On Sunday, October 21, Kay Marble and Jane Carpenter both shared their views about the war and People’s Church’s efforts in the “Where is the Rage?” campaign to end the war in Iraq. Both Jane and Kay have sons who are soldiers in the United States Army. Jane’s son, a career officer in the army, has served two terms of duty in Iraq and Kay’s son is presently deployed. In a powerful and heart -wrenching worship service these courageous mothers shared from the depth of their hearts how much the church means to them but at the same time how differing views about the war have caused them tremendous pain and turmoil. Kay shared how hearing the song, “Where is the Rage?” caused overwhelming feelings of anger, fear, and sadness. The fact that our attempts at peacemaking were a form of violence to someone I care so deeply for, broke my heart and helped me to realize that I have much to learn about practicing nonviolence and truly waging peace in the world.

We were moved and changed by their words. Hearts and minds were opened and we were given a rare glimpse of the inside of this war that none of us without could ever know. It took tremendous courage for Kay and Jane to speak so openly and honestly. Dave Rodwell said afterwards, “This was People’s Church at its best.” I had to agree with him, and I would add that Jane and Kay’s courage and gentle honesty modeled true peacemaking for us all. Their love of our church and our Unitarian Universalist faith has kept them coming back in spite of the differences and discomforts they have been enduring. They are truly remarkable women and we are very fortunate to have them in our midst as they continue to be teachers of courage, integrity, and peace. I am reminded of the wisdom of Unitarian Francis David who said, "We don't have to think alike to love alike."

I urge all of you who missed the service to request printed copies. We will be happy to snail mail or email copies to everyone. Call or email the church office.

When you read this, Mary Wickwire and I will be in Boston attending a prayer retreat at the Glastonbury Abbey led by the Reverend Carl Scovel, a Unitarian Christian/Catholic. On October 31, I will be attending worship at King’s Chapel, one of the oldest Unitarian churches in Boston, the church that Rev. Scovel served for almost thirty years before retiring. King’s Chapel, formally an Anglican church, is the perfect refuge for me on the anniversary of Leslie's death. They still recite the Lord's prayer and offer communion. After the retreat we will spend a few days exploring Boston and our Unitarian roots.

In November, I will be attending a training institute at the University of Minnesota. The training is called “Victim Offender Dialogue in Crimes of Severe Criminal and Political Violence: A Mindfulness-based Approach to Restorative Dialogue and Healing.” There will be participants from Northern Ireland, South Africa, Israel and Palestine as well as the U.S. I am drawn to this field of restorative justice because of my personal experience with the transformative power and potential for healing that it holds. I believe that this “restorative dialogue” project has positive implications for every aspect of life in our church, the wider community, and the world. On the deepest level of my being I feel called to expand my understanding of restorative justice as an integral part of my spiritual journey. Having said that, I want to assure you that I am not planning to leave my position at People’s church for a new career. On the contrary, I am remodeling and expanding my kitchen (Who needs a living room?), and settling comfortably into my life and vocation at People’s Church and Ludington.

Last month, at the closing Courage to Lead retreat at Fetzer Institute, I was given a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke that has become my daily prayer and perhaps can explain better than I why this personal spiritual path is so very important to me:

From “I am too alone in the world,
and not alone enough.”

I want to unfold
I don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, there I am a lie.
And I want my grasp of things
true before you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like the pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother
like a ship
that took me safely
through the wildest storm of all.

In faith and love,
Cathy