Under the heading ‘peace making’ on this page of the website you can read about the ‘two hands of non-violence’. In the booklet “The Two Hands of Yes and No” the Linn family (John, Sheila and their son Dennis) explain why they find these two hands so useful. The booklet describes the following anecdote:

A group of friends were celebrating together, with wine and cheese, on their patio, before dinner. Suddenly a man with a gun appeared. He held it to the head of one of the guests, and then to that of another guest. At first all the guests were paralyzed with fear. One woman refused to be intimidated and told the burglar, “We’re celebrating here. Why don’t you have a glass of wine and sit down for a while?”

What she did was she (figuratively) held up one hand and said: “No, I do not participate in fear and violence.” And she used the other ‘hand’ to extend it to him with kindness.

Suddenly the expression on the man’s face changed. He put the gun in his pocket, sat down and drank a glass of wine.

After a while he asked, “Can I get a hug?” One of the guests gave him a hug, and then someone else did. The man asked, “Can we do a group hug?” and so they all gathered around him and embraced him. The burglar apologized and left, taking the glass of wine.

The group of friends, still shocked but relieved, ate their dinner. When they opened the front door to leave, they saw the empty glass, unbroken, neatly placed on the edge of their alley’s sidewalk.

The little book continues with another tale of the two hands, of the American Civil Rights Movement. A group of black students demonstrating peacefully in Montgomery were tricked by police into dispersing and then beaten. Police did not allow ambulances to reach the students for two hours. The driver of one of these ambulances drove to Selma and told the crowd of black and white activists (demonstrating there) what had just happened.

The crowd was seething with anger. Cries went up: “Let’s run!” Behind them, on the other side of the street, stood rank after rank of Alabama state troops and local police forces led by Sheriff Jim Clark, “itching” for a fight. The situation was explosive. A young black pastor took the microphone and said, “it’s time for us to sing a song.” He opened with “Do you like Martin King?”

“Certainly, Lord,” the crowd replied.
“Do you like Martin King?”
“Certainly, Lord!”
“Do you like Martin King?”
“Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!”
And then he sang, without warning:
“Do you like Jim Clark?”
“ce-certainly, Lord,” came the surprised obstinate reply.
“Do you like Jim Clark?” the pastor asked again.
“Certainly, Lord!” it was stronger this time.
“Do you like Jim Clark?”
“Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!”

The Honorable Command took the microphone. We are not just here to fight for our rights, he explained, but for the good of the entire society.
“It’s not enough to overcome Jim Clark, you hear me Jim? We want you converted. We cannot win by hating our oppressors. We must love them to change them.”

James Bevel and the crowd were determined to resist Sheriff Jim Clark and his troops, but they were just as determined to reach out to them with love. James Bevel understood how to use the two hands to get the crowd to respond to their oppressor in this way. With one hand he told the sheriff, “No more hate.” With the other hand he said, “We have the power of love and we love you too.”