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My Experience at a Peace Rally
Kevin O'Brien - January 18, 2003

I was delighted when my oldest brother called me up and invited me to go to D.C. to march in the peace rally this past weekend.

Instantly, I thought about my friends who lived in Fairfax, VA whom I hadn’t seen in several years. It would give me an excuse to see them again.

I called them and soon they were expecting us. Tomi would make plans to go to the grocery store so she could fix us a magnificent meal after the rally.

My brother, Mike, and I left Canton around 2:00 a.m. Saturday and drove straight through to Fairfax.

After introductions and directions on how to use the Metro, Tom drove us to the station, dropped us off and said “have fun!”

By the time we arrived at the Mall, the speeches had already started. A helicopter hovered overhead and Mike and I joked that it was probably taking our pictures and adding them into the NSA’s files, or CIA’s, or FBI’s, or…

Mike tells me not to look up and then chuckles.

We joined the mob of people – many carrying signs that went from creative: “Draft beer, Not Me” to down right vulgar.

It was a cold but sunny and calm day. I felt proud to be there and stand up for something that I believe in because of my fear of what might happen to us in retaliation for attacking Iraq.

People wondered how many of us were in attendance. Next day, the Washington Post said that the police estimated about 30,000 while the organizers estimated 500,000. I just had to laugh at the absurdity of both estimates.

At one point, my brother and I needed to split up which allowed me to wander around without concern about losing him in the crowd.

I listened for a while to the many speakers that were there that day. For the most part, it was the same kind of stuff I had heard at an earlier peace rally in Cleveland.

What struck me again was how much anger seemed to be in the voices of many of the speakers and how, the angrier they seemed to get, the more it would rile the crowd.

Something intuitive in me thought that there has to be a better way than this – at least for me. Anger, like violence, begets more of itself.

I understood the outrage but the anger wasn’t resonating with me. Not that day and not in Cleveland either.

So I decided to walk past the crowd and walk up to the Capitol Building. I had never been up close and personal to it before and now I had the opportunity.

Police were all over the place but I found them pleasant and hoped that they weren’t too cold.

As I started walking up the stairs to the Capitol, I looked at the huge, freshly renovated dome and tears started to fill my eyes.

Behind me were thousands of people who were protesting loudly against attacking Iraq. In front of me was a building which has become the nation’s symbol of democracy that is responsible for the angry voices in the near distance being able to express their opinions.

I was proud of that irony.

Here was the building that houses both Congress and Senate. Here, legislators will debate the merits of going to war – or not.

I didn’t carry a sign. I didn’t chant. It just didn’t seem to fit with who I am.

As I got to the base of the building, I turned to get a higher perspective on the people in the mall. They were cradled between the Capitol Building and the Washington Monument.

Though I am Catholic, it has always made sense to me to draw from other religious traditions those things that seem true to my soul.

So I pulled out my mala – a strand of sandalwood beads used by Buddhists to aid in meditation.

Native Americans use a tradition called “smudging” whereby they use sage to purify a person or place.

Jesus gave us the Our Father.

So I combined this trinity and decided to walk around the entire Capitol Building smudging it with Our Father prayers which I tracked on my mala.

This simple, quiet and unobtrusive act seemed more meaningful to me and made the whole trip worthwhile even if it only lasted a short time.

Later, I reconnected with my brother and we walked with the crowd toward the Naval Yard.

At several points, there were people with signs who were in favor of attacking Iraq. One sign said: “Pacifists are the parasites of democracy.” Another said: “We gave peace a chance. We got 9/11.”

This, as you might imagine, evoked a less-than-peaceful response from the marchers.

It came to mind that I was witnessing a microcosm of the very international situation that we were protesting – entrenched people unwilling to make the effort to listen and enter into constructive dialogue.

There has got to be a better way.

I don’t personally know of many people who love war. My guess is that even if the people who are in favor of attacking Iraq were asked if a peaceful resolution could be found to solve the situation in Iraq, would they be in favor of it, that most would say “yes.”

After Mike and I returned to my friend’s house, I said that I was going to organize an hour of silent prayer for peace at the monastery where I worship. My friends said that they would be willing to do something like that.

We sat around the dinner table, shared stories, did a lot of laughing and I relaxed in the company of my good friends.

And there was my brother sitting at the one head of the table – my brother, the peace marcher.

At the other head was my friend and host – Tom, a retired colonel.