"Together, You Can Redeem the Soul of Our Nation" John R. Lewis

Everyone should read the last words published by John Lewis. You can read them here. They are powerful words for all of us but especially for the young people involved in the Black Lives Matter movement. John Lewis is speaking clearly to a younger generation, offering them a hand  to rise up onto his shoulders. He understood the need and passion for change better than most. He understood the costs and the pain. That's why he offered his support and wisdom. He's warning us that it won't be easy. It never has been. But he's offering leadership and support that is so lacking from others.

Don't be afraid to speak up and speak out. Don't be afraid of the consequences. Depend on each other. Build bridges within movements, not walls. When you see injustice, don't let it stand, do something about it.

Let's all remember what a radical he was. He wasn't always loved. He certainly wasn't loved when he sat down in the well of the House of Representatives and led other Congresspeople in a sit in there. Also always remember that he was radical in his nonviolent resistance throughout his life. He knew and understood nonviolence. He understood its political power and its ability to force his antagonists to face their own hatred and anger. 

We owe John Lewis a great deal but he already knew that and he accepted what we gave back to him humbly. The real challenge now though is to read those words he wrote and not just today but many times as battles ahead are faced. Finally, let's celebrate the leader that he was with the wisdom to reach out to the young people who are in the streets today and tomorrow. 

Prophets and Saints Among Us - John R. Lewis

I first met John Lewis in 1965. He wasn't famous. He wasn't a big shot of any kind. I had gone down to Selma, Al. just days after the nation watched on TV as a mob of deputies beat and pushed back 600 peaceful marchers. Over the next few weeks I was in Selma, either in Brown Chapel or outside on the street trying to march from the area where police had effectively penned us all in. I was 21, a college student and pretty naive. John Lewis was 25, already a leader and very smart. 

There was a lot going on in that time and place. Much of it I've only learned about years later by reading books and talking to others who participated. While I stood facing a rope that sheriff deputies had put up to fence us in and singing protest songs with local youngsters, John Lewis, Hosea Williams, Andrew Young and James Bevel among others were fine tuning and organizing behind the scenes. Martin Luther King,  Jr. and Ralph Abernathy were away from Selma negotiating with a federal judge about the march to Montgomery. The others were left behind to keep things moving and organized. There were tensions between younger generation protesters represented by the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Council (SNCC) and the leadership of the Southern Christian Leadership Council (SCLC). There were philosophical minefields and some things had to be threaded through the eye of a needle to keep everyone focused on the same mission. This tends to happen in political movements of any type but resolution here was critical.

The nights were cold and rainy. I remember John Lewis huddled with others around a fire in a 55 gallon drum. Some people were mad and arguing about outsiders taking over their protest, their movement. Lewis would go back and forth between the fire and the Chapel and relay messages and feelings from the younger folks to the older (over 30) leaders of SCLC. That's how I remember it anyway, even though I wasn't any part of the conversations. I just knew there was tension and some of us were just supposed to keep the police focused and distracted by our presence at the rope and barricades. 

So that was my first encounter with John Lewis. We probably drank coffee from the same pot and may have shared a sandwich from the boxes that were made by people in the neighborhood. I do know we shared the warmth of that fire in the drum on a few cold nights.

I met John again in 2003. By that time most everybody knew who the Congressman from Georgia was, including me and I was in awe. I had been invited by my then Congressman Amo Houghton to go along with him on the annual Faith & Politics Institute's Congressional Pilgrimage to Alabama. At that time the Institute was Co-Chaired by Lewis and Houghton, a bit of an odd couple but they had grown to be very close, an attribute John Lewis was famous for. When Amo introduced me to John it was as "this is the fellow I told you about who was with you in Selma." John Lewis' reaction was immediate. He took my hand, pulled me toward him and we embraced while he patted me on the shoulder. "Good to see you. We'll talk along the way" he said and we did. We caught up as they say.

That trip included plane flights, bus trips, hotel stops and meals as well as stops at major civil rights historical sites. John did what he did best. He shared the stories of his past and about those sites, the good times and the bad times, the victories and the dreams not yet met. Along the way, I told John about my history after my experience in Selma. How I had gone to the Catholic Worker in NYC, met and worked with Dorothy Day, opposed the war in Vietnam, refused induction and went to federal prison. He knew of Dorothy, the Worker, her work for nonviolence and peace. He told me he was proud of the action I took against the war and thanked me for it.

His passing is hard. He was like a beacon. I'm glad he got to see that Black Lives Matter painted on the street in Washington D.C.  To look down on it and to stand on the letters. He made that and so much more happen. John Lewis was someone you could believe in. Justice and peace and reconciliation were the things he stood for but that didn't mean he couldn't get angry or raise hell when he had to. The world is a better place because of John Lewis. He knew how to laugh and sing and dance after the hard work was done. He was just one of the prophets and saints among us and we were lucky to have him. Rest in Power John Lewis.

The Culture of Policing and What We Can and Must Change

There has been much talk since the death of George Floyd at the hands of police in Minneapolis, Minnesota, about changing policing in America. Change is necessary and long overdue as we continue to see more examples of inappropriate use of force on a daily basis. But while we change it, we need to understand this culture that all of us have helped to create.

Policing is really about power, authority, domination and control. It's also about who's in control. We know it, we just don't talk about it very clearly or often enough. The power and control spills over into other jobs and institutions like prisons, mental health facilities, group homes, homeless shelters, schools and health care facilities. Anywhere that one group of people is deemed in control and more powerful than another group. In this process, the kept become less human than their keepers and all of the rules change. We are no longer all equal under the law. Not all of the keepers are bad people but they have to fight every day to continue to see the humanity of people placed under their control. They face peer pressure as well as supervisory and administrative pressure to meet their mission of control and order and economic bottom lines.

Unless we understand that this is what we do to each other and what we expect others to do for us, we will never be able to change all of the systems that need to be changed. The intimidation of a prison guard, being able to control when you eat, if you shower, or what you read, is not that much different than a bad policeman, teacher, clerk in an office and so on. Power over others seems to be addictive and it can spread within institutional thinking. Policies, training and protections have to be in place to control it. Treating people with dignity and respect is a basic value that should drive any organization. It becomes much, much worse when we add racism to the equation. Yes, when people in power are mostly white, when the people they represent are mostly white, should we be surprised at how racism creeps into this system of power and control. People of color are treated differently with every interaction and we should all know it by now.

We add to the problem when we model our police after the military or worse a militia. It starts with uniforms, insignias, badges and titles like Chief, Lieutenant and Sargent. It moves forward more clearly with weapons, guns and military grade equipment. Crowd control demands more oppressive items like shields, three foot batons, tear gas, rubber bullets and pepper spray. The weaponry and guns of the police have increased in a similar way as the nuclear arms race. As guns and the use of guns have increased in the US, police agencies have felt the need to keep up to try to stay on equal footing with criminals. Law enforcement, municipalities and legislators just can't seem to connect the dots between more guns equaling more guns. Yes, we've continued to militarize the police. All of these things have seemed appropriate at one time or another, unless of course your head was clubbed or your son or daughter was gassed while protesting.

The black experience with law enforcement is brutal and immoral. The fact that we as a society have allowed and condoned people to be shot while running from an officer with no weapon or to be beaten and choked for crimes where a white person would be reasoned with and ultimately given a mere warning for similar instances should help us understand. But does it? Or, are we all so much a part of the problem, that we haven't seen our own responsibility for inappropriate policing? 

People are beginning to understand that there are some really basic changes that need to happen. Things like licensing and professionalizing people we call policeman. Looking seriously at who is being hired for policing positions. Ongoing training in deescalation and calming techniques. Real oversight of complaints and tracking of inappropriate citizen encounters or the use of force. Reallocation of policing dollars to community programs that will help to reduce or change interactions with the police. Demilitarization of police agencies including a review of who should actually be carrying weapons. Make unions and their members in law enforcement accountable for their representation and defense of bad and dangerous behavior. End the use of chokeholds. Require intervention when police see other police violating policies or civil rights. Reimagine law enforcement itself, its language, its dress, its purpose.

Black lives certainly do matter. People who are black should not be treated any differently than anyone else in terms of any police intervention. Equal justice under the law. Enough is enough. Help bring about change now. Protest, meet with local officials, write letters, donate to organizations fighting for change and hold elected officials accountable.

Jack Cook, Catholic Worker, Author

Today we lost a treasure. Jack Cook, Catholic Worker, mentor to many, friend and colleague to others passed away at home in Endwell, NY on June 5, 2020. Jack was many things to many people. Father, husband, brother, teacher, writer, poet, author, laborer, soup maker, anarchist, story teller, troublemaker, personalist, hobbit, drinking buddy, felon and ex-con for resisting the draft, a hero. He could be one of the kindest persons in the world and a royal pain in the butt, sometimes at the exact same moment. That was Jack. Some called him a curmudgeon and he loved the role.

Jack and I met at the Catholic Worker, sometime in 1965. We argued about politics and strategies. We bemoaned the state of the movement and leaders who were more interested in promoting themselves rather than promoting the end of the war and some sort of lasting peace. Jack’s writing caught the eye of Dorothy Day and she loved his pieces and looked to him for advice on organizing and editing the Catholic Worker monthly paper. Jack was sent by Dorothy to Delano California where Cesar Chavez was organizing strikes by farmworkers along with a national grape boycott. Jack’s job was to document what was happening but he couldn’t resist getting actively involved in the strikes and demonstrations. This was just one stop along Jack’s roads less travelled.

I went off to prison while Jack stayed involved at the Worker, making soup and organizing the clothing room and writing, writing, writing. He had writing projects incubating in his head, seeds planted by experiences, feelings and beliefs that he would test on people in great flurries of speech and language, in pubs or on the street sitting on a park bench, curved pipe always full and hanging from his lips. I’ve watched that pipe fall, be caught or burn a hole in his pocket more than a few times. 

One day, I saw my old friend arrive in the federal lock up where I was hoping for, praying for my own release. We walked together, went to the little chapel together and kept up with the news together. The day came when I was released and left Jack. He continued to get into good trouble, advocating and looking out for other prisoners and always writing about it. He led a little uprising while in prison (no small thing really) and ended up doing time in isolation more than once. His time being incarcerated affected him as it does everyone who experiences it and he did what Jack always did. He wrote about it.

Jack eventually returned to the Catholic Worker. I had moved to upstate NY and was living in Spencer, NY, a small town south of Ithaca. One day I got a call from Jack, he had some family difficulties and was getting away from the city. We talked and talked and next thing you know Jack and I concluded he should come and spend some time living with me and my young family. From there Jack got one of the jobs he enjoyed the most in his life I think. He started working at a small sawmill turning logs into planks with a team of workers he befriended for life. Jack eventually ended up in Ithaca, teaching and writing and his life went on and included meeting his wife and partner Ellen. 

He and I have remained friends through these many years. We’ve supported each other, complained about ourselves and everyone else to each other and encouraged each other on various projects and detours that we’ve both taken.

I’ve taken to writing a few things here and there myself through a blog called The Gadfly. Jack would always encourage me. He’d teach me about the muse who comes and goes and sometimes teases and frustrates every writer, musician, poet. He was certainly a critic and sometimes a very harsh one. On the other hand a compliment from Jack about your writing was like getting a gold star in kindergarten and he gave me a few. I’ll always appreciate that. 

But now Jack is gone. His was a strong voice at the Catholic Worker that needed to be heard. Sometimes it was welcomed and other times it was rebuffed. His words and writings though will live on. His book on prison “Rags of Time” and his writings about times and people at the Worker, “Bowery Blues” are still out there waiting to be read and shared on bookshelves and in studies where leather chairs, fireplaces dwell and pipe smoke hangs in the air. 

Here, here Jack. Presente!

The Night We Became The States of America

It was June 1, 2020 a little before 7pm. A large group of peaceful protesters were cleared from the streets surrounding the White House in Washington, DC. They were pushed quickly and violently from the area by Military Police, the Federal Park Police and the US Secret Service. Loud smoke bombs, rubber bullets, shields, tear gas and mounted horses were used in the attack on Americans in their own land at their own Capitol. It was eerily familiar to people who had marched in places like Selma to see these sights.

At the same time Donald Trump spoke from a podium in the Rose Garden. There he read a statement filled with words that will go down in history, reminding people that they had elected a pretty crazy person who didn't understand the Constitution that he took an oath to uphold. His statement was both sad and shocking. He referred to himself as the law and order President and yet mentioned nothing of George Floyd's illegal death in Minneapolis . He said he was defending peaceful protesters as he was having them removed from the streets around the White House. He threatened to send Federal troops and the military into individual States. He spoke of domination, similar to the ways some police across the country dominate citizens.

After that, this man who had been mocked about his being taken to a bunker in the White House, walked over to St. John's Church as if he wanted to show off his bravery and manhood. He took the Secretary of Defense, the Attorney General and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who was dressed in fatigues, with him. It was for a photo op with a Bible at a place of worship. It ended up being an expression of impotence and incompetence. A faked attempt at messaging.

Having said that, it was also a visual announcement to our country that we had formerly become, under Donald Trump, the States of America. We are no longer united in any way. The reality show President has taken us to this place. Yes, he has taken us to the worst reality show Presidency that anyone could ever imagine. No, sadly we are divided. We have soldiers and police following orders that in their hearts, they may know are questionable. There are Cabinet members and White House staff and Senators and Congresspeople who don't know what to do next. Governors have been threatened to follow Trump's orders or be damned.

All of this should sadden the entire country and the world. It seems the United States is gone. Its remnants are a mess. Donald Trump created his carnage and his swamp. Institutions have been torn down. Competent people have been removed from critical jobs and functions. All of this has happened in the middle of a pandemic that has killed over 100,000 Americans.

So here we are the States of America, looking for answers, struggling for solutions and we all watched it happen formally on June 1, 2020. I fear it is not over.