I gave a talk last week at the Catholic Worker, reflecting on my first act of civil disobedience and subsequent arrest. I was accompanied by a panel of amazing activists, who also spoke about their experiences. By all accounts it was an incredibly moving program. I wish I had video or sound clips to share, but unfortunately, all I’ve got is the text of my five minute speech (and the blurry picture at the top)…

I’ve been reflecting on my arrest for a couple weeks now. Mostly by talking to bewildered friends and family members. So it’s fitting that I cap it off by speaking to the community that helped inspire me to this action in the first place. But before getting into into the specifics of the arrest, I’d like start by giving a little background on myself.

If you had told me two years ago that I’d be giving a reflection on my first arrest at the Catholic Worker, well, first I’d probably say what is the Catholic Worker? And second, you must have the wrong guy. I’ve never even received so much as a speeding ticket.

The point being, I am total new comer to such ideas as civil disobedience and nonviolence, particularly from a faith perspective. Although my parents were raised with some Christian teachings–neither one really saw fit to bring it into my life. And so, I went all the way through college without so much as even stepping inside a church. I wasn’t against the idea of religion. But I wasn’t agnostic either. I was quite simply indifferent.

About a year ago, all that changed. I was introduced to Leo Tolstoy’s The Kingdom of God Is Within You. It shattered my perception of Christianity and faith and allowed me to see it for what it is: a radical vision of love and forgiveness, balanced with a devotion to nonviolent servitude–essentially, it’s a calling to all peacemakers.

Tolstoy’s argument was more than just convincing, it gave real meaning to a lot of the feelings I’ve always had about humanity, but never felt compelled to act upon.

Before continuing–I’d just like point out that Tolstoy’s Kingdom of God was the book that inspired Gandhi toward a life of nonviolence. He was 25 when he first read it–one year older than I was. So,, follow me here for a second, you could make the case that I’m now actually one step ahead of Gandhi at this point in my life. But, I digress.

Anyway, after ruminating on these new thoughts and seeing them play out in my work as a journalist, I decided it was time to make nonviolence a reality in my life. And that’s where this whole getting arrested at the Supreme Court thing comes in.

I knew that many people from Kairos and the Catholic Worker communities were going down to DC to get arrested in the name of opposing baseless captivity and torture. So joining such a knowledgeable and experienced group seemed like a good idea for a first timer. Boy–was–I–wrong!

Just kidding… But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking that while being handcuffed for 8 hrs straight, or spending the night in a scary DC Jail, not eating for 30 hours, drinking very little water or being branded with leg irons.

As much as I thought my empathy for torture victims was real prior to my arrest, it wasn’t until I was actually behind those bars and engaged in witness that I truly understood the physical and psychological effects of imprisonment. I think it’s fair to say that the night I spent in jail was the greatest endurance test I’ve ever faced–both in terms of anxiety, fear and my sort of newfound faith. And yet those men in Guantanamo have suffered through far worse. I couldn’t help but think, what does that say about me, about my intentions, about my courage?

The only reason I was able to overcome such disturbing thoughts was the incredible group solidarity. That feeling transcended locked doors and bars. Having people like Anna Brown cheer for me as we crossed paths in police custody, or Bud Courtney taking me under his wing and cracking jokes about ordering pizza with the guards, or Arty Laffin leading us in song–that’s what helped remind me of what we were doing. And it helped show me that although our calling as peacemakers will lead us to painful sacrifices and uncomfortable personal truths–we have an unbreakable solidarity and commitment. And for that I’d just like to thank everyone.