Editor’s Note: The Minnesota campaign held a Mother's Day Convocation for a More Peaceful World in Mahtomedi, MN on May 10, 2008.

Five teenagers opened the program by reading statistics on the toll of violence. After each statistic young Eric Skog struck the big crystal bowl sounding a deep ring. Each "toll" of violence was followed by a "hope"' also read by one of our teen activists. Here are a couple they read:

The next speaker was Victoria Safford, minster of our host church, White Bear Unitarian Universalist. She gave a moving talk on the origins of Mother’s Day. She highlighted the work of Anna Jarvis in Taylor County West Virginia. Anna Jarvis founded "Mother’s Day Friendship Clubs" which refused to take sides in the Civil War. Instead they provided nursing services and taught sanitation methods. After the war, the clubs continued as a gathering of neighbors who often differed politically.

Ami Bryant, a wonderful gospel-style singer then sang her own song "Let Me Be Peace." Lynette Ford and her son came to the front next. Domestic violence made Lynette homeless several years ago. A few months ago she moved from Minneapolis out to this suburban community of Mahtomedi. She’d seen a flyer for the Mother’s Day program posted at the local library and contacted me to see how she could help. She read a poem she’d written celebrating her journey back from the effects of violence.

Hennepin County Commissioner Gail Dorfman started her talk by telling about the homeless man who’d changed her life a few years ago. He was the most dapper of panhandlers when she met him. He called himself "The Reverend." When she’d asked him what could be done to help those experiencing homelessness he said, "You can start by listening." That’s what members of the Minneapolis City Council and the County Commissioners did. Several years later the program has evolved to Homelessness Connect. They take over the massive Minneapolis Convention Center a couple of times a year providing, legal services, voice mail set ups, housing information, dental care, hair cuts, a one-stop-shop of no-questions-asked services. 1,300 volunteers served over 2,300 guests experiencing homelessness. Gail said the last time she’d seen "The Reverend" he didn’t look so good. The conditions of homelessness itself are violent, Gail reminded us.

Next Sami Rasouli spoke. "This is Iraq," Sami Rasouli said. He picked up the crystal tumbler from the pulpit and poured. The suburban audience stilled. The glass was etched with a map of the world and seems to fit perfectly in Rasouli’s hand. Water streamed on to the floor, just missing the polished wood of the pulpit. A few shifted in the pews. I feel very uncomfortable.

Sami lives in Najaf. For many years he was a business owner in Minneapolis. He considers himself 100% Iraqi and 100% American. It makes him 200% human. That, he says, can be very painful. He talked about the lost generations of Iraqi youth. He talked about the concrete walls being built throughout the country. At one point coughing overcame him. He turned his back. The veins on his temple pumped. "The depleted uranium," he says, "so radio active when the wind blows the dust up."

He takes questions. A man, saying he’d served in Viet Nam, asks Sami about chaos should the U.S. leave abruptly. Answering, Sami refers to the water he’d poured out earlier. "What I did then was wrong. I said it was wrong. I apologized.  If I were to pour out more, now, in this beautiful church would that be less wrong? No, we must stop the wrong we are doing."

Congressman Ellison was next. He spoke about flying over Bagdad in a Black Hawk helicopter. Where there once would have been the lights of a major city he now saw fires. These were fires for warmth, the fires to cook, the fires for light. He encouraged activists to take some time to thank those who have been steadfastly against the war from the beginning, Maxine Waters for instance. Congressman Ellison also expressed grave concern about the possibility of a new war with Iran.

We concluded by singing together. The words ending the verse were "Oh hear my song, oh God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine."

As Sami Rasouli was packing to leave he pulled out two well worn business cards, State Department officials from the Green Zone he said. Miki Kastan of Bay Area NVC had helped to put him in touch. We can all be proud to be part of this campaign. Connecting good-hearted people seems a small thing in the face of all the challenges faced in Iraq, but we can be grateful to have a small role for the better.

I never remember right before a program begins why I am doing it. Why take the trouble. Why put in the effort? Why risk failure and ridicule? When these programs are over, so rich with gifts and insight and hope I always end up wondering how and why I ever doubt. It’s like the roller coaster poised at the top. If the drop wasn’t scary why would we bother? We always end up pulling safe and sound right back were we started, climbing out of the cars and asking each other, "Want to do it again?"

Violence: The Toll/The Hope