasy of being separate to our own peril."

And that means that nuclear waste seeping into impoverished communities of color is our business, no matter where we live. It means that a federal budget that funds defunct Cold War weaponry instead of health care for vulnerable children ought to madden all mothers. It means that the stories of young men and women surging into Iraq to face the violence of a civil war are a part of our collective story as a nation.

As is our American custom, I invite you this 4th of July to celebrate with all people who have known the taste of freedom. Celebrate with all those who are no longer shackled--not by poverty or privilege, not by hatred or fear. The human experience is to taste freedom and know that it is good. But as we celebrate stories of freedom, recall, as Dr. King taught us, that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." As we celebrate independence in an interdependent world, remember that our liberation is tied up with that of others half way around the world. We stand in need of one another, despite our differences.

Our reliance on militarism to bring peace and liberation is ultimately a spiritual failure. We have not cultivated a national spirit that urges us to reason with other nations, to seek reconciliation even in the face of deep conflict, to beat our swords into plowshares, and to use our resources to care for the "least of these." For these reasons, our faith compels us to honor our nation's independence only in light of our interdependence with other human beings all around this one, shared earth. So let's listen well. We may discover the un-nameable Spirit in our midst.

On the passing of William Sloane Coffin

Nossir, I'm not a person of faith. I wish I were, it's just not there for me.

But I respect those who do have faith -- and intelligence and wisdom. The folks at Sojourners are busy reclaiming the real stuff and substance behind the wall of words in the bible (and elsewhere). They are living the words of faith.

In an archived interview recently replayed on "Fresh Air," Coffin had this to say:

"The integrity of love is more important than the purity of dogma."

It is gratifying and lovely when God is perceived and portrayed as being about love.

February brings winds of change to us, to politics

Our lovely and amazing Amanda Hendler Voss just posted her first monthly column in the Faith in Action web site. Here it is:

The Winds of Change

The winter winds have been blowing fiercely here in Asheville, North Carolina. And though they carry a chill, I know that eventually spring will blow in upon the breeze, and the world around me will see change in bloom once again.

If there’s a month in which the cold despair of winter is always a little too close at hand, it’s February. If there’s a time when I wonder whether the frozen ground will ever give way to the green birth of spring, it’s these last shivering weeks of winter.

This year, February’s political landscape is nearly as drab as the dying winter. The President’s proposed FY07 budget is the same old dinosaur that has sauntered across the national stage for the past several years. It’s nearly the same pie that we argued over last year, with heavy cuts into social programs for the most vulnerable in our society, cuts which pare social spending down to a size so small I could drown it in my bathtub. In a time of unprecedented disaster—hurricanes ripping through communities with stubborn gaps between the rich and the poor—our national leadership simply doesn’t see fit to increase spending for access to health care, quality education, or affordable housing.

It’s tempting to believe change will never blow into Washington. It’s tempting to believe that new ideas and commitments might not take root this year.

But in February I’ve found it’s important to live each day mindful of God’s promise that night is always followed by the breaking of a new dawn, and life emerges from death. That’s what spring is all about, and each year it follows on the heels of winter.

Looking at February from a slightly different angle, the budget season is really a time to reassess our values. All around the nation we’ve been talking about the budget as a moral document that reflects back to us those values in which we choose to invest as American people.

The President’s proposed FY07 budget may reflect his values, but it does not reflect the values and priorities of most Americans. We value quality education, better access to healthcare, and affordable housing. We’re willing to invest in these values. The FY07 proposed budget instead offers a 7% increase in Pentagon spending, bringing the Pentagon’s slice of the budget pie to 53% of discretionary spending. At $439 billion, that’s more than we spend on education, health, veterans benefits, housing, the environment, science, economic development, and international affairs combined.

I believe change must come, because a budget that strips vital services and care from the most vulnerable among us—children, elders, and the sick—will only be endured for so long. The winds of Hurricane Katrina peeled away the lavish diversions that had us looking the other way. Hurricane Katrina cut to the heart of our nation, and we didn’t like the economic and racial injustices that were exposed on center stage.

We know we can do better. We can eliminate Pentagon spending on obsolete and unnecessary weapons systems, such as the failed missile defense program, and instead fund—for the same price tag—86,052 affordable housing units or 5,622,922 children receiving health care. We can allow tax cuts for the wealthiest 5% to sunset, as was originally intended, and use that money to fund 10,432 new elementary schools or 1,997,465 public safety officers. We can reduce our nuclear arsenal to 1,000 and use the cash we save to locate and lock down loose nuclear weapons that threaten our security. Instead of engaging in costly war as if it were the only tool available to dismantle terrorism, we can increase funding for humanitarian programs which address the root causes of instability and terrorism, like hunger, illiteracy, and unemployment.

It’s that simple. But it won’t happen if we don’t stand up and speak out. Let’s inaugurate spring with a new political climate this year, beginning with the call for a budget that reflects our values. It’s time for change to blow into Washington.

WAND's Faith Communities Organizer on Sojourners

Thanks to WAND's own Amanda Hendler Voss for her beautiful piece on the Sojourners web site.

Click here to read the whole piece. Here's an excerpt.

In my work with Women's Action for New Directions, an anti-militarism organization based in Arlington, Massachusetts, I have learned that women have a complex, distinct relationship with the violence of war. War is fought primarily by young men who are compelled to kill or be killed. For centuries, this meant that men suffered the most direct violence of warfare. In modern warfare, things have changed drastically. While the percentage of civilian deaths was five percent of war casualties in World War I, today it is close to 90 percent, according to Sayre Sheldon, author of the 1999 book Her War Story. Sheldon writes as the home front becomes the front line, women increasingly experience the violence of war as civilians. In the midst of war, women serve as primary caregivers for children and elders. They experience the torture of sexual assault. They are overexposed to the violence soldiers sometimes bring back from the battlefield.