On Wednesday May 29th protestors at UBC blocked the intersection of University Boulevard and Wesbrook Avenue. Their cries for Rafah filled the air. When I came by there were not many people present to listen.
The UBC bound buses were lined up far off campus and folks were finding alternate routes to work and to class. More officers were present than anyone else to witness these cries resisting complicity in the suffering of the people of Gaza.
Upon being threatened with arrest if they didn’t exit the intersection, the protestors moved into campus. They settled under the Canadian Flag just south of the Rose Garden to seek the attention of recent UBC graduates and their families. The brilliant blue sky and a warming sun rested upon us all as the air was filled with the singsong chants of protest.
Most people seemed unfazed.
Last week I was in the Chan Centre for convocation. Two students unfurled banners reminding the audience that there are no universities left in Gaza. In this war with Hamas, Israel has destroyed them all. When these students stood banners spread wide with the UBC President for their graduation picture, the congregation clapped.
What were we applauding?
I’m not sure. There was only one worthy response in my mind: tears. But how can a people unversed in lament shed tears on a day of celebration? We are so impoverished. We reflexively congratulated everyone. The violence of enmity heard no clear voice of judgement and peace found no champions.
“My eyes fail from weeping, I am in torment within;
my heart is poured out on the ground
because my people are destroyed,
because children and infants faint
in the streets of the city.”
Lamentations 2:11
At some agreed upon moment the chorus under the flag decided to move on with bicycles and banners beside them. Slowly they marched up Main Mall, crying out “not in my name,” until they turned at the Martha Piper Plaza, past the fountain, down the hill, and past the Musqueam Post, where I suppose some returned to the encampment.
I continued prayerfully down Main Mall to the Reconciliation Pole. I have made this walk many times. It’s part of what I call the Way of the Cross at UBC.
One of the curious landscape features of the “university squeezed into the forest” is that it has been built up around a cross. Along the ridge of the hill traversed by the Musqueam people for generations is a double sidewalk cross, a remnant of the original Beaux Arts vision for the campus. The arms of the cross reach out west to Wreck Beach and east to the City of Vancouver. The centre pole extends from the Forestry field up to the Rose Garden overlooking the magnificent Straight of Georgia.
On this walk here are some of the turns in my reflections and prayers.
“And they placed a crown of thorns on his head.”
In the years since 1915, UBC has been building alongside and around the cross. In recent years the cross has been animated with markers of spiritual significance to me. The Rose Garden at the “top” reminds me of the crown of the thorns marring the head of Jesus, who was present in the beginning as Creator. He came to His own but His own would not have Him.
… Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord… suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried…
The power of government, the state, of empire was on display in the Cross of Christ as they carried out the crucifixion of a carpenter turned rabbi. Today the power of government is represented by the Flag waving brilliantly in the wind and clambering for supremacy in our affections. But here thankfully, the Maple Leaf, is also a marker of some human rights we cherish and that were on full display today. In the face of such power Jesus said, “Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.”
“Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”
The fountain at the heart of campus reminds me of Jesus’ promise that all who believe in Him will have life flowing like a stream rising up from within them. To my left the small stream flowing down the hill at UBC reminds me of the heavenly vision in Revelation and our yearning for the healing of the nations. The protestors turned here but gave no pause to refresh themselves by contemplating these waters.
“But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” Romans 5:8
I do not turn with the protestors but continue prayerfully down Main Mall for it is the foot of the cross that beckons me. When I arrive at the Reconciliation Pole all is quiet. The growing sections of recently planted fireweed move gently in the breeze as a group of students listen attentively to learn the stories the Pole tells.
I recall the day the Pole was raised. The public had been invited to assist with the raising. I had watched the team of artists under the direction of Haida master carver, James Hart, continue to prepare the Pole after it was delivered from Haida Gwaii. I found it enlightening to see that an artistic process of several years was continuing “up to the last minute.” And so I recognized that the Pole we raised was not raised as a completed work of art, but as an ongoing participatory process much like reconciliation.
My family had listened to speeches from elders and survivors of residential schools. These dear people now carried the trauma of degrading and dehumanizing abuse. The hands and tongues of men and women from several church societies had scarred the bodies and crushed the souls of so many children on behalf of the Canadian government. The 57,000 copper nails in the pole had been driven in as cathartic acts of remembrance.
And then before I realized it, the Pole was standing tall and secure. It rises now like a nail on the horizon, in the feet of Jesus, anchoring the Cross to the ground at UBC. Around this Pole our interconnected lives tell the tales of complicity in much injustice against people in this world. In today’s global economies it is hard to escape being the beneficiary of injustices whether historic or ongoing.
I have taken shelter for my soul in the Kingdom of Jesus — which is not of this world — but that does not mean I am sheltered from the relationships and the realities of my neighbours. Reconciliation elevates and reconciliation humbles for there is only level ground at the foot of the Cross. I am reminded that we are all tempted to neglect the Creator’s ways for living well in relationship with Him, with self, with people, and with the wonderful stuff of earth.
Jesus’ death on the Cross shows me that reconciliation requires something: laying down my life. Jesus said His life was not taken from Him, but that He had authority to lay it down and to take it up again. This is how enemies are turned into friends. The Cross of Jesus is continuing to do it’s work in me, I die to self — that is — I am abandoning the pursuit of self-righteousness and am seeking to enter into the freedom of being loved by our Father in heaven. And once at ease in the freedom of being loved, one can love.
Both the Cross of Christ and the Reconciliation Pole have hope built into my consideration of them. Jesus the Christ rose from the dead and the eagle on top of the Pole is poised to take flight above the two canoes making their way forward. Good futures are available to us.
But my true and lasting hope is in Jesus.
As I walk back up Main Mall I breath out this simple prayer for Gaza, for Israel, for us:
Κύριε, ἐλέησον.
Χριστέ, ἐλέησον.
Κύριε, ἐλέησον.
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy
On us all.
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