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WITH THESE SIMPLE WORDS ...

"Two Sides of the Coin--An Apology, Forgiviness"
The Price of Reconciliation and Healing

The incident happened years before. I had been fired from my job unfairly. It was a job I loved and it loved me, too. I had found my calling and then in a matter of minutes, with only a few words, it was gone and there was nothing I could do to get it back. I was hurt and disillusioned. As I attempted to overcome it, I was often given this advice: “Let it go. Just get over it” and I strived to do that. It took me a while, but over time I “got over it.” I worked at it. I didn’t talk about it much. Sometimes something would trigger a memory or a friend would ask about it. Truthfully, I didn’t recognize it as hurt anymore.

Then one day I had lunch with someone who wasn’t there those many years ago, but who now worked for this same organization. Yes, she’d heard the rumors about some of what had transpired, stories that still lived on. But, here’s the crux of the story. As we left lunch and I offered my help and support to her, to an organization that had “hurt” me but that I had a special bond with, this woman said, “I’m sorry for what happened. You’re a remarkable person and I’m glad to know you.”

I’m sorry.

This individual took responsibility for a slight, a hurt, a pain that I thought I had overcome and with those simple words, relief flooded through me. I almost responded, “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” but I stopped myself and said, “Thank you. I accept. I appreciate the sentiment.” And now, the healing has begun. Where I thought I had merely “gotten over it,” now I am finally free.

A long time ago I wrote an article about forgiveness. I told my readers that forgiveness is a balm for most of the world’s ills. In fact, I believe that forgiveness is so important to our world’s health, that we must take it upon ourselves to offer it again and again. The truth is, though, that it takes lots and lots of practice; that it doesn’t come easy, but oh—it is worth it. And yet, what I’m learning is that forgiveness is only one side of the coin. The other side is repentance. Repentance is the “I’m sorry” that comes from genuine remorse and a desire to make it better. Together the “I’m sorry” and “I forgive you” are the coin that paves the way to reconciliation and healing.

But what of the “I’m sorry”? Many of the ills of the world were created by people who are no longer here. Yet, the tragedies of the world still permeate our air space and if no one is willing to offer the first half of the coin, how are we to spend only one-half of a coin? Forgiveness can be given without an apology, but it is not as potent. Without the full coin, you still have an incomplete, unresolved issue. In the story above, one person held the side of the coin that merged the part I had already given. I still believe that it was my responsibility to forgive, but having someone stand for the apology finished it—healed the rift. I’m now whole.

There are many other stories. At a prayer vigil for the earth in Washington, DC, a friend who is a minister offered an apology for what had been done to thousands of our Native brothers and sisters. He took responsibility for making the apology at a ceremony of healing because without it, there was a void that could never be bridged. He understood that the pain caused from broken treaties, displacement, and atrocities too horrible to mention, stood in the midst, ghost-like, but palpable to the soul of a people. He tapped into it through a genuine connection with a people who have offered forgiveness through a charitable spirit of love and compassion.

This wasn’t about guilt as much as it was about acknowledgement of the hurt. If you ask if I want an apology for slavery, I might even say no. After all, I was never a slave. But, truth be told, I’d like an apology for my ancestors, heartfelt and genuine. I want to know that my grandmother’s mother and father and all the unknowns of my ancestry are finally getting their apology and when it comes, I, who stand on their shoulders, accept the apology on their behalf. As a child of the Diaspora, I, who carry the DNA of those whose blood was spilled, can stand for them today. And, I, can stand for those who have been lynched and died at the hands of those “who know not what they do.” That comes from my Christian faith, but there are so many who are willing to stand in the gap for other tragedies. Hiroshima. Germany. South Africa. There are those who will stand in that gap to close the circle of pain into one of healing. But, who will carry the “I’m sorry”? Who will stand for the hurt and pain in genuine remorse and supplication? Who will stand with me?

I’m willing to stand for the “I’m sorry” side of the coin. I know what it feels like on the other side of it, but I’m genuinely sorry for the ills that have happened by my country’s hands, for the abusers of children, with true regret for the pain caused to them. I’m willing to bow my head, lower myself to my knees and stand for the “I’m sorry” that so many need. Can you? Will you join me?

As I’ve listened to other stories of pain on this show and in my travels, I’ve been shown the power of it all. I know it can happen and I have the perfect occasion to start—a day that each of us can take a role—either for the apology or the forgiveness. The spirit of it defies the gravity of any situation, no matter the hurt, no matter the pain. The spirit of it is to move forward to the reconciliation and healing of the world that needs to take place. If in this small ceremony of giving and receiving I believe that lives can change, so can each of you.

The International Day of Peace is September 21, 2008. I’m asking that we meet at churches, at synagogues, at temples, at parks, in homes, on the street—and stand for the apology and the forgiveness. Two people can do it. Thirty people can do it. A thousand people can do it as well. With half standing for the “I’m Sorry!” and the other half standing with “You’re Forgiven,” the work begins. We’ve gotten the hard part out of the way. Then, afterwards, we should start working together in our families, communities, and organizations, to reconcile and heal. The efforts of this one simple ceremony can reverberate around the world as we stand in the gap for all who have gone before us and all the good that can now come.

I’m sending out a request to all my relationships across the board—The Rothko, Interfaith Ministries, my church, my friends, my family. I’m asking that we take a place—either in the circle of Apology or the Circle of Forgiveness. You can carry signs that say “I’m sorry for Hiroshima,” or “I’m sorry for abusing a child,” or “I’m sorry for not ending Apartheid sooner (in any place that it is taking place)” --- and I want someone or many to go and accept that apology. Today, I give my forgiveness for the millions of children without healthcare. That’s a for instance, but it doesn’t stop there. Now the work begins. No one has to feel guilty because the full coin will let us purchase time, efforts, commitment—working together. That’s you and me.

So, you can call me at 713-893-1304 and tell me you want to participate. I’ll help you do it. You can email me at info@thepeacehour.org. I’ll respond back. Here at KPFT, the Decade of Nonviolence, in my work with United Religions Initiative and the World Peace Prayer Society, the many places we talk about building a better world, let’s hold the powerful synergy of the Apology and Forgiveness and start the reconciliation and healing process that eludes us. Today.

May Peace Prevail on Earth.

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 11:50 AM 1 comments

The Peace Hour.org

The Peace Hour.org

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 3:32 PM 1 comments

9/11 Mysteries (Full Length, High Quality)

All voices must be heard. Whether we agree or disagree, without full disclosure, without listening to all sides, we will never know the truth. This documentary of the 9/11 historical even brings to light QUESTIONS. This domain 9/11 Truth documentary portends that there is more to come. An excellent document. Pass it on.

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 3:22 PM 0 comments

International Day of Peace--A Day of Prayer

PRAYER CHANGES THINGS


"When children pray, God listens. Are we listening?"

On this International Day of Peace I am reminded that we live in one world. Today, many of our world’s citizens are celebrating this one day with the hope of peace eternal. Peace is a concept for the mind, body and spirit. I’m especially grateful that these next few weeks are also symbolic of peace. We celebrate the Jewish New Year and Ramadan. This is a poignant reminder that we CAN walk side by side.

Someone asked that we celebrate this day with prayers, poems and songs. My prayer:

Wake in me, O Lord, the need for another
Prepare in me, O Lord, the way to acceptance
Instill in me, O Lord, true love and compassion

Help me, O Lord, to accept your gifts
And then, O Lord, let me live in thanksgiving for the harmony of this world.

Amen

My Poem:

I look on the faces of my sisters and brothers
To see the desires and dreams in their eyes
I look at the hands of my sisters and brothers
To clasp in fervent prayer for one another

I see beyond the different hues,
The cultural resonance of voices of different lands,
The shapes of eyes, mouths and noses,
And I see the Wisdom that God demands

I listen to the prayers of all
In languages too numerous to count
Chants, songs and silent meditations
Become a symphony of hope for us all

I see each of you
I see God

And my song:

Let us break bread together on our knees
Let us break bread together on our knees
When I fall on my knees,
With my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, Have mercy on me

Let us clasp hands together on our knees
Let us clasp hands together on our knees
When I fall on my knees,
With my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, Have mercy on me

Let us sing songs together on our knees
Let us sing songs together on our knees
When I fall on my knees,
With my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, Have mercy on me

Let us praise God together on our knees
Let us praise God together on our knees
When I fall on my knees,
With my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, Have mercy on me

And my final prayer:
Lord, have mercy on all of us. On this International Day of Peace, let us remember that we are each in need of your mercy and love. That we are in need of your compassion and grace and that in giving it to us, we will return the favor by giving it to others.

A blessed and hopeful International Day of Peace. P.K.

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 10:43 AM 0 comments

Faith and Peace—The Only Way

I spent time with my grandson this week. As he knows I usually have something for him in my room, he went in to see and when he came out, he had my prayer beads looped around his neck. I told him about the beads and knew he understood as much as a two-year can, because the rest of the evening, he told everyone he had "Buddha Beads" around his neck.

I am a peacebuilder. I think I was born to be one. At age twelve I finally made six feet in height. My father took this opportunity to explain to me about the responsibilities of being tall. I would imagine he would have had to be the one. He was six feet five inches tall himself.

“P.K., do you know how tall you are now?”

“No, Daddy,” I responded. “I just know that I’m taller than most everybody in my class except a few of the boys in the 11th and 12th grades.”

I was in the eighth grade then, youngest of my classmates—taller than almost all of them and all of my teachers. My father’s mother had always emphasized standing tall and since that was ingrained I stood tall. That day I learned from my father that I would sometimes seem taller than people the rest of my life and probably would be. I’m 6 feet and 3 inches now. So, my father sat me to down to explain about size and the power size can have. He explained about periphery vision and how it played an active role in people’s perceptions about space. He told me how precious a person’s space can be. He also told me that I had a new responsibility now that I had grown so tall.

This is what he told me.

“People will see you before you see them,” he tells me. He explained that this could be a good thing. “But sometimes people will see you as a hindrance before you’ve opened your mouth.” And then he told me something I never thought about. “You will be perceived to take up a person’s personal space even when you don’t mean to.” My father then stood and demonstrated what he meant. He told me that people consider a certain amount of space their own. “If you tower over them,” he said to me as I looked up at him, “someone may consider that you are taking up their space.” My father’s height was imposing when we both stood. Now standing over me as I sat, I immediately understood his meaning.

“You can continue to tower over them, continue to make them feel uncomfortable or,” he smiled, “you can even the field of vision so that you are no longer threatening.” He demonstrated by sitting down again with me.

I told my father that I would never do anything to threaten another person. I was a gentle giant, after all. He told me that he believed that I would not. However, he gave me this last piece of advice. He then told me that there may be times in my life I need to make a point. His words to me were simple. “It is then that you stand.”

I’m also storyteller—naturalized, of course. My Aunt Ollie, my mother’s sister was the other family griot. I believe I inherited her gift. She was also the oldest of my mother’s siblings as I am. My mother told me when I was quite young that she and her siblings seldom could afford the nickel movies, so they would let Ollie go instead. She would return and tell them the story of Gene Autry’s pursuits and victories in movies such as “Back in the Saddle”—even singing the songs that made him so famous. I’m the oldest as well and I’ve been practicing my storytelling skills on my younger siblings for many years. I believe that my ability to tell a story has helped me to take the advice my father gave and use my skills as a storyteller to simply stand when there is a point to be made. These days the point is—there is no way to peace. Peace is the way.

So now I’ve become a student of peace through non-violence. I say student because I’m still learning. I believe that Jesus was also a teacher of non-violence. I’ve learned that non-violence cannot be simply a concept or even a tool. It must be a way of life. How else could Jesus at the moment they came to arrest him speak to his disciples so passionately for peace after Peter cut off the soldier’s ear. He said to them, “There will be no more of this!” How was he able to do this? Because he had prepared for it his entire life, at the moment of whether to use violence or non-violence, he had no choice. He chose peace. He even healed the person who came with a sword with the peace of healing. I’m sure that soldier was never the same. Perhaps at that moment, he lay down his sword. Even then the tenants of non-violence spoke that there is no way to peace—peace is the way.

Personally, I think God made me tall for a reason. He wanted me to be seen. But, God also had a plan. He never wanted me to use my size to bully or hurt another. He wanted to show that big doesn’t always mean power, but it can speak truth. As I learn the lessons that Jesus taught; that others such as Gandhi, Lawson and King also taught; I realize that I want no other life. I also know now what my father meant when he said that there would be times when I would have to stand. I stand to convey the stories of peace through my gift and hopefully show the way of peace in every facet of my life—in height and stories.

So, when the time is right, I'll tell my grandson this story. He's going to be tall. That's a fact. But, he will already know that his height is a gift (as it was to all of my children) and that I will hold to non-violence because of him and all the children of the world. He's my Little Buddha, after all.

---Peace

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 3:37 PM 0 comments

Answering to Who We Are ...

My Dear Children ---

I want to abolish the "N" word. And while we're at it, I want to abolish self-doubt, self-deprecation, self-hatred. That is what the word NIGGER means to mean. I don't care how you spell it, how you say it, it is a word forged and fueled by hate.

I love you. From the darkest ebony to the lightest olive of skin, I see your beauty. It is blinding as it tells both the joy and the sorrow, but also the perserverance of a people who have endured much. And when I see that someone would pay you to say the word over and over again in a rap song, I not only want to protect you from the word, but also from its meaning.

At www.abolishthenword.com, a song plays in the introduction called "Strange Fruit." I remember the first time I drove through the South, heading towards Atlanta. I'd never been much pass the Louisiana border, but as I drove into Alabama, just as the sun was clearing the horizon, I saw lush, green, Kudzu. It choked the trees as it rambled around the trunk of huge trees and wound its way through the branches. The leaves looked rich and strong and I couldn't help but cry savage tears. It broke my heart in two and at that moment, I didn't know why. My babies (they were babies then) slept beside me and in the back and I felt afraid. Yet, I didn't know why. I thought it was hormones or something, but as I tried to look into that lush, green, forest, it came to me. Here is the growth from the soil nurtured by death. MURDER.

I can't begin to help you understand what went through me that morning. I looked again at my babies and knew that I would never let anything happen to them. I resolved, that was then--this is now! And stayed two years in Atlanta before deciding that I couldn't always separate the then from now in that place.

We have come a long way. That much I know. I have three beautiful children, a wonderful, intelligent grandson who is full of energy and life. And I have a new mission---to help end the use of the word, not to be afraid of it, but to never answer to it. Neither from friend or foe.

"Strange Fruit" has been sung by many. My favorite version is still Nina Simon's, in part, I believe because she took herself away, as I did, from the tyranny of the south. Did she find comfort in another land. I doubt it, but she kept her sanity, I believe, because of it. I often look for those sacred spaces---places away from racism and classism. I find it, too. My friends far and near have shown me those sacred spaces, where racism and the other isms of life are conquered. They are conquered by our friendships and other friendships like ours and the knowledge that it isn't just because I'm the exception to the rule (I'm not), but that we find the humanity in each other and relish the love that comes from knowing true relationship despite the differences.

This year I've spent time away from home. I was running away for my sanity, it seems. A lot has happened in the last decade that makes me understand how precious life is. Hard times can make us hard, or ...

And here is what I'm learning. Hard times can make us appreciate the quieter, sacred spaces because there is nothing that guarantees hard times won't come. Just ask those who were displaced by Katrina last year. Ask any child in Uganda and ask anyone who has lost a loved one. But, as to what I'm learning, we must answer to who we are. Who we are is God's gift. Because we are a gift to one another, we should call ourselves by our rightful name. We aren't any of the names that were created to separate us, to make us feel unworthy or unloved, to disenfranchise us. No matter the race or culture. We are God's gift, children of the world, brothers and sisters all. So, the next time you want to call out to your homegirl or boy---remember, brother or sister is who we are and that's all we should answer to.

--- Peace

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 11:05 AM 0 comments

Lord, I Want ...

to be a Christian--in my heart!


Yes, I want to be a Christian--in my heart. It is, I believe, where Christianity truly resides. However, I understand that once I am a Christian in my heart, I am now challenged to the be a Christian in my life.

On May 5, 2006, I will have a conversation with UT Professor Robert Jensen and pastor of Austin's St. Andrews Presbyterian Church, Jim Rigby. Both have been caught in the crossfire of two dissenting groups: Christians and Atheists. I haven't had the honor of meeting Rev. Rigby, but I do know Bob. And the truth is that I know quite a few professed atheists and further, I don't like some of them. There! I said it.

So, why do I like Bob, the professed atheist, and not some others? Well, its quite simple. Bob has never made fun of or ridiculed my beliefs. I guess I'm sensitive when it comes to someone telling me that what I believe is about my being both superstitous and stupid. I don't like being made fun of especially when poking fun is done to try to make me feel bad. These days I don't defend my beliefs. Not too much anyway. I'm at least hoping that my actions speak louder than my Christian rhetoric. Of course, as I've learned, I often fall short of this Christian action when my back's against the wall. More often than not, I just don't want anyone trashing my beliefs. I also know that I've got to get over it.

Once, as part of a panel discussion, I responded to a question from the audience where I talked freely about my faith. Soon after, one of the panelists remarked that he wanted everyone to know that he didn't believe in God and that he certainly wasn't a Christian. He said that he was a Marxist and that Marx pointed out that "Christianity is the opium of the people." It got him a few snickers, but when it came time to respond, I told him, "Speaking as my drug of choice ..." 'cuz if that's his definition, I'd roll with it. But, what I also said was that my faith, my belief, wasn't a license to ridicule him just as his Marxism wasn't a license bait or ridicule me.

And I guess that's the reality of where were are. We've got so many divisions, some of them pretty darn serious. Racism. Classism. They each rank right up there as the number one divisiveness. And when I intellectualize things like faith, belief and religion, I find that I'm often not standing for much if I don't take a stand.

It's interesting to note, however, that it is easier to ridicule me about my Christianity than say, Desmond Tutu. Some of the very folks that will do their level best to 'diss' me would break their neck to get a seat next to Bishop Tutu and not because he's a Christian. Simply because he's famous. I've watched it happen too often to mention here, but suffice to say that we're constantly throwing out the baby with the bath water when we put up the fence of division, only to tear it down when it suits our purposes. Anyway, it would be a lot simpler to build bridges for all the building and tearing down that we do. And I'm guessing that we're only going to start building bridges when we find a way, as I'm thinking Bob and Pastor Jim have, to build a bridge where none existed before.

So, what's the answer? Seems like every peace hour blog ends with that question. I wish I had answers -- the kind of answers that would make folks say, "Hey, she's got a point--a good one." Then they'd change their narrow-minded, gilded actions to be more like the heart of Christ, even if they don't believe he's the son of God. I don't mind. I really don't. That's not the sticking point. The sticking point for me is to say you believe it and then act like you don't. And when its all said and done, I just want to know that I'm Christian in thought and deed and that if you're not, you at least act like a decent human being--Christ like after all. Makes us even, sort of.

So, I get Bob's Christian trek and I at least know that when we stand shoulder to shoulder on the same pew, we're talking about the same tenets of faith that makes us want to build a culture of peace for the world. That's bridge building, folks. Amen.

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 9:52 AM 0 comments

The Peace Hour Vision ...

"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he [or she] does, whoever he [or she] is."

posted by The Peace Hour Blog @ 12:56 PM 1 comments