The story of Kemper Anderson from Georgia
Not only does the Coventry story inspire organisations to be members of the Community of the Cross of Nails (CCN), but the work of the members inspires those around them. Here is a story from Kemper Anderson, from Georgia, in the USA from his experiences
“I first heard about the Community of the Cross of Nails (CCN) from the Rev. Eloise Lester at St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Atlanta (Georgia) in 1980. I was twenty something and grappling with the transition from being a young person to a “grown-up” (if there is such a thing) in God’s church.
“Of course, I had studied the Second World War in high school and college, but the story of Coventry and Dresden that Eloise told me challenged my rather simplistic perspective about “who were the good guys and who were the bad.” That we on the allied side could also be guilty of wanton and indiscriminate violence against brothers and sisters caught up in the madness of war, whose only crime was being at the wrong place at the wrong time, was a sobering thought indeed.
“My participation in a CCN-focused “foyer group” was instructive—in an odd sort of way. This was the year of the Mariel Boat Lift, wherein 125,000 Cuban expats, many recently released from Cuban jails and mental health facilities by Fidel Castro, attempted the perilous transit across the Florida straits in small boats, rafts and even converted automobiles, to reach the U.S. mainland and a better life. The impact on South Florida was enormous, both economically and politically, and the evening news was filled with stories of chaos, survival against the odds and, all too often, death.
“Sadly, however, even within a Christian foyer group formed around an ethic of reconciliation, many resisted the moral imperative to adopt Castro’s exiles, opting instead to have them repelled at sea by the Navy and Coast Guard, even if it meant death by dehydration or drowning. I was pretty disillusioned—how could this be? How could good people, people I loved and admired, turn a blind eye to such suffering? How could they fail to be reconciled with brothers and sisters in such grievous need?
“Isn’t it ironic how the present sometimes mirrors the past? I confess that I dropped out of that foyer group a few months later in search of something more authentic. I never forgot the lessons I had learned from the Coventry story, however, and they would later stand me in good stead during the “first journey” God had in store for me.
“If you had asked me in 1980 to list my top one hundred career paths, being a cop wouldn’t have made the list. But I needed to support my family and policing seemed as good an option as any. During my thirty years in law enforcement, I learned a lot about reconciliation, and about the cost of failing to be reconciled. As a “peace” officer, I often found myself holding up the prospect of reconciliation to people who had become estranged from one another, and in some cases from the community, due to a veritable litany of real and imagined sins perpetrated by one person against another. In most cases, no one was truly without sin. Some figured it out, accepted accountability for things done and left undone and managed to begin anew with those they had wronged, and had been wronged by. Others clung to the myth of their own righteousness, and were never completely able to let go of their injury, or accept their own culpability. Their anger and pain never really abated; the wounds they had suffered could never truly heal.
“No one said reconciliation was easy: the cases of real reconciliation that I have witnessed were not the result of “cheap grace”—lip service in lieu of the hard work necessary to bring about a lasting peace. The parties to the conflict had to engage closely with each other and hammer out the wrongs that each had perpetrated on the other. Both had to ask for and grant forgiveness. And still there would always be “raw moments,” where old wounds were apt to reopen and threaten a fragile peace. I’ve learned that forgiveness and reconciliation must be on-going.
“So now I’m beginning my “second journey” as a priest in God’s church. The need for
reconciliation between (and within) faith traditions has never been greater. The imperative to
end the estrangement between sisters and brothers of different races and ethnicities, socio- economic classes and generational cohorts has never been more urgent.
“The imperative to end the estrangement between sisters and brothers of different races and ethnicities, socio- economic classes and generational cohorts has never been more urgent. Failure in this most important work will guarantee an on-going cycle of social conflict, “tit-for-tat” insults and injuries, grinding on with endless monotony, and ensure that our pain and half-healed scars are passed down to our children and grandchildren. What can I do? I can’t “fix” the problems, but I can get in the middle of things, roll up my sleeves and work to apply the lessons I learned from the story of Coventry and Dresden, and from my years as a peace officer, as I walk beside those who are willing to give forgiveness and reconciliation a chance.
“For a long time, I thought this cop turned priest thing was “simply serendipitous,” (if there is such a thing) but I’ve begun to discern that I’ve been being formed for ministry since well before seminary. God just had a lot of work to do with me. And God never wastes anything. How it will all work out, I can’t say. But I’m game. Given what I’ve learned over the past three and a half decades, how could I not be?”