I don’t talk about it very much. Mostly because it is, by now, ancient history. Also, because not many people want to understand why I would do such a thing. And, it turns out to be a great conversation stopper (lots of umm-hmm and feet shuffling after it is revealed). So I don’t bring it up much. But since the war has, at long last, come, I thought I would reflect on some things I learned during that time. Not because I expect that my reflection will change the course of things, but simply so I can go on record describing how I think war with Iran is a disaster–and so unnecessary.
Many people (though by no means all) agree that trying to follow the teaching of Jesus as it relates to “love of enemy” is a pretty noble thing… At least in theory. When it comes to actually putting it into practice with a real enemy–a flesh-and-blood one as opposed to a theoretical one–I have learned that most people think it is just plain crazy. Especially if that enemy is the president (if not the true leader) of a nation described by some as a “death cult.” But I want to be really clear that I did what I did because I was aspiring to follow the teachings of the Nazarene. Back then, I might have called myself a Christian. No longer. But then, as now, I take the teachings of the man as the source of a normative social ethic that I try to follow (often poorly).
In any case, when I got the phone call from the Iranian Ambassador to the UN (there is no such Ambassador to the US, of course), I knew this was going to be an experience that would test some pretty fundamental things about my true commitments (and those of the organization with which I worked). I was the Executive Director of the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) — the relief, development, and peacebuilding arm of the Mennonite Church in North America (Google “Mennonite” to learn more about who these people are). I won’t go into all the reasons why the Ambassador called me, but, in brief, it was because the Mennonites had helped out the Iranian people after a major earthquake in Iran in 2003. That help turned into a long-term relationship between Mennonites (Mennos from here on out), the Iranian Red Crescent and some notable (and powerful) Islamic clerics.
The Mennos were honest partners, good interlocutors and willing to discuss all manner of issues related to faith and practice with inquisitive Iranian theological students. One of these had come to the US to study at a Menno institution in VA and had found the experience transformative in many ways. After his return home this man had risen up through the ranks of the Iranian foreign service but had maintained ties with his Menno friends.
Then Mahmoud Ahmedinijad was elected president and decided to attend the UN General Assembly. This was 2006. Though I had not fully recognized it then, my days with MCC were almost over. I was a lousy leader and was on my way to resigning once that finally hit home (a story for another day, perhaps). Still, I was the big boss, and so I got the call with the following request: Would the Mennonites be willing to organize and host a meeting of American religious leaders with the President? The “student” was in a high enough position to have recommended this, and his recommendation had been accepted.
In the event, I told the Ambassador that I would need to discuss it with my staff but that we would be in touch soon. Thus began an extended series of discussions, meetings, phone calls and periods of reflection. Through it all my conviction grew that we needed to try to meet with this man and that we needed to show hospitality in doing so. I had worked for many years in Muslim lands and had been fundamentally transformed by what I had experienced in terms of the hospitality that had been extended to me (again, some stories for another day). I knew that Americans were generally pretty unaware of what showing hospitality entails and rarely practiced it. So, as the weeks went by this idea remained clear in my mind: “we must show this man proper hospitality.”
Beyond that, nothing was coming together at all. Though my staff finally agreed that we could host a meeting (they were a pretty risk-averse group), and, though the MCC Board also agreed to move ahead, we could not find any church of any size in New York who would be willing to host the meeting. It is important to keep in mind that the President was not permitted to travel outside New York City (I think he was limited to a 15 mile radius around the UN).
In the end, we decided to rent a room in a hotel not far from the UN and the Quakers (the Friends Service Committee to be exact) offered to host it with us. Many other denominations expressed “an interest” in attending, but all feared the repercussions, so it was left to a couple of small “peace churches” to put this thing on.
We decided that we would welcome the President and then ask him some questions about his and his followers’ statements about Israel and the US (death to both, was a common chant from his folks). Slowly, some other Christian groups came on board to participate, but they wanted to avoid talking to the man, and many were on the phone at the last minute getting clearance to attend. The politics were comical–we were just going to sit with the President for about an hour and discuss how our faith should inform how we acted in the world. Why was that hard?
It was a strange and incongruous gathering. We represented no one but ourselves, while the President represented (ostensibly) an entire nation. We had no power, no sanction, no authority. And so we offered what we had: an open hand and open heart, and the exchange of ideas, peppered with hard questions about violent language and murderous intent. Mind you, we knew who we were: citizens of a nation with the most destructive military the world had ever seen. We acknowledged that.
The President was not OUR enemy, but he and his country were clearly the enemy of ours.
I remember feeling like “What am I doing here? What does this even mean? What is the point? We are no one. This changes nothing.”
And maybe it didn’t.
Ahmedinijad had wanted a “dialogue of civilizations.” Around the time of our meeting, his predecessor, Mohammad Khatemi, had delivered a profound and compelling speech to a packed house at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. I attended that event and was stunned by the depth of thought and articulation of the principles that could foster dialogue between the US and Iran. Indeed, all the news articles following Khatemi’s speech highlighted the “dialogue” aspect of his speech. I will never forget that night. Ahmedinijad wanted, I guess, to practice that dialogue, but he was no Khatemi. Whereas Khatemi was an intellectual, Ahmedinijad was a bare-knuckled politician. He was holding the meeting with us to show his partisans back home that he had the capacity to do what Khatemi could only talk about.
We knew we were being played for an Iranian audience and Iranian politics. Though we were accused of it, we were not naive. We went in with our eyes open.
Our only commitment was to try to live out our understanding of the radical nature of peacebuilding. We were prepared to take the long view (or, as Paul Farmer famously said, “To live the long defeat”).
In the end, all I can really say about the event and the aftermath are the following:
- We welcomed him. We offered a venue and a space to say, “You are human, we are human.” There was nothing more profound than that: sitting with an “enemy” to witness to our commitment to peace.
- We upset a lot of people. In the weeks and months afterward, I crossed the country to defend what we had done and answer the angry questions of people who could not understand why we would do that. I answered as best I could, but convinced very few of the meeting’s value.
- We met political leaders in DC. They were stunned that we had done it… And begged us for details of the meeting. We answered their questions simply and asked them to commit to not waging war on Iran (it was on the table at that time).
I have no illusions. The meeting was not even an apostrophe in the long history of US/Iranian relations (which, keep in mind, begain in the 1950s, NOT the 1970s).
What I learned before and after is that looking at the people of Iran was/is like looking in the mirror. They are human. Their leaders fail them. They want to raise their children in peace and live their lives in security. They are us. That is what I learned.
Meeting with the President was like meeting with any politician–a lot of games, posturing, and playing for the camera, and not much else.
Would I do it again? Yes. Without hesitation.
I have come to believe that the change we want comes through the daily acts of faithfulness to what we believe. I know that change is never in the shock and awe, in the posturing that finds its way onto social media, or in the proclamations of the “powerful.” Change comes from showing love towards others, from practicing compassion in the face of hostility, and from forgiving (ourselves and others). I am committed to that, but I need to take a VERY long view to live day to day.
So, now we are at war with Iran.
And, yes, I am devastated. We know this will end badly, and the people who will be hurt the most are those who merely want to live in peace. What I saw in the eyes of the President was a people. A people so like us that it took my breath away to consider that leaders of my nation might seek to destroy them.
I wish I could be with them in their hour of devastation–to weep with them, to mourn with them–for what we have done, for what they have experienced. I wish I could welcome them in the same way I welcomed the President, and we could reason together in a dialogue of peace.
Traveling at the Speed of Bike 