Last Saturday,
September 21, was International Peace Day.
Our church and art center celebrated in many ways: a street fest with
bouncy castle, barbecue, live music and games and an outdoor projection on our
114 year old church building. The
projection included photographs our youth took this summer, along with
incredible light art and haunting, beautiful music played by a neighbor.
The most meaningful
part of the night for me was a lantern procession. During the summer, we worked with Bart Buch,
a neighbor and artist, to make lanterns.
We made lanterns with children and adults and at an Open Streets Festival. They were illuminated with little electric
candles that flicker, and we walked to different places in the neighborhood
that have asked for peace. This summer
has been particularly hard on our community, with opioid use and human
trafficking spiking. At the same time,
it has been hard especially for our immigrant families—menacing raids
threatened, and the chorus of “Send Them Back.”
From the
church, we stopped at Bart’s house, and then at the other side of his alley,
where the neighbors organized this summer to help create a safe space. Needles and other drug items were found in an
empty lot, garbage was left all over.
The community put up a fence and reclaimed the space with their
presence.
Then, we
stopped across the street from the corner store which many people frequent day
and night. Their sidewalk is a place where other folks congregate, mostly at
night. We decided to stop at the
opposite corner, where there was more space to gather. I realized that the owner of that corner is a
friend from Iran, and there we stood in solidarity with our two peoples.
Then we
went to a corner where a couple dozen children catch the school buses early in
the morning. 6:30 to 7:00 am is a busy
time at the corner, as people from outside the neighborhood buy drugs or sex on
their way to work. It’s actually busy
all night long, as those who sell have made it their home away from home. As we stood and sang our peace prayers, they
were watching. I did not feel afraid Saturday
night, mostly because there were quite a few people processing for peace. And because we had committed ourselves to practice
peace whatever we encountered.
There is nothing
like walking in the night in silence. Or
as much silence as you can get. We had children
with us on the walk (but to be honest, the adults talked more!). A police car with its sirens blaring went by,
as did a car proud of not having much of a muffler. And there were the sounds of daily—or nightly—life
in the community: a TV set, people
sitting around a table in the backyard, music playing softly.
This
morning, I went to the bus stop again, to stand with the parents and children.
We are trying to work with neighbors to create a safe space there, and there is
a meeting tonight about that. I have to
admit that I was afraid when I got out of my car. The people who sell were there, but there
were no parents or children yet. I
reminded myself that I was still surrounded by the cloud of witnesses who
walked Saturday night and many others, which helped. It was cold this morning, and if I stand in
place very long, my knees and back hurt.
So I did a little procession in place, walking back and forth on those
sidewalk spaces.
I don’t
know what will come out of the meeting tonight, or actions further down the
line. I talked with a parent at the bus
stop this morning, and we both shared how we were thinking about winter, as
harsh as it can be in Minnesota. The
sellers of the street aren’t that hardy, and there is respite for the community.
But I also
think that as a community, we need to be our respite. We need to walk, even process with each other
in more profound ways, in order to build our community into a place where the
kind of violence we face cannot easily take route. That will take a lot of walking, a lot of
processing, but we are not walking alone.
Be justice.
Be beauty. Be a procession of hope.
Patrick
