S2 Ep6 Peacemakers

Network Sting: MSW Media

Martin Sheen : Hello and welcome to the second season of the Martin Sheen Podcast with yours truly, Martin Sheen, of course. And I’m delighted to be back hosting this podcast pilgrimage where the destination is still the journey itself. Along the way I plan to share stories and personal memories of some of the many people, place places and events that have helped to shape my lifelong happy and continuing struggle as an artist and a man to unite the will of the spirit with the work of the flesh. I also hope to explore poetry as a powerful form of expression and communication by proxy, as it were, and how poetry is such a vital and necessary component of our spirituality and our public discourse. And from time to time, I’ll invite friends, fellow actors, poets, scholars and family members to join our pilgrimage and discuss what inspires their artistic journey. And so, friends, let us begin.

On August 2, 1990, Iraq under Saddam Hussein is began a full-scale invasion of its much smaller oil rich neighbor Kuwait. Unable to effectively defend itself, Kuwait was quickly overrun and the balance of power in the Mid east was clearly jeopardized. Thus began what would become known as the first Gulf War. With congressional approval and allied support, US President George Bush committed a huge force that drove the Iraqi army out of Kuwait and pushed them all the way back to Baghdad. But the retreating Iraqis set Kuwaiti’s oil fields ablaze and the war raged on with numerous casualties and mass destruction on all sides. With no end in sight.

On Sunday, February 24, 1991, I received a call from my dear friend Joe Cosgrove in Pennsylvania, inviting me to join him on a peace delegation that was gathering in Rome in two days with a plan to end the war. Sorry for such short notice, he said, but I just received confirmation myself and I’m planning to leave for New York in the morning. Please come and join me. To do so, however, meant departing LA on the first flight to New York early the next morning and completely rearranging my schedule for who knew how long. But considering the source of the request and the urgency of the mission, I responded without hesitation and said, I’ll be there. Great. He said. I’ll make the travel arrangements for Rome and meet you at Swissair as soon as you arrive at JFK tomorrow. And he hung up.

With a hard-earned law degree from his beloved Notre Dame in 1982, Joseph Cosgrove was a dedicated public defender in Wilkesboro, Pennsylvania with a well-earned reputation as a highly skilled advocate and a fierce lifelong opponent of the death penalty. Luckily, he was my attorney as well. And on Monday, February 25, we very happily met, as planned, at JFK in New York and checked in at Swissair. Thanks for coming, Joe said with a hug. Thanks for including me. I hugged back. And where are the others? I asked. What others? He responded. You know, all the other people on this peace delegation, I said. Oh, he said. I assumed you knew. Knew what? I asked. Well, it’s just you and me. Are you serious, Joe? I asked in disbelief. Afraid so, he responded with a shrug and a smile. Well, I laughed. Somebody got some splaining to do. Which he proceeded to do as we made our way to the departure gate and boarded Swissair’s last flight to Geneva that evening with a connection to Rome the following day.

Joe’s personal peace plan, as I affectionately called it, evolved over many months with a group of fellow lawyers and ACT opposed to the war, who met regularly for prayer vigils and discussion. One day the idea occurred to Joe that perhaps a legal action should be commenced at the International Court of Justice, that is the World Court, to have the war declared a violation of international law. It was a stunningly simple revelation. The problem was the court only has jurisdiction over countries, not individuals. Hence, a sympathetic country would have to commence the action. Under the circumstances and given the makeup of the prayer group, Joe kept the focus on one country and one country only. The Vatican, with the Pope as head of state, John Paul II had opposed the war from the start. But would he be open to this plan as proposed? And how could he be reached?

As fate would have it, uh, one member of the group was a Catholic priest and a close friend of Mother Teresa, and he graciously volunteered to ask her to bring their proposal to her friend, the Pope. A few days later, Joe received a call from Mother Teresa herself, who wanted to talk about the proposal. It was a remarkable moment, he said, and after their discussion, Mother invited him to meet her in Rome, and she said she would bring whatever he had to the Pope.

Hence, early on the Evening of Tuesday, February 27, Joe and I arrived in Rome and went straight to our small hotel near the Colosseum. We had hardly unpacked when a message arrived that Mother Teresa was waiting to receive us. A short taxi ride later, we arrived at the Italian headquarters of Mother Teresa’s congregation, the Missionaries of Charity, located near the Circus Maximus, not exactly a classic Roman structure by any means. Frankly, it was a sparse, converted former chicken coop, perhaps the ultimate example of poverty, where we were greeted by a cheerful nun and escorted to a small room just off the chapel. Mother will be right with you, she said. As she departed, and no sooner had we sat down at a small card table when another figure appeared at the door. At first I thought it was a child. Then, as if a powerful electric charge lit up the room, I realized it was Mother Teresa.

I was so overwhelmed with joy, I burst into tears and fumbled for words as we rose to greet her. But she could not have been more disarming, charming, joyful, or hospitable. Sit down, sit down, she said. Would you like some coffee? Coca Cola? No, we said. Thank you. Then the three of us sat down, and she got right to the point. Now she said. What can I do for you? She asked with a wide smile. When Joe explained his plan to represent the Vatican that he had discussed with Mother Teresa on the phone, it seemed her chief concern was how the World Court would make the US And Iraq abide by its decision. Then Joe explained that at the time the court only possessed a moral authority, but that the whole world would be watching and that it was well worth the effort. She agreed and promised to take the plan to the Pope the next day, Wednesday, February 28, and she invited us to join her on Thursday, February 29, at the 5:00am Mass in the chapel where she hoped to reveal the Pope’s response. We happily agreed.

With the main purpose of our visit completed, she wanted to know more about our lives. We both shared our commitment to working for peace and social justice when suddenly she took Joe’s hand, spread it on the table, and counted each finger, intoning, you did it for me, a reference to Matthew 25, whatever you did for the least of mine, etc. To my happy relief, she repeated the blessing with my right hand as well. Then she drew out a handful of small miraculous medals from a hidden pocket and asked each of us who we wanted her to pray for. Joe began by naming his father Richard, his brother George, and his brother’s family, as well as some clients in prison and even some on death row. With each name, Mother kissed a medal, repeated the name, made the sign of the cross with it, and gave it to Joe. Next she turned to me and repeated this extraordinary blessing as I named each member of my family, beginning with Janet, through Emilio, Ramon, Charlie, and Renee. Then, with some hesitation, I dared to add two more names. Mother, I said, a friend of mine and his son are going through a terrible tragedy, and I related their story. When she asked for their names again, I hesitated before I said it was Marlon Brando and his son Christian, who was in prison at the time. She didn’t seem to recognize the names or know the story, but she blessed the medals for both and gave them to me with instructions to give one to Marlon, send the other to Christian and ask him to correspond with her and assure him that she was praying for his father. I did as instructed, and the result, well, is part of another extraordinary story.

Meanwhile, as our meeting ended, we left on a cloud of grace that carried us back to our hotel through the following day and returned us less than 36 hours later to where it all began. With a large congregation assembled and Mother Teresa in attendance, the 5am Mass began with a startling and unexpected announcement. Thanks be to God, the priest said. The war has just ended. During the tumultuous celebration that followed, Joe turned to me and whispered, don’t mess with Mother. It was Thursday, February 29, 1991, at 5:00am in Rome, Italy. Don’t mess with Joe either.

We’re going to take a little break here, but I assure you there’s more to come. Stay tuned.

Welcome back. I’m glad you stayed.

And now consider this very brief one line thought: If what we believe is not costly, we are left to question its value. From a speech I gave for We Day in Canada in 2007.

The following is a selection from the book Blessed Among Us by Robert Ellsberg. The book is filled with daily reflections that explore the lives of saints as well as ordinary men and women, with extraordinary stories of courage and spiritual awakening.

Ben Salmon. Of the many conscientious objectors imprisoned in the United States During World War I, Ben Salmon stood apart. He was the only imprisoned conscientious objector who attributed his resistance to war to his Roman Catholic faith. Salmon was raised in Denver, Colorado, in a working class Catholic family. Though known as something of a rebel for his activities as a union organizer, he remained a devout Catholic who took pride in his membership in the Knights of Columbus. When the U.S. entered World War I in 1917, Salman, who was newly married, applied for conscientious objector status while the US Government made provisions for members of historic peace churches such as the Quakers, Mennonites, and the Amish. There was no such precedent at the time for recognizing Catholic conscientious objectives, and he received no support from the American Catholic Church. Salmon was tried in a military court and sentenced to death, a sentence subsequently reduced to 25 years in prison. His stance won him general contempt, even from fellow Catholics who called him a heretic and a coward. Imprisoned, he was placed in solitary confinement. After going on a hunger strike, he was force fed and finally confined to a mental asylum. There he wrote a 200 page manuscript offering a lucid critique of the church’s just war teaching, possibly the first of its kind by an American Catholic.

Upon his release from prison in 1920, Salmon led a quiet life raising three children. But he never fully recovered from his ordeal in prison, and he died at the age of 43 on February 15, 1932.

His quote, the justice of man cannot dethrone the justice of God. There is no such animal as a just war.

Robert Ellsberg is an American publisher specializing in religious and spiritual exploration. He is editor in chief and publisher of Orbis Books. He lives and works in upstate New York with his wife.

Stay tuned, we’ll be right back.

And we’re back.

Consider This: the unleashed power of the atomic bomb has changed everything except our way of thinking. Albert Einstein

The following poem, brothers, is by sister Ann Montgomery, whose beautiful and frank exploration of the Gospels through poetry I find particularly moving. It is from the book Arise and Witness, which was edited by dear friends Art Laffen and Carol Sargent.

I dreamt I held a husk, but that was my brother.

His hunger drained my soul to what ours is a longing.

Where he had walked I could not follow.

To drink the wine of wonder, to feast on fire, but dance whirlpool to stillness and quenched its flames in darkness

For what he, prodigal, had spent I clutch to close the crevices of an empty house

The sterile farmer of furrows ruled on a fertile earth blossoming the lambs I fence, bursting with grapes I grasp to crush,

Lest their joy unfold my fingers.

And so I find you in my house, Called here by our Father to steal and squander the very self I saved

A stranger, my soul’s brother, prodigal of all I hold to profit Heaven,

The calf is killed, fattened for the bride I could not love

And my bones, shaken by the wind, rise with its whisper.

Through fallen leaves and fallow vineyards I walk the world, a beggar bound for a country far

And home to find my brother.

I’m also including an extraordinary, heartfelt story about sister Ann and her brother Brooke, as written by Carol Sargent and included in Arise and Witness.

When Sister Ann Montgomery was dying, she had a selection of just a few pictures around her, next to her on her bed. One of these was of her brother Brooke, looking like a 1950s Hollywood movie star. He had chiseled, handsome features and a big, warm smile. The story behind that photo was the cause of great mirth in her family. Brooke had finally achieved his goal of becoming a naval pilot. But he was technically the class of 1946 because of the buildup of the war. In 1945, his class graduated early to join the action, but he was commissioned just as VJ Day was announced. Determined at least to see the Pacific theater that his father had known so well as a rear admiral. About a week after the war ended, he got permission to fly out and land on the deck of the American aircraft carrier in the Pacific. When he landed, however, he realized that he had made a terrible mistake. He had landed on a Japanese aircraft carrier. Given that it was now peacetime, the captain of the carrier radioed his captain and said, one of your pilots has mistakenly landed on our ship. What should I do? The American commander radioed back and said, don’t let him go until he writes, um, a poem. He did this and then was granted permission to fly back. As he landed on his carrier, he saw everyone standing at attention on the deck in their dress whites. A band of played. After all, he had made history. Brooke Monty Montgomery was the first pilot ever to actually land on a Japanese carrier, albeit after this whole horrible war had ended, and the only one to return safely as well. The crew saluted him, surely at his merciless expense. The band performed, and as he stepped down the ladder from his plane, in the uproar, the someone snapped the smiling photo that Sister Ann had at her bedside when she lay dying. He’s got the best smile on his face. It’s embarrassed and humiliated and happy. Ann Montgomery finished college at Manhattanville, the College of the Sacred Heart, and she was invited to join the RSCJ order in 1948, making her first professional vows in 1951. Then in 1956, she was sent to Rome to prepare for her final vows. Part of this involved a long, silent retreat of more than a month. It was during this retreat, in early February, that she was brought to the superior’s office and told, your brother just died in an airplane crash. He had died on February 1, 1956. After this, she was expected to return to that silence. She was in Italy, far from her family. It was incredibly painful for her that she couldn’t talk with her parents and that she couldn’t be with them to mourn her brother with other people who cared about him. That was a pain that she carried to the end of her life. Brooke Montgomery was 28 by then, and the crash happened when two fighter planes collided at Flight 40,000ft near Ventura, California, during a target practice run. The cause was determined to be pilot error. The other young pilot survived.

Sister Ann Montgomery was born November 30, 1926 in San Diego, California. She died August 27, 2012 in Atherton, California. Sister Ann Montgomery was 86 years old.

I invite you to delve further into the works of the poets I shared with you, and I hope you seek out writers and poets whose work speaks to your hearts and minds with the power to inspire your life. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve heard here, please subscribe to my podcast, the Martin Sheen Podcast, with your host, yours truly, Martin Sheen. Of course, wherever you find your podcasts. Yeah, I have to say that you can find a complete list of the poets and titles of their poems that I’ve chosen at our website, themartensheenpodcast.com

I want to thank the people who make this podcast possible. Our producer and research assistant, Renee Estevez, who assures me that the Internet is a real thing and a safe place if not used off label. And our sound engineer and editor, Bruce Greenspan, the man behind these rich and seamless recordings. And to his dog Gracie, our studio mascot, who snores in perfect pentameter.

And so, friends, we part with the prayer from Tagore.

Where the heart is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action— Into that heaven of freedom (my Father) let our country awake. Amen

The Martin Sheen Podcast all rights reserved. No part of this podcast may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without prior written consent of the author and TE Productions.

The story Joe Mother and the Pope by Ramon Gerard Estevez, AKA Martin Sheen, is included here by granted copyright permission.

Blessed among Us Ben Salmon by Robert Ellsberg is included here by granted copyright permission and we thank the author for this opportunity to share his work.

Brothers by Sister Ann Montgomery and Notes on the Poem Brothers by Carol Sargent are included here with the granted copyright permission of Art Laffin and Carol Sargent, who we thank for this opportunity to share these works.