The 2001 Quaker Peace Roundtable:

 

Val Liveoak: One Friend's Journey -- 3

When I can't see any progress resulting from my efforts, it is easy to become cynical or despairing, to lose the capacity to trust, and to burn out. I've learned to cultivate several spiritual disciplines to prevent that. I call them the Four "C's".

CENTEREDNESS: My center is a belief in God that comes from my experiences in my childhood, from worship and meditation, and from the sense of God's presence in times of extreme need. This sustains me in difficult times. People may call the focus of their belief "Christ", "God", "Allah", "Higher Power", "Truth-force", "the Holy Spirit", or not even give it a name, but it serves as a wellspring of life and inspiration.

I am now comfortable naming the object of my belief God, although I haven't always been. Belief in God gives me calm even when I am upset or confused, because I can trust that God understands, and that God's will shall be done. In the times when I feel I cannot touch the source, I am still able to recall it, and that's where faith comes in.

A regular spiritual practice, a means of contacting the source has been necessary to me to keep my sense of connection with it lively. There are probably as many spiritual practices as there are practitioners, and many seek a long time before finding the way that works for them. Some are guided by tradition, some by attraction to the new or exotic, a charismatic leader, or beautiful rituals.

For me, the best guide has been to listen to the Inner Voice for what is truly life-giving. This is not exactly the same thing as Joseph Campbell's dictum of "Follow your bliss." But when I carefully discerned what gave me joy (not just pleasure) and what did not, I was on the right track.

I have also come to believe that the Source finds ways, some of which seem beyond human capacities, to unite people. However, a practice which leads people to believe themselves superior to others would seem to me to be a false path, at least for a peacemaker. Contrariwise, spiritual disciplines which cultivate a sense of gratitude and humility lead in the right direction.

Further, in my experience, spiritual practices need to be "portable", able to go where the peacemaker goes. Shrines, holy objects, and beloved teachers may support one's growth, but the most reliable practices are those that become internalized.

Finally, the right practice opens the heart and builds compassion. In fact, I see compassion as so important to peacemakers, that it is the second "C".

COMPASSION means "feeling with" others. It is more than a generalized warm feeling toward others. Expressed toward specific others, especially those close by, it involves a strong sense of the pains and the joys they feel. The Prophet Micah admonished God's people to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly with God. (Micah 6:8.) "Loving mercy" has traditionally been defined as acts which are essentially one-to-one: helping the poor, visiting the ill and imprisoned, caring for orphans and widows. (More about doing justice later.)

I have found my own sense of compassion growing most strongly when I have lived and worked with people who would be considered as outside my own natural circle--the poor, the ill, the marginalized, the imprisoned. Jesus taught his followers to act mercifully toward these people, perhaps not only because it was a good thing for disciples to do, but because contact with those who are suffering is essential to developing compassion. The Latin American peacemakers by whom I am most influenced consider solidarity the basis and motive for their work.

One question I as a first-world Friend face is, "How do I learn to feel the pain and the urgency of the injustice that is present in the world?" It is all too possible these days to be so distant from the suffering of others that the sufferers become completely invisible. (This is not just a modern phenomena--Siddhartha, an Indian prince, was reared in a palace where sorrow and want were never allowed to intrude. He took his first step toward becoming the Buddha when he saw suffering and poverty, and was moved by it.)

There are limits to such feelings, though, at least for me. I have a very comfortable life, and have learned for my own peace of mind to limit the information that comes into my awareness--and I have seen f/Friends awash in so much of the world's pain that they despair and become unable to respond to anything.

But by God's grace I am not able to shelter myself entirely, and am pulled back into the world's pain by the ties of love that I have with people I have had contact with. The Salvadorans I lived with, the Sri Lankans I visited, the barrio residents I serve as a nurse, the homeless on the street, prisoners seeking to change the violence in their lives, the children I see slapped in the grocery store, the images in the media of the victims of this week's war. Surely most Friends feel something akin to this. Even our own pain--and everyone has their share--can unite us with others.

Feeling or inflicting pain can isolate a sufferer, and that is why all sorts of healing are important parts of growth. Healing means moving toward wholeness. It starts when we recognize our own suffering, and understand that it links us with other sufferers, rather than cutting us off from them.

I remember riding on a crowded bus in El Salvador. We had been to a large town several hours away for Christmas shopping, and I had a large sack of gifts on the floor of the bus at my feet. It was very hot and dusty on the winding road. All of a sudden, a woman ahead of us began quietly vomiting on the floor.

My first response was to put my packages on my lap, wondering grumpily why she had not asked the driver to stop and let her vomit outside.

But my Salvadoran companion murmured, "poor thing, it's so hot, we're all so hot." No one on the bus said a harsh word to her, and she looked somewhat recovered after she sat back up. People sitting close to her gave her newspapers to put over the mess. What a difference from blame and disgust! I was grateful to have seen a more compassionate response so graphically modeled, and resolved to learn from it.

Service work provides opportunities to encounter the suffering "other", (and maybe to experience some privation ourselves). This provides the raw material for learning compassion. I believe service work is a very important part of peacemaking. True charity has to be personal, not because that kind of charity is most effective at relieving the suffering of the poor, but because true charity can also lead to justice, transforming the rich. (The Indian prince renounced his fortune and position.) Being in a position to receive hospitality and other gifts from people whose material possessions are far fewer than our own can be life-changing.

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