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July 2016 Philadelphia Chapter of Pax Christi U.S.A.

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What Am I Doing Here?

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[Editor’s Note: on July 14 Dennis was confined in the segregated housing (solitary confinement) and is still there as of July 25]

I was given a four-month sentence in a Federal prison for trespassing on a military base. On the 70th anniversary of the bombings of Hiroshima (August 6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1945) and the 70th anniversary of our signing of the Nuremberg Principles (August 8, 1945) stating that the taking of the lives of innocent civilians was a war crime, I chose, with the blessing of my family and community, to do an act of civil disobedience. I and five others stepped across the green line at the entrance to Vandenberg Air Force Base and refused to step back. We were arrested, handcuffed, patted down, cited for trespassing, driven a few miles off-base and released. It seemed like a proper venue to make a statement.

Vandenberg regularly tests Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, the delivery system for nuclear weapons, weapons greater in power by a magnitude of 1,000 than those dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. When Vandenberg tests an ICBM, its mock warhead travels 4,200 miles to a lagoon in the Marshall Islands where it impacts a mere 20 minutes after lifting off from the coast of California. Thus the world knows that the U.S. has the capability of incinerating millions of people anywhere on the globe within a half hour, a war crime of unspeakable enormity.

I could go through a litany of the trials and hardships of being in prison. It's a harsh environment. But I suppose there are some benefits as well. I receive lots of support, thanks and affirmation from friends and loved ones and I have time, which I would not otherwise have, for correspondence and reading. One of the blessings this time around is that Jeff Dietrich, my long-time friend and co-defendant (he was arrested and sentenced to four months with me) has, by some miracle, in an institution of 800 inmates, become my cell mate. This has allowed us to arrange for a daily Bible study in our cell each night after 8:30 lock down. We generally spend about two hours moving very slowly and deliberately through the gospel of Mark. Aside from our own musings and understandings, we also have Ched Myers' incredible treatise on Mark "Binding the Strong Man" to help guide us.

There is a profound difference reading the gospel within the confines of prison. Because of the threatening oppression of the environment and the utter heartache of separation from loved ones, my mind seems to be constantly tormenting me with the reoccurring question, "What am I doing here?" From this perspective, Jesus' temptation in the desert takes on new significance; the fasting, the mental anguish, the lure of the more comfortable "out" to the current suffering.

The "dark night of the soul" that Jesus experiences in the desert resonates with me especially when I recall my first night here. I had been, only hours before, stripped of my clothes, my family, my friends and everything I knew of life to be thrust into a stark environment that I can only describe as utterly scary; 134 inmates on a unit where my first human encounter within a minute of my arrival was a group of three inmates taking me aside and interrogating me to ensure that I was not here for child molestation. In a prison divided by a stringent race code, I was assigned a cell with a "South-sider" (Latino) because it was the only bunk available. I was locked down in my cell an hour later after enduring the jibes of other South- siders letting me know how I could expect my night to go. I spent the night tossing and turning in my bunk and it is not being overly dramatic to say that my mind was tormented. "What am I doing here?" Every value that had brought me here, in that moment, seemed like so much folly. I questioned the sanity of having tried to make a statement, to take a position, against the immense power of the U.S. Government. I suddenly mistrusted everyone who had suggested that there was a gospel foundation for speaking truth to power. "Take up your cross and follow me"? total baloney! I was suffering, and hanging on by my fingernails, pleading in a visceral sense for God not to abandon me. There was no one there to comfort or console me or to bring me back to myself. I felt utterly alone.

The other night when Jeff and I were going through Mark, I was intrigued by the story of the possessed son struck mute by a demon and being convulsed and thrown into water and fire. If you are inclined, you can read the account at Mk 9:14.

Jeff and I, with Ched's help, found an understanding of the story which resonates with our predicament and gives at least a partial answer to the question, "What am I doing here?" Up until this point in the story, Jesus has been utterly frustrated at the disciples' lack of faith and their eyes that don't see and ears that don't hear. The story seems to suggest that we are all in the same boat as the disciples and that this boy is enigmatic of our plight. "Since childhood" we have been immersed in a world where we have been controlled by powers so immense that we have been nearly hard-wired socially to either not see or hear the source of our oppression or to be dumbed down by a demon that mutes us to speaking out in truth and freedom. Neither the father of this boy nor the disciples have the faith to drive out this demon which threatens to drown or consume this boy in water and fire.

Are we not also being drowned and consumed by our culture of militarism and materialism? Are we not literally killing ourselves? We live under the threat of constant war and nuclear weapons (fire), and destroying our very habitat with global warming causing, among other things, rising sea levels and drowning floods (water). And are we not equally muted by a demon that convinces us that we are power-less to confront the enormous beast which is our militarized government, our consumerist society and, more often than not, our complicit churches?

R.McGovern

This is where the kind of impossible faith to which the gospels call us becomes clear. From the confines of prison, the oppression of incarceration, the answer to the question begins to emerge. We are here to exorcize the demon, to banish the paralyzing muteness. And with every exorcism comes the convulsions and death experienced by our young man in Mark's story. But do we believe, really believe, that Jesus is there waiting to take our hand and help us to our feet, to resurrect? Or do we have the faith of a seed that springs up among the thorns and is choked off before it can bear fruit?

The faith to which the gospel calls us that grows and thrives and bears fruit requires, as Jesus tells his faltering disciples, "much prayer." How about you pray for me and I pray for you and together we petition God as does the father in Mark's story, "I believe, help my unbelief!' It is probably the most honest prayer in the gospels, and the answer to why we are here.

Denis Apel

Beatitude House Catholic Worker, Guadalupe CA

Address till September 9:

John Dennis Apel # 26142-112 MDC Los Angeles - PO Box 1500 Los Angeles, CA 90053

The Santa Barbara Independent has published prison diary entries from Dennis. See:

http://www.independent.com/staff/dennis-apel/

Photo: Santa Barbara Independent

“Dennis Apel, here with his wife, Tensie Hernandez, writes a diary while incarcerated for protesting against war

See full list of stories by Dennis Apel...” Santa Barbara Independent

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