A sermon by Rebecca Kelley-Morgan

delivered on Sunday, November 4, 2001

at The First Parish in Bedford, Massachusetts

Opening Words: The words to the song, Our World

I marvel at the miracles I see.

And treasure all the joy they bring to me.

Trees in the forest, meadows in the spring

Shelter living things

An eagle, strong and mighty, flying free

O’er plains that stretch as far as eye can see

Wild rushing rivers, flashing in the sun,

Journey just begun

What future will there be

For land and air and sea

Living things like you and me?

I’d like to think a future human race

Would find the world a fair and lovely place.

Loving and caring, we can make it so,

Sharing what we know:

Loving, we can make it so

Another World is Possible:

It was pretty darn cold near ground zero and the air was still heavy with dust, three weeks after the bombings. The four of us were here to bear witness, here to weep at the heart torn from a city, here to stand at the grave and mourn.

And then we went to Starbucks around the corner from the stock exchange, where we proceeded to decompress from the sobering time at ground zero. In the fashion of people confronted with unbearable sadness, we dissolved in giggles.

(Yes it was probably the one that charged big money for water on the day of the bombings. Profiteering is not limited by tact…) But it was the only spot with something to wash the dust away…and there was a restroom…of sorts…we decided to wait.

A city policeman walked in, looking for the same toilet that we had disdained. In a goofy and elaborate pantomime, I directed him to the ‘facilities’. We were still celebrating the public humiliation I had heaped upon my teenager with that exchange when the officer returned from his errand. He started out the door, then paused to address us. "After three weeks of coming in here and seeing nothing but tired and dirty cops, you have no idea how good it is to see…just people." He paused, choking on tears. "Thank God you’ve come."

I wanted to take him into my arms and weep with him. But he was gone, back to the nightmare 12-hour days his job has become. It was almost impossible to bear, knowing that this ordinary man, who probably spent most days at a desk, had been plunged into scenes from the middle of a war.

Our nation began it’s bombing of Afghanistan at about the same time on that Sunday in New York. Someone else was being plunged into scenes from the middle of a war.

Marcie is an insider in DC, lobbying on behalf of Americans with disabilities. She is on first name acquaintance with the staff and the politicians I know only from the media. She is also a peace activist. During our time in D.C., Marcie was at my side as we marched in support of a just non-military response post 9-11.

It gets boring when you’re waiting to be arrested. As we fell to talking about our lives, our dreams, our hopes, and our fears. Marcie matter-of-factly informed me that she was collaborating with friends to create a ‘safe house’ outside the district. She believed that 25 miles away was enough to escape the worst of what might be visited on the government’s center.

I looked at this solid sensible woman holding her ‘Islam is not the enemy, War is not the Answer’ sign, not understanding. You mean, you did this the week of the 11^th? Oh no, we’re putting it together now. It’s a pretty major undertaking, lots of planning and coordinating involved…we expect to be at war soon and things will get much dicier here.

We continued our day, but I was puzzled and confused. Marcie got us over to the Pentagon to view the destruction. She was profoundly moved by the loss of life, by the loss of innocence…she was MARCHING in the middle of riot police for God’s sake! And here she was – Advocating for Peace, Preparing for war. It seems to be a metaphor for the Washington Point of View. Advocating For Peace - Preparing For War.

How many of us support government policies written in the name of security, freedom, democracy, the national interest? Believing they are in the cause of peace.

Toy stores have started carrying ‘Peacekeeper’ dolls. They’re available in at least a half dozen varieties. Basically GI Joe-type dolls, they’re dressed up with varying types of assault rifles. Peace at the end of a gun.

Howard Zinn again "We have to move from a war-making nation to a nation that uses its resources for constructive purposes… to get at the grievances that feed terrorism. We can’t do that while we act in ways to further destabilize our world."

We can’t have it both ways. We cannot have peace while making war.

The Story of Boston:

My friend Kate and I were making our plans for the Boston area. There are all sorts of activist networks. I am a member of Reclaiming, the Friends Committee on National Legislation, medic-action, RWTO and a member of the UUA. I believe in voting with my body by standing in the streets. I believe in voting with my witness in support of policies which create a global justice. I believe in the sixth of our seven UU principles. The Goal of World Community with Liberty and Justice for all.

We joined the October 14 rally but something jarred. It didn’t deliver the strong and passionate message I was embracing. Maybe it was the slogans, or the whining or the sappy songs.

I think that our current struggle to find a strong clear voice locally derives from the fact that we are suffering from our own wounds. We marched with the knowledge that people are flying airplanes into buildings and sending diseases through the mail and we’re scared. People I knew are dead because of those events. We have to think about personal security in ways that haven’t occurred to anyone in the post World War II era. We’re angry and confused and in that uncomfortable emotional landscape, even peace activists escape into knee jerk rhetoric.

[As in ‘1,2,3,4, we don’t want your racist war…5, 6, 7, 8, stop the killing, stop the hate.]

I am opposed to war. I believe that it is morally wrong, but if I could have prevented the September 11^th attacks by killing the hijackers I would have done so. It’s not a pleasant thing to admit.

I have been grieving, confused and angry along with many others. It isn’t having those feelings that defines or negates our humanity. It’s what we do with them.

It’s how we use our minds. It’s how we filter the stories we hear. A media observer writes "By volume and repetition", a barrage of selective, limited information is turned out by tame media, information isolated from political context. In the absence of alternative views, it is no surprise that people’s "reasonable reaction" is that "we must do something". This leads to the quick conclusion that "we" must bomb "them".

At least twenty-five, and possibly as many as thirty-five, Afghan civilians died when U.S. bombs and gunfire hit their village, Chowkar-Karez, on October 22^nd – according to Human Rights watch.

None of the witnesses interviewed by Human Rights Watch knew of Taliban

or Al-Qaida positions in the area of the attack.

We mourn 5000 people. How long will it take for the Afghanis to catch up?

But I’m NOT with the terrorists either.

I believe that terrorism and war are morally wrong. I believe that combatants who want to meet each other on the field of battle should do so. I believe that they should see each other die, and know what they have chosen – life and death for themselves and their ideology.

Terrorists by their definition deliberately seek out the innocent to destroy. Terrorists more frequently target the embassy workers, the pizza parlor, the ‘street traffic.’ But the war we fight is fought from far away, high above the earth. A button pushed, a lever pulled and people die. And all too often it’s women and children who didn’t choose ANY war. Contemporary warfare AND terrorism deprives all civilians of that choice. I am not a willing participant in war. I am NOT willing for my children to be participants in war, or it’s…victims. If I cannot allow them to be victims, how on earth can I allow anyone else’s children to be.

I stand here and tell my stories. I have agonized over these words. Wondering will they alienate and polarize you? Maybe… But I decided the worst offense I could commit in this pulpit, was to simply leave you bored and yawning.

I am a great believer in the power of story. The stories we tell shape our emotional and literal world. The media, the pundits, the politicians tell a story so pervasive that most people mistake it for reality. "We’re fighting a righteous war against the Source of All evil. And everyone supports Bush and complete trust in government policy is the only way to be safe and to question any of that is Evil, too."

I have a different story. It goes like this, "I am a citizen of the world, I am not defined by rage or fear. I believe that what we speak for and what we do in the next weeks and months could shift the balance of fate.

I have a different story…and I tell it… for my silence will not make any other world possible. And another world IS possible. A world worthy of our greatest gifts of mind and heart and spirit. A world lived in without fear. Choose it…and soon.

Amen and blessed be

"Violence is…a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy… adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."