Washington D.C. The feeling was euphoric, almost elation. The hearing had come to a close- there was almost a collective exhale- a sigh and gasp of joy. As the crowd began to breath and chatter to break the silence, smiles broke out. Claps on the back, sighs of relief. "I started to cry during the hearing," said one friend, then another. “Me too,” I echoed, and we had to pause as the emotion of that moment was still powerfully present.
Something holy happened there in that moment. Tears are the language of God praying, they say. God’s prayers. Signs of holy presence. Hearings happen all the time; they are part of the bureaucratic political structure. It’s hard to measure exactly what will come out of it, or how immediately we will see any results in terms of an end to the political assassinations and accountability of the Armed Forces of the Philippines and U.S. military. There is much more follow up work to be done. We cannot yet say what the impact of it all is. But we can say that something holy happened there.
Rev. Mike Yoshii (who also attended this hearing) once mentioned at a retreat that his experience of the Congressional Hearings on Redress for Japanese Americans interned in WWII hearing was a pivotal spiritual experience for him. I think maybe I caught a glimpse of that. We always say that the spiritual is political, the political is spiritual. But still I didn’t expect a Senate hearing in the Nation’s Capitol with people dressed in suits and ties to be an experience of divine connection.
So what were those tears about? Perhaps they were tears of being heard. Not just by anyone - but tears that truth had been spoken and heard by the mighty and powerful. That somehow some "light had shined on the truth," as Senator Boxer said, as she commended the witnesses from the Philippines for doing the hard job of truth-telling when truth-telling can cost you your life.
Tears that some accountability was being administered. Hard questions were being asked of a State Department that dances around and hides, speaking in euphemisms about the U.S. war machine and the false democracy of our allies. Tears that the lies were being exposed. Tears that the story of the seven poor farmers massacred at dawn while working in their rice fields would be told here in the halls of the most powerful country in the world. That the senseless taking of their lives and the livelihoods of their surviving families would be lifted up at the same table where the State Department representative spun his web of half-truths. Life and truth would be spoken here. Just this act was so powerful.
Perhaps the tears were for of all those stories and individual lives lost and affected. We had heard testimony after testimony, report after report for a full day in the conference prior, yet somehow, the lives and spirits of the hundreds and their thousands of kin seeking justice filled the hall that day. Our tears were also for the delegation from the Philippines who have become our friends – and our fear and love as we say goodbye to them and they return to unknown conditions in the Philippines- where their protection is not guaranteed.
Towards the end of the hearing, Senator Boxer asked the witnesses testifying on the reality of the extrajudicial killings if they could ever recall a time in the past, a particular case, when the Philippine’s government was held accountable for its actions. First Marie from KARAPATAN, in her fragile voice, shook her head and said “No.” Followed by “No”, “No”, No” down the panel. Little more needed to be said.
A friend in attendance at the hearing, an immigrant from the Philippines said, “This is how the system is supposed to work," referring to the democratic process we had just witnessed. I am an ABC (American Born Chinese) so I take a lot of this for granted. I vote, but I am also more used to being on the outside of the political process – or at least the outside of the government buildings with signs, protesting and chanting. Maybe I thought that was where I felt most comfortable - because of my race, gender, political beliefs. I suppose that is where I assumed I would see and experience God- on the outside, not on the inside, engaging in the political process.
I have always been a critic of our so-called U.S. democracy that is so over-run by big-money and big business, cynical in thinking that all those letters and petitions that I sign do not really make a difference and that politicians don’t really care. Democracy and accountability in this country is a far cry from ideal, and even feels like a crapshoot sometimes, but it has been a powerful experience to see it at work, to see that it is possible, that we could have some access and recognition by our government leaders, and that justice did stand a chance.
There was something about that hearing process that reminded me of the New Testament story in Luke 5:17-21, the healing of the paralytic. Jesus is teaching and healing in a house, and a large crowd has gather, including the Pharisees and doctors of the Law who had come from every village in Galilee, from Judaea and Jerusalem. These were the powers-that-be, the top officials, the government leaders. A man who was paralyzed wanted to go to Jesus, to get close- perhaps he wanted to hear the teachings, to be healed, to be seen and touched by Jesus. But because of the crowds it was impossible. So with the help of his friends carrying him on his bed, they climb up on the roof and make a hole in the tiles and lower him down into the middle of the gathering in front of Jesus. Jesus is moved by their faith and the man is healed.
That’s a little of what it was like. There seemed to be no way to get in, to be heard by the powerful and mighty. So many issues and concerns, so many officials crowding the space and the airtime. Somehow we found a way to get into the halls of Congress. Like the healing story, it requires many, many hands and even unconventional measures. But as friends we will find a way to create a place inside. Just the getting there is holy in itself. Even if nothing more happened. But Jesus recognizes that faith, the man is recognized for what he is, not a paralytic, but as one who is faithful. How powerful, spiritually it is to be “recognized,” to be truly seen and known and understood- to be taken as one who can give witness and testament to the truth. How touching and healing it is for one to say, “Yes, of course, I see your pain and your suffering and your great faith. I recognize what is going on here. Come, welcome here into this place.” That happened in that hearing. When Senator Boxer understood what was being done in the Philippines, she said- “We don’t want another El Salvador here…we don’t want blood on our hands.”
To be heard and recognized by my government is part of that healing and holy moment. Isn’t that what our friends in the Philippines are asking of their government as well? That their cry for justice and the sanctity and worth of all people’s lives be recognized, that the ongoing economic and political suffering of the people be seen, acknowledged and truly addressed.
The hearing took place on the last day of the conference which was called, “A day of truth, reckoning and hope.” Indeed it was.
-Rev. Deborah Lee
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