“Peace Be Upon You!” When violence finally fell silent

Long ago, when the world was going to hades in a basket, I was in North Africa, fighting for the liberation of a people oppressed by a majority population and its racist administration. Our job was to support ordinary people wherever we could and stand between them and oppressive police forces.

We were the left versus the religious right within a nation so poor that thievery was sometimes the only way a family could survive. Yet crime could be met with brutal punishment, including the severing of a hand or foot, according to what I witnessed and understood at the time.

While in North Africa, I witnessed bizarre, horrifying and wonderful things. One event stirred my imagination that, afterward, I became a believer in the spirit of humanity and even that God did exist. A confirmed atheist became a believer in the possibility that a power existed that could transform a person of violence into something else.

Protests were a daily event. We attended as a policing action, protecting those who could not protect themselves. The security forces were often conscripts from poor families. We knew this and allowed them much leeway in how they responded to peaceful protesters. Often, a protest escalated into violence. Then all hell broke loose.

Local taxes had risen significantly, and the authorities made sure those taxes were paid, even if a family would starve. The protest was peaceful at first, but violence erupted. We tried to separate the security forces from the protesters, but to no avail.

Then something happened that brought silence to the scene. A V formation opened as someone entered the crowd and walked toward its center. A little woman, helped by a priest, a mullah and other elderly men, walked into the fray in silence. They stood looking at us as if asking a question.

Then they raised their hands toward the sky and shouted, “Peace Be Upon You.”

That statement (question, advice, hope and prayer) had the desired effect upon people filled with anger, fatalism and little hope.

These working people, young and old, helped each other toward their homes, coffee shops and the market. They dispersed peacefully.

The security forces arrested and took these peaceful angels away. What crime had they committed? To call out for peace was not a crime, was it?

We could not find out who the little lady was. The priest and mullah were released unharmed. Some of the elderly who helped the woman were never seen again.

The greeting carried enormous weight for locals. The message “Peace Be Upon You,” was a call and prayer to God. It also meant there was another way to deal with an oppressive regime. Like Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi and so many other servants of peace and justice throughout the world, these elderly citizens inspired peace, initiating within me a transformation of mind, spirit and soul.

I left my comrades a few months later and travelled the world looking for something to fill my inner void. Revolution, social causes and antifascist attitudes needed to be grounded in something. My belief in humanity was one such thing, but was humanism enough? Was there something else? Did I have the courage to stand up to armed men as the little lady did?

I ventured into a small chapel in Paris, France. I observed good people going to Mass and remained in my pew, thinking: Is faith in God an alternative?

An elderly friar in the next town told me I could search for God or wait to be called. So, I waited years to hear the call, and then I received an offer I could not refuse…