On Witnessing

Sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor
Preached at Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
September 25, 2005

First Reading:
from "Black Elk Speaks" by John Neihardt

Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.

 

Second Reading:
"There Must Be Religious Witness" by Rebecca Parker

In the midst of a world marked by tragedy and beauty there must be those who bear witness against unnecessary destruction and who, with faith, stand and lead in freedom, with grace and power.

There must be those who speak honestly and do not avoid seeing what must be seen of sorrow and outrage, or tenderness, and wonder.

There must be those whose grief troubles the water while their voices sing and speak refreshed worlds.

There must be those whose exuberance rises with lovely energy that articulates earth's joys.

There must be those who are restless for respectful and loving companionship among human beings, whose presence invites people to be themselves without fear.

There must be those who gather with the congregation of remembrance and compassion, draw water from old wells, and walk the simple path of love for neighbor.

And, there must be communities of people who seek to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with their God, who call on the strength of soul-force to heal, transform, and bless life.

There must be religious witness.

Sermon:

Mary Gordon’s latest novel, Pearl, begins with an image that has haunted me for months. An American mother learns that her 20-year-old daughter, Pearl, who has spent the year in Ireland to study language, has chained herself to a flagpole in front of the American embassy. She has not eaten for six weeks. She refuses to take water. A note lies next to her, saying that she is ending her life as a witness, a witness to the needless death of a young man, a witness to the violence impeding the peace process in Ireland, and a witness to the will to harm that she has come to believe is the truest part of human nature.

This image haunts me because I can see myself in young Pearl. I can identify with the longing to witness, especially in today’s world, and not knowing where to start. I have long yearned to offer a witness to the horrific aspects of humanity as if expending all of my life-force could somehow wake up people everywhere to their foolish, destructive ways and become more loving. I don’t know whether this is just a minister thing, but I have long fantasized how I could give my life up so that my memory would inspire change for goodness throughout the world. It is a naïve, self-centered thought, that somehow I could make the world change by becoming a sort of martyr—but it’s also an escapist thought, that somehow I could take the easy way out and give up my life to make things better, when in fact if I want to see the world a better place, I’d best cultivate a life of integrity that responds to need and brokenness when the opportunities arise.  Whether or not you have harbored a messiah complex, I bet you have wondered how, how in this deeply troubled world, you, just one lone individual, could have any impact on the course of human history. It is a dizzying question that leads many to cynicism and a few to grandiose acts of sacrifice, neither of which ultimately lead to changes within the human heart, let alone human history.

Let me tell you a story, actually, two related stories that I learned from Marilyn Sewell that moved me deeply. The first is about the World War II hero named Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean. One morning his entire squadron flew off on a mission, but after he was airborne, he realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He knew he wouldn’t have enough fuel to complete his mission and return to the ship. His flight leader told him to leave formation and head back. As Butch was returning to the ship, he spotted a squadron of Japanese planes heading toward his ship to attack. With all the fighter planes gone, the ship was nearly defenseless. This was the only opportunity to distract and divert the Japanese planes.

Single-handedly, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes and attacked them. He shot at them until all his ammunition was gone, and then he would dive and try to clip off a wing or tail or anything that would make their planes unfit to fly. He made every desperate move he could to keep them from reaching his ship. Finally, the Japanese squadron took off in another direction, and Butch O'Hare and his plane, badly shot up, struggled back to the aircraft carrier. He told his incredible story, but it was difficult to believe. When the film from the camera on his plane was developed, everyone realized what he’d done, what he had risked. He was recognized as a hero and received a top military honor. You may know, or you may have guessed, that O'Hare Airport is named for Butch O’Hare.

The other story took place some years earlier. You may not remember the name Easy Eddie, but you surely have heard of his boss, the notorious gangster Al Capone. Easy Eddie was Al Capone's lawyer, and, apparently, he was very good at his work. He was able to keep Capone out of jail, no mean feat considering his client. And as his reward, Easy Eddie had a very comfortable life. Besides a generous salary, Capone provided him little extras, like a residence that took up an entire city block in Chicago, fenced in all around, and staffed with servants.

Now Easy Eddie had a son, whom he doted on, and as you would imagine, he provided his son with everything that money could buy: clothes, cars, and a good education. He also loved that son enough that he tried to teach him right from wrong -- but he ran into trouble there: he couldn't give his son what he wanted most to give him -- a good name, and a good example. And ultimately -- I think you could fairly call this a miracle, if you want to -- ultimately, he decided that being a good example to his son was more important than all the material riches he had given him.

So, one day Easy Eddie went to the authorities in order to rectify the wrong he had done. He knew it meant that he would have to testify against Al Capone, and he knew that very likely that would mean his own death. But, he wanted to do what he could to redeem himself in his son's eyes, to try and provide an example, and to give back to his son a good name. So, he testified. Within a year, he was shot and killed on a lonely street in Chicago. What is the connection between these two stories? Well, you see, Butch O'Hare was Easy Eddie's son.

Sometimes one’s personal witness is to take a course of action that is more important than safeguarding one’s own safety. Sometimes our witness is even more important than life itself. Our witness doesn’t come from an idea that we find intriguing or even compelling; instead it comes from a place deep within where we know there is no other way than to take a specific course. It is acting according to our conscience such that we cannot with integrity do otherwise. Our witness is so much more than what we say, it is what we do. Witnessing ultimately comes not from what we say but who we are, by how we move through the world.

A year ago, we hung a banner outside Unity Temple that read “Civil Marriage is a Civil Right.” That banner has been rotating from congregation to congregation. The Du Page Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Naperville is currently affirming their support of civil unions, and this past week, they have had the opportunity to witness on more than one level. For someone left a note at the church that reads, “If you don’t take that sign down, that sign and your church will both come down.” Now, the Naperville congregation has just started with a new minister, Rev. Emmy Lou Belcher. Over the last few days, Emmy Lou has been descended upon by reporters. She shared with me that a television news reporter came and said, with film rolling, “Aren’t you outraged, aren’t you so upset that someone would leave a threatening note like this?” Emmy Lou simply responded, “No. Whoever left that note is clearly a deranged person who needs help. I hope that person will get the help they need.” The reporter clearly had a different reaction and story that he wanted to get on the air. Instead, Rev. Belcher witnessed a different way of moving through the world than expressing anger and fear. This incident is turning out to have many blessings. It is pulling the congregation together with its new minister, and the church, along with our Unitarian Universalist values is receiving plenty of good publicity. Now Du Page county is learning an inclusive congregation exists in their community, and they have a new minister who is demonstrating positive religious witness.

This weekend, several members of our congregation are in Washington, D.C., engaging in a different form of religious witness. It is a bi-partisan group attending the Interfaith Call for Justice weekend that is protesting the use of torture by the United States government and those they financially assist. Today, a mock trial will be staged in front of the White House, a mock trial to indict Donald Rumsfeld, George Tenet, and Alberto Gonzales on the charges of supporting the use of torture. Martin Sheen, the actor, is scheduled to play Rumsfeld. The UUSC took the lead in organizing the weekend.

At the head of this effort, as well as the head of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee’s work on human rights is a woman named Jennifer Harbury. Jennifer has become one of the most vocal leaders in human rights, in large part due to her personal witness of the United States involvement in Guatemala. In the late 1980s, she went to Guatemala as a human rights lawyer and journalist. In 1990, she was writing about Mayan indigenous people who lived in a resistance encampment where she fell in love with the leader, Efrain Bamaca Velasquez, known to his friends as Everardo. Three years after their wedding, Everardo disappeared following a skirmish with the Guatemalan army. The army reported that he committed suicide to avoid capture, but his body was never found. Nine months later, a Mayan prison escapee reported to Harbury that he had witnessed her husband, that he was alive, but being tortured, severely tortured, kept alive with a doctor nearby to ensure he doesn’t die. She went to the United States authorities as well as the senior military officer of the Guatemalan army. They both told her that they had no information other than that he was dead. Because neither government agreed to an inquiry, she embarked on a hunger strike in front of the prison where Everardo’s torture had been witnessed. Any Guatemalan who expressed such opposition would simply suddenly disappear, as so many young people, intellectuals and members of the Mayan resistance have. But as an American, the military dared not touch her. After 18 days, the Guatemalan military agreed to exhume the grave where they said Everardo was buried, but forensic experts demonstrated that the body was not his. Harbury went on a second hunger strike, this time in Guatemala City in front of the government building, on the main square of the city. For 32 days, she sat, with no food. Countless Guatemalans approached her, sharing their stories of loved ones who disappeared. So many expressed gratitude. She was ready to strike until death, until either the United States or Guatemalan government provided information. Instead it was the investigative television show “60 Minutes” that announced that CIA reports acknowledged that her husband had been captured alive and detained for information. Harbury ended her strike to seek more information to save her husband’s life. But state officials and the U.S. embassy all claimed to know nothing.

A year later, Harbury embarked on a third hunger strike, this time in front of the White House. This strike ended when U.S. Rep. Robert Toricelli from New Jersey called her to his office. He revealed to Harbury that the CIA knew all along that her husband had been captured alive and that a year and a half later he was killed by a military officer, the same military officer she had met with herself, and who is a paid CIA operative. Harbury then sought to sue state officials for the cover-up. Her case ended up going to the Supreme Court to determine whether a citizen can sue a government official. The legal issues involved: Can U.S. government officials be punished for lying to the public? Or, does the First Amendment protect officials when they make misleading statements? Harbury argues that if it wasn’t for the terrorist attacks of September 11^th, which occurred just shortly before her case was heard, the Supreme Court likely would not have ruled unanimously that she did not have a constitutional claim.

This past summer, Gary Cozette visited my office. Gary is the executive director of the Chicago Regional Leadership Network, an interfaith body that seeks to protect human rights in Central America. I was struck by his clarity of purpose. We talked, and I shared with him how opposed I am to the use of torture, both as revealed in the prisons of the U.S. government in Iraq and Afghanistan and the long history of United States involvement in Central America. Gary asked me if I would join him and hundreds of others in a protest against torture in Fort Benning, Georgia, about ninety miles outside Atlanta on November 19 and 20. Fort Benning is the site of the School of the Americas, renamed now the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security, which is where techniques of torture are taught. I knew the moment he asked me that this was something I needed to do. However, I didn’t commit that day. That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep, until I said to myself, here is an opportunity for you to personally witness against torture. It is time. I hope that at least seven people from among our congregation here will go with me, that we can go in the name of the congregation, that Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation will pass a statement of conscience against the use of torture that I and hopefully we can take with us to Fort Benning. One of Gary’s associates will speak today at 12:40 to anyone who wants more information about the School of the Americas and this trip the weekend prior to Thanksgiving. In two weeks, Gary will be here himself to help answer questions and engage interest.

Do I think this witnessing will change the course of history? No. Do I think the United States government will take notice? Likely not. Is this a vain action that will simply result in loss of a bit of my time and money? Perhaps. And yet I feel compelled to do something, with the hope that acting in solidarity with others will contribute to the turning of the tide against those who believe that torture is justified. I want to be clear: my conscience dictates that I find ways to embody my religious values in the world. But here I need to express a caution. It is tempting to blur the distinction between political organizing and religious witness. Religious witness can inspire political change, but political organizing can never serve as or replace religion. Political organizing, as important as it is, is not grounded in a theological framework or a religious vision. Religious witness, on the other hand, comes out of who we are, hewing to transcendent values. For example, Black Elk speaks to seeing the shapes of all things as he describes his vision of the circle of hoops representing all the earth’s peoples, with the flowering tree sheltering all people, the faith grounded in the unity of all people. So it is with us.

We are not asked to give up our lives as Pearl, in Mary Gordon’s novel, felt that she must. We do not have the luxury to despair or seek to escape. This beautiful yet oh so broken world waits for people like you and me to see the world as it is without the layers of illusion that we often bring to our perception. When we can see the world in all its glory and depravity, all its beauty and degradation, all its goodness and wickedness, only then are we able to respond from our pure humanity.

No matter who you are, wherever you are on your life journey, you have the opportunity to engage in religious witness. It most likely won’t be so grand as going on a hunger strike or taking a case to the Supreme Court. I’m guessing few here need to mend your ways as profoundly as Easy Eddie needed to do, and I doubt any of us will find ourselves needing to single-handedly defend a battleship. But our witnessing comes out of who we are and how we move through the world. Each of us has opportunities to live out our values in the course of each and every day, through small decisions and sometimes big ones.  And if we do, if we join our witnessing together as the frog and the grasshopper of today’s story, we shall be a part of the force that is moving inexorably, in hope and in faith toward a world of peace and justice.

May it be so. Blessed be. Amen.

© Copyright 2005 Rev. Alan Taylor, All Rights Reserved.