All of 贰惭鲍鈥檚 first-semester, first-year students are required to attend the festival 鈥� surely one of the most fun 鈥渞equirements鈥� a student could have. The university is providing free shuttle transportation from the Campus Commons to the festival site at every half hour, from the time the festival opens at noon to its 6 p.m. closing. (On-site parking is restricted 鈥� check the for more details.)

鈥淲e believe your hearts will be enlarged with the love you will find here, where smiles and hugs and beats that set your feet to dancing will re-energize your spirits in the beauty we share together,鈥� say the festival co-chairs, Vauna Brown and David Kreider, on the event website. (Kreider, who has been a festival organizer for a number of years, holds three degrees from 黑料正能量.)

In this, its 17th year, the festival is recognized as an annual tradition in Harrisonburg, perhaps the most ethnically diverse city in Virginia. Harrisonburg is also one of the most harmoniously livable cities in America by . Festival organizers believe this is not a coincidence.

鈥淲e have a lot of refugees in our community because of the Anabaptist movements and the responsibilities they feel to help refugees settle here in our community,鈥� explains Brown. In the early years of refugee re-settlement, 鈥渟ome of the churches had monthly potlucks and during those potlucks they would sit around and have a brainstorming about what they could do to [further] help.” From this brainstorming came the idea of a festival.

Local civic leaders 鈥� from the hospitals to the educational systems to city government 鈥� have not only endorsed the festival, they have stepped up to help create a hospitable climate in Harrisonburg. This year鈥檚 list of reads like a business and non-profit 鈥淲ho鈥檚 Who鈥� of Harrisonburg, with two of the top eight sponsors being 黑料正能量 and the , founded and directed by 黑料正能量 alumni.

鈥淭his year we are really focusing on unity and on the richness of our differences, which bring us together into a whole,鈥� says Heidi Jablonski, an 2014 黑料正能量 grad who is assisting Brown and Kreider. 鈥淭hese differences draw people together to make the valley such an interesting and dynamic place.鈥�

贰惭鲍鈥檚 with a renowned children鈥檚 performer, Jose-Luis Orozco, at 2:15 p.m. This is one of the eight musical performances of the day, which wraps up with the dance-rhythms of a new Eritrean band, Zara.

of 贰惭鲍鈥檚 is coordinating the making of unity flags, which are somewhat akin to Tibetan prayer flags. 鈥淭his is a community art project for anyone 鈥� children, teenagers, adults 鈥� anyone is welcome at the 鈥榩eace and justice area鈥� close to Pavilion 12,” she said.

鈥淧articipants will get a blank square of fabric and they will be able to put on symbols or prayers or poems that talk about unity,鈥� said Amstutz. 鈥淭hen, if they want, they can take them with them. Or they can pin them on pieces of string, which will be hung around the pavilion.鈥� She noted that this activity fits with 贰惭鲍鈥檚 focus on .

The festival also provides opportunities for fledgling entrepreneurs to get their start, says Brown, pointing out that at least three restaurants 鈥� the , , and 鈥� got their first exposures at past festivals.

Ever since, mediation has remained a central focus of the organization. Executive director Tim Ruebke 鈥�92, MA 鈥�99 (), estimates that more than 10,000 cases have been mediated at the Fairfield Center. Thousands of people have been trained to do mediation, seeding conflict-handling skills far and wide in the community.

鈥淥ur mission is to help people interact and listen more effectively 鈥� so that what they鈥檙e facing can be transformed in a positive way,鈥� says Ruebke.

From the very beginning, the center has had close ties to 黑料正能量. Some of the founding board members 鈥� including Barry Hart, MDiv 鈥�78, Kathryn Fairfield 鈥�70, and David Kreider 鈥�76, MA 鈥�78 (), MA 鈥�09 (conflict transformation) 鈥� first got their heads together after a 1981 conference at 黑料正能量 on alternatives to incarceration. They were further inspired the following year when Ron Kraybill, then the director of the Mennonite Conciliation Service and later a professor at 贰惭鲍鈥檚 Center for Justice and Peacebuilding from 1995 to 2005, gave a lecture on mediation in Staunton.

When the center opened in 1982, it was the first mediation-focused program in the state. Hart was the center鈥檚 first official director; Sue Hess Yoder 鈥�72 and Margaret Jantzi Foth, class of 鈥�54, also were directors in the late 鈥�80s and early 鈥�90s. Numerous students and alumni have worked, interned or volunteered for the center.

During its first two decades, the Fairfield Center trained and supported many of the other mediation centers that now exist in Virginia. It also began a long-running peer mediator program in local schools and was instrumental 鈥� particularly through the work of founding board member and local attorney Larry Hoover 鈥� in the establishment of a dispute resolution office at the Supreme Court of Virginia. Hoover鈥檚 work also led to the addition of mediation principles to the state bar鈥檚 official code of conduct manual.

To keep up with evolving needs in and around Harrisonburg, and to maintain its financial viability (as worthwhile as they are, mediations alone don鈥檛 generate enough revenue to sustain a thriving organization), the Fairfield Center now offers services in five areas: conflict resolution, restorative justice, training, civic engagement and business services.

Over the past five years, the Fairfield Center has pursued its civic engagement mission by sponsoring about 20 community dialogues around issues like sustainability, intercultural and interfaith relations, and local economies. In the spring of 2013, it sponsored a dialogue on guns and security and hosted a community conversation on mental health. Intended to promote thoughtful, productive discussion among people with differing views on the issues, the recent dialogues have been hosted in partnership with the Kettering Foundation and James Madison University鈥檚 Institute for Constructive Advocacy and Dialogue.

鈥淲e see our role in the community as being a place to reclaim good public ways to talk with your neighbors and to create better community,鈥� says Ruebke. 鈥淲herever we can increase listening and improve how people interact with one another around issues, problems and conflicts, we see us having a role.鈥�

Another ongoing initiative, led by Sue Praill, MA 鈥�10 (conflict transformation), the center鈥檚 director of restorative justice, is the development of a restorative justice partnership with the Harrisonburg Police Department. She hopes this will eventually result in local police referring certain types of crimes 鈥� perhaps vandalism or minor theft 鈥� for resolution through a restorative justice process rather than through the legal system.

鈥淲e have a very dynamic task force in place, and we鈥檙e working on getting things started,鈥� says Praill, who has had productive discussions about the idea with the city鈥檚 police chief.

She also leads a 鈥渧ictim sensitization鈥� program at the Harrisonburg Men鈥檚 Diversion Center, a state corrections facility. Many of the men who participate tell Praill after they complete the program, taught in six two-hour sessions, that they have a new understanding of the ways that crimes, even minor ones, hurt victims.

Shannon Sneary 鈥�93 oversees Fairfield鈥檚 training services. These include sessions for people pursuing state certification as mediators (overseen by the very division of the Supreme Court that the center had a role in creating) and other programs designed for organizations and businesses to improve their communications and effectiveness.

One of Sneary鈥檚 current goals is to expand its Spanish-language training program, in the hope of eventually offering more mediation services conducted entirely in Spanish. The Fairfield Center now has one bilingual certified mediator, giving it some ability to mediate for Spanish-speaking clients.

That growing need for Spanish mediation is a reflection of changing demographics in Harrisonburg, now one of the most diverse cities in the state with more than 14% of its residents born in other countries.

International festival

Since 2010, the Fairfield Center has also served as the institutional home of the Harrisonburg International Festival, first held in 1997. The festival鈥檚 co-chair is David Kreider, one of the founders of the Fairfield Center who is again sitting on its board. The 16th annual festival, in the fall of 2013, was the largest ever, with nearly 9,000 people attending.

Kreider notes that the influx of refugees to Harrisonburg has often brought people from opposing sides of conflicts elsewhere in the world. And while the festival鈥檚 primary intention is simply to celebrate the different traditions represented in Harrisonburg, the practices of dialogue, conflict resolution and restorative justice espoused by the Fairfield Center have been important along the way in improving how these different communities coexist in their new home.

鈥淲hile it has been difficult, it has also been very rewarding to feel we have had a part in helping understanding, connection, and healing to begin to happen,鈥� Kreider says 鈥� illustrating one of the ways in which the Fairfield Center鈥檚 original mission is being applied today in Harrisonburg, to situations the organization鈥檚 founders wouldn鈥檛 have anticipated more than 30 years ago.

鈥� Andrew Jenner 鈥�04

A scroll through David Kreider’s website is like a trip around the world: guest book entries from the Netherlands and France to Vermont and California. His artwork depicts faces from places as far off as the Middle East or Africa, and landscapes from New Zealand to the Blue Ridge Mountains.

His personal journey has led him from Israel to Harrisonburg. The latest grain in his path, teaching pyrography – literally “writing with fire” – began with a knock on his door last year.

On a trip to Harrisonburg from his home in Stanley, Bob Hebron arrived on Kreider’s doorstep. He’d seen his wood-burning works in a publication about pyrography.

Drawn to meet the artist on a whim, Hebron asked if Kreider would offer personal instruction.

“It was a little unorthodox,” Hebron laughed. “But, hey, here I am.”

Half a year later, they sit in Kreider’s studio ready for their weekly class – a portrait in progress in front of them.

Hebron has been a woodcarver for years, but the similarity stops at the material; Kreider notes that carving is about texture, while pyrography focuses on shading and detailed work with the wood-burning pen tool.

Therapy, Trauma

Kreider received a wood-burning pen as a gift from his grandparents when he was a preteen living in Israel. He finished high school abroad and came to the states for college at then- Eastern Mennonite College.

But art and intercultural connections didn’t click until years later, after visiting an artist-friend in the Gaza Strip in 1983.

He eased into an interest in art while self-employed as an auto mechanic. Eventually, his interest in cultures and faiths led him to the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding, graduating in 2009. Still, his artistic tendencies stayed on the back burner.

Processing what he’d learned and experienced at CJP, he said he began “thinking about bringing in arts as a way of engaging … relating the pursuit of meaning” to express oneself through symbols and images.

“It was like a whole other language that makes it possible to communicate in ways that words often can’t get a hold of,” he said. “That whole integration had a lot to do with my finding this convergence in arts and peacebuilding and spirituality; it’s a way of capturing deeper meaning.”

Participating in and co-leading workshops at CJP and with undergraduate classes at 黑料正能量, Kreider has facilitated works such as stained glass and mixed media collaborative pieces. One in particular, still in progress, began in a workshop a year and a half ago.

Each member of the group – bringing diverse experiences from across the world – wrote various bits of personal information on chunks of glass. Their life stories, relationships and aspirations were then “broken” into pieces and reconnected to parts of each other’s stories.

Their pasts represented a variety of traumas, from being child soldiers or victims of rape to losing a loved one. Kreider said the purpose of such collaborative art efforts is to demonstrate “how all of that can kind of fit together into something beautiful, even out of what is essentially broken pieces of glass,” and creating a memorial of the process.

“It becomes [not only] a point of healing and hope and identification with the pain,” he said, “but also with finding meaning and connecting with other stories, too.”

Breaking Barriers

Although they haven’t spoken much about his work in trauma transformation and intercultural work, Hebron and Kreider take the time to build on their own friendship.

“We’re on a one-on-one level here, so you break down a lot of the barriers of the classroom,” Hebron said, mentioning that the familiarity makes it easy to discuss anything without pressure.

Such detailed work seems like it’d require silent focus. But “Bob’s able to do art and chew gum at the same time,” Kreider said, stirring laughter from both.

He might not be uncovering any trauma-healing opportunities in this classroom, but Hebron finds art of any kind calming. “Anything like this is definitely therapeutic … because once you get into it, [all of the bad stuff] in your life, you forget about,” he said. “When you’re done, you look at it and feel good. You really don’t care what anyone else thinks, you know you’ve accomplished this, and it’s something you were surprised you were able to do.”

Kreider is accepting new students. For more information or to view his online gallery, visit kreiderart.com.