Showing posts with label Pantex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pantex. Show all posts

Breaking With the "Quiet-in-the-Land" Stereotype of Mennonites



Breaking With “The Quiet-in-the-Land” Stereotype of Mennonites-

Becketwood Midweek Gathering Talk by Steve Clemens, 1/31/24

 

People who followed a former Roman Catholic priest, Menno Simons, and were part of the movement referred to as the Radical Reformation were called Mennonites. In the early 1500s as Martin Luther and John Calvin and others were breaking away from the Roman Catholic Church, a group of mostly young “radicals” felt the Protestant Reformation did not go far enough in several ways: these groups often called for a separation of church and state, embraced nonviolence rather than using the sword to coerce religious “conversion”, stressed communal living or shared resources, often called for more Biblical literacy, rejected separateness of priests/clergy by stressing the “priesthood of all believers”, and often encouraged personal piety and sober living. A group of these radicals were called a slur- “Anabaptist” meaning re-baptizer - since they rejected infant baptism, insisting that only as an adult could one make a confession of faith.  They were routinely persecuted as heretics by both Catholic and Protestant leaders and governments. Infant baptism was the way one became a member of that “state”. These small movements were identified by nicknames - often after so-called “leaders” of the groups Mennonites after Menno Simons; Amish after Jacob Ammon; Hutterites after Jacob Hutter; Schwenkfelders after Caspar Schwenkfeld von Ossig; Swedenborgians after Emmanuel Swedenborg; Moravians after the area of Europe from which they fled. Because they were considered by church and governmental leaders to be heretics, they often could not own land and were subjected to persecution and torture; many, in fact, were martyred for their faith.

 

Some of these groups found a new home in the early 1700s in the colony given to William Penn by the King of England as a reward for Penn’s father, an Admiral who saved the king’s life and his throne. Admiral Penn’s son, a convert to the Quaker movement in England, was determined to populate his colony with others who embraced a separation of church and state and did not want to “use the sword” nor pay taxes for the purpose of supporting an army or armed militia. Mennonites and others of these small movements were offered land and religious freedom in Penn’s colony. We can discuss later how this movement gradually and then more rapidly displaced the Lenape/Delaware indigenous peoples from their homelands – mostly through purchases of land but also by deceit rather than armed force.

 

Mennonites are considered one of three “Peace churches” along with the Quakers and the Church of the Brethren because traditionally their members refused military service and were recognized as conscientious objectors. Mennonites stressed that they were “citizens of the Kingdom of God” rather than claiming to be citizens of whatever governing state they lived in. They often said the state “rules by the sword” and it made no sense to them to vote because the President was also the “commander-in-chief” and, as pacifists, they would not weigh in on who might be a better leader of the military. Because of their refusal to carry weapons and their abstaining from voting and, instead, sticking to farming or other “useful” trades, they were often known as “the-Quiet-in-the-Land”. Some governments, including Catherine The Great, and Canada in the late 1800s, sought out Mennonites to settle there because they were good farmers and would not rise up in arms against the government.

 

My ancestors were recruited by William Penn to come to his colony and arrived in 1709, settling 30 miles north of Philadelphia. The Clemens families have remained on this land within 10 miles of that original homestead. My parents were raised in the Franconia Conference, one of the more conservative of several Mennonite conferences in eastern Pennsylvania. Despite his upbringing, my father went into the Army during WWII rather than declaring to be a conscientious objector. My parents had been “liberalized” by the Sunday School movement – rebelling against Mennonite traits such as hair coverings for women, no jewelry, no musical instruments in worship - but also insisting that they should proselytize others rather than just keeping their faith as a private matter between themselves, their church, and God.  They helped found a new congregation which was called Mennonite but never affiliated with any of the Mennonite conferences. I was baptized a Mennonite at age 12 but most of my Christian formation was in the form of evangelical theology.

 

I went to a Christian college prep school where I was exposed to other “Christians” – some were even Democrats! At the height of the US War on Vietnam, I entered Wheaton College in 1968 and I was enrolled in mandatory Army ROTC. A month and a half later, I turned 18 and registered for the draft as a Conscientious Objector. The next year I started participating in Draft Board demonstrations led by Maryknoll priest from the Catholic seminary in Glen Ellyn, IL, the town next to Wheaton.

 

 While at Wheaton I learned about the Anabaptists in a Church History course- a history mostly ignored in my childhood.

 

After graduating from Wheaton, I learned that a farmer-neighbor was now head of the Mennonite Central Committee’s Peace Section during the Vietnam era. I had been reading John Howard Yoder, Art Gish, William Stringfellow, and the Post-American which later became Sojourners Magazine and decided after a year of Grad School to embark on a year or two of “voluntary service” since my lottery number was too high to be drafted. Walton Hackman, that former neighbor, recommended that I consider spending a summer in rural Mississippi. Living in a poor Black neighborhood in the rural Mississippi Delta was an eye-opening, formative experience! Then I followed that with a year placement in Washington, DC at the Mennonite office on Capitol Hill.

 

In the fall 1974, enroute to my Washington, DC assignment, I met a man named Ladon Sheats at our Voluntary Service orientation. He showed a multimedia Values Presentation – contrasting values of God’s Kingdom vs US Culture. Using photos of current and historical events, advertising, music, and text like “I Am a Rock, I Am an Island” by Simon and Garfield and songs by the Moody Blues and Cat Stevens - he contrasted the values of interdependence vs independence; community and cooperation vs competition; brotherhood/sisterhood vs racial separation; simple living vs materialism; nonviolence vs militarism. (I clearly remember hearing the refrain of Cat Stevens’ song, Father and Son: “It’s not time to make a change, just relax and take it easy; You’re still young, that’s your fault, there’s so much you have to know …”). This presentation told us we must “CHOOSE which values you will live by.” It was a clear call for me to live out the values of my faith rather than being co-opted by the culture.  

 

My voluntary service assignment in DC was at the Mennonite Central Committee’s Peace Section Washington Office. It was designed to inform and educate Mennonite congregations around the country about national and foreign policy issues from a perspective of Christian discipleship. We focused on world hunger, the Vietnam War, the death penalty, food stamps and supplemental programs for the poor, criminal justice, US relations with other nations, civil and human rights, nuclear weapons, … It was a small 3-person office, but we networked and worked with other Protestant and Catholic church agencies; and Quaker, and Jewish advocacy groups as well. I attended many Congressional hearings, read legislative briefs, and attended meetings and conferences where these issues were discussed. We took Mennonite students on tours of the Pentagon, the CIA, and Congress.  


 

That year also saw me joining a weekly Bible Study group with former Catholic priest, Philip Berrigan and former nun, Liz McAlister where we discussed Biblical scripture in the context of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s book, The Prophets. Discussions with that study group led me to my first arrest - at the White House – in the last major demonstration against Vietnam War in March 1975, a month before the Saigon government fell. 61 of us were arrested including Dick Gregory, Jim Peck, Dan Berrigan, Liz McAlister. During the six hours in jail awaiting processing, I was meeting Ladon Sheats again -this time behind bars. He told me more about the intentional community he was part of in southwest Georgia and suggested I consider moving there after this year of service. I applied to become a volunteer there starting in September 1975, just before I turned 25.

 

Koinonia, the name of that intentional Christian Community, was founded in 1942 to be a “demonstration plot”- a group trying to live out the ideas of Jesus and the values of the Kingdom of God. One of the four adult founders was a Southern Baptist farmer who went to seminary and became a Greek scholar, Clarence Jordan. He became well-known for his “CottonPatch” translations of the Christian New Testament and as a powerful, yet humorous, preacher.

 

To become a member of that community, one was expected to embrace 5 values : Nonviolence, racial reconciliation, service to others, simple/compassionate living, and economic sharing - all under the umbrella of following the Way of Jesus. The community was ecumenical, lay-led, with people working and worshipping together. An active farm (raising pecans, peanuts, grapes, peaches, soybeans, and corn), an organic garden, an early childhood nursery and education center, and an affordable housing ministry were areas where we worked. A mail order business selling pecans, fruitcake, and candy was a significant source of revenue for the community as well as a source of jobs for local residents. Because of its embrace of racial reconciliation – with Blacks and whites working side-by-side, it became a target for the Klu Klux Klan and many other racist southern whites at least until the late 1970s.

 

Koinonia was the birthplace of the Habitat For Humanity movement which was modeled after the community’s housing ministry. A School of Radical Discipleship formed basis of Volunteer Program where people came for 3-4 months of work, study, and reflection. After completing those initial sessions and volunteering for at least a year, one could apply for Resident Partnership - the term used for members of the community. As a Partner, one was to practice divesture -you could not own your own house or car and were expected to live off a small monthly living and food allowance. The community provided housing, shared transportation, and a common noon meal. Our practice was one of a “common purse”. The joke was said that “we hold all things in common except our spouses!” The membership commitment was into the indefinite future – until one felt called elsewhere or died. The Partnership varied between 20 and 35 adult members plus 8-20 volunteers at any given time while I lived there from 1975-1990. Especially in the 1950s through the early 1970s, many Mennonite young men came there to do “alternative service” as conscientious objectors.

 

With nonviolence as a central tenant of Koinonia’s values, and with the War on Vietnam abruptly ending several months before, the community wrestled with creative ways to express our peacemaking values in the broader society. One area of major concern was the proliferation and threatened use of nuclear weapons. Even though our neighbor, Jimmy Carter, recently became the President, a group of us from the community drove 20 hours north to Groton, CT to protest the christening by Rosalynn Carter of the USS Georgia, a new US Trident ballistic missile nuclear submarine.   

 

In March of 1980 we heard word of Archbishop Oscar Romero’s assassination while saying mass in San Salvador; later in December of that year, 4 US Catholic nuns were raped and murdered there as well. A few years later we learned that the soldiers involved in these atrocities were trained at the notorious School of the Americas run by the US Army.

 

In 1981 Ladon Sheats invited me to join him as part of a non-violent prayer pilgrimage to Pantex, the final assembly plant for all US nuclear weapons located outside Amarillo, TX. Our intent was to go to a place of great spiritual darkness with an act of public prayer to shine a light on the evil we perceived there. That style of witness was foreshadowed by Fredrick Douglass and Dr. Martin Luther King who said they were “praying with our feet”. It was there I met Fr. Larry Rosebaugh, an Oblate priest from Wisconsin as one of the 6 of us who scaled the 12’ fence surrounding the nuclear weapons plant. After spending six months in jail and federal prison for that witness, I returned to Koinonia.

 

In 1983 we learned that the US Army was training soldiers from El Salvador at Ft. Benning, GA – an hour and ½ west of Koinonia. Groups from Atlanta scheduled a march and protest, but it quickly turned into an “us vs them” style of chanting: “2,4,6,8, it’s the junta that we hate”; “Alexander Haig, how many nuns did you kill today?” Some of us from Koinonia didn’t feel the chants were an appropriate way to protest so we started a Quaker-style candlelight prayer vigil on Thursday nights which we held weekly for the next 5 or so years before it became a monthly vigil.

 

In August 1983, Fr. Roy Bourgeois, a Maryknoll priest, and Fr. Larry Rosebaugh came to Koinonia to share with us their plans to nonviolently protest the training of Salvadoran troops at the base. We invited them to join our weekly vigil. After having been arrested 4 times earlier in the week for various protests on the base and being removed from the base after arrest and given a “Ban-and-bar” letter, Roy and Larry invited our vigil group to join them in what became their final protest before they were hauled off to jail. We planted a cross on the Base Commander’s front lawn. I joined them with 3 others from our weekly vigil group and then was held under arrest for 6 hours before being released with a lifetime Ban and Bar letter. Roy ended up getting 18 months in prison, Larry got 1 year in prison.


 

After our family moved to MN in 1990 for a sabbatical year, Father Roy founded the School Of the Americas Watch which began an annual vigil in November held for more than 25 years at the main gate to Ft. Benning. It started as a prayerful fast outside the main gates with a handful of Veterans For Peace. The annual vigil grew in size every year, from 8 to more than 20,000. Actor Martin Sheen, singer Pete Seeger, and other “celebrities” came to protest this “school” which trained Central and South American soldiers in what was euphemistically called “enhanced interrogation techniques”, “counter-insurgency”, and assassination. Especially after the revelations of the torture conducted by US troops at Abu Ghraib in Iraq, large crowds started to “connect-the-dots” to what the SOA had been teaching for many years. So, in 2005, I decided it was time again to risk arrest and prison with another prayerful protest. I expected a 6-month prison sentence but ended up with only 3 months due to a technicality. But those stories can wait for another time.

 

My parents had warned me about Roman Catholics as I was growing up – “Don’t ever date a Catholic because you might fall in love and the Bible says, ‘Do not be unequally yoked with an unbeliever’.” How ironic that many of my closest friends (and fellow convicts) are Catholic nuns, priests, and former priests who married nuns! I’ve also learned that being “quiet” in the face of violence and injustice can be easily construed as being complicit or acquiescing. As Dr. ML King said, “Never allow it to be said that you are silent overlookers, detached spectators, but that you are involved participants in the struggle to make justice a reality.” Being “The-Quiet-In -The -Land” was no longer a virtue despite that rich, Mennonite heritage.

 

30 Years Ago I Climbed A Fence and Went To Prison

30 Years Ago I Climbed A Fence and Went To Prison by Steve Clemens. February 2011

At the dawn of the Reagan Presidency, just after the death of my father-in-law, I was sentenced to 6 months in Federal Prison because I climbed a fence. Five months earlier 8 peacemakers committed what was to become the first of many “Plowshares” actions, a nonviolent attempt to “beat [nuclear] swords into plowshares”. The where and why of the story explains the consequence.

After the end of American involvement in Vietnam ended with the fall of Saigon [later renamed Ho Chi Minh City] in 1975, Phil Berrigan and Liz Macalister turned their peacemaking focus toward nuclear weapons. As part of the Bible Study group they facilitated at the Community for Creative Nonviolence in Washington, DC in 1974-75, I was inspired and challenged to consider nonviolent direct action in my own peacemaking efforts. We carried full-scale models of “Little Boy” and “Fat Man”, the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August of 1945, to the steps of the US Capitol to mark the week of the 30th anniversary of those war crimes. Shortly after that, I moved to southwestern Georgia to join an intentional Christian community outside Americus called Koinonia Partners.

The genesis for the prayer witness at Pantex began for me with a conversation with Ladon Sheats in Washington, DC in September of 1980. I had just participated in a week-long group of peace actions at the Pentagon as part of Jonah House’s call for “The Year of the Election”. Peacemakers were urged to “take their vote to the Pentagon” for a week of actions since neither President Jimmy Carter nor Republican nominee Ronald Reagan were advocating movement toward disarmament or peaceful solutions to the world problems confronting us. Ladon Sheats was a former Resident Partner and Director of Koinonia Partners, living at the that Christian community from 1968-1975. From there, he joined the Jonah House Community in Baltimore and remained active in a life of resistance to the power of the war machine until his death in August of 2002.

Ladon discussed with several friends and me the possibility of conducting a prayer vigil at the heart of the nuclear weapons empire - the Pantex Plant in Amarillo, TX, the final assembly point for all nuclear weapons produced by the US government. He envisioned a small group of committed Christians who would travel to Texas, meet to pray and reflect for several days, and then attempt to enter the plant to pray in or around the buildings where the bombs were assembled. Participants would covenant together ahead of time to be committed to nonviolence and the group would agree not to notify the press ahead of time nor to cooperate with providing any defense of our action other than to state clearly why we were there. We would not defend ourselves with legal arguments but only statements about our faith and convictions.

When I returned to south Georgia and my community at Koinonia, I first discussed the proposed witness with my wife, Christine, and then with a smaller group of Partners who were committed to nonviolent direct action. As we were discerning my participation, we received word of the first Plowshares witness at King of Prussia, PA. While in support of that creative witness, it was clear that our planned witness would not involve any attempts to disarm or damage weapons we might encounter but rely solely on the power of prayer. As I continued in the discernment process, I had conversations with my parents and my wife’s parents. It was a very difficult time as my father-in-law, Benton Haas, was dying of leukemia and my wife spent most of her fall helping to care for him at his home in western Pennsylvania. While neither set of parents was enthusiastic about this proposed witness, I tried to communicate to them my sense of “call” to take this action of faith and witness.

In early February 1981, the Koinonia Resident Partners had a time of prayer during our weekly Partner’s meeting as a blessing and send-off. My wife, Christine, and Gail and Edwin Steiner and I drove the 20 + hours to Amarillo, Texas where we gathered with about a dozen others for a time of reflection, prayer, and sharing before the witness at the plant. The times of Bible study and prayer were very uplifting, helping to calm some of my fears and anxieties. Especially difficult was taking the time to write letters to my parents and to our community in the event we did not return. We tried to face the fact that this facility was one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the nation and that the guards confronting us would be armed with deadly weapons. Facing one’s own death and still choosing to act is the most liberating feeling in the world!

Yet not all the preparations were so serious. We had a “trial-run” of the two ladders we built to scale the 12’ chain link fence topped with barbed wire that we would encounter. When we set it up to scale a local baseball field backstop, the ladder collapsed under our weight and had to be rebuilt with heavier wood. We ended up in a heap, laughing at ourselves and the “folly” of our witness.

On the morning of Feb. 10, 1981, the six of us who covenanted together for this witness drove to the Pantex Plant to arrive in conjunction with the morning employee traffic, hopefully to allow us to get close to the area protected by 2 rows of chain link fence, separated by a 50’ “no man’s land” area between them. The radio station announced that visibility was “almost zero” as the blowing snow made it almost impossible for us to be seen as we briskly walked toward the fences with our two ladders.

After the first 3 scaled the fence and I threw their ladder over it so we could scale the second fence, all types of bells and whistles and lights were activated by sensory mines placed in the inner area between the fences. After all of us were inside the first fence, we noted that the second fence was electrified and security personnel had their automatic rifles pointed at us. We decided that it was as far as we were meant to go and so we gathered in a circle, read the passage from Ephesians about bringing light into darkness, and prayed for forgiveness for our complicity and trust in these weapons which threatened all of creation.

It took about 45 minutes for the security personnel to bring a van inside the fences to arrest us. Then they took us to the heart of that area of the plant (where we hoped to go anyway to pray) to question and process us. The Manager of the plant asked to meet with a couple of us to inquire why we were there. In the ensuing conversation, we discovered he was Jewish and one of us asked him how he would have felt if a group of people had sat on the railroad tracks leading into Auschwitz, challenging the Nazi plans for extermination. While he didn’t agree with our actions, he said he could understand [somewhat] our motivations.

After transfer to the local county jail, Federal Agents then transferred us again to the FBI building in Amarillo. After being questioned [and threatened] by the FBI, we were then taken to the Potter County Jail, our new home for the next 3 months. The two women in our group, Kathy Jennings and Mary Sprunger-Froese were sent to the women’s facility. Ladon, Father Larry Rosebaugh, Vince Scotti Eirene, and I were sent to maximum security in the men’s jail. After one week, Ladon and Larry were transferred to the minimum-security facility while Vince and I remained in the maximum lock-up. Vince and I only saw the other 4 when we went to court for arraignment, then our one-day trial, and then our sentencing. We also convinced two court-appointed lawyers assigned to our case to schedule two “pre-trial meetings” so we were able to see each other for a couple of hours before our trial.

Just before our trial began, the lawyers notified us that the US Attorney had filed several “Motions in Limine” aimed at preventing us from testifying about certain “irrelevant” issues. They asked the Court to disallow any testimony about “nuclear weapons or nuclear energy, US foreign policy, or our religious convictions” because they were not relevant to a simple criminal trespass charge we faced. This being only my second trial, I was nervous, wondering if the Judge would charge me with contempt if I attempted to talk about my motivation for our act of witness. Federal Judge Mary Lou Robinson had stopped both Ladon and Fr. Larry in the middle of their testimony stating that they could not testify about growing up in west Texas (Ladon) or his work on the streets of Recife, Brazil (Fr. Larry). While they were not charged with contempt, it was clear she had little patience with the prospect that the jury would hear any of this “irrelevant” testimony.

30 years later, I don’t remember what I said on the stand that day. I do remember talking about my faith and belief that Jesus called me to a life of nonviolence and that I had gone over that fence “to pray for peace”. I expected to be cut-off by the Judge at any minute but my testimony was short and to the point. The judge’s instructions to the jury left no doubt in my mind that our conviction was a forgone conclusion. She instructed the jury to disregard everything the defendants had said since our “motivation” was not important – only our intent: did we intend to enter the property and did we have permission to do so? It was all so neat and antiseptic. No need to “confuse” the jurors with complicated notions such as International Law and indiscriminate weapons. Did they trespass? If so, find them guilty. They did their duty and 45 minutes later returned to the Courtroom with their six guilty verdicts, one for each of us. Judge Robinson thanked them and announced she would sentence us in several weeks after court officers had a chance to research our prior records and come up with their recommendations.

Because of our decision to refuse to give our Social Security numbers or other irrelevant information at the time of booking, neither Vince nor I were permitted any visits in the Potter County Jail for the three months we were incarcerated there. But that decision, coupled with the incompetence of federal bureaucrats who failed to find prior arrest records for Vince and me, even though they had our names, addresses, fingerprints, and photos, that led us to be sentenced as “first-time offenders” and only get 6 month sentences, half the maximum allowed. Kathy and Mary, who had previously been arrested at Rocky Flats, another Department of Energy facility in Colorado that made the triggers for nuclear weapons, got 9 months. Ladon and Fr. Larry both were given the maximum one-year in prison because of their prior acts of conscience that led to convictions.

Several more weeks after sentencing, we were transferred to the Federal Prison in El Reno, OK to finish our sentences in federal prison. Federal Prison guidelines called for us to be sent to low-security prisons close to our homes because we had been convicted of nonviolent offences with relatively short sentences. However, since the prison camps at Maxwell Air Base in Alabama and at Eglin Air Base in Florida both had nuclear weapons located there, the prison authorities decided to ship me to Texarkana, TX for the remained of my 6 months. When I arrived, the minimum-security camp was not yet opened so I was housed in the “big house” (a medium security, level 3 prison) for several weeks until the camp opened. I finally was able to get a visit from my wife, Christine, over the Memorial Day weekend, after she had a grueling 20+-hour bus ride to see me.

In early August, nearly 6 months later, I was given a new set of clothes, about $25 and a bus ticket to Americus, GA and released, just two months shy of my 31st birthday.

Reflection on the past

Before we were transferred to federal prison, we heard a rumor about a Pantex worker quitting his job for reasons of conscience. We also learned that the local Roman Catholic Bishop, Leroy Matthiesen, visited Larry in his Amarillo cell and then later called for all persons of conscience to quit their jobs at Pantex and started a transition fund for workers who quit for reasons of conscience.

If we had strategized about how to get religious leaders to denounce nuclear weapons or had concocted a scheme to get the Roman Catholic Bishop to make a public statement about the morality of Pantex, we wouldn’t have come up with what we did. In retrospect, I feel that God used the faithfulness of our witness to help move the conscience and courage of the Bishop. And while the Bishop’s statement caused a shock wave throughout the Amarillo community, in the long run I believe the witness had more of an affect on me than on others.

What I took from the Prayer Witness At Pantex was the conviction that when we choose to act on our faith rather than our fears, our faith increases. Clarence Jordan, co-founder of the Koinonia community used to say, “Faith is acting not in spite of the evidence but in scorn of the consequences” and “faith is betting your life on the unseen realities”. When we chose to place our lives into the hands of God’s grace over against the fear of the weapons of the Pantex security guards, it was a statement of faith and hope rather than a resignation to despair in the presence of “The Bomb”.

The time in jail and prison was grace-filled. There were moments when I was scared; times when I was “concerned”; a lot of the time was filled with boredom, loud noises, and way too much cigarette smoke from fellow inmates. I learned to sleep with a towel over my eyes since the 100-watt light bulb in our 6-person, 8’ x 14’ cell was on 24/7. I read through my Bible twice. Wrote scores of letters, one every day to my wife while in the county jail, less frequently when I hit the federal prison. Listened to the stories of my cellmates and grew to understand the powerlessness that an inmate experiences. Having survived it, I feel I am stronger for it. I had a vibrant, loving community praying and supporting me that goes a long way when one is locked up!

It gave me a new appreciation for what it can mean to be on the “receiving end” of the American Empire. Those nuclear weapons, protected by the barbed-wire-topped fences and the plant security guards, are metaphors for the length to which our nation is willing to go to “protect our way of life”. As such, they are idols to our god of National Security, Mars, the god of war, and Mammon, the god of greed. February 10, 1981 was a day to reject those idols, those false gods; the rest of my life is one of nonviolent resistance to them while at the same time an embracing the alternative reality my faith calls me to: what Jesus referred to as the Kingdom or Reign of God. I am thankful to have friends who continue on this journey with me.

Losing a Mentor and Friend: Larry Rosebaugh



Losing a Mentor and Friend, Fr. Larry Rosebaugh, OMI by Steve Clemens. May 20, 2009
[Note: I received word last evening that an American Catholic priest had been murdered during a robbery in Guatemala on May 18th.]

Fr. Larry was a gentle person, one with few possessions or needs. I remember his joy at being moved to solitary confinement at the Potter County Jail in Amarillo, TX one week after our arrest for praying at the assembly plant for all U.S. nuclear weapons (Pantex) in 1981. When we saw each other at the arraignment, he beamed and said, "They gave me my own little prayer cell".

What I didn’t know at the time was that Larry had joined the other five of us because someone else who had planned on taking part of this witness against nuclear weapons was sick so Larry decided to take his place. Prior to the six of us being booked into that jail, we were held together in a cell while the FBI attempted to interrogate us. It was at that point that Larry told us about his imprisonment and torture in Brazil while serving the poor under the inspiration of Dom Helder Camera. After describing what he went through there, I knew I could survive this, my first long-term stretch in the slammer.

Because we were locked in different cellblocks for all but the first week together, I didn’t get to spend much time with Larry – but what time we shared was precious. I learned about his previous experience in prison as the result of his participation in burning Vietnam-era draft files as part of the Milwaukee 14. But what really made an impression on me was his statement on why he scaled the 12’ fence at Pantex that cold February morning in 1981. He said when he worked with the “street people” in Recife, those young, homeless kids had no idea what an atomic bomb was –or what it was capable of doing to its victims. Larry said, “I don’t know too much about these bombs myself, but I know enough that I have to speak out on their behalf.”

It had been less than a year since Archbishop Oscar Romero had been martyred in El Salvador but Larry must have picked up the mantle that dropped when Romero fell about being “a voice for the voiceless”. Larry tried to tell the jury at our trial about his experiences in the slums of Recife and why it propelled him to go to the Pantex plant but Judge Robinson cut him off and stated it was irrelevant to our “crime” of trespass. Larry was sentenced to a year in prison for praying for peace at the “wrong” place. But while still in the county jail, before being transferred to federal prison, the local Catholic bishop came to pay this renegade priest a visit. It was after Bishop Leroy Matthiessen visited Larry in jail that he made his own act of conscience and courage: the bishop publicly asked all those of conscience to stop working for that bomb factory. And what a firestorm that caused!

If Fr. Larry and the other 5 of us had tried to devise an action to compel the local Texas bishop to denounce nuclear weapons, I’m sure our efforts would have failed. But Larry did a simple act of faith and conscience and, as a result, his “sowing of the seed bore much fruit”. Because the newspaper mentioned in the story that a Catholic priest was among the 6 arrested and held in the jail, one of the Pantex workers had a crisis of conscience. Why would a priest be willing to go to prison to protest at the place where he worked? When that worker talked to the bishop, the bishop had to find out for himself.

I joined Fr. Larry once again a couple of years later when he, Fr. Roy Bourgeois, and Linda Ventimiglia came to Koinonia Partners and told us about their intended campaign at Ft. Benning where Salvadoran troops were being trained. (This was just prior to the School of the Americas being moved there.) They invited some of us who were vigiling by the base gate every Thursday to join them in what turned out to be their final action in a very busy week. Several of us joined the 3 of them and we planted our crosses on the Base Commander's front lawn before we were arrested and hauled off. My last time seeing Larry was at their trial in 1983.

I'm grateful for his life and witness. Rest in Peace, my friend and brother.