An Interview with Hedwig Maria (Hedy) Sawadsky

“Go home and work for peace. Stop the refugee crisis from happening. Stop the war.”

These words spoken to Hedy Sawadsky by a dear Palestinian friend in Jerusalem in 1970 were pivotal for her career. She was serving as a Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) relief worker in Amman, Jordan, and in Jerusalem, with Palestinian refugees. What her friend meant was, “You need to work at the root causes of the violence that create so much suffering for us.” This message is part of Hedy’s lifelong work as a peacemaker.

“The Palestinian people did me a huge favor in expressing their true feelings. They appreciated our relief work but were also desperately longing for a peaceful and just life.” Often functioning in behind-the-scenes ways, Hedy supported and continues to support many peacemaking initiatives in Canada and the United States.

I understand your own family needed to flee from the former Soviet Union. How did that background help set the stage for your work with peacemaking and refugee work?

It was an identification par excellence. My parents were refugees, too. Having emigrated in the 1920s, they often expressed their gratitude. Canada contrasted with the hardships, poverty and lack of freedom in their Ukrainian homeland. For six years our father was essentially homeless, and our mother and her family experienced the shooting of her brother as well as a famine.

One thing that came out of their experience of suffering was a commitment to have their children educated. Their words were, “They can’t take that from you.” They supported us in our education, even though it came at a cost. We were poor. All four of us—my sisters, brother and I—had the opportunity to attend Christian boarding schools in Ontario. How grateful I am for their sacrifices! It was in my time at boarding school that I made a public commitment to Christ.

Our parents were also respectful of our choices to follow our vocational callings. Their strong Christian faith and their creative, adventuresome spirits contributed to this philosophy. From them we learned the virtues of hard work and that life is often a struggle. In the end, both parents lived 102 years. When quizzed about their longevity, the response was “God’s grace.”

Having grown up in rural Niagara, Ontario, then, how did you find your way to the Middle East?

After high school I attended and graduated from Canadian Mennonite Bible College (now Canadian Mennonite University), then taught in the Rosthern (Saskatchewan) Bible School for several years. I participated in MCC summer voluntary service stints in two Canadian psychiatric hospitals, followed by working with Harvey Taves in the MCC office in Waterloo, Ontario. An inner call then led to a year at Bethel College, North Newton, Kan., followed by graduation from Mennonite Biblical Seminary, Elkhart, Ind. Further discernment led to work in a Mennonite church in Ontario and to teaching in a Mennonite high school.

While working in these church-related settings, I intersected with people who had overseas experience. In my late 30s, the time seemed right to apply for service overseas. Soon I heard from MCC and agreed to go to the Middle East.

In the summer of 1968, I found myself in Amman, Jordan, a year after the Six-Day War between the Israelis and Egypt, Jordan and Syria. As a result of the war, hundreds of refugees fled east across the Jordan River and were living in tent camps in Jordan. MCC pioneers Olga and Harry Martens had arrived a year earlier and set the stage for a new MCC unit to continue the work.

My responsibilities included training Palestinian women for kindergarten teaching and women’s activity centers in the barren camps. Respect developed as we MCCers became friends with refugees and others, most of whom were Muslims. Thawabeh, one of these friends, gave me a beautiful Palestinian fellaheen, or peasant dress, that she and her mother had made with hand-stitched needlework designs. I still cherish it.

It felt like a gift of God’s guidance and grace to be transferred to Jerusalem for my second year in the Middle East. How special to be living in the land where Jesus walked! While working in the MCC needlework shop, I met Palestinians, who prepared the needlework, as well as Israelis and visitors from elsewhere. The horizons of my consciousness expanded ecumenically with the people working in non-governmental organizations and as I visited historical and biblical sites in this land called “holy.”
I also learned to appreciate that there are two sides to the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. The imbalance of power seems to be against the Palestinian people, who continue to live under occupation. With others I am hopeful that the longed-for reconciliation will be realized among all the “children of Abraham.”

It is from this place that my Palestinian friend courageously issued the call, “Go home, Hedy, and work for peace.” I have never forgotten it.

What was it like to return to North America following these formative experiences in the Middle East?

While my consciousness had been raised, I realized many people in North America saw things differently. Soon after returning to Canada and sharing the Middle East story in my area, I received a call to work at a church in Nebraska. As Christian education director in that large multi-generational Mennonite church, I was able to share my passion for the Middle East. It was a joy to wear my Palestinian dress, show slides and tell stories of what I had experienced there.

At about the same time, my mind and heart increasingly made connections with the inherent contradiction of praying for peace and paying for war via “war taxes.” How could I, a follower of the Prince of Peace, justify paying for militarism and the building of weapons with my tax dollars? Indeed, these weapons might be used to harm or even kill my friends in the Middle East and people in other places. Increasingly my conscience was bolstered by biblical convictions.

I struggled with others who were also trying to find clarity on this issue. Later I worked in a Mennonite church in Pennsylvania where my role included teaching the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7) to ecumenical women’s groups and to young people.

Thus, while living in the state of the Quaker William Penn and delving deeper into the Scriptures as well as the 16th-century Anabaptist witness, the path became clearer. For me the way to go was to live below the war-taxable level.

After considerable discernment, the church’s education committee proposed to the church leadership that I would continue in my position but would be paid as a person in Mennonite Voluntary Service so as to keep my salary under the taxable level. There was some resistance by the church leadership to my becoming a voluntary service worker. Even though there was strong verbal affirmation for our Anabaptist peace position, it was not acceptable to church leadership for me to take this stance and commit to living more simply while still holding the same position.

My resignation meant that I had six months before my two-year contract was up. I continued wrestling with the question, How can we Mennonites continue being the quiet in the land when the world is full of violence?

Where did you go from there?

It so happened that one of the church members needed a ride to Elkhart, Ind., to attend seminary. Since my car was available, I drove and found myself also taking the Greek summer course with Professor Gertrude Roten. That began a triple focus, lasting three years. First, the “refresher” courses in biblical foundations for peacemaking—it had been 15 years since my graduation from seminary. Second, my part-time work with Elkhart’s poor at Church Community Services. And third, together with others in the Mennonite community, participating in peace ventures at militarized sites. We held vigils and prayed and joined in nonviolent peace witnesses.

Late in 1977, I was preparing to be part of a witness in Washington, D.C., called the “Feast of the Holy Innocents” (Matthew 2). After picking up apples in Goshen for the trip, I had a horrendous accident, hit by a drunk driver. My car flipped and overturned in the middle of rush-hour traffic. Miraculously I came out fairly unscathed.

A Mennonite friend who saw the speeding truck prayed for whoever might be hit. I’ve wondered, Did her prayers keep me alive? It was also amazing that the carload of us who went to Washington used Marlin Miller’s car, since mine was totaled. He was the seminary president at the time. Providing his car was a strong affirmation of our peace witness venture.

As some Mennonites became more involved in nonviolent direct actions for a more peaceful and just planet, debate was also going on among North American Mennonites about being “the quiet in the land.” Was nonresistance enough when nuclear weapons were being built and deployed?

During my time in Elkhart, I forged solid relationships based on common commitments to more active peacemaking. We held retreats and times of contemplation as we tried to discern the will of God. Eventually Mary and Peter Sprunger-Froese and I moved to Colorado Springs, Colo., to be part of a “resistance and assistance” peace community.

We joined other Mennonites and Catholics, supporting a soup kitchen and a hospitality house in the spirit of the Catholic Worker. At times we were drawn to divine obedience, in the spirit of the midwives of Exodus 1 and the apostles in Acts 5. These actions, also known as civil disobedience, happened at times at bomb-making plants as well as at other manifestations of the military-industrial complex. Often these actions were preceded and enveloped by prayers, worship and community-building.

At some point along the pilgrim way, I realized I resonated with what I read in Jim Douglass’ book Resistance and Contemplation. Beginning in the summer of 1993, while living in Amarillo, Texas, I worked closely with Jim and Shelley Douglass for five years as a part of the White Train Campaign, seeking to nonviolently block the shipment of nuclear weapons across the United States.

The years of action, reading, Bible study, prayer, music making, piano playing, singing and reveling in the beauty of God’s creation, coupled with an array of life experiences, have also contributed to my sense of being a “contemplative activist.”

How would you describe “contemplative activism”?

I hope the action part, the doing part, flows from who I am. Worshipping with Quakers in silent meetings, going on retreats and fasting have been part of my life. Often I have pondered the significance of the text (Isaiah 43:1-2) my pastor gave me when I was baptized at age 18. This seems to sum up what we are talking about:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”

How do you see Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) embodying the integration of “being” and “doing”?

There were three main points in the original mandate that came out of the meeting that launched CPT.

1. We believe that the mandate to proclaim the gospel of repentance, salvation and reconciliation includes a strengthened biblical peace witness.

2. We believe that faithfulness to what Jesus taught and modeled calls us to more active peacemaking.

3. We believe that a renewed commitment to the gospel of peace calls us to new forms of public witness that may include nonviolent direct action.

Not only did Jesus teach us the importance of prayer and worship, he repeatedly manifested his intimate oneness with God in his actions and life. Even in the initial training, the curriculum included corporate worship and contemplative silence. To my knowledge, all the training sessions have continued to include daily worship.

Early on, Gene Stoltzfus, the first director of CPT, taught us a prayer song with body motions: “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world. Have mercy on us. Grant us peace.”

We sang it often and in many places; in trainings in North America and even in Iraq during our first overseas delegation in 1990. Worship and our Christocentric faith have sustained us in the ups and downs of “Being in the Way” (the CPT motto) nonviolently and often in stressful situations.

As a Canadian Mennonite, were there certain perspectives you brought to the U.S. context?

I was a learner, often inspired and challenged by wonderful U.S. friends and coworkers, including Mennonites, Quakers and Catholics.

I recognized I was in the most powerful nation on earth, and the most militarized. The urgency of responding as a disciple of Jesus to the violence perpetrated by the military-industrial complex was heightened in the United States.

Even now, while appreciating my own country, Canada, I also aspire to live respectfully as a global person, especially as climate change is upon us.

What about your experience being a woman doing this work?

Early on in my life I was given opportunities. That included MCC assignments in my 20s. In three Mennonite churches, I worked cooperatively with pastors as a Christian education director. In the wider denomination there were leadership postings with Women in Church Vocations and on the General Board of the General Conference Mennonite Church.

At times I noticed that my comments were initially ignored and only taken seriously when restated by a man. This was disappointing and disempowering. Nevertheless, I have learned to trust my intuition and articulate that awareness more and more.
As a younger woman I am encouraged to hear your story, and it reminds me how important intergenerational relationships are.

Over a year ago, a woman in her early 20s walked into my life. I opened my door on a cold Saturday morning in January, and there she was, walking her cousin’s dog. After brief introductions, I invited Deanna in for tea, and we chatted. How surprised I was to learn that a friend of hers had recently been on a CPT delegation to Iraq! That is rare in our area, especially if you’re from a Dutch Reformed Church background. How surprised Deanna was to discover that our friendship would turn out to be the answer to the prayer she had just been praying as she walked the dog!

The friendship deepened as we spent more time together. In the fall of 2010, Deanna continued her adventuresome career and education by following God’s call to Canadian Mennonite University in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Then about a year after our first encounter, she returned for a week of vacation, bringing three friends from CMU with her. They came to my house for a visit. We drank tea and ate desserts. We made music, laughed, cried and prayed together. It was a beautiful evening celebrating our common faith and encouraging one another on the journey.

The cloud of witnesses surrounding us draws us to overcome barriers such as ageism and racism and find a place where we can sit together, rejoice and learn from one another.

These vibrant young women represent the best in your generation, Joanna, as they aspire to walk in the Way of Jesus. As one who grew up in an earlier time, I lament the mess we’ve made of God’s creation. May my peers and I support you with our prayers and love. You inspire hope that as “my life flows on in endless song, above earth’s lamentation, I catch the sweet, though far off hymn that hails a new creation” (R. Lowry).

I don’t have daughters and sons of my own. Nevertheless, I feel graced to have divine encounters of a different sort and receive blessings a hundredfold (Matthew 19:29).

What a beautiful understanding of family! As a daughter, when you reflect on your relationship with your parents, what was it like caring for them in their later years and continuing your work as a peacemaker in various capacities?

Herman and Anna Berg Sawadsky are now in their heavenly home. Their voices are quiet; their spirits echo still.

After living in the United States more than 20 years, though not consecutively, I returned to Ontario to be closer to my aging parents, who were nearing 90. This move, too, felt like a call from God. Work with CPT continued, overlapping with peace and justice ministries with MCC Ontario. Extensive traveling meant I was often away for weeks at a time.

Whenever I returned to Vineland, I found lovely notes and cards, signed by my parents, that said, “We love you, we missed you, we’re so glad you’re back.” An especially precious memory lingers. My dad, at age 100, had become legally blind. On a sheet of paper he had written in big capital letters, “LIEBE HEDY! HERZLICH WILLKOMEN ALS FRIEDENS STIFTER! LOVE: MAMA & PAPA” (Welcome home, peacemaker! Mom and Dad).

Over the years my parents had graciously supported but not always understood the pathway of their oldest daughter. This unexpected affirmation from my parents moved my heart beyond all expectations. The “go home and work for peace” of half a lifetime ago had somehow come full circle.

Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors”(Luke 2:14).

From Widening the Circle, edited by Joanna Shenk. Copyright © 2012, Herald Press, Harrisonburg, VA 22802. Used by permission. Joanna Shenk is associate for interchurch relations and communication for Mennonite Church USA and lives in Elkhart, Ind., where she is part of a cohousing community, the Prairie Wolf Collective.