Back in April, before I renewed blogging, a conference was held at the Vatican at the invitation of the Pontifical Commission for Justice and Peace, to consider putting aside the Church’s teachings on just war. The belief of many is that in today’s world, no war can be just. Nonviolence is more consistent with the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels and is considered by some the next step in the development of Papal teachings initiated when St. John XXIII wrote Pacem in Terris in 1963.
I encourage you to read the two-page document and consider its recommendations.
“The time has come for our Church to be a living witness and to invest far greater human and financial resources in promoting a spirituality and practice of active nonviolence and in forming and training our Catholic communities in effective nonviolent practices.”
Our experience at the refugee camp at Calais was an immersion in our common humanity. Understanding and accepting our unity is the basis for nonviolence. We can no longer wish harm to anyone. Some people may do bad things, but all are offspring of the same Divine author of life.
Now we all have an opportunity to affirm the findings of the conference on nonviolence and just peace and to urge Church leaders to act on its recommendations. A website has been created where you can sign up as an organization or as an individual to affirm the statement by the conference.
Even if you do not understand nonviolence or think it is too passive in the face of injustice (not at all true) this is a chance to ask church leaders to immerse themselves in understanding nonviolence and to pass on that understanding to others.
When we come to believe that everyone on earth is our sister or brother, we will be on our way to ending war and the tragedies it creates.
Nonviolence means avoiding
not only external violence
but also internal violence of spirit.
You not only refuse to shoot a man,
but you refuse to hate him.
A thoughtful reader posed some questions to an early post and rather than respond to the comment only, I thought I it might be helpful to express my thoughts here. A similar discussion came up with other volunteers in a tent in the Jungle during the same week.
How are you able to reconcile these intense, emotional interpersonal interactions with the fact that you may/must return to a privileged life while your new friends must stay there with little hope for the future? What has your being there left behind for them? What had your being there left with you as you return?
The decision to go to Calais was in part a response to a discernment (a prayerful, Spirit-led consideration of present realities and opportunities to respond) given to our CSJP congregation in the Chapter of 2014. A Chapter gathers as much of the congregation as possible to discern direction for the next six years. Our Chapter Call was a call to the kind of radical hospitality witnessed in the live and ministry of Jesus. Joining in project like the Catholic Worker House in Calais offered us an opportunity to serve, to learn more about the hospitality to which we are called and took into account the fact that our congregation is getting older and starting such a project on our own might be too formidable.
Personally, I chose to go in the hopes of learning how best to live out our chapter call to assist in my work for the congregation and to offer what charitable and pastoral assistance I could to the already progressing project. In early discussions it was made clear that it was important to keep peace within the camp between the different ethnic groups. I hoped that my experiences with and study of nonviolence would be of assistance as well.
The fact that most of my work addresses needed systemic change, I looked forward to being able to do some charitable work, which would need no justification. As reported from the first day in the camp, I found that the tables were turned.
Now that I have returned home there is a natural tension. I wished I could stay longer, the needs are so great but I have responsibilities to my family. I also was physically worn down after a month.
To suggest they are left without hope is not true at all. They are more hopeful than am I. They have traveled across deserts, seas and through outlaw countries to reach Calais. They will not be deterred. As dismal as life in Calais can be, they find it better than what they left behind. Most have great hopes of getting into the UK, despite the increasing difficulties of passing the 20 or so miles from Calais to Dover. Neither I nor they know how long the Jungle will go on. It is hard for me to believe that a “civilized” nation such as France would destroy the camp sending as many of 10,000 persons scattering throughout their countryside. It makes no sense from a humanitarian or a security perspective. Homes must be found for them.
For some in the camp, the hope may be a false hope until or unless the UK does more to welcome these men and women, instead of paying France to keep them out.
A typical dinner at St. Marie Skobtsova House
A great sign of hope are the residents and the work St. Maria Skobtsova house, the Catholic Worker House where we lived. The house residents include some faith based volunteers and refugees assisted by people from the neighborhood under the vision and leadership of Brother Johannes Marteens. Each of the refugees have applied for asylum in France and are taking French lessons 4 days a week. We were all learning to live together despite difference in languages, cultures, personal habits and skin colors. These are among the most caring people I have ever met. They have volunteered their time as translators in hospital visits. I have seen them use their own very limited resources to purchase food and treats for friends in the hospital. They use their connections and experience from being in the camp to bring to our attention those who need special help. I am delighted at the opportunity I had to live in that house and to share my life with the people there. Hopefully I have made a contribution to their lives as well.
Americans often look at hospitality as a time to perform or as an inconvenient social necessity. Our lives and agendas are too important to be disrupted. The people of Calais see hospitality as duty, delight and privilege. We have a lot to learn.
The truth is we only have one planet for us all to share. There is no far-off universe or island where these refugees will be sent. The refugees of Calais, and in Syria, and in Turkey on the Southern U.S. border and all over the globe have every right to a safe share of our planetary home as we do. We should all work to be sure they achieve the safety they seek.
I did not return home whole. Part of my heart is still in Calais with the folks in the house and those in the camp. But I came back with a resolve to help all of us understand we cannot wish these people away. Nor can we call ourselves civilized, much less Christian, if we keep them penned up in conditions like those existing in the Jungle.
Wednesday, Donna Clifford, CSJP-A arrived from Seattle as did Sr. Francois, with three of her colleagues who are Ignatian Sisters from Paris. The sisters will be opening a house a few blocks away in support of Brother Johannes and his work with the refugees.
Omar, a young Iraqi with computer repair skills, who wants to be come Christian moved into the house for a few days on Wednesday.
Thursday, we drove the two Jesuit philosophy students, Oliver and Joakim to the train station so they could return to their studies after a retreat that starts Monday. They had been with us since Sunday.
Now it is my turn to depart. Last night, as has become a tradition in the house they had a cake for me to say good bye. I should have anticipated it and prepared something to say, but as anyone who knows me will understand, I do not like being the center of attention and hoped the moment would pass. But I was genuinely moved by the words from many around the table who thanked me for my service. Even quiet Hussein, my hospital visiting buddy and translator made a speech in English. Several made remarks that were then translated into English for me.
My thoughts and words were genuine, but it also helped deflect the emotions of the moment to talk about how we can continue to work together after I return home. Perhaps leading the bible studies via Skype?
I will not miss the teargas (yesterday afternoon) the absolutely inconsistent police checks every time I was asked to drive into the Jungle, the too small kitchen for preparing meals for 30, which also serves as the crossroads of the house, or the flies.
But some of the best people on earth live in that house, all of us are flawed people to be sure, but willing to love each other in spite of our own weaknesses and the struggles with the work we do together. I will miss each one of them.
I am tired, my back hurts and I have not slept for three nights because of either bed bugs or fleas. (Bed bugs would make this an authentic Catholic Worker experience, wouldn’t it?) So it is time to go. But, as I have warned my bride, I do not return home whole. Part of me will never leave Calais and the beautiful people I have met here.
I hope to return.
Perhaps to celebrate the close of the camp and integration of its beautiful
Sudanese night kitchen gathering with Ibrahim in foreground
This morning, (Thursday) Richard Rohr’s meditation offers ‘as an absolute statement’: that “all of spirituality is about letting go.” In the first reading for today, Paul tells us to let go of human wisdom and to trust the wisdom of God.
Much of my time is Calais has been about realizing the need to let go of my comforts, my presuppositions and my understanding of the refugee crisis. That crisis has moved from an intellectual one—human wisdom—to a heart-felt one motivated by the simplicity and genuineness of the hospitality shown by Jungle residents. There is no pretense as they invite us into their dwellings for tea or more (if we will accept it.)
Michael
Yesterday’s invitation came from Michael, an Eritrean Catholic who attends the Orthodox church with some of his countrymen, but holds firmly to his Catholic faith. Before leaving his home he spent years of his life in government service working on water systems and general plumbing. He invited us into his home where he prepared tea to which he added cloves which he crushed in front of us. He also patiently poured honey out of plastic packets onto pieces of bread for us. He did not waste a drop.
Frank & Donna in Michael’s home
Michael is also a lover of nature which he says was created by God for our comfort and sustenance. The modest caravan where he lives with his wife and 8-year-old son had well-watered plants on the tiny counters. When not working his job, he planted over 700 trees in his home town which he had grown from seeds. He was visibly upset as he told of how the new government, a warlord dictator came into the town and closed the schools, ended public services and cut down his trees.
He shared his faith in God, how he hoped God would help him find a permanent home in France where his son could attend school. As he says, “if it is God’s will.” He preached a sermon on today’s first reading: “all belong to you, and you to Christ and Christ to God.” (1 Cor. 3:23) He proudly showed us his well-read bible and pictures of his wife and son. Donna and I shared pictures of our own families.
Donna taking in the view from Hashemi’s deck
As he shared the difficulty of getting settled, I could not have felt more helpless. So many when they hear I am from the U.S. tell me it is their dream to go there.”If it is God’s will.” I know the doors are closed to them. The Statues of Liberty stands in mockery of her former welcome.
But maybe we can recover our humanity.
I have had to let go of our western notions of civility that have become so many ways to keep ourselves insulated from the marginalized in the world, or from across town. Most Americans, do not care about the refugees, don’t even know the Calais Jungle even exists. “We have our own immigration problems.”
I grieve for us all.
I will also have to let go of my anger, it is too heavy a burden to bring home There is another way… I can carry the stories of the wonderfully simple, truth-filled people I have met, who offered their love to this stranger.
