To be clear, I am a pacifist. I do not believe in war.
I believe in peace, and I believe in justice.
I don’t know much about Syria. I couldn’t point it out on a map right now. I don’t know much about the cultures or traditions there, nor do I know much about the people. When I do a search, I see it is illegal to be in a same sex relationship there. But that is not what is on my mind.
I am being honest when I say to Syria, “I do not know you, just as you do not know me. But, I love you. I am thinking of you. My heart hurts for you.”
I do not believe in a military strike which will cause some kind of damage to innocents for sure – whether it be psychological damage, emotional trauma, physical injury, financial ruin, etc.
No matter how limited it is, someone will get hurt.
And so will we. And so will those who order and carry it out – even if they are unaware of the cost.
But this post is not about war or being anti-war.
This post is not about government or foreign policy or politics or LGBT rights around the world.
This post is about Syrians, the people – made in the very image of God. Worthy of respect and love, bearers of infinite worth.
Years ago, I watched a movie on Sundance. I don’t remember anything about it.
Except that it took place in Syria.
And I remember the meal they ate together and how they danced outside in a back yard with lights hung and how people from the town joined in the celebration and contributed music, singing, refreshments, and laughter.
I remember that I enjoyed it so much that I looked up “Syrian” on a recipe website. I saved the location for soup, hummus, and pita bread.
I got too busy. I never made the meal.
Today, I remembered that meal, and I talked it over with my wife.
We will share a Syrian meal together in the next few days.
We will light a candle, literally and figuratively,
and we will remember you Syria.
We will pray for you – all of you.
We will remember.
We will break bread with you.
We will eat soup alongside of you.
We will take of the earth and share in the hopes and fears.
We love you, Syria.
I wish so badly that the road to Damascus would give us a revelation again. One of love and peace. One of nonviolence.
We stand with you. You are our brothers and our sisters. You are loved.
Will you join us friends? In this act of solidarity and contemplative prayer?
These are the recipes we will be using:
Please light a candle, break bread, and join us in remembering.