(For other essays, see <www.brightworks.com/quaker/midpas.html> and for general information about the Pilgrimage, see <www.interfaithpilgrimage.com> To reach me by email: skipschiel@gmail.com. Or by snail-mail: 9 Sacramento St, Cambridge MA 02138. Comments appreciated.)
Many felt we needed a ritual to use at sites of suffering and hope. The purpose: to offer prayers to those who have suffered from slavery and racism, and to those who build racial and economic justice. This would be a ritual that would transform the energy of a site, from destructive to constructive. We visit former slave quarters, sites of drug dealing and violence, prisons, community centers, and massacre and lynching sites What to do while there? Merely be a tourist? Simply use our universal Buddhist prayer for peace and justice, Namu Myoho RengeKyo? Each give from our private hearts?
In New Haven Connecticut, we stopped suddenly at a high plateau, the land now barren. Only grass and a basketball court. Nearby were small houses, a large building complex and the river. I felt a bleakness, as if something once vital had existed there. An omission, a loss. There I first experienced the newly created, black-led ritual.
African-American leaders called all black and Indian people into the inner circle. Japanese and white people formed the outer circle. Earline led a chant or prayer in the African traditionñto the ancestors, children of the future, grandfather, and grandmother. Tizita gave a libation, or pouring of water, in circles and the four directions, accompanied by Yoruba words. Smitty called out, "So it is written, so it is done " He waved one of the African national flags over all in the inner circle. In the circleís center, people placed apples, raisins, a Pilgrimage flyer, more water, and other materials from their possessions or collected nearby. Nosapocket, from the People of the First Light (Wampanoag), burned sage, spreading it with a feather over each participant. I stood in the outer circle, not sure how to respond, what to do, what the meaning or intent of the inner circle was. Even when the inner circle joined the outer circle and all were invited to offer prayers or gifts, I felt separated, somewhat excluded, clearly not of the black community. What community was I part of, and what was my role in this ritual?
Later that afternoon, lounging in the gymnasium serving as our overnite site, we formed a circle to discuss about the ritual and what the roles of the various races were. Japanese people were feeling excluded. Some European-Americans believed they should act as protectors, facing outward. Others felt they should be looking in, participating by looking. This was my perspective. One white woman said, "I have an inter-racial child, and feel pushed out by this ritual." Blacks were mostly united in believing this was a ritual they were responsible to design and conduct, but divided about the role of non-blacks.
We couldn't resolve the various points of view in our discussion circle. We continued to use the ritual, most notably at a place in Philadelphia where 14 years earlier the police had killed some 10 people that were part of a miltiant black organization, M.O.V.E., and at an auction site in Wilmington Delaware that was also a mansion owned by the Dupont family.
A further question emerged for me: the objects offered, apples, bananas, and other food, flyers, and the water. What does leaving these things mean? Am I being too literal in wondering why let food rot in the sun? What is the root of this part of the ritual? I realize it might be African tradition, but, for the moment, this means little to me. I'm aware that offerings are made on Buddhist altars, but these items-including 50 pound sacks of rice-are later removed and eaten. So, for now, I don't participate in this part of the ritual, but find alternatives. At a river location in Camden New Jersey, where enslaved Africans were allegedly landed (should I be skeptical about some of the claims local people make for their history, ask for verification?), I remained after the larger group had departed, and tossed coins in the water, not asking for goodluck, as is one tradition, but giving to the water something of value to me. Or I offer my photographs, or my silence, or my internal prayers.
Here you might see my dilemma: a wish to comply with a ritual designed by others, using traditions that are removed from mine, wishing to learn from our leaders, to honor them and their intent and practice, while remaining true to my heritage as a European descendent, with a practice that is grounded in the west, Christianity, Quakerism, and art. I need to learn more about how I can pray at sites of turmoil, wounds, pain, blood, at sites made holy by suffering. And I need to learn how to celebrate resistance, resurrection of the spirit, coming to a practice that is true to me, and accords with our group.