Bathed in the Spirit

A hush descends on the congregation and hovers for a moment in the expectant air of the cavernous cathedral. Then slowly, softly, a voice interrupts the quiet with a song:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon us,
because he has anointed us
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent us to proclaim release to the
captives
and recovery of sight to the blind;
To set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the acceptable year of the
Lord.

At the back of the church appears a dancer dressed in white. With a torch held high, she moves down the long middle aisle, while voices are added to the song. When she reaches the front, the Pentecost flame is lit from the torch, and more dancers spread out with bowls of water and leafy branches to anoint the congregation. As they dip the branches and scatter drops of water over the heads of the crowd, the song swells until it seems that the place might burst with the power of 3,000 voices united in a joyful tribute to the Spirit.

Before the last of several refrains is barely finished, the congregation begins singing, "We Shall Overcome." On the verse, "We are not afraid," we begin to sway, bound together in motion by raised handclasps and a plea for peace. We are overtaken by hope, some by tears, all by a spirit of jubilation such that applause thunders through the Washington Cathedral for several minutes at this closing of a service of prayer, song, and preaching that has lasted almost two hours.

This Sunday evening, May 22, of Peace Pentecost stirred awake images of the first Pentecost: a filled room, a rush of mighty wind, dancing flames, and then an explosion of utterances in many tongues. One might have described it as a delirious outburst of joyful chaos, a situation seemingly out of control to observers who had not caught the Spirit.

We were not Parthians and Medes and Elamites each speaking in our own tongue that Sunday evening, but we were a richly diverse group. Worshipers had come from Maine and California and all states in between. There were wide-eyed children standing on tiptoe on pews; gray-haired couples swaying side by side; mainline pastors; nuns in habits; and a handful of our neighbors from inner-city Washington, with whom we work on tenant organizing, children's programs, and emergency food distribution.

Held close by the Spirit, we found unity in our diversity. Just as Pentecost had initiated the early church, this powerful closing was just a beginning. We felt filled, empowered for the events of the following day as well as for the long road of peacemaking ahead. The outpouring of the Spirit had made the early Christians bold, and we prayed that the same might be true for us.

We at Sojourners had decided to call Christians from all over the country to Washington, D.C. for a large witness for peace on Pentecost for two reasons. First, there seemed to be no better time in the church year to call for an outpouring of the Spirit for the sake of peace. The second reason was political: the debates in Congress around the funding of a dangerous new generation of first-strike nuclear weapons was slated for the spring of 1983.

There were many times in the weeks preceding Peace Pentecost that we felt, similar to observers at the first Pentecost, that the situation was out of control. The staff of Sojourners Peace Ministry--Jim Rice, Dawn Longenecker, Billy McLaughlin, and Joe Lynch--with help and direction from Jim Wallis and Danny Collum, worked more than full time on the thousands of details that needed to be attended to: housing for the hundreds of friends coming to Washington, worship services to plan, press information to disseminate.

The rest of Sojourners community pitched in with offerings of music, art, and encouragement. We spent an evening making banners for the cathedral as well as stoles decorated with the Pentecost flame and a cross, which were to be given to those who would enter the Capitol Rotunda on Monday morning, May 23, for the vigil for peace.

When our musicians and artists went to the cathedral on Thursday night, May 20, to rehearse for Sunday night's service, they felt very small and hoped that the Sunday night congregation wouldn't be dwarfed by the huge cathedral. But in the midst of many details and doubts, we were called again to remember the first Pentecost. In that seemingly out-of-control situation there was something definitely in control: the Spirit. And as Peace Pentecost unfolded, we, too, came to find freedom and comfort in knowing that whatever would happen in the days ahead was all beyond our own control.

All week leading up to Peace Pentecost things did seem to fall into place as if divinely orchestrated. We spoke of many "providential coincidences." The greatest was the fact that we discovered the week before that funding of the MX missile would go to the floor of Congress for debate the very day that we would be entering the Capitol Rotunda for our peace vigil.

People began arriving in Washington on Friday night. We housed a hundred friends from the Community of Communities, a circle of communities of which Sojourners is a part, in our community households and our outreach building, which holds our magazine and peace ministry offices. Sisters and brothers came from New Jerusalem Community in Cincinnati, Church of the Messiah in Detroit, Christ's Community in Grand Rapids, Son of God Community in Cleveland, and Menominee River Fellowship in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. The support of the Community of Communities and the bonds that deepened through Peace Pentecost were an important part of the weekend for us.

On Sunday morning we held our usual weekly Sojourners worship. Our little chapel at the outreach building was packed. Just as the service was about to begin, a bus pulled up labelled "Georgia Peace Delegation," and we all counted as 45 more people filed in. There were friends from Koinonia Partners, Jubilee Partners, and the Open Door Community, among others. It was beginning to feel like old home week.

A feeling of expectation hung in the air as we shared the Eucharist together. We offered prayers for strength, wisdom, and courage, as it began to sink in even more deeply that Peace Pentecost was so much bigger than ourselves.

The Sunday evening at the Washington Cathedral went beyond our highest hopes. There was standing room only when the worship began. We were richly blessed by the songs of Ken Medema, a musician from San Francisco, and the Shiloh Baptist Church Gospel Choir from Washington, D.C., as well as the music leadership of Martha Kincannon of Sojourners. For many of us the Spirit seemed most present in the singing.

Carla de Sola and the Omega Liturgical Dance Company from the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City offered their grace and talent, in combination with local dancers. During a time of confession, introduced eloquently by Richard Rohr, leader of the New Jerusalem Community, the dance company moved with flags of brilliant colors, signifying God's promise in the rainbow that the world would not be destroyed.

Prayers were offered by Walter Sullivan, Roman Catholic bishop of Richmond, Virginia; John Walker, Episcopal bishop of Washington, D.C.; Mary Cosby of the Church of the Savior; and Martin Lonnebo, Lutheran bishop from Sweden.

The worship was convened by Jim Wallis, who shared the preaching with Mary Evelyn Jegen, former national director of Pax Christi, and Timothy McDonald, assistant pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta. Tim brought to our worship the spirit of the former pastor of his church, the late Martin Luther King, Jr. Jim spoke of the growing revival for peace that is sweeping the country and the hope that can be gleaned from such an outpouring of the Spirit as we were seeing in our midst that night.

Many of the worshipers had traveled a long way that day. But when we called a meeting after the worship service to discuss plans and pray about the civil disobedience at the Capitol Rotunda the next day, 300 people stayed, despite the lateness of the hour. The only small crisis in an otherwise flawless evening came when Jim Rice opened a box that was supposed to contain Peace Pentecost pledges--cards on which were printed nonviolent principles from Martin Luther King, Jr. that were to be given to each of the participants in the witness in the Rotunda--and discovered a box full of Sojourners subscription renewal notices. We talked and prayed together until the custodian at the cathedral finally asked us to leave at midnight.

On Monday morning, May 23, almost a thousand people gathered at the Church of the Reformation on Capitol Hill. We were uplifted by more of Timothy McDonald's powerful preaching as he declared, "As a people of various backgrounds and faiths, we stand united for the preservation of the human race. We stand united because we have chosen to live in our faith and not out of our fears. We stand united because we know a higher loyalty and a higher law require the religious community to break its silence, and to be the voice crying in the wilderness."

We sang the song that came to be our theme song for the witness, "Be Not Afraid," and felt once more a sense of being held in the hands of God as we looked toward our procession to the Capitol. As an act of commissioning, Jim Wallis spoke about the meaning and power of nonviolence:

Our actions do not have the power to save us. Instead, they can have the power to make the truth known. We ought to act with the awareness of how risky it is to claim to be making the truth known. Because of the inherent presumption of public protest, it should always reflect a spirit of confession, humility, and invitation.

The most effective peacemakers are those who have experienced the healing of their own fears and can now help lead others out of theirs. Our hope is in the deepening of our experience of the "perfect love that casts out fear."

Following behind our Peace Pentecost banners, we began walking to the west steps of the Capitol. We were welcomed by Walter Fauntroy, D.C. delegate to Congress, who stated to the group, "Your being here today will guarantee the presence of a moral argument in the debate taking place inside this building. Faithfulness to God in the face of the nuclear threat must mean non-cooperation." Noel Paul Stookey, formerly of Peter, Paul, and Mary, led us in some exuberant singing.

Then those who had decided to enter the Capitol Rotunda lined up by sixes for a procession to the east steps. A Peace Pentecost stole was placed over the shoulders of each one and an embrace given. Then each was handed a flower and some a loaf of bread, symbols of peace and life, to carry as gifts into the Rotunda.

Led by the 242 people who had decided to enter the Rotunda, the procession, which had grown to 2,000, wound its way to the east steps. A member of the Georgia contingent led us in the singing of a spirited version of "This Little Light of Mine" as we neared the steps. As we filed up them into the Rotunda, we were greeted by 3-year-old Annie Soley who, perched on her father's shoulders, flashed each of us the American Sign Language sign for "I love you."

We stayed close to one another and continued our jubilant singing as we entered the Rotunda. The first sensation was that of being blinded by the lights of the cameras from the press; there were so many, we wondered for a moment if there would be room in the Rotunda for us too. But we gently pushed our way through and formed a circle around the center.

Timothy McDonald took over leadership of the singing and kept us going for many verses of "Peace Is Flowing Like a River." As we moved into the Rotunda, there was indeed a feeling of flowing together like a river of peace, here to bring a message into the heart of the Congress. As in the cathedral the night before, the music filled every space of the immense dome of the Rotunda and engulfed us in joyful song, another bathing in the Spirit.

Just as Jim Wallis was pondering how best to begin our liturgy, the chief of the Capitol police gave us our call to worship. With bullhorn in hand, he shouted over the joyful din, "It is unlawful to pray in the Capitol Rotunda." Jim responded, "Whether it be lawful or unlawful, we are here to pray for peace." We then knelt and recited together the Lord's Prayer. The loaves of bread were broken and shared among us as a sign of the life of Christ, the Prince of Peace, in our midst.

We began a liturgy of reading statements about peace from the various church denominations, which were interspersed with the chiefs' obligatory three warnings about our arrest and commands for us to leave. His warnings were greeted each time with the silent raising of our flowers above our heads.

People representing their denominations continued to rise one by one to offer statements that covered the spectrum of the church: Roman Catholic, Quaker, Episcopalian, Baptist, Methodist, Mennonite, Presbyterian, Reformed. Between each reading, the Benedictine Sisters from Erie, Pennsylvania, led us in singing a refrain of "Seek Peace and Pursue It." The liturgical reading of the statements inside was accompanied by the same outside on the steps by the large group that maintained a vigil there.

Soon the arrests began. One by one we were pulled away from the circle and taken to the side to be fingerprinted, photographed, and handcuffed. Processing the entire group took about three hours.

We were greeted by cheering friends as we were each brought out of the side of the Capitol and loaded into the police wagons. Then the entire group was taken to a large cellblock near the District of Columbia courthouse.

The women were divided between two large cells and the men were in three large adjoining cells, which enabled them to meet for discussion and worship, at the other end of a long corridor. While the endless processing continued into the night, so did the singing. Spirits were high.

The witness was richer for the diversity of people who participated. For the majority this was the first experience with arrest. A veterinarian from Augusta, Maine, explained, "Now that the kids are away from home, my wife and I can do the things we've always wanted to do." Nodding toward the women's cells, he added, "She's locked up over there. Ever since marriage encounter, we do everything together." The group was so ecumenical it seemed that the whole church was in jail that night.

Those of us who live in Washington were offered citation release, or the opportunity to go home free that night and return to court in the morning. A police officer read down through the list of local names, offering us release, and as each name was read the individual's response was, "No, thank you." Surprised, he restated our option just to make sure everyone understood. Almost everyone decided to spend the night together in jail, which raised a thunderous cheer from one end of the cellblock to the other and set the tone for a solidarity that stayed with us through the night.

Back at the Sojourners outreach building, the phone was ringing off the hook. Danny Collum was in charge of what he compared to "a Democratic Party machine boiler room on election night." Calls came in from around the country from concerned friends and relatives wanting information about someone who had been arrested, as well as from supporters who had seen the witness on the evening news and were offering thanks and encouragement, not to mention those calling from jail to ask if Danny might call up an employer to explain that they would not be in to work the next day.

Meanwhile, in jail, things were beginning to settle down. We finally got a late-night supper: two baloney sandwiches and a donut. We spent time quietly singing, calming fears, offering back-rubs. For anyone who was frightened that night, there was more pastoral care packed into those cells than in any seminary. Despite the food, the cold temperature in the cells, the hard floors, and the glaring fluorescent lights, somebody said, "I can hardly consider this a sacrifice; these are the kind of people I'd pay to spend a night with."

We orchestrated an arrangement that allowed everyone a small space on the cement floor or a bench, but there wasn't much sleep that night for anyone. We women were awakened at 5 a.m. for breakfast, and greeted the morning with prayerful singing of "Amazing Grace." Our singing woke up the men, and one said later that it was like waking up in heaven.

We were anxious to see what breakfast might be. Much to our surprise, it was two baloney sandwiches and a donut. One man exclaimed, "Hallelujah, I think they've shot a fresh baloney!" and another wondered whether we might go down in resistance history as "The Baloney 242."

We were transferred to holding cells below the D.C. court. In a police wagon on the way, recalling our bold singing of "We are not afraid" in the cathedral the night before, one man began a meek rendition of "We're not very afraid," which brought smiles to the others in the wagon.

Arraignment, which began at 10 that morning, was an all-day process. Two special courtrooms had been set up to handle us. John Lunsford, who had volunteered the time of his law firm, which works primarily with low-income tenants, had suggested that we choose 10 people to be prepared to face the judge first. While we were waiting in cells for the court proceedings to begin, one 74-year-old woman suggested, "I vote we send the grandmothers' caucus in first; that'll soften the judge."

The judges listened to all the testimonies in court that day. Some of our group spoke about their conscience, their Christian faith, the dangerous era that the nation is entering with first-strike weapons. Many shared out of their experience with the homeless, the handicapped, the hungry--the many victims of the current budget priorities that feed the machinery of war and abandon the poor. Their witness for peace at the Capitol was an extension of their daily commitment to justice.

The judges sentenced everyone uniformly to a $50 fine or five days in jail. When a few asked if their sentences could be changed to community service, a request which has been honored in the D.C. court before, one judge replied, "To be sentenced to what you spend your lives doing is hardly a punishment."

Many of the testimonies were very moving and spoke of deep faith and courage. Dick Taylor, a father and peace worker from Philadelphia, said before the judge, "A retired admiral has said that nuclear deterrence means simply that, a few minutes after the Soviets have killed all our children, we can have the satisfaction of killing all their children. I went into the Rotunda to plead for our children, and for their children."

A psychologist from Germany stated in her testimony, "At Nuremburg after World War II the government of the United States told the German people that we had a personal responsibility to stand up and say no to a great evil. I was in the Rotunda yesterday to say no."

One of the judges, who had been a felony judge for many years, confessed later to one of our lawyers that Monday was the hardest day he had had as a judge. When the day was over, 236 had pleaded guilty to the charge of "unlawful demonstration"; the eight who pleaded not guilty will go to trial some time this summer. Fifty-three chose to serve jail time instead of paying the fine.

Emma Williams, one of our neighbors, was with us in the courtroom through all the proceedings offering her faithful support. When she discovered that people from Sojourners were choosing to go to jail, she explained that she and some of the other neighbors had been able to scrape together from their meager resources $57 to help pay our fines. Deeply touched, we gratefully declined.

Our jail time continued to be a rich extension of the witness. As several of us sat in our cells at the end of the week, however, we received a shock. We were listening to the radio that blares almost around the clock over the jail's intercom. A "week in brief" news bulletin interrupted the music to report on Peace Pentecost, ending with, "Many of the protesters chose to spend five years in jail rather than pay the $50 fine." We gulped and hoped that our lawyers had properly informed us.

One of the lawyers told us later that we had been arrested under a statute applicable only in the Capitol that prohibits singing in the Rotunda. One of the men who was arrested responded, "I've never been accused of singing in my life. I should have pleaded not guilty. It may be that some of us were actually arrested for singing badly in the Rotunda."

We were very encouraged by how widely our witness was seen. Press coverage of Peace Pentecost was not only extensive, but also amazingly true to the spirit of the events. Dale Aukerman, a Church of the Brethren pastor from Maryland, was viewed being arrested by his mother-in-law in Germany on German television. Unfortunately, our plea for peace did not turn around the U.S. Congress. The day after our entrance into the Rotunda, funding for the MX missile system was approved.

But that fact reminded us again that our actions will not save us, that our most important task is to be faithful to God's plan for peace, whatever may be the consequences and setbacks. We had touched something of the power of the Spirit and were shown again that we need only claim the power of the Spirit and know that Christ has already conquered the principalities and powers.

Peace Pentecost was like an experience of loaves and fishes. We began with so little: an idea and a hope. But these were multiplied by the faithfulness of so many who laid themselves open to the power of the Spirit. Many bonds were strengthened and new friendships formed. The departures were sad, and many left with the question, "When are we going to get together to do this again?"

We at Sojourners feel the deepest gratitude and love for all who contributed their gifts to Peace Pentecost, the list of whom is too long to include. We give thanks for all those who came to be with us and for those who stayed home with children or commitments to keep hospitality houses open and soup kitchens running; for those who held supportive prayer services and vigils in their own churches and communities; for those who pray every day for peace, and live their lives in a way that speaks peace.

We are being called forward on a long road. The best part is the message that was so clear through all of Peace Pentecost: we are being led on that road together, and great is the company. As we move into the difficult days ahead, which will call for even greater risks, I pray that we might remember the words of the song that came to mean so much to all of us:

Be not afraid,
I go before you always.
Come, follow me,
And I will give you rest.

May we remember, as we felt so deeply from the Washington Cathedral to the D.C. jail, that the Spirit is in the singing. And the song will go on forever.

Joyce Hollyday was associate editor of Sojourners when this article appeared.