Shining light on the Pentagon

I'd like to paste a letter that was in my mailbox this morning. It's from a member of a local peace group who went to Washington to continue the press for peace. I haven't asked her permission to post this, but she has granted it to another to use in a church service. So, on the presumption she wouldn't mind being quoted here, I shall post it, with attribution to "anonymous."

Here is another account of my presence in Washington I thought might be of interest. On Jan. 23rd seven of us went unannounced to the pentagon to bring attention to the military abuses in Iraq.

The authorities at the Pentagon had told us that we could not process; we could not pass out leaflets; that no indiscretion would be tolerated or arrests would be immediate. Eventually, on 23 January our group of seven would require twenty-five heavily armed Pentagon Protective Service agents to stand between us and the people coming and going.

On the sidewalk beside the Pentagon a mass of civilian and uniformed employees poured throughout the late afternoon. One of our members placed a hood over his head and was tethered by rope to another member in our group, simulating pictures of detainees in Iraq, Afghanistan, Guantanamo and secret prisons that span the globe.

During the hour and a half presence, our time was interrupted when the Pentagon Protection Service spokesperson pushed us further and further from the masses of people passing by on the walk way. After twenty minutes we were pushed off the sidewalk behind a fence into a lawn, like Iraqi citizens are pushed from their streets in Baghdad by huge tanks. We had formerly been told we would not be allowed on the grass, so it felt a little like Brother Rabbit asking not to be thrown into the brier patch.

An early promise that we could carry out our prayer time on the sidewalk suddenly changed and another round of discussions went on between our liaison and the police. The atmosphere seemed to cool dramatically when we engaged in conversation with a contract worker stopped to speak with us. He explained he had been offered work in Iraq but he didn't want to take advantage of those people who are worse off.

Thirty feet away we watched hundreds of state-supported defenders of freedom pass by on their way from an office to a meeting, or to a shift change or... to defend the country and make the world order come out right.

When all twenty-five agents took their positions and covered their hands with bright blue latex gloves and we had been there for about forty-five minutes we knew that our ability to negotiate more time was limited. But we continued with our little silent vigil.

The Washington Post had reported that morning a massive increase in appropriations for secret units like thespecial forces and Navy Seals. I was not surprised. As I watched the crowd pass I wondered who was directing and commanding that process. My mind went from this temple of modern warriors to their colleagues I had seen clothed in flak vests and armor as they moved about Baghdad, the 2500 who will never walk these streets again and the tens of thousands whose lives are broken because their souls were not meant for warrior campaigns designed in the Pentagon. I thought of their chances for healing. Then I looked at the hooded one in our midst. I noticed that the throngs that passed us looked carefully at our signs but their eyes dropped when they saw the hooded one.

By the time we took our leave, the Pentagon Protective Service had created a silent, empty space between us and the masses of this day's foot soldiers that walked just beyond the security corridor. That empty space had a sacred quality, an interim safe place where the Divine could remind us all, holy warriors and holy peacemakers of the freedom and hope of the light.