lenten journal: sing for peace

I don’t remember when I decided I was going to end my correspondence with “Peace, Milton.” I know I’ve done it long enough that I don’t remember when I didn’t.

I do remember the day in 1989 when I came upon David Wilcox’s first record, How Did You Find Me Here?. The now defunct Sound Warehouse in Fort Worth had a special rack where they drew attention to up and coming artists – usually singer/songwriters – who were a little under the radar. That day I bought Wilcox’s record and Shawn Colvin’s first CD, Steady On. I think part of the reason I bought David’s was I thought it was a clever title for a debut album. I called my friend Billy, who was living in Austin at the time, only to find out he had bought the same records on the same day. Over the years, I collected quite a few of his records and several of his songs have become permanent fixtures in the soundtrack of my life. I firmly believe his song “Show the Way” should be our national anthem.

Billy called this week to say Wilcox had a new song on his website he thought I should hear. You can hear it too, by following this link. The song is called “Three Brothers” and yearns for peace in the Middle East through the metaphor of family.

All three brothers loved their father,
but he’s brought them here today
To see these papers and these lawyers,
and divide the old estate
All three feel that they’re the favorite,
he loves each of them the best
But these documents he gave them,
will now put them to the test

So they open all the writings
that will prove the rightful heir
To this home that they remember,
and the right to settle there
Their own sister is a prisoner,
they don’t see her face to face
They’ve not heard her song of beauty,
or felt the movement of her grace

She lives live behind those bars of steel
and waits for her release
Will she die or will we see
Jerusalem In Peace

Each one looks at what he’s given,
and he studies what he’s shown
They hold their maps that show possession,
of this place they’ve called their home
At first they sigh with satisfaction,
when they see what’s on their maps
Each one’s given all he wanted,
but the boundaries overlap

So do you wish us to be brothers?
Father help us understand
Or will we each kill off the others
to claim this same piece of land?
Do you mean there to be hatred
in this place you built to last?
And will faith just die a prisoner
in the dungeon of the past?

She lives behind those bars of steel
and waits for her release
Will she die or will we see
Jerusalem In Peace

She lives behind those bars of steel
and waits for her release
Will she die or will we see
Jerusalem In Peace

Jerusalem is sending her voice
from inside the prison of disbelief
Stand up you people of the one God
to bring about her release

I looked up peace at dictionary.com and two of the definitions were” the normal, nonwarring condition of a nation, group of nations, or the world” and “the normal freedom from civil commotion and violence of a community,” which struck me as strange because I’m not sure there are very many people in this world who see peace as normal from their experience. War is more normal than peace in our world, especially, it seems, war in the name of God. How can we think of peace as normal when so much of our world is fueled by violence?

I’m not sure the way to peace begins with everyone coming to the table to voice their demands. Somewhere pretty early in the conversation, someone has to say to the others, “I see your point.” Peace has to matter more than power for the violence to stop. Peace has to matter more than pride, more than security, more than history, more than land. More than anything.

A number of years ago, Ginger and I went to Israel and Palestine. We visited friends who were living in Bethlehem at the time and saw how the Palestinians were prevented from getting to work and were turned back at the Israeli checkpoints for no apparent reason. We saw how the people collected all the rainwater they could because the Israeli government cut off the water supply indiscriminately for days at a time. We were in our hotel in Jerusalem getting ready to go on a day trip to Masada when word came that a Palestinian suicide bomber had blown himself up on a bus in the middle of the Israeli side of the city. Now – a decade later – the news still sounds the same.

Our hotel sat at the top of the Mount of Olives. From the front veranda we looked across the Kidron Valley, past the olive trees that had been there since Jesus’ time, past the cemetery that filled up most of the valley, over the path that led to ancient steps that went up to a gate through which Jesus was taken the night before he was crucified, to see the Old City. That hotel is no longer available to tourists because the violence has only gotten worse.

When I write about stuff like this, I have to fight back two thoughts in order to write. One is that very few people will comment or engage because the problem feels overwhelming, as I have seen happen when I’ve written about Darfur. (I don’t mean that to sound like I’m trying to guilt you into commenting; I just crave a real conversation about this stuff). The second is I can’t make a difference as one person, one writer, one alleged peacemaker. For Wilcox to post a song about peace he has yet to release to see what he can stir up moves me. All the diplomats from Henry Kissinger to Condoleezza Rice haven’t been able to do much with their summits and strategies, why not try singing?

Perhaps what started as a solo will blossom into a mighty choir.

Peace,
Milton