Deaths of two elders: Margaret Hope Bacon and Merlin Stone

Beloved Quaker historian/herstorian Margaret Hope Bacon recently died.

I knew Margaret from the Meeting where I first came to Quakerism.  She was an amazing woman as well as a wonderful historian.  She also told women's untold herstories.

I believe every modern Goddess worshiper, Pagan, Witch, Feminist Witch, and feminist should read Mothers of Feminism... at least once. :)

Margaret's obituary in the Philadelphia Inquirer:
http://www.philly.com/philly/obituaries/20110227_Historian_inspired_by_lives_dedicated_to_good.html?viewAll=y

Beloved (and controversial) elder, author, and scholar Merlin Stone also died recently.  When God Was a Woman still remains one of the most essentially thought-provoking books ever for many women when it comes to religion and spirituality.

They are both sorely missed; but so many give thanks for their long lives, well-lived.

About Sarah's poem

I first heard Sarah Leuze's poem "In Wildness" read aloud at this year's Mid-Winter Gathering of Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns.  Read out loud in a powerful voice by someone who loved and loves her very much. 

It blew me away.  My breath caught.  Tears came to my eyes.  I knew right away this was the poem I'd been waiting for, for this year's on-line Brigid poetry festival. 

I'm grateful to Robert for permission to reprint it here.

p.s.  For a copy of Sarah Leuze: a collection of her poetry, fiction, and a memoir - with photos and biographical notes, please contact her estate, below.  

Samhain

I have been thinking a lot over the last few weeks about Samhain ("Saw-wen"), which is also known in different traditions as Hallowe'en or Hallowmas.

In my tradition of Feminist Witchcraft, Samhain is the Third Harvest, the Witches' New Year, and the Feast of the Beloved Dead.  This is the time when we honor those who have gone before, our literal ancestors and our spiritual ancestors, those whose names we know and those whose names are lost to us.  We mourn endings and losses of the past year.  And we welcome babies who were born this year and honor new beginnings from this last year. 

It can be a very tender time of year for many of us.  A time to gather together, grieve, and rejoice. 

For our potluck, my particular little group often sets our theme as "Remembrance Food: Food that honors your ancestors or cultures that have nurtured you."

The time between Samhain and Winter Solstice is the time between death and rebirth.  At Winter Solstice, the Sun is reborn -- on the shortest day, the Sun comes back to us; "life comes new from Death" [Schrag, "Kore, Evohe"]. 

In our culture, we're used to thinking of birth as the beginning of life, and death as the end.  But really, death and life are a circle, and we can't actually say what comes first: death paves the way for new life.  Without the death of the old year, the new year can't be born; without the death of the old leaves, new leaves can't be born; without time in the Darkness, seeds, ideas, and babies can't germinate; without the sacrifice of our food -- the grain and the animals, Lugh and the Horned One -- we wouldn't eat; all light casts a shadow. 

Every seed becomes a promise
Kore takes them in Her hands
Into the Earth, and into the Darkness
And into the quiet lands...
- John Schrag, "Kore, Evohe"

With every change comes some kind of end: without the "death" of an old way of being, the new way wouldn't be "born."  Loss is inherent in change. 

Witches have a saying:  All things must change, or die; and death is change. 

This Samhain, I am remembering my grandparents, their parents, and others who have died over the years and who will always be with me -- friends, loved ones, family members, former partners, teachers, mentors, spouses of friends, beloved pets... 

I'm also honoring people who have died this year, or whose deaths I've just learned of this year, several of whom I've mentioned on this blog under the tag "Samhain."  Christine Oliger, Father Emery Tang, George Willoughby, Morton Kravitz, Mabel Lang, Art Gish, Carolyn Diem, Sarah Leuze, Lynn Waddington, Gene Stotlzfus, Betty Nebel, and others.  And people I didn't know personally, but still honor, like Miep Gies, Dr. William Harrison, Daniel Schorr, and others. 

This Samhain, who are you honoring?  

• Who are your ancestors, literal, spiritual, metaphorical?  Known and unknown? 
• Who are your beloved dead you honor?  
• Who are your not-so-beloved dead you are glad to release?
• Who are you mourning?  
• What new beginnings do you honor from this last year? 
• What new babies did you welcome this last year? 

Who is remembered, lives.  

Blessed be. 

Recent deaths

I feel particularly held by the circle of death and life right now. 

Two recent deaths, Daniel Schorr and Mabel Lang, leave me feeling like two pillars of the universe have upped and left for some other universe.  Their deaths are not remotely out of season -- both were 93 -- and yet, somehow, it's the very length of their presences in my life that makes their absence seem so strange. 

Death in due time, I can deal with; I grieve, but that's okay.  Early death is harder for me.  When it comes at the end of a terminal illness, I feel relief for that end, and still feel a kind of helpless rage.  

My F/friend Christine Oliger's death is no surprise, yet it is hitting me hard. 

The unexpected death of Art Gish, a beloved activist often involved with CPT Hebron / al-Khalil, is also hitting me surprisingly hard.

Death is part of the cycle of life.  For Witches, we honor it, but we also honor our grief; and right now, I am grieving. 

I am grieving in the Light, and in the comforting Darkness.  I have the support of beloved F/friends and family; I am blessed and lucky. 

I've also just received word of the unexpected but welcome pregnancy of someone very dear to me. 

The circle of death and life continues, inexorably. 

--------------------

• Daniel Schorr's obituary (at National Public Radio)

• Mabel Lang's Obituary (at Bryn Mawr College)

• Christine Oliger's Obituary (at Friends of Christine)

• Art Gish's Obituary (at the Church of the Brethren)

Recommended article: Hospice medical care for dying patients: the New Yorker

This was a hard, but really good, read.

Most of us know, should we be diagnosed with a terminal illness, that we don't want to die in the ICU.  We want to say goodbye, to put our affairs in order, to die in a dignified way, without heroic measures, with good palliative care, with our pain managed, surrounded by loved ones or maybe one loved one, maybe alone.

The problem is, most of us don't know how to make the leap from aggressive medical management of our condition to hospice care.

Neither do most of our doctors.

Letting Go
What should medicine do when it can't save your life?
by Atul Gawande

Some thoughts about Lammas

I like to try to post about different holidays on the Wheel of the Year and how they speak to me, how I am moved by them.  Some of them are "easy" for me; they're really obvious, instinctive; it's like I've always known them in my soul, as if they've spoken to me from birth.  Some of them have spoken to me from birth -- Beltane, Samhain, Winter Solstice / Yule.  Others are more subtle, and it has taken time, as I've grown into my relationship with the rhythm of the seasons, for me to grow into my relationship with them; but I still love them.  Other holidays or way-points on the Wheel of the Year just plain challenge me, perhaps as what's happening in nature at that time of year just plain challenges me. 

Lammas is interesting for me for a bunch of reasons.  It's my former Coven's, and now my Tradition's, anniversary.  It's the time when the days start getting darker, faster, but when there's also an end in sight to July's heat waves here in the Mid-Atlantic.  Wherever I've lived, I've loved discovering what's in season locally at Lammas.  (One week after Lammas 2008, I moved to Seattle and ate Rainier cherries for the first time.  Wow.) 

This year for Lammas, I thought I'd share some of what Roses, Too! Coven has written over the years in our newsletter and celebration invitations.

About Lammas: 

• The cross-quarter days (Lammas, Samhain, Brigid, Beltane) mark turning points in the year when the days get shorter or longer more quickly or more slowly. Since Litha, or Summer Solstice, the long days of summer have slowly been getting shorter. When Lammas comes at the beginning of August, the days start getting shorter more quickly. This may be a sad thing for those who love summer, but a relief for those waiting for the end of sticky heat!  

• Lammas is a time of harvesting, of evaluating what we have harvested and what we hope to harvest.  The days start growing shorter, faster, as we feel the turn of the year’s wheel towards Fall.  

• Summer Solstice was the longest day of the year -- the day with the most hours of daylight in a 24-hour period.  From Summer Solstice on, the days begin to get shorter, but at first the change is gradual.  At Lammas, the change comes more quickly and is more dramatic, and we can notice more easily how the balance of light and dark changes.  

• Lammas is the first of three harvest Sabbats we celebrate.  This time of year marks the beginning of the harvest, of storing against the winter.  Gardens are going crazy, and we rejoice in the abundance around us.  It's still easy to see the Goddess as life-giving Mother.  But the harvest is still uncertain.  Severe weather, storms or drought, can still destroy crops.  And when we successfully bring in the harvest, we also see the face of the Goddess as Reaper -- She Who Cuts the Grain.  In Harvest is the death that allows life to continue: seeds for next year's crops, food for the winter.  Some traditions celebrate Lammas/Lughnasadh as the wake of the Sun God Lugh, whose sacrifice at Summer Solstice is the death that allows the cycle of both animal and plant life to continue. 

Ritual: Cornbread!

In circle at Lammas, we break cornbread together, sharing the joys and sorrows of what we have reaped in the past year and our hopes for the harvests to come.  We ask ourselves, "What have I harvested so far this year?  What do I hope to harvest?"

Potluck theme: Local Food

Lammas is the “loaf-mass,” the ancient Celtic celebration of the harvest of grain. We live in a world full of global networks that ship produce to us from all over the world. In the USA we have access to a stunning diversity of fruits out of season.

This Lammas we encourage everyone to look for foods that are locally grown, to reconnect with the seasons of the places where we live. What is being harvested near here right now? What will you harvest?

(And don’t forget the protein!)

So, dear reader, my query to you is: 

What does Lammas mean to you?  

• What is happening in nature around you?  

• What have you harvested so far this year in your life, literally and metaphorically?  What do you hope to harvest yet?  

• What foods are local to where you live?  What grows near you?  If you live in the city, what are urban gardeners growing? 

"I just can't imagine": a Holy Thursday reflection on inconsolable grief

In the fall of 2008, my friend Michelle wrote a column in her local Catholic paper about inconsolable grief -- her own experience with it; a friend's experience with it -- and about the different ways we as human beings respond to other people's grief.

In reaction, I found myself writing about loss and grief and support. About Michelle's loss, about her friend's loss, about loss in my own life. About how I'd responded 20-odd years ago to Michelle's grief, how being there for her in little ways helped me six months later when my own life fell apart, how I responded when we got back in touch, how I hoped I'd respond differently now. About why people react in the ways that we do to other people's grief and loss. About what was helpful and not helpful to me when my life fell apart and while I was putting it back together, and during times since when I've been facing hard things and needing support.

I knew I was writing something that needed to become a blog post, but it never quite made it there; it kept waiting in the wings. Several things seem to be bringing it out today... A discussion with my friend Denise about the nature of bravery: about being labeled "brave" by people around you when you're just doing your best to keep putting one foot in front of another; about being labeled "brave" when what you really are is quietly desperate... That Holy Thursday is the anniversary of the day Michelle's husband died... A set of discussions with pastoral care colleagues at Cherry Hill, about helpful and unhelpful things to say to people who are grieving, and unhelpful things that other clergy members, well-intentioned but clueless, have said to us.

In her column "The Psalms Are in Our Bones," Michelle wrote:

A friend lost her son last week, dragged from a long awaited retreat in silence into a maelstrom of pain. Over and over people told her that they could not imagine her grief. Perhaps what we really meant was that we did not want to experience her grief ourselves.

I kept coming back to that phrase: "I can't imagine."

Another friend, also an academic, had recently gone through the death of a spouse, so that was fresh in my mind and heart. Over the years, I had supported a number of friends and colleagues through the deaths of spouses, also usually sudden and unexpected; I was holding each of those in my heart.

And I often heard that phrase in the wakes of those deaths: "I can't imagine." "I can't imagine your loss." "I can't imagine how you're feeling." "I can't imagine how you're coping."

I've certainly said it; I hope I haven't said it in a long time, not since I was younger, less experienced (more stupid?), and more awkward.

Michelle's friend pointed out in her own blog, quite bluntly, that when people told her that, it was not helpful. Not remotely.

So, why do we say it?

Michelle theorized that when we say "I can't imagine," we are saying we don't want to experience that person's grief ourselves.

And I couldn't help thinking, it's not that we can't or don't want to imagine the loss ourselves -- because we can't help imagining it. We imagine how we would react in the exact same situation -- and perhaps that's where our imaginations fail.

We can imagine being in the same situation -- the death of a husband, wife, partner, son, daughter -- but perhaps what we can't imagine is how we would cope.

When people have told me things like, "I can't imagine," or "You're so brave," it hasn't been helpful. When I was coping with the hell of putting my life back together after trauma -- coping with the hell of the aftereffects of sexual assault and abuse, child abuse, and domestic violence -- I wasn't being brave: I was simply, quietly desperate. My choices were, literally, "Face this" and "Die." To me that wasn't a choice. A number of people have tried to tell me it was, that I chose to live and to heal rather than to die and that that was brave; but it just doesn't feel that way to me. During that time, when people told me things like "I can't imagine" and "You're so brave" (and they did), it felt to me that they were putting distance between us. They were saying, I can't be you; I can't even imagine being you. And it wasn't helpful. I didn't need people to be just like me, but I did need connection.

So, what is helpful?

• Being present. Michelle wrote: "My mother held me, repeating over and over again that she knew there was nothing she could to take away the pain, but that she would be with me."

• Being willing to hear how it is without running away. (After all, the person who's hurting can't run away; they have to live with it.)

• Listening.

• Being willing, being able, to be with, without trying to fix it, or make it go away, or (insert platitude here).

• Bearing witness. I learned a lot about bearing witness from two people in particular throughout my 20s: Mona and Nif. Mona was my therapist; Nif, my best friend. Neither could "fix" anything. But they could, and did, bear witness. They could be there with me while I went through it. And they, along with the women in my sexual assault and sexual abuse survivors' groups, taught me to bear witness.

I know the phrase "bearing witness" is charged, but that's what this is; and it is sacred work.

All these things are about connection and being present with each other. Real connection with each other; being truly present with each other, just as we are, where we are.

Along with other trauma recovery experts, Quaker healer John Calvi talks about how one of the things trauma does is separates us from community, and about how healing from trauma necessarily involves reconnection or creating new connections. We also know that further isolation from community after trauma hinders recovery.

What John talks about, what Michelle's mother did for her, what Michelle did for me, what Mona and Nif did for me, is affirming connection. Affirming sacred connection. And that honors That-Which-Is-Sacred in each of us.

Michelle continued: "The psalms don't necessarily bring comfort or ease in grief, but like my mother, everyone who prays them, is with me, and with each other. Can we be with others in their inconsolable grief?"

Can we?

I think we can, we do, and we must.

This brings to mind the chorus of the song "Stone Circles":

and everything I do
touches you
and everything I am
you hold in your hand

and it seems to me that we are standing stones
there's no way that we can ever be on our own
and even if at times it seems that we are all alone
we're in stone circles marking time
with standing stones

(c) Anne Lister, "Stone Circles." Recorded by Anne Lister and Anonyma on Burnt Feathers, and by Sound Circle Women's A Capella Ensemble on Sound Circle. (See related post here.)

Also, I did consult with Michelle before I posted this piece.

Invisibility: life, death, and reporting

A friend of mine, someone I care about, posted these three links about an apparent murder in Queens, two from the NY Times and one from the NY Daily News, to her Facebook Wall. Stunned discussion ensued.

I don't have anything terribly insightful or articulate to say about this. I am appalled. I expected better of the NY Times, but as one person pointed out, the NYT may have simply pulled the report off the police blotter, and they certainly posted a correction.

But, still. Argh, argh, argh.

The incredible disconnect between the first article and the other two. The disconnect between the reality of the person living her life and the perception of the world around her. The incredible, double invisibility.

I am sick and tired of being told the very reality of my actual experience doesn't exist because it doesn't match the pre-conceptions of reality other people, especially people in positions of power over me, hold. And I'm cis-gendered; I have that privilege. This dehumanization of a trans sister is appalling.

And it's not like it's new.

I am so, so sorry.

Man, 29, Found Stabbed to Death at Home in Queens

Transgender woman Amanda Gonzalez-Andujar found dead, naked in ransacked apartment

Detectives Investigate Killing of Woman in Queens

The death of Christian Peacemaker Team’s founding director Gene Stoltzfus

FORT FRANCES, ONTARIO: Gene Stoltzfus 1940-2010 – PRESENTE! | Christian Peacemaker Teams

Wednesday, 10 March, Christian Peacemaker Team’s founding director Gene Stoltzfus died of a heart attack in Fort Frances, Ontario while bicycling near his home on the first spring-like day of the year. He is survived by his wife Dorothy Friesen and many peacemakers who stand on the broad shoulders of his 70 years of creative action.

Gene was at the heart of those who planted and nurtured the vision for teams of peacemakers partnering with local communities in conflict zones to build justice and lasting peace which has grown into CPT. Gene played a key roles in CPT's founding gathering of Christian activists, theologians and other Church leaders at Techny Towers outside Chicago, IL in 1986....

Read article...

Friend George Willoughby

George Willoughby died January 5th in the wee smalls. He died at home, surrounded by family and love. George was 95.

Lillian died just under a year ago. (Click here and here for more.)

There is so much I could say about George that none of the few things I could put here seem appropriate. I am honored to have called him Friend and friend, I will miss him, and I celebrate his life.

George's Memorial will be Saturday, February 6th from 2-5 pm at Central Philadelphia Monthly Meeting, 1515 Cherry Street.

Blessed be.

Miep Gies, the Last of Those Who Hid Anne Frank, Dies at 100 - Obituary (Obit) - NYTimes.com

For Jewish families everywhere, the question, "If the killing started again, would I know a Gentile family to shelter us / our children?" is never an unreasonable one. I celebrate and honor the life of Miep Gies. - sm

Miep Gies, the Last of Those Who Hid Anne Frank, Dies at 100 - Obituary (Obit) - NYTimes.com

“I am not a hero,” Mrs. Gies wrote in her memoir, “Anne Frank Remembered,” published in 1987. “I stand at the end of the long, long line of good Dutch people who did what I did and more — much more — during those dark and terrible times years ago, but always like yesterday in the heart of those of us who bear witness.”

Mrs. Gies sought no accolades for joining with her husband and three others in hiding Anne Frank, her father, mother and older sister and four other Dutch Jews for 25 months in Nazi-occupied Amsterdam. But she came to be viewed as a courageous figure when her role in sheltering Anne Frank was revealed with the publication of her memoir. She then traveled the world while in her 80s, speaking against intolerance.

Veterans Day, Armistice Day

Thinking about my own attitudes towards and beliefs about war, the Peace Testimony, and how people have reacted to the support I've expressed today for Armed Forces service members... I thought I might re-post this piece about how I found an expression of the Peace Testimony through service to military families.

The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services

It’s 3:45 am when my pager wakes me. I speak to a man who is quite upset: his sister has just died – at the end of a long illness, but unexpectedly soon – and his sister’s son is on active duty in the military, stationed overseas. The caller needs to get a message to... (more)

How do we talk about, get support around, death?

Samhain is fast approaching, so of course I am thinking about death. About those dear ones who've died and whom I miss fiercely, and those whom I've been able to let go a little more. About those whom I don't miss at all. About those I love whose death was a release; those who died in old age after a long life; those who died young; those who died suddenly; those to whom I was able to say goodbye; those who died without any final contact.

About a dear F/friend who is actively dying.

Anastasia Ashman, a sister Mawrter, posted this recently, which I recommend to you. She asks questions like, How do we find support around grief? How do we talk about grief and death? Do we mourn silently and privately, or in community? What determines this?, as well as shares some of her own experience.

Is that a pain cry?

October 28, 2009 by Anastasia M. Ashman

Bonnie Tinker's memorial scheduled

July 25th
11 am
First Congregational Church
1126 SW Park Ave.
Portland, OR

Bonnie Tinker

I don't know that I want to write much about Bonnie Tinker's death yet. But I do want to acknowledge here that it happened. I am deeply grateful to have been with Friends when we learned, and to the folks at VA Tech for their support. I am grateful the members of Bonnie's family who were there and who came had the support of Friends and friends.

There are plenty of places where folks can read the facts, what's known so far about Bonnie's death, including some things I posted at my links page (click here). And I do want to share what is mostly a lovely video (the music and all at the end are somewhat jarring).

A lot of people are affected by Bonnie's death. Thank you for holding them in the Light.

The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services

This article appeared in the July, 2008 issue of Friends Journal. An earlier version appeared here. I am re-posting it, in part, in honor of Memorial Day. - sm

Disclaimer: The opinions and beliefs stated in this article are those of the author only. They do not reflect the opinions, beliefs, or positions of the American Red Cross. This article is not endorsed by the American Red Cross.

------------------------------

It’s 3:45 am when my pager wakes me. I speak to a man who is quite upset: his sister has just died – at the end of a long illness, but unexpectedly soon – and his sister’s son is on active duty in the military, stationed overseas. The caller needs to get a message to the nephew through the Red Cross so the young man can get leave for his mother’s funeral. I walk the caller through giving me all the information I need – his sister’s information, the hospice information, his nephew’s name, social security number, and military address – and promise him I’ll get back to him just as soon as I can. I call the hospice agency and page the hospice nurse, who confirms the date, time, and cause of death. I send the message through the Red Cross system and call the man back to tell him the message has been sent and that we requested that his nephew call him as soon as he receives it. I explain that because his nephew is in Iraq and the activity level there is very high right now, it may take longer for the message to go through and he may not hear from his nephew for several days.*

I’m driving home from work when my pager goes off. I pull over and talk to a woman whose son was just in a motor vehicle accident and is near death. She is very calm. She wants her daughter to come home so the family can all decide together about taking him off life support. I talk to the charge nurse in the ICU and gather all the information that command will need to decide whether or not to grant leave, including the medical team’s recommendation for the service member’s presence. I send the message, then let the family know that it’s on its way, and that I requested that a chaplain be present when the sister is notified.

I’m eating dinner when the pager beeps. I speak to a woman who’s in active labor at a local hospital and is about to give birth. She gives me her husband’s information between contractions and then passes the phone to her father-in-law when she can no longer speak. I apologetically explain I can’t send the message until the baby’s born. Her father-in-law chuckles. “Don’t worry, they’re wheeling her into delivery now!” By the time I talk to someone on staff for the verification, the baby’s been born and I can send the notification. The delighted new grandpa answers the cell phone when I call back to say the message has been sent.

------------------------------
*To protect confidentiality, none of this information comes from actual cases. These situations are compiled from typical kinds of cases.
------------------------------

I volunteer with the American Red Cross, an organization which provides humanitarian relief and assistance under a variety of circumstances. I’m active in two areas: Disaster Relief, and Armed Forces Emergency Services (AFES). As an AFES volunteer, I mostly work with military families to get emergency messages to active-duty service members: an illness or accident, death, other emergency situation, birth.

As a Friend, I first got involved with the Red Cross through Disaster Services just after September 11, 2001. Like so many of us, I had a deep need to do something – something to help, and something that expressed the Peace Testimony. What I did was answer phones, all day, every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was needed, and it freed up experienced, trained volunteers to go out in the field.

After Hurricane Katrina, I again found myself raging at the news, and again felt that need to do something. So I thought I’d go answer phones again. But because I have experience as a pastoral counselor and case manager and the need was so great, the local Chapter asked me to go to the Gulf Coast instead.

Five weeks after the disaster, at just one service center, in just one town, my fellow volunteers and I saw and spoke with thousands of people every day. None of us could “fix” anything for them. True, we could help them apply for financial assistance. True, we could try to connect them with services. But we couldn’t repair their lives.

Mostly, what we could do was just be there with them.

It turned out our simple presence meant much more than financial assistance to many people. “You came from where? To be here with us?”
“But you’re not getting paid?!”
“What about your family?”
“Thank you for coming down here.”
“I haven’t told anybody what happened, and it’s been more than a month.”
“We thought nobody cared about us.”

I already knew what a difference it made for me to have someone simply be with me when I was going through hard times. In Mississippi, I learned yet again that bearing witness is sacred work.

When I returned from my deployment, I stayed involved with my local Red Cross Chapter, mostly responding to local disasters. I learned it also makes a big difference to people when they know they’re not alone just after a house fire, tornado, or flood. One elderly resident of an apartment house which had been completely evacuated in the middle of the night said, “Because you all were there, we weren’t afraid.”

But then my supervisor asked me to get involved with Armed Forces Emergency Services. Our department was short-staffed, and she said I had a good background for the work. I was a little dubious about this. As a Friend, as someone who doesn’t support this war, how would I feel talking to military families in crisis? And could I do so without offering them short shrift? (Integrity. Peace.) But as a volunteer, I was there to do whatever needed to be done, so I said I’d try.

I kept thinking of a F/friend whose brother is a Marine. I kept thinking of my own surrogate brother, who’s a Marine, too.

Over time, doing AFES casework became as much an expression of the Peace Testimony for me as Disaster Relief work. I don't know that I have good words to explain how being part of providing this service, providing this ministry of presence, is, for me, a way of walking the Peace Testimony in the world; but I will try.

Let me start with the seven Fundamental Principles of the International Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement: Humanity. Impartiality. Neutrality. Independence. Voluntary Service. Unity. Universality.

I know. They sound like a bunch of very dry words. And yet each one of those Principles is quite real. Each one provides concrete guidance to Red Crossers. Each one helps me put my Quaker beliefs and convictions into action as part of a larger, completely secular, organization, side-by-side with non-Friends. Each one lets me work closely with other people who have very strong convictions, and who in ordinary life might not think we have anything at all in common.
The Fundamental Principles help us do sacred work together.

I find one key, one link, to the Peace Testimony in the Fundamental Principles. Take, for example, Humanity. With each AFES case I work, I have several opportunities to recognize and honor the humanity in another human being; to recognize and honor That-Which-Is-Sacred in each person I speak with – the spouse or parent or sibling or cousin or friend who's initiating the case; the medical administrator, nurse, doctor, police officer, funeral director, or hospice nurse with whom I verify the case; the AFES Center worker who takes the case or gives one to me.

These are opportunities to bear witness.

I find additional keys in Red Cross history. The first-ever Nobel Peace Prize, awarded in 1901, was shared by Frédéric Passy, who founded the first French peace society, and Henri Dunant, who founded the International Red Cross and initiated the Geneva Convention. The International and the American Red Cross organizations were founded in the midst of two of the bloodiest wars Europe and America had known – the Battle of Solferino in the Second War of Italian Independence, and the American Civil War – springing from a desire to help the wounded on the battlefield, without consideration for which side of a conflict any of those wounded were part.

Humanity. Neutrality. Impartiality. Independence.

Several months ago, a local Friend asked me, “Don’t you feel conflicted when you do AFES casework? Because you’re making soldiers’ lives easier?”

That thought hadn't occurred to me. So, I thought about it.

And I realized, I haven't talked to one family or one soldier whose life is anything approaching “easy” right now.

The service I offer as an AFES caseworker is one where I work with people in a time of great stress, and touch them as embodiments of That-Which-Is-Sacred. As real people. Many of the families and professionals I speak with in the course of a case are struggling to make a difference in the world. Many of the them are struggling simply to get through each day.

For the families, having a loved one in the service right now is not easy. There's not one family I've worked with that hasn't been under enormous stress because they have someone in the service right now. When someone they love is ill or dying or giving birth or being born, it doesn't matter whether or not they support this war, or any war, or their relative’s military service: they are the same people as you and me.

I guess that's the real key, what it really comes down to. Working with military families has helped me see that women and men in uniform, and the families of those women and men in uniform, are not part of a monolith or even a monoculture. Working AFES cases has helped me recognize military members and families as people who are a lot like me.

And they are people who are suffering because of this war. Some of them believe in it, some of them don't. It actually doesn't matter: they are all suffering for it, in ways those of us back home who don't have a direct connection can't understand.

"The Red Cross, born of a desire to bring assistance without discrimination to the wounded on the battlefield, endeavours... to relieve the suffering of individuals, being guided solely by their needs, and to give priority to the most urgent cases of distress."

Humanity.

The Peace Testimony.

Each of us is sacred.

Cathing up, and some interesting articles

Hello, folks!

My semester is over, and I have a few loose ends to tie up, but then I expect to have some time to devote to other sadly-neglected parts of my ministry... like this blog! I've missed writing, and I have a handful of posts bubbling around in the stewpot in my brain...

I've had a really good time with some of the papers I've written for one of my classes this semester, and expect to post them in here once I've had the chance to revise them. This was a class in ritual theory/ritual studies at Cherry Hill Seminary with Grant Potts. The class has made my brain stretch in interesting ways, not all of which I've articulated yet. A good thing.

May 3rd was also the anniversary of the death, nine years ago, of a young adult F/friend of mine, and one of two deaths that marked the outward beginning of my ministry with dying and death. I'd like to write about that, and also about the death of the adult child of a friend of a friend last fall, the deaths of a number of Friends' and friends' spouses, and how we react to others' pain in the face of death.

Last but far from least, I had a wonderful weekend, much of it outdoors: Beloved Wife and I spent our fifth wedding anniversary exploring Seattle's Discovery Park (beautiful!); Saturday, we walked up to Portage Bay to watch the boat parade marking the opening of boating season; and Sunday, we went to the Radical Faeries' Goddess Ravenna Ravine Beltane Celebration, which was just fabulous. (Beloved Wife, while not a Pagan, understands many important things about the care and feeding of her Pagan spouse.) I have some pictures I want to share, and I want to write particularly about Beltane/May Day, what it means to me, what it's meant to me throughout my life, and my experience Sunday.

In the meantime, there are some interesting links I've come across, some through friends' postings on Facebook, some on my own, which I wanted to share.

Happy May!

Poetry for Brigid, I: "random interview," pat lowther

For why I have a connection with this poem, see my blog entry "what i want" from November of 2007. - sm

RANDOM INTERVIEW

Pat Lowther
From: Time Capsule, Polestar 1996, p. 242.

Lillian's obituary

Lillian's obit from the Daily News. - sm

Lillian Willoughby, Quaker activist, dies at 93

By JOHN F. MORRISON
Philadelphia Daily News

morrisj@phillynews.com 215-854-5573

LILLIAN WILLOUGHBY had a vision of a world at peace.

She and her husband, George, dedicated Quakers, chased this impossible dream all over the world, conducting nonviolent protests against war and preparations for war for nearly 70 years.

They even refused to pay federal taxes that they deemed were going to pay for war. As a result of these activities, they often ran afoul of law-enforcement and judicial officials who did not share their passion for peace.

Lillian Willoughby died Thursday just shy of her 94th birthday. She lived on the Old Pine Farm Land Trust in Deptford, Gloucester County, part of the New Jersey Green Acres program.

In 2004, she and other activists spent seven days in the federal detention center in Philadelphia for blocking the entrance to the Federal Building in a protest against the Iraq war. They chose jail over $250 fines.

In a statement read in court, she summed up her philosophy of peace and justice.

"I am approaching my 90th year," she said. "I had high hopes of leaving this earth confident that the people on it knew more about nonviolence and conflict resolution.

"Even after 9/11 we had a window of opportunity to do just that. By working with the United Nations and the World Court we could have helped build a stronger world community, a community of fairness and justice for all, where compassion, understanding, forgiveness, imagination, sharing and courage are valued and practiced."

In 2006, she and other older activists, including the poet Sonia Sanchez, then 72, were charged with defiant trespass for refusing to leave a Center City military recruiting station after trying to enlist to serve in Iraq. A judge dismissed the charges.

They called themselves the "Granny Peace Brigade."

In 2003, she and other demonstrators had their heads shaved outside the Liberty Bell in the name of peace. They intended to send the shorn hair to senators from Pennsylvania and New Jersey to express their opposition to the war.

From 1971 to 1987, Lillian and her husband ran a commune in West Philadelphia devoted to helping the community. The site included 20 houses that made up the Movement for a New Society.

The Willoughbys lived in a small third-floor apartment where they practiced living simply. When a Daily News reporter encountered them there in June 1980, they were baking their own bread. The group started the first Take Back the Night rally, an idea that became an annual anti-crime event.

Taking on the simple life was also a way to keep any income away from the federal government. Even so, the IRS confiscated their red Volkswagen for back taxes. During the auction at the IRS headquarters in Chester in 1970, the Willoughbys and supporters served lemonade in the hallway before submitting the winning bid of $900 to buy the car back.

Lillian was brought up on a farm in West Branch, Iowa. She attended a Quaker boarding school and later graduated from the University of Iowa. She became a dietician by trade and worked at hospitals and nursing homes.

She met her husband in Iowa. He was a conscientious objector during World War II and helped find homes for Japanese-Americans who had been put in camps at the outbreak of the war.

"She was loving, honest and forthright," said longtime friend and fellow Quaker Lynne Shivers. "She had a deep belief in the Quaker ideal of creating a nonviolent world. She reached out to people who were down, and cared about them."

She also is survived by three daughters, Sally, Anita and Sharon Willoughby; a son, Alan Willoughby, and three grandchildren.

Services: A Quaker memorial meeting will be held at a future date. *

Holding the Willoughbys in the Light

from an email from George; if you'd like contact info, please let me know.

Lillian has been an amazing influence on me, as well as on Beloved Wife, and a loving presence in our lives.

- sm

January 5, 2009

Dear Life Center/MNS friends,
Dear F/friends of Central Philadelphia Monthly Meeting,

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that Lillian had a stroke on December 23 when we were visiting with our daughter, Anita, and her family and the rest of our family in New York City. Lillian has since been paralyzed on her right side. After a few days, we brought her back to Deptford in an ambulance and we brought a hospital bed for her. She remains at home. Some years ago, she decided that if such an event took place, she would prefer not to be admitted to a hospital since she did not want to live as an invalid. She has chosen not to eat but let nature take its course. She takes sips of water from time to time. She is in no physical pain and can speak short phrases. Our children, Sally (who lives with us), Anita, Alan and Sharon are sharing in her care. Lillian is also visited daily by a hospice worker.

She would like to receive cards or e-mails from her distant friends. Address is [snip]. E-mail to George is [snip] and phone is [snip]. If you are close enough to visit, please phone ahead, since sometimes many visitors come at once. Please spread this news to others who care about Lillian. You can also contact Lynne S [snip] or Nichole H [snip] for more information.

We have heard from many friends, and not surprisingly, some from India! We are
grateful for your caring and support.

With appreciation,
George