Saturday, April 1, 2017

Swords Into Plowshares

In my desire to dig deeper into what it means to be human, I listen to “On Being,” a radio broadcast (on NPR stations) and podcast hosted by Krista Tippett. Described as “thoughtfully delving into the mysteries of human existence,” “On Being” also offers a variety of essays in its Facebook feed from its regular contributors. One such essay this week was written by Parker Palmer, who raised the question, “What’s an Angry Quaker to Do?”

Quakers have a commitment to peace-making and nonviolence. Yet in his personal life, Palmer is experiencing a contradiction between his long-held beliefs and his emotions. In the essay, he asks: “Does anger have a role to play in the life of someone who aspires to nonviolence?”

His question is intriguing to wrestle with, not just for Quakers, but also for those of various philosophical or religious persuasions who live life with the goal of nonviolence. What I especially appreciate about Palmer’s words is his willingness to expose his personal struggle with a subject that doesn’t fit very well within his worldview or public persona. What does a person committed to peace and nonviolence do with anger?

The Ashland Center for Nonviolence is facing a similar dilemma this weekend as they host a number of speakers on the Ashland University campus who will make presentations under the banner, “Understanding Our Gun Culture.” When I first heard this theme, I scratched my head. How do guns and nonviolence fit together? What kind of topics will be part of that conversation?

Like Palmer’s essay, some of the presentations begin with a question. Should concealed guns be permitted on college campuses? Who owns handguns? Others are historical in perspective, such as Ohio State’s Randolph Roth, who suggests that “Guns Are and Aren’t the Problem,” reviewing the relationship between firearms and homicide in American history. Another interesting topic, from Mark Ryan of the University of Dayton, will focus on “The Storied Gun: Using Narrative to Grasp the Moral Logic of Guns in America.” What stories shape our understanding? Wyatt Earp or NCIS? JFK or John Lennon? George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin?

Why plan a conference around that particular theme? Shouldn’t they be bringing people together around a campfire, singing “Kum Bah Yah” or “Let There Be Peace on Earth”? The answer to my question begins with this statement on the ACN’s webpage: “The Ashland Center for Nonviolence believes that there is more to peace than opposing violence. We are dedicated to raising awareness, thinking and acting creatively and encouraging open discussion on issues of peace and social well-being.”

That’s how the ACN conference connects with Palmer’s essay. Why does a person committed to peace write about anger? Why does an organization committed to nonviolence hold a conference on gun culture? Instead of choosing the ostrich “head in the sand” approach, pretending that all is well in our heart, or that all is well, both Palmer and the ACN accept the reality of living in our twenty-first century world. Anger doesn’t magically dissipate into the atmosphere just because we are raised in or converted to a particular religious belief. And swords don’t transform into plowshares just because we sing songs of peace or wave the flags of nonviolence.

Anger and fear are powerful motivators, and those of us who have parked ourselves at various locations along the “right to bear arms” continuum must find ways to understand each other’s positions. We begin by recognizing the truth in what the world-famous philosopher Yogi Berra may have said, “Where you stand depends on where you sit.” Can we possibly talk respectfully about where we sit, where we stand?

More than fifty years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote: “It may well be that we will have to repent in this generation, not merely for vitriolic words and violent actions . . . but for the appalling silence and indifference of [those] who sit around and say, ‘Wait on time.’” When we’re losing eight children and teens each day, we’re out of time. I’m grateful the ACN is welcoming this conversation today. 



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