“Why Go to Poland?” by Elizabeth Claggett-Borne

How do you Practice Compassion under Fire?

I have gone to vigils and demonstrations when the US has sent troops to Iraq and then Afghanistan. Instead of tearing my hair and ranting, I sent letters protesting US involvement in war to Congress. I’ve doubled up in pain whenever the US sends military intel and weapons to Israel, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Korea. I feel awful. How do I confront this evil, without carrying it in my muscles and neurons? I am a practical Quaker, and I long to do something to dismember the stinging tenacles of the US empire.

This October, I’m going to Eastern Europe. I’m excited–and scared. Specifically, I’m going to Wroclaw in southern Poland. (Wroclaw was a hold-out for Nazis against the Red Army until May 1945.) This trauma-informed training will be run by Ukrainian women. I will be adjacent to skilled trainers who deal with destruction and war daily. “Lviv was attacked for 2 hours in September,” says Olha. “This trauma has penetrated every Ukrainian very deeply. Faith and hope do not leave the people, but there is less love.”

I pause, I remember to enter with gratitude. I seek to learn new ways. Will I catapult from the barrage of US propaganda and see with new eyes? Europeans, like an old forest, have been through political shifts, Nonviolent revolutions and dour defeats? What do Ukrainian peacemakers have to say about green energy, nuclear power and Chernobyl? Why is villainizing Putin so tempting? How do Ukrainians respond when Russia bombards its own citizens like in Donetsk and Crimea?

Friends Peace Team (FPT) programs are fabulous, because they weave joy and laughter into communities poxed with aggression. Thank God! I want this for my tribe. FPT works towards respect, humility and above all compassion. I have seen the programs of FPT turn inmates into advocates of nonviolence. I have seen my own snap judgments dissolve. The nagging I did for years to my boys (who are wonderful human beings), has changed into patient listening. When I’m not patient (It happens!), at least I practice respect. FPT has taught me about apology and teamwork. I’m so impressed when FPT colleagues work directly in zones of conflict like Chechnya, Philippines, Honduras. I have learned that crimes of humanity have happened against Wampanoag Indigenous in my backyard in Massachusetts. FPT addresses genocide of Indigenous Peoples in the USA. This is arduous and fulfilling work.

Can you imagine my surprise in March 2022 when the US (and NATO allies) entered into the Russia/Ukraine war by providing assistance to Kiev. At first it was energy assistance such as restoring power to heat homes, but over the last 18 months the bitter fighting-and financing- has increased.

My Quaker meeting in Cambridge MA responded rapidly in 2022. We held open zoom meetings to ask for prayers. Afrose Mohammed and George Capaccio joined in monthly peacebuilding meetings, to ask for Divine Guidance, and to find compassion. We shared the Power of Goodness stories complete with illustrations by older children. https://friendspeaceteams.org/stories/#storycollection The Reunion explains how a Russian soldier found his father’s love after the Chechen war. Mercy describes how Russian elderly women offered kindness to humiliated Nazi soldiers their defeat. The Storks depicts a Ukrainian’s family decision not to evacuate during the war. The FPT website offers attributions featuring over 50 Stories.

The discussions were stories of war. But these many wars have actors that turn the tide in their own lives. Stories can build the scaffold of peace. Can we use FPT stories as art that defies the dribble that we have to fend off the enemy? How can USAians (to describe ourselves) promote peace when Ukrainians ask for the US to send nuclear missiles?

I am deeply grateful for many Quakers support. This is a shared ministry. Please hold me in prayer.

Will I learn how to stop the Ukrainian war? Not a chance. Will I hear the heroism of saving people from air raids? Maybe. Mostly I want to support those struggling for peace, in a time of war. We need to tell stories of those who toss compassion, not bombs.