Kung Fu Quaker

One of my very favorite teachers from high school is absolutely delighted I am with the Quaker church, thrilled I agree that the way to peace is not through violence. Being a Mennonite, we are what you could call peace testimony cousins and she really likes that fact.

As a high school student, I wouldn’t have guessed Mennonite the way she pushed our entire class out the door every Monday morning and into the parking lot for “Dagio taiso!” (Japanese morning exercises that I think are called Radio Taiso, but that is the way I remember her yelling it out, one arm thrust into the air.) If you can picture how much effort it takes to pull 25 high school students out to a parking lot to do exercises on Monday morning with other students watching from the windows above, you may begin to get an idea of how much stamina this woman had, and still has. Add a slight frame and red hair, and you have our beloved sensei (teacher). She was one of those teachers any high school student is lucky to have in their life. Personally, I adored her. And I loved dagio taiso. I thought it was great fun and a great way to live in my body, moving around. Our sensei really liked me.

As a college student and early young adult, I was considered sweet and of the quieter variety. I didn’t push my weight around. (I know, I overcame this later.) So, since I highly disliked hitting people, I thought it a good idea to take a self-defense class while I was in college to learn how to push my weight if I needed to. In a beautiful, naturally lit room overlooking the Quad, I learned how to scream, how to hit and kick, where to go for the vulnerable spots on an attacker, and how to keep an eye out on where I was walking. It was a transformative experience for me, learning how to defend myself and learning I had a voice. I still didn’t like to start a fight, but I felt much better about finishing one.

However, no fighting was ever needed (thankfully!) until one beautiful spring day at a medieval event called Bargamels. Bargamels has a pub theme and was actually my favorite event of the year when I was involved in medieval reenactment. My favorite sport to watch was two fighters in full armor going at each other with swords. We did that a lot. But on this particular day, I was seated in the grass wearing my red dress (an inner black dress and fancier outer red dress) reading a book for the New Testament class I was taking at the time. Nearby, they announced the commencement of the Bar Wench Smack Down. Intrigued, I listened. That was my first mistake. They wanted women of legal age who were willing to hit each other with meat cleavers and other assorted weapons found in a pub. It sounded like fun.

You have to understand, up to this point, I rarely ever participated in something even loosely resembling the word, “sport”. I was the mild-mannered lady-in-waiting. But, sitting there, I thought, “Why not?” That was mistake number two. Mariana, my Baroness, whom I served, was not there. Neither were any of our guards. That was her mistake. No one to keep an eye on Roana to make sure she behaved herself. She would later learn this is important. Multiple times over. That is another story.

Realizing, (I’m a bright one!), I couldn’t kill people in the skirted layers I was dressed in, I removed the outer red dress and joined the queue lining up around the eric where we would be fighting. They explained the rules such as no hitting above the neck as we weren’t in armor, and to be your own judge of a mortal wound. This particular group has a culture of their own where honor and chivalry is highly valued. The fighters I respected had taught me well.

When it was my turn to enter the ring, I chose the meat cleaver. All the weapons were made out of PVC pipe, heavily padded, and covered in duct tape. There were knives, mugs, and even a stool we borrowed from an earlier tournament. You could have a weapon in each hand which was handy as you could then thrust with one and defend yourself with the other. (If your arm was hit, you dropped your weapon and hid the injured appendage behind your back. If it was a leg, you either jumped on one or went down on your knees.) I showed no mercy. I liked to take the arms off first, the legs if I could get at them. I figured if they had one less weapon, it would be easier for me to go in for the kill on the chest. Many a time, I had both of their arms cut off before killing them. It wasn’t long before the other women weren’t too eager to come into the ring with me. One woman took one look at me and asked, “I have to fight her?”

I was having a BALL. The time of my life. I LOVED fighting! It was so much fun to kill people! I could see why all the fighters enjoyed it! That is, I was having fun until one of the guards saw what I was doing and went to get my Baroness. Mariana, who was busy judging the baklava competition, and she loved baklava, came hurrying down the hill and as she told me later, spotted in the ring, me, killing people with a grin the size of Texas on my face, and she cried out, “Is that my sweet Roana?”

Yes, Mariana, it was. Your sweet lady-in-waiting took second place that day in quite a crowd of women. Second place was just fine by me though, since if you took first, you couldn’t join in the smack down again the next year. Second was good. I believe it was the next year I was awarded the prize for chivalry. (Just to defend myself a bit so this post doesn’t completely ruin my reputation.)

Since that time, I haven’t had much reason to fight anyone; although that reputation did follow me around for quite some time in that group. There was one fighter practice to which I went and they said I was pretty good. But I wasn’t interested in the investment it would take to be able to last more than two seconds in a ring with a real heavy fighter. That is, until…

My friend, Emily, recently posted on facebook that she is holding Kung Fu classes in her basement with a teacher from Corvallis. I have now been a part of the Quaker church for over four years. I know the peace testimony but that old saying that, I admit, gets me into trouble, “Why not?” came to mind. I am willing to try most (moral) things once.

I showed up in time to take the first bow. This is where all that Japanese dagio taiso training and language came in handy. (Thanks Sensei!) The teacher had us warm up with some exercises in a squatting position. He showed us how to hold our arms up to defend ourselves. He showed us how to kick. Then he taught us how to move our feet back and forth, side to side and we learned a series of movements put together to defend ourselves against multiple attackers. It was rather like a martial arts dance. My favorite part was when he started teaching us how to pull someone to the ground who is pushing us or grabbing our wrist. I thought that was pretty awesome and I admit, I was pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing.

At the end of the class, the teacher asked me what I thought of the class and why I liked it. I have been thinking about this question ever since. Being a part of a peace church, you would think I wouldn’t enjoy working on learning such skills. But I do, I really do. Something in me loves a good fight, learning how to take someone to the ground if I need to. I would still step out of that red dress and join the Bar Wench Smack Down. (Don’t worry though; I will be out of the country the weekend the event is held this year.) It is a paradox that seems so strange.

I realized while driving today there is a warrior in me. Someone who really needs to know how to, figuratively speaking, use a sword, a meat cleaver. I spent so much of my life stifling that warrior down that when I started letting her out in my twenties, she had a heyday. Now, instead of shying away from conflict, I engage in it. Not to hurt another person, but to reach a good, healthy conclusion. I am learning how to defend myself, how to control the power racing through me, channeling the strength held in my hands. I need to know what it is like to live in my body, to be joined to it in soul and spirit. I need to know that my actions affect the world and the people around me. And learning how to fight in my body helps me find the courage to fight in my soul.

The peace testimony isn’t simply a call to lay down all our weapons and not fight. It is a call to lay down the weapons that maim, that hurt and kill. It is a call to lay down damaging words, harsh actions, and prideful choices. It is a call to pick up compassion and thinking of others. However, the peace testimony is not a call to let others walk all over us. It is not a call to stop sticking up for the passions of God. It is not a call to run away from conflict but to instead face conflict with love and justice evenly yoked in tandem. Better yet, approach conflict with an attitude where you cannot discern where justice ends and love begins.

We can’t afford to ignore the power out-flowing from within each of us. Part of peace is knowing our power to hurt, to maim, even to kill, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, yet instead to choose to use that power to heal, comfort, and teach. If we do not know our ability to tear down, we can never wholly build up.

It’s okay to pick up a weapon! Go ahead! But make sure it’s the right one. God tells us to take up our sword of truth. It is a powerful weapon. We are not to use this weapon flippantly or unwisely. We need to know both the power it can hold and the damage such a sword can inflict. Some of the greatest hurt in our world is done by those who abuse their power or wield power unwisely when they don’t know they have it. (For a great book on this topic, read MaryKate Morse’s book, Making Room for Leadership.)

So can I be a warrior and a Quaker at the same time? A Kung Fu Quaker? I believe so. I don’t see any problem in learning these things. It’s hard to live in the world as a lion when one walks around with the stature of a cat. Learning the right way to punch, how to take someone down, spending time concentrating on the placement of my body and the body of others, helps ground me in the physical world and teaches me how I can better carry myself and my power within that world. In fact, it is downright fun.

God gave us physical bodies to live in and it has surprised me how much I enjoy learning how to be present to the physicality of our existence. It’s an important piece of our lives and one not to be ignored. Maybe this is my way of learning to set physical boundaries after learning years ago I could have the emotional ones. And how can we have peace if we do not respect the boundaries of who each other is? If learning to fight is my way of learning peace, with others and with myself, of knowing my power in a tangible way, then I believe that is a good thing. I think even my sensei would be happy with that road to peace. One punch-kick at a time.