A sermon by the Rev. Judith E. Meyer
Unitarian Universalist Community Church
Santa Monica, California
October 1, 2000

The last time I saw Chris Hedges,

        he was hunched over the bible 

                in the last row of a lecture hall at Harvard Divinity School.

We were listening to the lectures on the New Testament

        required for graduation –

                and I, having put off all my bible studies as long as possible,

                        spent my final semester memorizing the Kings of Israel

                                and learning to identify which author was at work

                                        in the synoptic gospels.

I realize now that for Chris Hedges and for me,

        the action was definitely elsewhere.

 

Chris became a war correspondent,

        beginning with El Salvador,

                where he spent five years;

                        through the Palestinian uprising,

                                the civil war in the Sudan,

                                        the conflicts in Yemen, Algeria, the Punjab,

                                                the fall of Ceausescu,

                                                        the Gulf War,

                                                                the Kurdish rebellion,

                                                                        the war in Bosnia,

                                                                                and Kosovo.

You have heard his voice on National Public Radio

        or read his stories in The New York Times.

Whenever I have heard or read his words,

I have always pictured him 

        as he was the last time I saw him,

                reading the bible.

 

Even in the midst of war,

        Chris Hedges carried books with him.

He recently published an essay, 

        titled "What I Read at War,"

                in which he described how literature helped him cope,

                        even in places that came 

                                "as close to Dante’s inner circle of hell

                                        as any spot on the planet."

When Iraqis held him captive,

        he recited memorized verse, 

                from Auden,

                        Eliot, Shakespeare, and Yeats,

                                to keep his spirits up.

Looking back on the experience,

        he wrote,

                "I found in these works,

                        if not always solace,

                                then at least an understanding of the dark forces

                                        within all of us …

                and steady reminders that,

                        among mutable and inconstant human beings,

                                there remain glimpses of redemption,

                                        understanding, and compassion –

                                                even though these virtues rarely triumph."

 

In the midst of war,

        the soul cries out for peace.

But peace is hard to find.

"War," wrote Chris Hedges,

        "is part of human society.

It has been since the dawn of time 

        and probably will be until we are snuffed out

                by our own foolishness."

 

This is the reality in which we find ourselves

        and our global culture.

"Will Durant calculated that there have been only 29 years

        in all of human history

                during which a war was not underway somewhere,"

                        Chris Hedges reported.

"Our cultivated conventions and little lies of civility

        lull us into a refined and idealistic view of ourselves."

 

To counter the sense of inevitability of war

        that we can conclude from our history,

                the United Nations began the new millennium

                        by declaring the year 2000

                                the International Year of the Culture of Peace.

United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan,

        with his usual eloquence,

                launched the theme in this statement:

"For the United Nations,

        there remains no higher goal,

                no deeper commitment and no greater ambition

                        than preventing armed conflict.

But true peace is far more than the absence of war.

It is a phenomenon that encompasses 

        economic development and social justice.

It means safeguarding the global environment

        and curbing the global arms trade.

It means democracy, diversity and dignity;

        respect for human rights and the rule of law;

                and more, much more."

 

"For there to be peace among nations,"

        Annan continued,

                "there must also be peace within them,

                        among groups and individuals."

"This is no small project,"

        he added,

                "but each of us must do our part."

Wars begin in people's minds,

        and it is in people's minds that peace must begin as well.

 

And sometimes the mind is the only peaceful refuge there is.

I think of reporter Chris Hedges,

        held captive in Iraq,

                physically ill, frightened, constantly under fire,

                        holding himself together

                                with transcendent words from the poet W.H. Auden.

There, in "glimpses of redemption, understanding and compassion,"

        he found the strength to survive his ordeal.

 

Another story that illuminates the potential refuge within

        is that of the prophet Daniel.

Daniel's enemies have caught him praying to God

        instead of the King.

For this act of disobedience,

        he is condemned to death.

In the version that I told earlier,

        Daniel's goodness and gentle strength are his salvation.                

These qualities spare him from execution in the lion’s den.

His survival is offered as proof of his faith,

        and those who witness it

                conclude that religion gives you peace.

 

That version is a Unitarian Universalist adaptation

        of the original account from the Hebrew Bible.

In the original, God hears Daniel's prayers

        and seals shut the jaws of the ravenous beasts, 

                sparing him.

Later on, however, Daniel's enemies are devoured in revenge.

God does not spare them.

Religion may give you salvation,

        but it does not give you peace.

 

These two versions of the story present the ambiguous role

        that religion can play 

                in the culture of war and of peace.

And yet, each version emphasizes the importance

        of what goes on inside Daniel.

In the version I told the children,

        religion teaches Daniel to have the strength of his convictions

                and leads people to conclude

                        that non-violence is the path to peace.

In the original Hebrew bible story,

        Daniel’s trust in God causes God to intervene,

                while his non-believing enemies perish.

Not everyone believes that the path of non-violence

        will lead to peace.

But whatever the path,

        it is clear that peace begins in the minds of people,

                as they seek to imagine an alternative to the horror of war.

Once people had only the hope that their God

        would reward them for their faith.

Now we hold humanity responsible for the pain we inflict on each other,

        and from that accountability

                may also come our salvation.

 

Friday night began the Jewish high holy days,

        a time of reflection,

                reckoning,

                        repentance,

                                and awe.

Faithful observance of the Jewish cycle

        combines reparation and renewal,

                and offers the clean slate of the New Year.

The transformation always starts within.

 

And people do it whether the world is at peace or not.

Driving by several synagogues Friday night,

        I couldn't help but notice that each one

                had visible, armed security guards at the temple doors.

Yet that ugly reality does not diminish

        the transforming potential of what was going on inside.

That potential –

        that we can change ourselves,

                and then change the world –

                        is the hope that is the foundation

                                for a culture of peace.

 

Such transformation is not easy.

Rhetoric and platitudes peace cannot cut through the harsh truth

        that war is more real for us than peace.

Today’s newspaper shows photos of victims – one a young boy –

        of cross-fire between Israelis and Palestinians in Gaza.

 

Chris Hedges wrote,

"Where do you turn in the midst of a world bent on self-annihilation,

        a world where lives are snuffed out

                at random?

Whom do you reach for

        to keep from disintegrating 

                under the pressure, the carnage, and the loneliness?

Who speaks to you in such trance-like misery?

To a certain extent, no one."

 

"All of us who have been in war

        bear with us memories we would prefer to bury or forget.

War has an otherworldliness, 

        a strangeness unlike most other experiences.

It is its own culture. …

The central reality of war is violent death and betrayal."

 

To create a culture of peace

        is to create nothing less

                than a new central reality.

Culture goes to the soul within.

Chris Hedges asks,

        "Who speaks for you?"

                but the only answer is "You do."

That is why such transformation always starts inside each of us,

and links us, one by one,

        in a network of new attitudes and ethics

                for this new culture.

 

To prepare for the declaration of the year 2000

        as the International Year of the Culture of Peace,

                a group of individuals drafted a statement for UNESCO

                        affirming their commitment to the principles of a culture of peace.

They were people who knew all too well the culture of war:

        Desmond Tutu,

                Rigoberta Menchu Tum,

                        Elie Wiesel,

                                Mikhail Gorbachev,

                                        Coretta Scott King,

                                                and the Dalai Lama, among others.

Their "Manifesto," as they called it,

        was a personal statement.

 

"Recognizing my share of responsibility," they wrote,

        "for the future of humanity,

                especially for today’s children and those of future generations,

                        I pledge – in my daily life, 

                                in my family, my work, my community,

                                        my country and my region –

to respect the life and dignity of every person

        without discrimination or prejudice;

to practice active non-violence;

to share my time and material resources 

        to put an end to exclusion, 

                injustice and political and economic oppression;

to defend freedom of expression and cultural diversity;

to promote responsible consumer behavior;

and to contribute to the development of my community

        to create new forms of solidarity."

 

The Manifesto has credibility

        not only because of the individuals who signed it,

                but also because it sets forth

                        what it takes –

                                from each of us –

                                        to create a culture of peace.

"Who speaks" to those who suffer in war?

We do, each of us, 

        willing to look within

                and turn ourselves in the direction of peace.

We do, people of faith,

        who affirm the power of human witness

                to new ways of being in the world.

We do, whoever we are,

        as long as glimpses

                of redemption,

                        understanding, and compassion

                                still appear in the midst of war

                                        and make us think of peace.

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