Notes for a More Coherent Sermon: Faith, Co-ops, Justice and Gandhi

I wrote this sermon about a year ago.   Seeing the newspaper this morning, it seems to continue to be relevant.

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NOTES FOR A MORE COHERENT SERMON
Faith, Co-ops, Justice and Gandhi
1 P.M.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity/23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
St. Andrew’s Old Catholic Church
Chapel, St. Simon’s Anglican Church
525 Bloor St. East—East Entrance (Toronto)

*FIRST LESSON* Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches,
and favour is better than silver or gold.
The rich and the poor have this in common:
the Lord is the maker of them all.
Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity,
and the rod of anger will fail.
Those who are generous are blessed,
for they share their bread with the poor.
Do not rob the poor because they are poor,
or crush the afflicted at the gate;
for the Lord pleads their cause
and despoils of life those who despoil them

*PSALM OF MEDITATION* Psalm 146

Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord, O my soul!
I will praise the Lord as long as I live;
I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

Do not put your trust in princes,
in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
on that very day their plans perish.

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord their God,
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith for ever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
who gives food to the hungry.

The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;
the Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the strangers;
he upholds the orphan and the widow,
but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

The Lord will reign for ever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the Lord!

*EPISTLE* James 2: 1 – 17

My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favouritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’, while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’, have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?

Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonoured the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?

You do well if you really fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it. For the one who said, ‘You shall not commit adultery’, also said, ‘You shall not murder.’ Now if you do not commit adultery but if you murder, you have become a transgressor of the law. So speak and so act as those who are to be judged by the law of liberty. For judgement will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgement.

*GOSPEL* Mark 7: 24 – 3

From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, ‘Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’ But she answered him, ‘Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.’ Then he said to her, ‘For saying that, you may go-the demon has left your daughter.’ So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

SERMON PROPER BEGINS

If there is any doubt that our shared faith has a radical edge to it, the Old Testament and Epistle readings should put that doubt to rest. What we hear from James, what we hear from the psalmist and the collector of proverbs is a clear statement that the God who calls to us to live out our faith is a God that calls for justice. In a city where people have to beg on the streets, in a province where essential health care is rationed and those with wealth or connections get better treatment, in a country where the law of fear is replacing the law of liberty, in a world where war and other expressions of political violence is glorified and weapons are entertainment, we live in the same world where Jesus walked and David sang and James preached; we live in the same world where peace and justice and compassion are radical demands from an all loving God.

Dates take on different meanings, depending on what information is assigned to them. May 1st is a different festival for organised labour than it is for a troupe of morris dancers. September 11th is a jumble of meanings. We can call up the vision of the world trade centre being destroyed by a highjacked plane — evil being done in the name of religion. That is September 11, 2001. We can call up the vision of the CIA supported coupe in Chile, the assassination of Allende and the nightmare of the stadium in Santiago, Chile—evil being done in the name of capitalism. Or we can call up an older September 11th, a day when radical, non-compromising love in opposition to racism was expressed.

On Sept. 11/1906 Gandhi addressed over 3,000 South Africans of Indian descent, primarily Hindus and Muslims, who had gathered in opposition to the Asiatic Law Amendment Ordinance, one of the building blocks of Apartheid. This law reduced individuals of Indian descent to second class status. Gandhi called for mass non-co-operation with this law, a major non-violent civil disobedience campaign. It was the birth of the philosophy of Satyagraha.

Satyagraha can take different forms in different situations-indeed, many non-violent practitioners believe, with Gandhi, that there is no situation, however extreme, in which it cannot work. There are certain basic principles that most activists and scholars agree make up the core of Satyagraha:

* Means determine ends: we can never use destructive means like violence to bring about constructive ends like democracy and peace.
* Evil is the enemy, not the person committing it. In Christian terms, ‘hate the sin, but not the sinner.’ The clearest sign that ‘truth power’ is at work is when your opponent ends up becoming your ally, even your friend. Indeed, activists often discover that the more they can bring themselves to accept the person opposing them, the more effectively they can reach common ground.
* Our actions have far more consequence than the immediate, visible results. In fact, it is perfectly possible that our efforts may ‘fail’ to deliver the immediate result we want but succeed in doing more  than we may have dreamed of.

Gandhi’s philosophy of Satyagraha didn’t require success, but rather the living out the philosophy as best as one could with the trust that such an experiment in truth would bear fruit.

There are many September 11ths. Like every day, it is an opportunity to embrace love and compassion and justice or to embrace fear and anger and turning away from one’s neighbour.

Yesterday I went the 20th anniversary of Perth Avenue Housing Co-operative. It is a fairly large, federally funding housing co-operative with a very diverse membership. Among its members 34 languages are spoken. It provides a home for singles, couples and families; gay and straight; first nations and immigrants—a true cultural mosaic.  Housing co-operatives in Canada have a long history. However, the longest uninterrupted stream is rooted in the work of the Student Christian Movement, and particularly Art Dayfoot and 3 other members of the U of T SCM, who, in 1935, went to a conference in Indianapolis where, among other speakers, was the Japanese Christian labour, peace and co-op activist Toyohiko Kagawa. Kagawa spoke on “Brotherhood Economics” — how co-operatives could help create a more socially, politically, and economically just society. Those that attended that conference over the 1935-36 winter break in Indianapolis, Illinois returned to Toronto inspired by this new vision and particularly the call to share one’s resources together to jointly meet the needs of everyone. They formed Campus Co-operative Residence, Inc—which recently celebrated its 70th anniversary. This experiment in living out the Christian call for  justice continues to bear fruit. It may no longer have the stated faith identity, but the works of the spirit in calling for a sharing of the gifts of creation with all and for all continues to be at the heart of the co-operative movement. Perth Avenue Co-op continues this tradition, being truly a place where people share together to meet the common need of a home, the common need of a community in which one is welcomed.

In the epistle of James we are asked to consider why the people who are called to create a community “Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised nor uncircumcised, Barbarian, Scythian, slave nor free: but Christ is all, and in all” (Colossians 3: 11) can become a place where those with the power to oppress in the wider world have no greater power and status in the community of faith that those without power and status. James is no calm, gentle social democrat—he points a finger directly at those responsible for the oppression of the early church, representatives of whom have also
gained high status in the church. “Why are the rich among you? Don’t you know that they are those who oppress you?” This is a clear, unambiguous statement, the heart of liberation theology, the clear expression of a preferential option for the poor. It doesn’t state that the rich shouldn’t be present, but rather questions why they should be present. If they grasp the essential call of faith community to embrace a loving call to active justice and radical equality they’d be present in the community in a different way than if they were in the community with expectations of privilege. Paul expressed this essence in Act 2: 44, 45 as clearly as  if it had come from James: “All who believed were together and had all  things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.”

This is a call to a radical turning away from wealth to  commonwealth as the gathered community worked to ensure that no one was in need. This is not a call to charitable giving but actively sharing. All have something to offer the community; all have needs that can only be truly met by accepting what others have given. In the excerpt from proverbs we are reminded that all are equal in creation; this equality is expressed in the way we order our community life as people of faith. And, as in Matthew 25: 32 and following where we are told that the final judgement is based on how we treated the poor and hungry, the homeless and ill and imprisoned, the author of Proverbs makes it clear that those that harm the poor are to be condemned.

As a justice seeking people, as individuals called to a faith we are called to by one stated ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of Jubilee” (Luke 4:18, 19).

Hearing the gospel passage today is a surprise. We have Jesus, the ever giving prince of peace, turning away a woman in need. He was clearly wanting to be left alone, but was being bothered by a most persistent mother. Turning her away meant her daughter would continue to suffer. Jesus clearly thought his work was limited to one people in one place at one time, although he suggested that if the woman waited until he met the needs of one community, he’d turn his attention her way. However, he was challenged to share even the tiniest portion of his love by a rather scathing comment. Her persistence and cutting humour changed the mind of Jesus. He reached out beyond his own community to meet the needs of a woman and her daughter. He embraced, at that moment, the reality
of the law of liberation—a gift of the creator for all people.

In the not distant future we will be leaving this sanctuary to return to the world we are accustomed to. Our view of the world will not be primarily shaped by what we read in James or Proverbs but by the daily stresses of life, just like those that first read James epistle or shared in hearing the proverbs when they were fresh. We will be challenged, like the early Christians, to share what we have with those that have not, to try the difficult task of being a people of peace in a world of war, to not be a community where power and privilege makes one more important to the community than one who is dispossessed.

We will not be perfect in this, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, but we are expected to try.

Let us go in peace and proclaim to the world
God’s jubilee of justice and liberation;
and may God’s blessing be upon us now and forever.
Amen.

THOUGHTS ON MY LOCATION IN HISTORY

Several years ago, teaching a high school course in Canadian history, I had the shock of finding in a text book a picture that included me. It was of the front of an anti-cruise missile testing demonstration, a reprint of a photo that had appeared in MacLean’s magazine. It struck home that events I still felt were alive and recent were in fact far away in history. What helped to give shape and meaning to my life was no longer living but in some sense a fossil.

I suspect that what I felt wasn’t unique. It is a common middle-aged phenomenon. The Statler Brothers, in their song ‘The Class of ‘57’ dealt with a group of middle aged people through brief descriptions of their current life with the refrain:

“And the class of ’57 had its dreams,
Oh, we all thought we’d change the world with our great works and deeds.
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs,
The class of ’57 had its dreams.”

In a different way, June Carter Cash, in the song ‘I used to be Somebody’, looked back on her life in Greenwich Village in the 1950s. One gets the sense that she was rooted firmly in a present moment somewhere in the past, and particularly in the refrain:

I used to be somebody, Lord, I used to have a friend.
I’d like to be somebody again.
I used to be somebody, but Lord, where have I been?
I ain’t never going to see
(James Dean; Elvis; Patsy Cline; Hank Williams) again.

As we age and look back, perhaps nostalgia for the past is a dominant feeling. But also, I suspect, we start to wonder if we have disappeared from life. Are we truly ephemeral? Or has someone noticed us and tried to move us into the future?

In the last few years I have come across a few books that mentioned me. My review of one of them, Ann Hansen’s Direct Action, was fairly widely published (and follows in this post). Neil Carson’s Harlequin in Hogtown and John Clearwater’s Just Dummies are two others (and reviews of them will be included later in this post). In finding my name, I felt myself becoming more real. In none of the books am I key participant, but yet I exist somewhere beyond myself. Thanks to authors and publishers and libraries and Project Gutenberg and other initiatives the tapestry I’m a part of is wider than my physical existence.

I know that even with my name on the pages of a book much of my existence will disappear from human knowledge over time. It’s a postponement of oblivion in this world. Even the postponement is only partial—knowing a name isn’t the same as knowing the person.

But there is something comforting and sustaining in knowing that a generation or two down the world a graduate student will likely come across my name and wonder about the person once described by it.

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Direct Action
Ann Hansen
Reviewed by Brian Burch
(this review appeared in a number of places including Direct Action and Organise! For Revolutionary Anarchism)

No matter what has happened in the last twenty years, the defining moment of my political activist career was the bombing of Litton Industries. Its plant, in north west Toronto, was where Canadian complicity in the arms race was more publicly revealed. In the factory on City View Drive Canadian tax dollars were subsidising the production of the guidance system for the American air launched cruise missile. For years, the Cruise Missile Conversion Project and various local expressions of the Alliance for Non-violent Action, persistently and non-violently attempted to end this expression of Canadian involvement in the arms race. In the fall of 1982 there was a rupture, an upheaval in the resistance to manufacturing the tools of war—a bomb went off at Litton Industries, a bombing that the group Direct Action took responsibility for.

The police took this opportunity to go after peace activists. Our homes and offices were raided. People were picked up off the street or out of movie theatres for questioning. False charges were laid to pressure people to name names. It was a fearful and formative time, one that is hard to realise was 20 years ago.

Ann Hansen was one of the members of Direct Action. Her book is a slightly fictionalised account of the history of Direct Action and the political realities of the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Reading Direct Action, one gets a hint of Emma Goldman’s Living My Life. There is a strong, personal narrative linked to a broader world of movements for positive and compassionate social transformation. Created conversations between known activists, sections that are almost a diary in nature, parts that are close to a newspaper feature in balanced detail—Direct Action is a structurally complex work. Finding out that Ann Hansen had not read Living My Life was a surprise. None-the-less, Direct Action is in the tradition of Living My Life—an open reflection on personal experiences living in a revolutionary milieu.

I shall confess that my first time reading through the work, my first intent was to see if I was mentioned by name—and I was. While I was amused at the use of a possible conversation between myself and Len Desroches to indicate some of the different responses to the Litton Bombing within the peace community, what struck home the most was the short retelling of the incident of being picked up by police who were driving an unmarked car. This is, to me, symbolic of one of the less talked about realities in the aftermath of the bombing of Litton—the effects on the lives of people unconnected to the bombing. For about 2 years there was a strong sense of fear in the lives of a number of activists wondering about what will happen next—who will have their home raided? Who will face a series of harassing charges? Will one of us be charged because the police need to charge someone? Our partners and families faced harassment as well. There was no indication in the book that this impact—that the fallout of the bombing would cause harm to the lives of people far removed from the action—had been considered by any of the participants. I would have liked to see that, partly because I know through correspondence with the 5 while they were in prison that all of them were genuinely concerned about the victims of the police actions that arose in the aftermath of the bombings.

What is revealed throughout the book is a real militant compassion. Ann Hansen is good at portraying the range of issues that the five participants in Direct Action had attempted to address. There was not a sudden leap from a desire for social change to a participation in urban guerrilla warfare. Rather, we are invited to share in a process that helps to reveal why people who were deeply committed to a just and ecologically sound world would accept the risks of both their freedom and lives and the lives of others as a step towards their ideals bearing fruit.

Some of the biographical details of Ann Hansen were a surprise. The tapestry of relationships she was a part of was quite complex. Some were intensely emotional; indicating a capacity for love that I think also underlies her own willingness to take major personal risks in order to make life better for others.

The practical details of how the various actions were done, from the fire bombing of Red Hot Video to the bombing of the Dunsmuir site to armed robberies, don’t indicate a romanticised view of armed struggle or sabotage. Rather, they are pragmatic and to a great extent background details to the story of the Vancouver 5/Squamish Five/Direct Action/Wimmin’s Fire Brigade from Ann Hansen’s personal perspective.

While Direct Action is a personal statement, it is also an historical document. 20 years ago, revolution was not merely an advertising concept. Like in the period when the Weather Underground arose, there were massive and public demands for radical social transformation. In Nicaragua and El Salvador there were massive, popular revolts against U.S. backed regimes. In Canada leaders of unions and churches were participating in demonstrations that were definitively anti-capitalist and anti-militarist. There was enthusiasm as victories could be pointed to—such as reproductive freedom—that had been run through mass, non-violent resistance to unjust laws. So if there were roadblocks to change, was it unreasonable to want to remove the roadblocks? If there was immediate harm going to occur—such as building weapons for the U.S. military or destroying the ecosystem or exploiting women’s sexuality—was it unreasonable for people to try and sabotage the actual places where harm was occurring?

Direct Action looks at this reality and helps to question it. In the light of a strong anti-globalisation movement and the U.S. response to the events of September 11th, I think that this is an essential book to read and reflect upon. We are in a world where the police have recently been given extreme powers to crack down on dissent. If nothing else, this book will encourage serious thought about how to effectively resist while considering the consequences of resistance.

Ann Hansen
DIRECT ACTION: MEMOIRS OF AN URBAN GUERRILLA
ISBN 1-896357-40-7
493 pp. paper
2001 – Between the Lines
2002 – AK Press Distribution

Between the Lines
720 Bathurst St., Suite 404
Toronto, Ontario
M5S 2R4

AK Press Distribution
674-A 23rd St
Oakland, California
94612-1163

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Harlequin in Hogtown
Neil Carson
Reviewed by Brian Burch

Growing up in the Sault was like living in a theatre paradise. People would leave Algoma Steel at the end of their shift and a few hours later be performing in opera, or a musical or a drama. The Sault Opera Society, Sault Musical Comedy Guild, Cathedral Players, Theatre Algoma, Sault Theatre Workshop…The Magic Flute; End Game; The Music Man; A Man for All Seasons; Oh! What a Lovely War; Charlie’s Aunt; Maybe We Can Get Some Bach; Madwoman of Chaillot; Rumplestiltskin; A Midsummer Night’s Dream; Marat/Sade; The Mikado; Teacher Thomas…traditional plays and theatre of the absurd were all a part of what the community as whole found ways to bring to life. And we were close enough to be exposed to new directions in Canadian theatre—10 Lost Years, Road to Charlottetown…

It is therefore hard for me to realize what the theatre world in Canada was like before George Luscombe and Toronto Workshop Productions. My exposure to the Ontario theatre world of the 70s (including Ontario Youtheatre in ’72; Niagara College Theatre Centre 74 – 76; The Artist in Community Programme and B.Ed. with drama as a teaching subject) in the Faculty of Education, Queen’s University 1980 – 81) was exciting for me but what had once been revolutionary was already the norm. And what really helped to make this transition possible was the Toronto Workshop Productions and George Luscombe in particular.

My connection to TWP was limited to being a lighting technician with a company that rented space there one summer and as a reviewer of one production—The Wobbly—for the Toronto Clarion. This was enough to make me feel an ongoing interest in the company and for Harlequin in Hogtown to attract my attention when I saw it on a friend’s bookshelf. It was more than a co-incidence for me to open it at random and find my name in it—at an excerpt from the review of The Wobbly I wrote long ago.

I obtained a copy for myself, wanting to get a clearer picture of the world that I once floated in. I was particularly interested in learning more about the linkage between creative and political struggle that was a real part of what motivated Luscombe for his many decades of work. What I found was both a history of a moment in the development of a Canadian theatre and a biography of a person who I may not have liked if we had to work together was one whose work I truly admire.

For Luscombe, and the core of those involved in TWP over the years, theatre had to grab the attention of the audience as a way to open up the possibilities of a new world. Theatre and socialism were to be woven together. What appeared on stage was to be rooted in the lives of the world outside the theatre, not in order for the stage to hold a realistic mirror up to the audience so much as to encourage the audience to become iconoclasts. Harlequin in Hogtown details how this idea came to life, first in the experience of Luscombe in moving from Toronto to the United Kingdom and back again, and then in an exploration on how the idealistic person formed by working with those such as Joan Littlewood and Ewan MacColl, brought this vision to collective life.

It is an honest work—it touches on both the successes and ultimate crisis and failure of TWP. Luscombe is shown to be both visionary and a not too likeable person , traits which both contributed to the unique nature of TWP and also to its ultimate failure.

What I enjoyed most about the work was description of the creative processes involved in the development of plays produced by TWP. Its first productions were existing works, but quickly TWP began to collaboratively rework existing scripts—Lysistrata became And They’ll Make Peace—and to work on completely original collaborative efforts. Hey Rube!, for example, started from physical exercises in clowning, acrobatics and other circus acts. Even when not taking explicitly political stands, TWP’s work explored, challenged and confronted issues of class and race, and to a much lesser extent gender, with a European Marxist underpinning. TWP, except for the brief period towards its end after the purging of Luscombe from the company, maintained this core ideological underpinning from its beginnings, when it was rare to link ideology and spectacle in theatre intended for a broader audience, through the period in the late 60s and early 70s, when a number of companies mounted both collaborative productions and political works, to the late 1980s when TWP was again unique in its vision.

Harlequin in Hogtown has woven into its pages something often forgotten or overlooked—the role of critics in the nurturing and promoting of theatrical visions. There was a degree of interaction between critics and TWP I wasn’t previously conscious of. On behalf of the Toronto Clarion I did attend rehearsals of The Wobbly and its production run—but I had thought this was fairly unique and attributed it partly to my membership in the Industrial Workers of the World (the Wobblies). Nathan Cohen and Herbert Whittaker both critiqued and encouraged TWP, helping to expand the base of an informed theatre community. It wasn’t only those directly involved in a production that helped to transform the nature of theatre in Toronto—it was also those in the mainstream media who pushed for and promoted an new definitively Canadian theatre. And, as the majority of new voices in Canadian theatre had a left nationalist perspective which was reflected in their plays, getting people into theatre seats in the 1960s and 1970s meant exposing them to a critique of dominant values.

I was shocked at the way TWP ended. Similar companies that arose around the vision of one dominant person folded or transformed themselves. This didn’t happen with TWP—rather a combination of funding crisis and the takeover of the company by those who opposed the Marxist vision of Luscombe lead directly to the end of the company. Pressures from local property developers exasperated the problem. What hurt me was a realisation that something more than a theatre company had ended. With the demise of TWP was the effective dismantling of a vision of art as a disciplined way to challenge society. In a way different from agit-prop theatre and radical individualist statements, what TWP attempted was in a collective, focused way to promote a manifesto in a campaign that lasted more than a generation. Other companies tried this for a play or a season; TWP started at the end of the 1950s and finished as the 1980s ran down.

TWP was a part of the world I grew up. On its stage, in productions such as Che!, Chicago ’70, You Can’t Get There From Here and Jail Diary of Albert Sachs, we were provided a lens through which one could interpret the world shown in the news. Its going has left a permanent hole in the theatre world of Toronto. (I saw a production of The Threepenny Opera relatively recently which managed to mount a production that eliminated the Marxist underpinning of Brecht’s work, something that TWP would never have done). It has also left the left weaker; creating a new world has to include a way of bringing a class analysis to vividly to life.

Neil Carson
HARLEQUIN IN HOGTOWN:
GEORGE LUSCOMBE AND TORONTO WORKSHOP PRODUCTIONS
ISBN 8-8020-7633-5 (paper)
ISBN 0-8020-0680-9 (bound)
1995
University of Toronto Press
10 St Mary Street, Suite 700,
Toronto, ON M4Y 2W8
http://www.utpress.utoronto.ca/

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Just Dummies
John Clearwater
Reviewed by Brian Burch

For a while when I first moved to Toronto I was a professional dissident, paid to work for organisations such as The Against Cruise Testing Coalition and the Cruise Missile Conversion Project. As such I was intimately involved in the work to challenge Canada’s involvement in the production of components for, and the testing of, U.S cruise missiles. From dealing with the media to filing correspondence to sitting in jail cells, saying NO! to Canadian involvement in the escalation of the arms race during the final years of the cold war occupied years of my life. This showed in many ways, but was brought close to home when my wife was woken up one night by my suddenly sitting up in bed, still definitively asleep, to proclaim “We need a more efficient phone tree”, a week or so before a major demonstration against cruise missile testing.

Just Dummies looks at the historic involvement by Canada in the U.S. military priorities, most explicitly in support to the arms industry and military testing; the way that successive Canadian governments beginning with the Liberals under Trudeau and continuing through both Conservative and Liberal governments; have responded to U.S. calls for direct and indirect Canadian support for initiatives such as the air launched cruise missile; and the growth and ebbing of public opposition to Canada’s involvement in the arms race, specifically around the cruise missile.

There is one specific mention of me in this book, in relation to a protest at Griffiss Airforce Base. Egotistically, I would have liked more than one mention. My involvement with the Griffiss Airforce Base protest was minimal. I was much more involved with organising demonstrations in Toronto, leafleting at Litton Industries, participating in the Queen’s Park Peace Camp, taking part in civil disobedience campaigns, etc. The police harassment I faced was as a result of my Toronto efforts, not the less intense involvement I had with the peace movement when I lived in Kingston.

However, there is substantial attention paid to groups I was a part of and individuals I worked with for years. It is fascinating to read about the vast numbers of people who took part in opposition to Canada’s involvement with the cruise missile. It was a cause supported (according to most opinion poles) by the majority of Canadians. From the heads of the largest Canadian churches to veterans groups to labour unions to bicycle clubs, it was hard to find a voice that was not in opposition to Canada’s involvement with this new generation of weapons delivery systems.

Whenever I read of a cruise missile used against a village in Afghanistan, I think of the time decades ago when many argued that the ultimate intent of the cruise missile wasn’t as a deterrent against the U.S.S.R. but for use against third world opponents of U.S. interests. I don’t know what more we could have done—everything from petitions to court challenges to election campaigns to mass demonstrations to civil disobedience to political violence was taken up by various opponents of Canada’s involvement with cruise missiles, ultimately unsuccessfully as the various governments of Canada put U.S. interests ahead of Canadian voices of opposition.

What is most important in Clearwater book is the well documented exploration as to why and how various Canadian government’s justified to themselves and to Canadians the use of Canadian resources in support of U.S. militarism. While primarily focused on the testing of the air launched cruise missile, Just Dummies touches on other areas where U.S. military interests were and are aided by Canada. Contradictions between government statements and reality are shown in context, helping to develop the perspective that when the U.S. calls upon Canadian government for direct aid for U.S. military interests Canada responds positively. Indeed, it was pointed out that there is no evidence that Canada has ever turned down a U.S. request to test military equipment in Canada.

There are minor flaws with the book—not in terms of what is based on government documents, but in dealing with the opposition to cruise missile testing which can be annoying to those of us who are aging activists. As examples, Karen Harrison was a participant in “The International Fast for Life”, not “Fast for Peace”, and it was Angela Browning, not Angela Brown, who was the main organiser of the early Against Cruise Testing Coalition protests. Similar flaws don’t occur in the sections based directly on government documents dealing with government actions and agreements. One hopes that these errors weren’t in the RCMP files Clearwater obtained through Freedom of Information Act requests.

Just Dummies is very important in the revelation of Canada’s role in the development and escalation of the arms race, during the cold war period, and its continued role in supporting the development of new generations of weapons which the U.S. has been using in its invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. Many in Canada see Canada as having a history of peacemaking. Such a reputation is nice to have, but in reality Canada has been intimately involved in supporting U.S. military interests to the detriment of Canadian sovereignty for decades. Testing of the air launched cruise missile is one visible sign of this role that Canada has. From storing nuclear weapons at Canadian military sites to NORAD agreements in support of new missile defence initiatives, Canada has shown that what ever party is in power it is a serious supporter of war, and particular U.S. military interests, and not a nation of peacemakers.

Canada’s role in the arms race can be seen today wherever the U.S. military is present. Clearwater’s book brings this point home clearly and directly. It is a challenge to those of in Canada who want a world free from war to look at ways of bringing our opposition home. There will be consequences to attempting to assert sovereignty and an opposition to U.S. military interests, but every time a cruise missile is launched our hands are involved. If we are ever to get to a world where missiles aren’t launched, we do need to start somewhere.

John Clearwater
JUST DUMMIES:
CRUISE MISSILE TESTING IN CANADA
University of Calgary Press
2500 University Drive N.W.
Calgary, Alberta, Canada T2N 1N4
http://www.uofcpress.com/

CANADIAN NATIONAL EXHIBITION, LABOUR AND MILITARISM

The weaving together of a national celebration with glorifying war has a long tradition in Canada. From Warriors’ Day, focusing on veterans, to military air shows to active military recruiting, it is hard to separate what is claimed to be an annual event to celebrate what is possible in Canada [the core ideal of the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE)] from the glorification of war. Indeed, this year included a special pro-war Salute to the Troops day, a clear statement that the CNE is not a celebratory place for all but a potentially dismal space, one where those opposed to war are not truly welcomed. The militarism of the CNE this year is much more blatant than in recent years, but certainly not a new phenomena.

Perhaps I am more aware of what is happening at the CNE this year because the media seems to be devoting a fair bit of positive attention to the military presence at the CNE. As much of mainstream media these days show a jingoistic approach to covering Canadian’s support for military escapades, this is not surprising.

Woven into the CNE is the annual Labour Day Parade in Toronto. On Labour Day thousands of union members are welcomed to the CNE—all those that march in the parade get in free. Tens of thousands of dollars flow from the pockets of labour union members and supporters to vendors, midway attractions and others businesses that find the final day of the CNE a most profitable day. And by its presence, the labour movement clearly shows support for what CNE has become.

Over its many decades of existence the Labour Council of Toronto has passed multiple resolutions in opposition to war and in support of various peace initiatives. Yet, every year the Labour Council gives legitimacy to the military focus of the CNE by actively encouraging members to go the CNE as the conclusion of labour day focuses.

One can’t help wondering if there is a true voice for peace in the labour movement. If there was, the trade union movement in Toronto would not be marching en mass into the CNE this year.

It would be great to have the march end just at the entrance to the CNE. In a gesture of solidarity with the victims of war around the world, trade unions in Toronto could put their hands in their pockets, turn around and go home. Next year, if the CNE continued to be so pro-war, the union movement could help community based peace activists leaflet the CNE, organise a boycott, pressure government and corporate funders to withdraw their dollars until the CNE agrees to be a place of peace and dreams.

More militantly, labour leaders could enter the CNE grounds and blockade the military displays, disrupt recruiting initiatives, pass out pictures of the victims of war to all that approach the military displays. This would probably result in arrests—but it would also draw substantial attention to the cause of peace, a cause that the labour council is on record of supporting.

Unfortunately, neither of these options will likely be chosen. The labour movement in Toronto is like those churches that call for peace but provide moral legitimacy to war by providing chaplains to the military. It is hard to hear the positive voices over the sounds of their actions.

Notes for A MORE COHERENT SERMON—July 29/2007

NOTES FOR A MORE COHERENT SERMON 1 P.M.
Sunday, July 29 , 2007
St. Andrew’s Old Catholic Church
Small Meeting Room, 138 Pears (Toronto)

1st Lesson: 1 2 Maccabees 1: 1 – 5

The Jews in Jerusalem and in the land of Judea send greetings to their brethren, the Jews in Egypt, and wish them true peace!

May God bless you and remember his covenant with his faithful servants, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

May he give to all of you a heart to worship him and to do his will readily and generously.

May he open your heart to his law and his commandments and grant you peace.

May he hear your prayers, and be reconciled to you, and never forsake you in time of adversity.

Gospel: John 20: 19 – 23

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”

After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”

And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven”.

SERMON PROPER BEGINS

Like the world of the Middle East 2,000 years ago, we are in a world where human action seems to be a normal cause of death—and particular actions that are competitive or violent in nature. In the last week our media helped to make sure that it would be hard to have a different view of the nature of our social world.

In Phoenix two news helicopters crashed into each other, resulting in 4 deaths. reporters on board were from competing news outlets, covering a police chase. After reading the accounts, I wonder why is competition which puts people at risk rewarded? What real social need is filled by having as it happens coverage of a car clash, and particularly the desire to provide the same basic coverage from more than one news outlet?

In Pittsburgh, a 25 year old Toronto man was sentenced to 30 months in jail for his part in a scheme to smuggle 12 handguns into Toronto. This is someone who would have definitely known the impact of handguns on Toronto. Of the four guns that have been recovered, one was found after a gang shooting and another on an individual arrested for breach of bail conditions. What is there in our society that conditions someone to put short term profit over the long term benefit of themselves and the society in which they live? His actions didn’t come out of a vacume, indeed they mirror the money-centred/greed centred values positively portrayed in popular media.

We read of suicide bombings killing those celebrating a soccer victory in Iraq. We read of 57 suicide bombings in Afghanistan in 2007. We read of two women, one nine months pregnant, whose suicide bombing attack was foiled. As such attacks are done in the name of religion, what has happened within a faith to make suicide so attractive, to convince those in the here and now that giving up hope in the current moment is a sacred act?

And we read of those in the military, killed by suicide bombing and killing civilians, facing traditional combat and uncertainty in areas of supposed calm. What have all of us done to make war not only a possibility but a seemingly permanent part of our culture and economy?

As a global community, we seem to find an almost endless range of justifications for violence either on a personal or national scale. And yet, no matter where one is in the world there is someone raising the possibility that violence isn’t the only possibility. They can be doing so out of deep religious conviction or for personal, pragmatic reasons. But somehow they do not take it for granted that violence will always be with us. And they are aware that for violence to someday end, they need to act in the current moment. The action will very—from Israeli soldiers refusing to cross the Green Line (the pre-1967 boundaries) to women in Afghanistan running house schools to Christian Peacemaker Teams working with human rights organisers in Columbia to all those that take the Christ’s call in Matthew 25: 34 – 36 to feed the hungry, house the homeless, care for the sick and support those in prison.

2,000 years ago, when Jesus walked among us, he was living within a world not much different than ours. There was political violence, including assassinations and terrorism, there was state-sponsored terrorism, there was urban crime, there was poverty and people being displaced due to war. So when Jesus talked about peace, he was talking about something people assumed could only occur after dramatic social change—the creation of a new Jerusalem, after the end of the Roman occupation…something desirable but not yet real.

And yet Jesus didn’t promise a far off peace; he offered peace in the here and now. This wasn’t an easy peace, one imposed from outside. It was a seed planted within the early Christian community that needed to be nurtured but was yet definitively real. Some of what they were called to do we’d see as political—such as refusing to serve in the military; some of what they were called to do we’d see as charity work, such as feeding one another; we might see other expectations as being psychological or spiritually healing, such as seeking to put aside old patterns of life that exploited others to be replaced with new patters of life that were healthy and life enhancing. Jesus knew that peace was multifaceted—not just an absence of war, not just being able to walk the streets safely, but a way of life where all are able to live with dignity and in harmony within creation, where none exploit others but rather seek to co-operatively meet individual and community needs. It is no accident that the co-operative movement in Canada owes so much to the Movement Desjardins, Antigonish movement and the Student Christian Movement—where people of profound spiritual commitment explored ways of practically living out the call to live out their chosen faith. And it is not surprising that the call to active peacemaking, although expressed in many settings, is most commonly heard by those expressions of faith that are still seem as somewhat marginal—Mennonites and Quakers, Bruderhof (recently renamed Church Communities International) and Doukhobors—whose experiments in living a life closer to that of the early church has moved them from the mainstream. Historic peace churches have been behind active peacemaking efforts such as Peace Brigades International and Christian Peacemaker Teams.

Different forms of active ministry, from soup kitchens to housing, have arose within almost all Christian expressions. The Roman Catholic Church was the cradle of the Catholic Worker Movement. Evangelical churches were, and are, behind efforts such as Yonge Street Mission. Making a real difference in both the lives of those in need and in the lives of those called to active service is an expression of peacemaking in its most direct form—those without can never be at peace with themselves.

Transforming lives has also been an important aspect of a peacemaking faith. The roots of organisations such as the John Howard Society and the Elizabeth Frye Society are in faith communities. Caring for those too often overlooked in our society, such compassion included the expectation of transformation of behaviour by individuals and changes in the way society views on the outcast and marginalised in order to feed into a more just, less violent world for all.

The spirit of Christ continues to flow around us. We can’t avoid it. The dominant view of the world in Roman times was at odds with the vision of Jesus in the hills of Galilee. Our contemporary media would have us believe that our world can not embrace the loving, compassionate, powerful and transforming God who reaches out to us. If we listen to the still, small voice of God rather than the shrill dominant voice around us we will hear and feel the presence of God. Being open to this gentle spirit will open us to great things.

Remember When Toronto Was a City That Valued Peace?

The City of Toronto at one point tried to be an example to the world that peace was a vital issue to the urban communities.  A major statement of this was the establishment of the Peace Gardens in Nathan Philips Square in 1984.  The establishment of a permanent Peace Garden give a visual presence to the spirit of the 1983 City of Toronto decision declaring itself a Nuclear Weapons Free Zone.

However this year the promise of the Peace Gardens, a permanent monument to a living hope, has been eroded.  The City of Toronto in wanting to repair and upgrade Nathan Philips Square, within which is the Peace Gardens, has decided it no longer serves a purpose.   With the possible exception of a relocated pavilion, the Peace Gardens is to be destroyed as a part of the Nathan Philips Square redevelopment.

It seems fitting that only a few days after finally deciding that the Peace Gardens no longer fits the image of Toronto City Council unanimously agreed to continue with pro-war “I support our troops” stickers on emergency service vehicles.

In a city that once valued monuments to peace there is now open support for war. It is only a few weeks since the Mayor of Toronto called for stricker gun control legislation.  Armed violence is all too common in Toronto and the desire for peace in our neighbourhoods is something that crosses otherwise political and communal boundaries.  This effort to promote disarmament in our homes and streets is undercut by recent actions by the City of Toronto council.

The work for peace is important both locally and globally.  If we want to work for peace locally, we shouldn’t undermind it by justifying violence within and between nations.

Notes for A More Coherent Sermon: Violence as Sin

This sermon was written two years ago—violence in London and in Toronto and in the Middle East was in the news. There is more anger in it than in most of my sermons.

Looking at the news this past week, I haven’t noticed a major positive social transformation in the intervening time.

NOTES FOR A MORE COHERENT SERMON
1 P.M.
Sunday, July 3, 2005
Seventh Sunday After Trinity
St. Andrew’s Old Catholic Church
Chapel, St. Simon’s Anglican Church
525 Bloor St. East (Toronto)

LESSON

Epistle:

Romans 6: 17 – 23

But thanks be to God that you, having once been slaves of sin, have become obedient from the heart to the form of teaching to which you were entrusted, and that you, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. I am speaking in human terms because of your natural limitations. For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to greater and greater iniquity, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness for sanctification.

When you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. So what advantage did you then get from the things of which you now are ashamed? The end of those things is death. But now that you have been freed
from sin and enslaved to God, the advantage you get is sanctification. The end is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (NRSV)

GOSPEL

Mark 8: 1 – 9

In those days when there was again a great crowd without anything to eat, he called his disciples and said to them, ‘I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way-and some of them have come from a great distance.’ His disciples replied, ‘How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?’ He asked them, ‘How many loaves do you have?’ They said, ‘Seven.’ Then he ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground; and he took the seven loaves, and after giving thanks he broke them and gave them to his disciples to distribute; and they distributed them to the crowd. They had also a few small fish; and after blessing them, he ordered that these too should be distributed. They ate and were filled; and they took up the broken pieces left over, seven baskets full. Now there were about four thousand people. And he sent them away. (NRSV)

SERMON NOTES BEGIN

Sin is everywhere. We see the results of it in the news where the decisions of some individuals to cause harm to others is woven through reports from around the world. From rape in Sudanese refugee camps to children being expected to care for other children who are AIDS orphans in Africa to the setting off of bombs in subways and on a bus in London, England we see the results of nurtured sin.

And we also see sin in the words of those that act as apologists for violence. There are those justifying the bombs in London because English troops are occupying Iraq and Afghanistan. But just as the children in Hiroshima were not at fault for the bombing of their city, just as the gay co-op housing activist beaten to death in B.C. was not at fault for being the victim of homophobic violence, just as the 3 year old girl in sub-Saharan Africa isn’t at fault for her mother having AIDS, just as the abused woman isn’t at fault for her bruises, those on a bus in Tavestock Square who were able to look out their bus window and see a statue of Gandhi are not responsible for the bomb. Efforts to justify hatred and violence and suffering are wrong, such justifications being a sin that we all to easily drift into.

Violence exists because individuals chose to engage in it; people live in deep poverty and without hope because those can address these problems chose to ignore them. Violence and injustice are encouraged when context is considered more important than suffering; when we seek more to respect arguments in favour of political violence, homophobia, racism and injustice than to put an end to the evils we are encouraged to embrace.

In the gospel today we see Jesus facing a crowd of irresponsible people. They followed him into a dry, barren area without proper provisions. They should have made better decisions. Yet as a result of their actions they became miserable. When asked to help, those closest to Jesus were resentful. They had brought enough for themselves and for Jesus, but not for the thousands who didn’t bother to consider what could happen to them. Jesus did not lecture the hungry on their irresponsibility. Jesus did not blame them for the decisions of others, including himself, that resulted in their being hot and hungry and away from home. Instead, he acted with open and unstinting compassion and insured that all were fed. He did not blame the victims of hunger for being hungry, he fed them.

In being released from sin we are challenged to live again in love. We are challenged to put aside being in bondage to the expectations of the world—the reasoned justifications for violence that justifies invading Iraq and bombs in a Subway; the use of faith to justify pelting a gay rights parade in Jerusalem with rocks and bags of excrement; the misuse of scripture that is used to convince victims of violence to offer their suffering to God rather than seek safety and wholeness.

Embracing righteousness demands a new way of living in the world. We see a need and we address it. We see a wrong and we refuse to accept it in silence. We are coerced into taking part in the oppression and hated of others and we seek a different way of life. In the dry land where Jesus feed the 4,000 the gifts of creation were shared with everyone. A crowd of strangers acknowledged their limitations and Jesus acknowledged his responsibility. Like a child in pain reaching out in hope, like a person in a dark tunnel connected to life only by touch, there was trust that what is needed to sustain life can and would be shared.

Monica Helwig, in her Eucharist and the Hunger of the World, describes the central action of our worship as being in many ways a statement that we hunger and that in community with God and with one another one can be filled—we hunger for the sustaining present of God, we hunger for peace, we hunger because our cupboards are bare, we hunger for dignity and all our shared hungers can be satisfied by a life in harmony with God’s intent for creation. In approaching the altar we state that we can not do everything on our own, that we are connected to one another and to God.

We admit that we were bound to a life that was destructive and desire a life of hope and personal transformation. We never approach the altar alone. 2,000 years of shared life in the faith are with us; every hand that reached out for the presence of God in a time of despair is with us; those that have died in the flames of the inquisition or in a tunnel in London are with us; those who sat hungry after following Jesus for three days are with us; those who are not perfect are with us. With us are all those who are stating that creation is for all and that violence and oppression and greed are sins. We are not alone.

In London this week and in Iraq and in Columbia and in the Sudan and in Israel/Palestine and in Nigeria and in Toronto people were injured and died due to the conscious decisions of others. They were shot at or had their homes bulldozed or could not afford access to proper medical care. They saw the fruits of sin first hand. In London and in Iraq and in the Sudan and in Israel/Palestine and in Nigeria and in Toronto a stranger held a hand in the darkness or put their freedom at risk speaking out or brought into their sanctuary a frightened family or turned to someone they loved and said ‘Never again’.

Redemptive love was shared.

Bob Dylan was right when he sang “You’ve got to serve someone.” Or, in the words of the old labour hymn “Which side are you on?” Paul’s Epistle to the Roman reminds us that we have a choice of how we will live in the world, given that we are all connected and share in creation. Serving hatred and violence in word or action is one servitude. Living in love and seeking harmony with creation is a different servitude. The first servitude are chains that wear down everyone. The second servitude is the hand on your shoulder in hard times. We are reminded in the epistle that individuals matter and do make choices—some of which are destructive and some of which are life affirming, but are choices people freely made and are ultimately individually accountable for. The gospel reminds us that all are in need and living in harmony with creation will encourage us to feed all the hungers an individual might have.

In London this week and in Toronto and in Palestine and in Iraq we were shown vividly what happens when individuals chose to embrace sin. Quietly and persistently, at the same time and in the same places where sin is embraced, others embrace a different path. In the generous spirit of feeding the 4,000 we are called to reject evil and embrace love. We are called to be a light in the darkness, a sign of hope in hopeless times. Let us embrace this challenge with fully and with delight, embracing life as intimately as those that set off the bombs in London rejected it.

It’s all Because of David McReynolds

Over my decades of activism I have had the opportunity to meet a phenomenal range of activists from around the world. I had just moved to Toronto when Harold Kandel came up to me and said “Shake the hand of a man who shook the hand of Emma Goldman”—an odd form of apostolic succession. In a few cases I’ve been able to spend time with those that had made a significant impact on the way I viewed the world. I’ve had the priviledge to talk with Caesar Chavez about vegetarianism and radical non-violence; to talk with Helen Caldecott on the difficulty of wanting to care for individuals when there is a global crisis demanding all of one’s attention; to talk with Philip Berrigan about radical risk taking. And I’ve had the opportunity to read the work of Emma Goldman and Lois Wilson and Dorothy Day and Leonardo Boff and others who tried to make sense of the call to radical compassionate action. Yet the most important influence on my approach to non-violent anarchism and a significant influence on understanding of living a faithful life as a Christian was a person who was neither an anarchist or a Christian. If I am able to sustain hope and continue to be a part of any ongoing activist movement it is due to the inspiration of David McReynolds.

Sometime around 1974 I first came across WIN Magazine and the War Resisters League. In the weary time that the anti-Vietnam War movement was finding itself, David McReynolds was writing about ways of observing and living in the world that would be sustaining and transforming. Around 1976 I came across a collection of his writings—We Have Been Invaded by the 21st Century—that I have continued to draw inspiration from in this young millennium.

While long out of print, I do think that this book is worth trying to track down. If you are interested in the history of a time when it really was possible to with confidence talk about love leading to revolution, you will find this essential material. If you want to learn about sustaining hope when your movement consists of five people, you will find something here to keep you going in hard times. If you want to be reminded that there have been people whose opposition to violence and oppression wasn’t only directed against U.S. actions but also similar actions of US opponents, being a consistent voice both in Czechoslovakia and the U.S. in 1968 (making him a worthy successor of Emma Goldman), there is something of value in this work. Indeed, the Reclaim the Streets movement may have had its intellectual seeds in The Hipster General Strike. Here is both advice on organisational tactics and personal reflections on living through movements of the betrayal of what seemed to be within the grasp of those struggling for positive and substantial social transformation now.

For me three essays in this work have consistently stood out—In Defense of Butter; The Bowery: A Ghetto without a Constituency; and most definitely Notes for A More Coherent Article. They aren’t the most overtly political essays in this book but they continue to shape my understanding of what it means to be a radical.

When I first read In Defense of Butter I felt I had truly found a kindred spirit. I had found some of the purity and dietary approaches of many lifestyle anarchists, back-to-the-land types, early green advocates and similar advocates of a life not only simpler but somehow more puritan, more ascetic than one would expect from a movement that was attempting to build a new and more wonderful world for all. At times I felt that I had to embrace this approach in order to be treated seriously in dissident circles. McReynold’s reminder that a movement in which sacrifice and suffering is inevitable should not be one in which pleasure is denied changed my thinking on the nature of resistance and encouraged the value of finding enjoyment in the daily comforting rituals and foods and celebrations. And while I found its content valuable, I also found it an excellent, well crafted essay and the only one I consistently used as an sample in the years I taught creative writing.

The Bowery: A Ghetto without a Constituency is quite difference. It, more that writings of Dorothy Day and Ammon Hennessy, had me reconsider what being a radical truly means. It isn’t just walking on a picket line, taking part in demonstrations, boycotting goods from China or taking action against a major polluter. It is being able to care for someone because they need to be cared for, people that are so completely marginalised that it is painful to deal with them on a personal level. The homeless alcoholic, the abandoned drug user—these are people that need care and yet so often the care is felt to be meaningless. They find a shelter, clean up, get dried out and then end up back on street. We have learned, the North American urban activist, to walk by them when they are sleeping on a heating grate or huddled in an alcove. We may feel guilty about our seeming lack of compassion but the sheer immensity of human need is beyond most of us to deal with. This is an honest reflection on acknowledging the reality of their being vulnerable among us that the vast majority of us just can cope with, one that also reminds us that there are those among us such as those from the Catholic Worker communities that do find the strength to both challenge broader injustices and to care for those who often can not even care for themselves.

Long ago and far away, in the time before the Right to Privacy Committee and retired Anglican bishops calling for full access to church sacraments for those from the LGBT communities, in the shadow of Stonewall, David McReynolds wrote Notes for A More Coherent Article. Traditional leftists would still argue that homosexuality was a sign of bourgeois degeneracy. It was assumed that gay people in leadership roles in movement should not be honest about their sexuality. McReynold’s essay was intended to be a politically focused article, but instead he submitted his notes to Win Magazine. From current perspectives it is conservative in flavour. In the time in which he wrote, and even when I first read it a few years later, it was radically personal. His struggles to be true to himself in a movement where personal honesty and self-respect was all too often sacrificed for the tactical or strategic needs of the movement for social transformation touched me in a profound way. My use of the title phrase “Notes for a More Coherent”… in this blog and elsewhere such as my sermon notes is a small tribute to his McReynold’s.

I’ve have the opportunity to meet David McReynold’s twice—both of them long after We Have Been Invaded by the 21st Century had gone out of print. He was a gentle, somewhat cranky individual with a sense of humour. He had an immediate rapport with children and put up with the demands of movement bureaucrats with grace.

Our world isn’t perfect. Our movements for social change aren’t perfect. However, both are the best of what we have. Both in person and through his writing McReynolds helped encourage me in all my imperfections to continue to struggle for a better world because it is the right thing to do.

Thoughts on Gun Control

My views on gun control have changed over the past 30+ years. At one point I often wore a t-shirt that read “Gun Control Means Being Able to Hit Your Target”.  I moved to a more traditional libertarian position when I argued that as long as the state was armed, so to must individuals be seeing in a possible state monopoly on violence the harbinger of an oppressive regime. However, when I came to oppose war—starting with the Vietnam War and continuing to the current time—I came to also oppose violence in the political sphere. And when I grew to taking stances against particular weapons systems, such as the cruise missile, I came to also oppose weapons designed for more intimate killing. Just as opposing war lead me to opposing political violence, opposing weapons of mass destruction lead me to opposing the availability of domestic weapons.

In Toronto a young person was recently killed in a high school. In some of the responses I’ve come across, this killing was blamed on illegal weapons. Toronto Mayor David Miller’s call for a handgun ban is an interesting response—it points to the fact that guns are almost always produced legally, often with direct or indirect state subsidy. Guns don’t magically appear. The skills and equipment necessary to manufacture guns, either for military or home use, aren’t easily acquired. Certainly in North America, the guns used in murder are overwhelmingly legally produced.

If we are ever going to move towards a society where war is not a tool to advance national, sectarian or economic interests, we are going to first have to stop using
violence to respond to our personal slights and frustrations and anger. And one step
towards decreasing the impact of violence inn our homes and community is to end the local arms race. We need to end the manufacturing and distribution of weapons of limited, communal violence. If we can take the steps necessary to make violence in our neighbourhood less possible, we will be taking major steps towards making war and political violence unacceptable.

Why I Remain an Anarchist

This is sort of biographical, sort of historical, sort of personal reflections on why after over 30 years of activism and the many compromises of live, I still see myself as an anarchist.

Anarchism can be a phenomenally idealistic and gentle ideology. Kropotkin’s Mutual Aid, the pacifist writings of Tolstoy and the lived out example of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin help us come to an understanding of anarchism not as chaos or autonomous individualism but as an approach to life with the ultimate value of society is based on ensuring that everyone is a valued, equal and worthy contributor to the wellbeing of all.

And there is also a pessimistic aspect to anarchism, something that perhaps is shared with the Christian concept of original sin. One can’t trust individuals to have power over another. There is something in being in a position of power that is inherently destructive of the person with power and those over whom the power is exercised.

I have been a part of the broader anarchist world, with my activism ebbing and flowing, since the time of the Vietnam War. I was first attracted to anarchism because of the creative energy of the Yippies and the practical experiments that were being attempted in egalitarian communities and alternative workplace models. And while I have worked, and continue to work, with many people involved in the traditional left, too often I found the organisations within which they played a dominant role conservative and/or willing to provide justifications and apologetics for wars, violence and oppression perpetrated by those nations and parties that claimed to be progressive. I felt that it was at least as important to live out the aims of a revolutionary movement as much as possible in the current moment—true propaganda by deed—as to strive for long term political transformation. There was something destructive and self-defeating in claiming that some wars were wrong rather than wars being wrong; that independent trade unions were fine here but not in some other countries; that sexism and homophobia are wrong here but justifiable among some movement allies.

In the 1970s and into the 1980s I found homes within two broad anarchist movements—anarcho-communism/anarcho-syndicalism and Christian anarcho-pacifism. I was a part of the Anarchist Communist Federation and worked on producing The North American Anarchist/Strike! This brought me into contact with a number of people who worked hard to provide practical assistance to trade union struggles around the world, from Poland to Chile to Cuba to China to South Africa to Canada, which were linked to broader struggles for political and social justice, anti-war and opposition to nuclear power. I had the opportunity to meet with people who had fought with the anarchists in Spain during the civil war who had come to the conclusion that “the enemy of my enemy is often my enemy”. I met people that had worked with Emma Goldman and were able to share stories about the betrayal of Russian labour activists, anarchists and others by their erstwhile allies centred about the Bolsheviks. I joined, for the 1st time, the Industrial Workers of the World, a radical union (I rejoined in the 1990s), wanting to be linked the movement of Big Bill Hayward and Mother Jones.

I also had the opportunity to meet people from, and briefly visit, the New York Catholic Worker community, which began a decade’s long admiration for one of the most successful practical experiments in anarchist organisation. Being both rooted in faith and seeking to live out a life where all mattered, The Catholic Worker folk provided a different approach to anarchism, which complemented what I knew and experienced within the anarcho-communist movement.

By the early 1980s I was active in decentralised non-violent peace efforts that if not specifically anarchist in name were certainly inspired by the same desires. The Against Cruise Testing Coalition not only challenged the testing of air-launched cruise missiles in Canada but was actively involved in solidarity with independent peace movements in Eastern Europe who had spoken out against Eastern Bloc militarism and nuclear weapons. The Alliance for Non-Violent Action and the Toronto based Cruise Missile Conversion Project looked at ways of linking non-violence to specific socially transforming efforts—converting Litton Industries from military to peaceful production being the best known initiative coming out of a movement that sought to work by consensus, attempted to find common ground with opponents and explored effective non-violence in a sustained campaigned.

I made friends and connections with others in the broader anarchist movement in the 70s and 80s, including some of those who produced the prison anarchist journal Bulldozer and the BC based Open Road and many of those connected to Dragonfly, to Pagans for Peace, to the Anarchist Party of Canada (Groucho Marxist), to various anarchist collective workplaces, punk bands, poets and those that formed a part of Direct Action.

I was fortunate enough in both the 80s and 90s to take part in the Anarchist Survival Gatherings that were held in Toronto. At both I co-facilitated workshops in anarchism and spirituality; at the second I also took part in a workshop on anarchism and the IWW.

In the 1990s I found the work of Food Not Bombs and similar direct action/direct compassion inspiring. Often defying police and municipal officials, FNB people
provided a practical and visible alternative to the misuse of common resources. People don’t need bombs, we need food and shelter and community.

My writing was, and continues to be, strongly influenced by my experiences in the anarchist movement. My favourite publication credit remains Visions of Poesy: Some Anarchist Poets of the 20th Century (Freedom Press).

In recent times I have supported efforts to break down national barriers, such as No One Is Illegal, ongoing efforts to challenge economic injustice and peace tax initiatives. I am far less likely to be on the barricades or in a jail cell, taking part in a poetry reading to raise money for a cause or even going to listen to a speaker, but I still support in what ways I can efforts to create a world where everyone is valued, none are without the resources to live in dignity, a world where there is no violence and no hierarchy—the shalom kingdom for Christians or the utopian federated autonomous anarchist community.

This view has been strengthened over the years by working with those who are motivated by compassion and not power to address the problems in the world and by trying to find a way of making sense of the different ways of dealing with power within movements for social change. It was people in the anarchist movement who drew my attention to the oddities of supporting a strike in Canada but not in Poland, of criticising the U.S. invasion of Vietnam but not the U.S.S.R. invasion of Czechoslovakia, of opposing Chernobyl but not Darlington. It was people in the anarchist movement who looked at ways of ensuring people could participate in movement decision making, from providing transit tokens to potlucks to childcare collectives. Anarchists at survival gatherings didn’t think it odd that I support calls for a general strike and find a real connection to creation in the celebration of the Eucharist.

Within the broader anarchist movement both my idealist and cynical self find a home.

Faith and Sanctuary

With churches being in the news for offering sanctuary, the following seems to  continue to be relevant:

Original Presentation: O.I.S.E., November 28, 2003
Revised for Presentation at 1st Unitarian, April 22, 2004

I was pleased to be asked to speak for a bit to provide some personal reflections, historical and biblical, on the providing of sanctuary. My remarks are inherently from a Christian perspective, but there are similar views expressed by people from other faith perspectives.

There is a definitive anarchist streak in the Christian faith, that ultimately puts obedience to a personal understanding of divine will as being more important that obedience to the dictates of the nation state. And there is also an real streak of arrogance—that we are indeed at times morally superior than others, a superiority that demands that we trust our own judgement rather than popular will. While this can be expressed is ways that have lead to oppressive and violent movements, at its best it has inspired movements of liberation and radical compassion and encouraged individuals to take extreme personal risks on behalf on strangers and outcasts, defying convention, laws and threats of violence, imprisonment or death to do so. At this time when our government jails people without charges, sends people to other countries to face poverty, imprisonment or death, works hand in hand with those that believe you can call someone a danger because of whom they pray with, this positive stream of resistance can be found, needing nurturing and encouragement but providing, for a few people, an opportunity for hope in a time of growing hopelessness. We, as a people of faith, are expected to obey the overarching demands of the law of love and resist being an advocate of the human law of violence.

(The above was inspired by Leo Tolstoy. The Law of Love and the Law of Violence).

A. A few brief reflections from Christian scripture:

Deuteronomy 19: 2 – 3
“you shall set apart three cities for you in the land which the Lord your God gives you to possess. You shall prepare the roads, and divide into three parts the area of the land which the Lord your God gives you as a possession, so that any manslayer can flee to them.”

The roots of our understanding of the importance of sanctuary can be found in this passage. People accused of violence had to have a place to flee to in order for them to be able to challenge the accusation they were faced with. This wasn’t a suggestion on how to live in relationship with the divine; rather it is a challenge to humanity to recognise that we need to have places where those facing injustice could be safe.

Isaiah 58: 6 – 7a
“Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house”

Expressions of worship, in this passage, include active compassion for those in need —freeing the oppressed and providing a place to live for those without a home. How one free the oppressed if there is no place for them to live? How can one offer a home to one without a homeland without opening up one’s doors?

Matthew 25: 41 – 46
“Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels, for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee?’ Then he will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.'”

Ultimately, we will be judged by the way that we directly and effectively meet the needs of those in need—including welcoming the stranger, the sojourner, who comes into our midst. We are not expected to have perfected mediation techniques, become skilled in theological debate or live a life of retreat and prayer. Rather, we are expected to respond to the physical, human needs of those around us.

It is from these, and other, passages that the idea of sanctuary and the call for real hospitality, of being open to providing a haven from refuges, arise. And, as individuals and as people of faith, our living out such basic and inherently conservative values is something that we can be help accountable for.

B. Some 20th century expressions of sanctuary

I have decided not to devote a great deal of time looking at pre-modern examples of communal and church based expressions of sanctuary—it is a fascinating tradition but feels far from our lives. One example that must be stressed of sanctuary in pre-modern times was the welcoming of the Jews expelled by Christian Spain by the Islamic world, and specifically the Ottoman Empire. Thousands were welcomed into a foreign land all at once, a sign of real compassion all too rarely emulated in modern times.

I do want to touch upon offering of sanctuary both under extremely oppressive situations and under stressful and uncertain situations in the modern, Western world. My comments will necessarily be brief, but in the current time of denying sanctuary and dignity to many people from many lands, I do feel that looking at the recent past can be both encouraging and a call to action. Examples of offering sanctuary I’ll touch on are:

(A) under Nazism, Christians offering sanctuary for the Jews
(B) in the 1960s and early 70s, Canadians welcoming U.S. draft resisters (Nancy Pocock, et. al.)
(C) U.S. Sanctuary Movement

It is surprising to hear advanced as serious arguments against providing sanctuary and support to those who come to this land the dangers of losing charitable status, the irresponsibility of breaking the law, even statements that perhaps in these periods of terrorist activity we must not be so concerned with justice. I contrast this with the many who lived on Nazi occupation who risked imprisonment, torture and death to provide sanctuary to declared enemies of the state. As Martin Gilbert wrote: “Those who had hidden Jewish children, saving them from deportation and death, included Roman Catholics…Greek and Russian Orthodox Christians, Protestants, Baptists and Lutherans, as well as Muslims in Bosnia and Albania.” (page xvi) One of the more phenomenal examples of offering sanctuary to Jews under the Nazi’s was the French village of Le Chambon. This was a entire community, lead by both protestant and Catholic leaders, that combined to provide effective sanctuary to large numbers of Jewish people. They did so over the objections of their church hierarchies and civil authorities. Some of those offering sanctuary or advocating resistance to the Nazis were tortured and executed. Individual Jews and some Jewish families were successfully rounded up and many were killed. However, from active non-co-operation with efforts to vilify Jewish to specific efforts to interfere with initiatives that fed into the Holocaust machine, this small village provided a haven and remains an example of successful pacifist actions against a violence and oppression structure. Within Germany itself, where the official Catholic and Protestant church leaders actively supported the Nazi regime, offering of sanctuary was seen as the only real way of living out a faithful life by thousands of individuals who took substantive risks to provide shelter and some degree of safety. As one example, again from Gilbert, “Only a few Pomeranian Jews were not deported. They owed their survival, write the historian of Pomeranian Jewry, Stephen Nicholls, ‘either to the loyalty of their Christian partner or to the bravery to those who were prepared to hide single Jews. For example, Joachim Pfannschmidt, vicar of Gross Kiesow near Griefswald and an active member of the German Confession church, hid Gertrud Birnbaum in his vicarage from 1939-1944. This pharmacist from Berlin survived the war. (pg. 285).

(Comments on sanctuary under the Nazis are based on: Irving Abella and Harold Troper. None is Too Many; Martin Gilbert. The Righteous: The Unsung Heroes of the Holocaust; Philip Hallie. Lest Innocent Blood be Shed; Anny Latour. The Jewish Resistance in France (especially the sections ‘The Huguenot Stronghold’ and ‘Underground Networks for Child Rescue’); Milton Meltzer. Rescue.)

In more recent times, in the background of my early years of activism, thousands of Canadians opened up homes, church spaces and drop-in centres to provide sanctuary to up to 500,000 young Americans who would not support the U.S. war in Vietnam. To provide an idea of the climate of the time, immediately following the declaration of the War Measures Act in October 1971 (from Hagan, pg. 141) “The mayors of Canada’s largest cities used the law in a backlash against American war resisters. Mayor William Dennison of Toronto claimed that “a few hippies and deserters are Toronto’s only problem.” Mayor Jean Drapeau of Montreal charged that draft and military resisters were part of a “revolutionary conspiracy. Mayor Tom Campbell of Vancouver declared, “I don’t like draft dodgers and I’ll do anything within the law that allows me to get rid of them.” All three expressed a willingness to use the War Measurers Act against war resisters. Mayor Campbell was the most explicit, telling the Toronto Star, “I believe the law should be used against any revolutionary whether he’s a U.S. draft dodger or a hippie.”

For years, most of the difficulties were cultural and emotional—leaving a country at war to find haven in a near-by country is difficult. But illegal extradition, arbitrary decisions by immigration officers and changes in rules around granting landed immigrant status that weren’t debated in the legislature created additional burdens. Those unable to get legal status needed safe housing, financial support and aid in finding employment and other forms of pragmatic assistance. Churches, such as the Church of the Holy Trinity, opened up their doors for draft resisters to sleep. Individuals, such as Nancy Pocock of the Society of Friends (Quakers) provided emotional support, referrals and hot soup. They operated in a space between laws— the government wasn’t actively sending U.S. citizens back to face (in many cases) charges and imprisonment for desertion or refusing to co-operative with the draft. But there was little in the way of support for those that made it to Canada with no resources on their own. In 1965 those providing sanctuary to the first wave of resisters did not likely think it would be a decade before their work was over. This openness to U.S. anti-war refugees is, to me, a highlight of the faith response to those coming to Canada. Jewish activists from Holy Blossom joined with those from Toronto Monthly Meeting to find common ground in welcoming those who would not participate in war. Many active from that time, from Ann Pohl to Frank Showler to Charles Roach, both in and outside of the faith communities, maintain their commitment to ensuring that there be a haven here for those needing sanctuary.

(These comments were strongly influenced by, and include quotes from, John Hagen. Northern Passage: American Vietnam War Resisters in Canada.)

There is some danger that our desire to support resisters to war from the U.S. and to provide a haven for refugees from other lands includes an emotional anti-Americanism. One of the more sustained peace time sanctuary movements in modern time was the U.S. movement, primarily based in Arizona, Texas and California, to provide sanctuary to people fleeing U.S. backed brutal regimes in Latin America in a movement that began informally in the late 1970s but formally was active from 1982 to 1987. During this time, from Chile north the U.S. government supplied arms and training to death squads, provided aid to governments that practised torture and extra judicial executions on a routine basis and worked hard to undermine any progressive initiative to improve the lives of people. It was a period in the U.S. when the violence of the U.S. government against internal dissent was very vivid. People remembered attacks on the Black Panther Party and the American Indian movements and read about efforts to claim that groups such as The American Friends Service Committee were dangerous organisations. COINTELPRO, a U.S. government effort to discredit the left, indeed all effective progressive movements, was in full swing. And into this atmosphere individuals in south west United States, almost all from faith communities, stepped forward to state that in their congregations and in their homes, people made refugees as a result of the policies of their government would find sanctuary. They organised an underground railway for those at high risk, some of whom ended up in Canada. There were penalties paid, more personal than severe. Some clergy were removed from their parishes. In once case, involving 8 activists in Arizona, defendants were gives suspended sentences and three to five years’ probation. Very few were convicted of actions and then jailed specifically due to actions directly related to providing sanctuary; those jailed during this period were jailed primarily as a result of public protest such as occupying offices and other acts of non-violent resistance. I think that there experience is what the Canadian sanctuary movement would experience in these current times if it started to be effective. The priest at Church of the Holy Trinity, if she ever opened the church doors to provide sanctuary for U.S. anti-war or Algerian refugees could face sanctions from diocese or might lose her clearance to visit prisons or could even face a fine or probation. If Mathew Behrens and myself went into an Immigration Tribunal office and poured blood on their files, we’d face jail.

(This section was influenced primarily by Ann Crittenden’s Sanctuary and Renny Goden and Michael McConnell, Sanctuary: The New Underground Railroad)

The radical risk taking of those providing sanctuary to the Jews under Nazi dominated Europe or the less demanding welcome by those providing sanctuary to anti-Vietnam War Americans do provide examples that today some congregations are following—but all too few—and that some agencies are mimicking—but all too few. People are being sent back to places where they risk torture and imprisonment, possibility even death, while others with almost identical backgrounds are granted refugee status. Some housing providers demand perfect proof of a legal right to reside in Canada while others seek for loopholes in a complex system. And perhaps there is something a little less pleasant in the refusal of some within the faith communities to take risks. This is, after all, a country that refused ship loads of Jewish refugees sanctuary when they were trying to escape Nazi Germany. This is a country that rounded up citizens of Japanese descent during the Second World War. And while Canada did welcome U.S. draft resisters, only a comparative small number of the Vietnamese and Cambodian refugees ended up here. Is there perhaps some unspoken message when Canada does not automatically offer haven to gay men facing imprisonment or women coming her to escape genital mutilation? What is the message that we provide to the world when Leonard Peltier was improperly and rapidly extradited to the U.S. while Holocaust denier Ernst Zundel is only now being considered for deportation to Germany? Is there a proposal to the world that Canada is making when individuals within the Islamic community, Canadian citizens, were not being welcomed back to Canada but sent to Syria or Afghanistan against their will? It was a minority of Christians that defied church leaders and the law to provide sanctuary for the Jews. It was a minority of Canadians of all faith backgrounds and from many places on the progressive spectrum that actively welcomed American draft resisters. I do wonder what is in the hearts of the majority who are silent, the majority who are showing by their actions that those in need are not welcomed here.