| On World Peace |
| "There is a person who has profoundly disturbed my peace of mind for a long time. She doesn't even know me, but she continually goes around minding my business. We have very little in common. She is an old woman, an Albanian who grew up in Yugoslavia; she is a Roman Catholic nun who lives in poverty in India. I disagree with her on fundamental issues of population control, the place of women in the world and in the church, and I am turned off by her naive statements about "what God wants." She stands at the center of great contradictory notions and strong forces that shape human destiny. She drives me crazy. I get upset every time I hear her name or read her words or see her face. I don't ever even want to talk about her. In the studio where I work, there is a wash basin. Above the wash basin is a mirror. I stop at this place several times each day to tidy up and look at myself in the mirror. Alongside the mirror is a photograph of that troublesome woman. Each time I look in the mirror at myself, I also look at her face. In it I have seen more that I can tell; and from what I see, I understand more than I can say. The photgraph was taken in Oslo, Norway, on the tenth of December, in 1980. This is what happened there: A small, stooped woman in a faded blue sari and worn sandals received an award. From the hand of a king. An award funded from the will of the inventor of dynamite. In a great glittering hall of velvet and gold and crystal. Surrounded by the noble and famous in formal black and elegant gowns. The rich, the powerful, the brilliant, the talented of the world in attendance. And there at the center of it all - a little old lady in sari and sandals. Mother Teresa, of India. Servant of the poor and sick and dying. To her, the Nobel Peace Prize. No shah or president or king or general or scientist or pope; no banker or merchant or cartel or oil company or ayatollah holds the key to as much power as she has. None is as rich. For hers is the invincible weapon against the evils of this earth: the caring heart. And hers are the everlasting riches of life: the wealth of the compassionate spirit. To cut through the smog of helpless cynicism, to take only the tool of uncompromising love; to make manifest the capacity for healing humanity's wounds; to make the story of the Good Samaritan a living reality; and to live so true a life as to shine out from the back streets of Calcutta takes courage and faith we cannot admit in oursleves and cannot be without. I do not speak her language. Yet the eloquence of her life speaks to me. And I am chastised and blessed at the same time. I do not believe one person can do much in this world. Yet there she stood, in Oslo, affecting the world around. I do not believe in her version of God. But the power of her faith shames me. And I believe in Mother Teresa. December in Oslo. The message for the world at Christmastide is one of peace. Not the peace of a child asleep in the manger of long ago. Nor the peace of a full dinner and a nap by the fire on December 25. But a tough, vibrant, vital peace that comes in a faded sari and worn sandals makes this night. A peace of mind that comes from a piece of work. Some years later, at a grand conference of quantum physicists and religious mystics at the Oberoi Towers Hotel in Bombay, I saw that face again. Standing by the door at the rear of the hall, I sensed a presence beside me. And there she was. Alone. Come to speak to the conference as its guest. She looked at me and smiled. I see her face still. She strode to the rostrum and changed the agenda of the conference from intellectual inquiry to moral activism. She said, in a firm voice to the awed assembly: "We can do no great things; only small things with great love." The contradictions of her life and faith are nothing compared to my own. And while I wrestle with frustration about the impotence of the individual, she goes right on changing the world. While I wish for more power and resources, she uses her power and resources to do what she can do at the moment. She upsets me, disturbs me, shames me. What does she have that I do not? If ever there is truly peace on earth, goodwill to men, it will be because of women like Mother Teresa. Peace is not something you wish for; it's something you make, something you do, something you are, and something you give away!" ~ Robert Fulghum All I Really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten |
| "All Wars are Follies, very expensive, and very mischievous ones. When will Mankind be convinced of this, and agree to settle Differences by Arbitration? Were they to do it, even by the Cast of Dye, it would be better than Fighting and destroying each other." ~ Benjamin Franklin to Mary Hewson December 17, 1782 |
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| Billy expected the Tralfamadorians to be baffled and alarmed by all the wars and other forms of murder on Earth. He expected them to fear that the Earthling combination of ferocity and spectacular weaponry might eventually destroy part or maybe all of the innocent Universe. Science fiction had led him to expect that. But the subject of war never came up until Billy brought it up himself. Somebody in the zoo crowd asked him through the lecturur what the most valuable thing he had learned on Tralfamadore was so far, and Billy replied, "How inhabitants of a whole planet can live in peace! As you know, I am from a planet that has engaged in senseless slaughter since the beginning of time. I myself have seen bodies of schoolgirls who were boiled alive in a water tower by my own countrymen, who were proud of fighting pure evil at the time." This was true. Billy saw the boiled bodies in Dresden. "And I have lit my way in a prison at night with candles from the fat of human beings who were butchered by the brothers and fathers of those schoolgirls who were boiled. Earthlings must be the terrors of the Universe! If other planets aren't now in danger from Earth, they soon will be. So tell me the secret so I can take it back to Earth and save us all: How can a planet live at peace?" Billy felt that he had spoken soaringly. He was baffled when he saw the Tralfamadorians close thier little hands on thier eyes. He knew from past experience what this meant: He was being stupid. "Would - would you mind telling me - " he said to the guide, much deflated, "what was so stupid about that?" "We know how the Universe ends-" said the guide, "and Earth has nothing to do with it, except that it gets wiped out, too." "How - how does the Universe end?" said Billy. "We blow it up, experimenting with new fuels for our flying saucers. A Tralfamadorian test pilot presses a starter button, and the whole Universe disappears." So it goes. ~ Kurt Vonnegut, Slaugterhouse Five |
| I pledge Resistance, To the flag-waving war mongers who would dishonor it In the name of the Republic for which is Stands - One Nation; under-Awed; Deeply Divided; Where Liberty cries for Justice fogotten. ~ April 2003 |