Arrests did not stop Mennonites from singing for a ceasefire on Capitol Hill 

Lord, listen to your children praying.
Lord, send your spirit in this place.
Lord, listen to your children praying.
Send us love, send us power, send us grace.

At midday on Jan. 16, congressional staffers in the Cannon House Office Building on Capitol Hill noticed a striking, unusual sound. The lines of the above hymn, set to sturdy four-part harmonization, had begun welling up, resonating throughout the building’s rotunda. We singers were no ordinary sightseers, though — no high school or college choir on tour to the nation’s capital — but rather an unannounced mass choir of Mennonites.

We were organized by Mennonite Action, a grassroots start-up calling for congressional support for a ceasefire in Gaza. Accompanied by banners making use of quilt-like iconography (“Let Gaza live,” “Free all Hostages,” “Send Food not Bombs”) our black-clad pickup choir sang movement songs as well as traditional hymns straight out of the Mennonite Church USA hymnal, interspersed by chanting. Had the powers-that-be ever seen anything like this in the history of Historic-Peace-Church pacifism in this country?

We are people of God’s peace, as a new creation…
A new covenant of peace, binds us all together.

How did this unique form of protest come about, anyway? After the shocking, horrible attacks on Oct. 7, Jewish groups organized very quickly, with several ceasefire actions featuring traditional Jewish ritual elements. Three hundred were arrested in the Cannon rotunda on Oct. 18.  Four hundred in Grand Central Station on Oct. 27. “Where are the Christians,” they asked, “after so many thousands of deaths? After Christian Zionists have continued to promote excuses for war? Where are you?”

So, several 20- and 30-something-year-old Mennonites set up a Zoom call. Hundreds showed up, hungry for action and eager to foreground in public the moral power of unique aspects of our faith tradition. On Dec. 19, Mennonite Action held a day of dispersed ceasefire events, mostly visits to politicians’ offices, in 43 locations. Then immediately the call went out: “Let’s take our demands to Washington!”

So, on Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, Mennonites drove and flew in from across the country; full buses arrived from Virginia and Pennsylvania. We held a day of training, role-playing, worship. We had a permit to vigil the next day outside the building. We knew that the inside is open to the public, too, as long as we don’t stage a protest, otherwise we’d be asked to leave. We decided that for the 135 of us going into the rotunda we’d all just start singing and keep right on. The war had gone on for three months by that point, with over 20,000 civilians killed. Was it not high time to start ratcheting up the intensity of our singing?

Around 12:30 p.m. our teams of 20 started arriving in the rotunda. We sat down in concentric circles and began “Lord, listen to your children praying,” a solemn yet determined prayer of lament. Early on, as one of the song leaders, I chose the energetic “Siyahamba/We are marching.” I’d woken up that morning with some new verses running through my head, so we tried some. The Washington Post linked to a clip of us singing:

We are marching in the light of God…
We are singing in the light of God…
We are singing for a ceasefire now…
We are Mennonites for ceasefire now…

In our action, South African freedom songs and African American spirituals proved to have a cappella harmonies that work well spontaneously, and also, you can substitute a word or two and just keep adding verses. “My soul cries out with a joyful shout” is another spirited folk tune that got picked up by the media. It was a snow day and the most interesting thing happening on Capitol Hill, for the local Fox station and Al Jazeera alike, was . . . us.

Though the nations rage from age to age, we remember who holds us fast:
God’s mercy must deliver us from the conqueror’s crushing grasp.
This saving word that our forebears heard is the promise which holds us bound,
Till the spear and rod can be crushed by God, who is turning the world around.

The Capitol Hill police were apparently completely taken by surprise. They rush in reinforcements from the nearby Library of Congress and U.S. Capitol. At the end of “My soul cries out” they started, in a generally courteous manner, having each person stand and be zip-tied around the wrists. A few people reported that they got some lingering numbness.

The circle kept right on singing, a couple of new tunes now from the Jewish groups: “We rise” (Levine), and the call-and-response “Ceasefire now…” (Weiss) with improvised phrases, “We’re Mennonites” and “Not in our name.” At the end of our four-part hymn “Let there be light Lord God of hosts” officers started reaching into the center and taking away some of our song leaders. It had no effect whatsoever on the group — I sat down right away so as not to be a target, and we just kept right on singing: “Courage, my friend” and “My Life flows on in endless song.” Later, right before they got to my spot, I started up a hearty old standby:

God of grace and God of glory, on thy people pour thy power…
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of this hour…

Eventually, a tap on the shoulder and it was my turn. They lined up those of us remaining in groups of 10 around the perimeter. But immediately we discovered, as did the 16th century Anabaptists, that tied hands make no difference for the vocal cords. Someone started in with “Praise God from whom all blessings flow,” using the rousing 19th-century tune “Dedication Anthem” that Mennonites are known for. Because we were then forced to stand, we just sang all the louder. The last group of 10 was finally led out to the tune of another old spiritual, “Guide my feet.”

Guide my feet, while I run this race…
Let Gaza live, while I run this race…
Free Palestine, while I run this race…
For I don’t want to run this race in vain.

Since there are way too many to transport all at once, a good many of us were kept right there in the hallways, outside of the congressional offices. We just continued the hymn-sing, impromptu, for nearly three hours.

Finally, all of us ended up at a nearby garage holding area. Complying with an order not to sing, we sat quietly on folding chairs, listening bemusedly as an officer butchers our surnames as he calls us up, one by one, to get pictures taken and $50 fines paid. Released and back at the nearby Washington City Church of the Brethren, we found hot pizza waiting, along with our outside vigil folks who spent part of the afternoon delivering our ceasefire petition to representatives’ offices. 

Did we have an effect? Certainly, the larger movement is moving the needle. Back in October there were zero representatives supporting a ceasefire. Now there are 66, including five senators, with new names added since Jan. 16. And majority public opinion has now, just as in the Iraq war, turned in our favor. 

But of course, it’s not enough. The war goes on. The bombing, the killing of children. The hostages still not released. On the very day of our hymn-sing, another 158 Gazan lives were lost. Along with Palestinians and Israelis alike we feel powerless to stop the cycles of violence. Our hearts are broken. But we keep on singing, in solidarity. Our voices, blending together, empowering us onward.

Soon and very soon, we are going to end this war…
We are not afraid, we are going to end this war…
No more crying now, we are going to end this war…
Hallelujah, hallelujah, we are going to end this war.