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My Spiritual Experience While Protesting Today

I've not been sleeping well for a few weeks. Last night was another such night. The sleep aides aren't really working. When they do work, I wake up the next morning groggy and irritable.

Today I awoke itching for a fight. You know, that underlying feeling of discontent when you just hope that someone will say something really stupid on Facebook, and then you will be justified eviscerating them intellectually. And if you can publicly shame then in the process, even better. That's the kind of mood I woke up in.

 

So I partook in my morning coffee ritual and looked at the morning news. I try daily to watch a little bit of CNN, MSNBC, and Fox. Yes, all three.  I find all of them have glaring biases anymore, and it gives me a good idea of what people are being fed and from which silo they choose to feed--especially when I see them posting polarizing opinions on social media. 

 

After a few minutes of hearing more about Trump than I care to hear in a whole day--both pro and con--I turned it off and got about my day. Having not worked for well over three months, establishing some normal daily routine is essential to keeping my psycho-emotional wellbeing intact.

 

My Friday ritual for a couple of months has been to volunteer delivering meals to New Yorkers who can't get food on their own. I have developed a little community with my Friday volunteers. Most of us lost our jobs during the pandemic. So we share a bit of a trauma-bond. We also are starting to get to know each other better. I look forward to seeing these faces every Friday, including the people who peer behind their doors retrieving the bags of food I leave at their threshold.

 

In times of pandemic and civil unrest, it's good to know your neighbors and even count some of them as friends. We really are all in this together, whether we feel it or not.

 

After I had dropped off my last bag and descended from a three-story walk-up, I was shvitzing from the heavy air. I turned onto Minetta Lane from MacDougal. It was then that I heard the familiar chants: No justice, no peace! Know justice, know peace!

 

I scurried up the block and joined with the march. It was a smaller one than the ones I've seen from my balcony or actually participated with in-person on the street. Perhaps only about fifty people, we were black, brown, white and probably a few other shades in between. Parents were marching with their kids in tow on scooters. Older adults were pushing their bicycles decorated with rainbow streamers and signs calling for police reform.

 

I had left my sign from earlier in the week in my backpack so I pulled it out: No turning back. This group was marching towards my home, both literally and figuratively.

 

That's because the home of my heart has always beat to the rhythm of justice. At the age of fifteen, I was serving in one of the poorest slums of Port-au-Prince, when a Haitian man read my mail. He told me I was a prophet and to always use my voice. It was an inflection moment in my life that I've never forgotten.

 

About ten years ago, a minister visited my home church. She called me out of the congregation and told me that when she thinks of me she thinks of the Fourth Beatitude, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied." She told me I was called to lead a life of justice, to speak out for the poor and oppressed. And as my brother recently reminded me, what are we called to if anything but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly?

 

So how could I not march? How could I not let my voice be heard? How could I not join the throngs of those crying out for justice? For it is goodness and mercy that follow us when our hearts bend towards justice.

 

This particular protest today was not as somber as some of the others. We chanted but we also danced. We celebrated all that Juneteenth meant and means today. We hoped for the realization of emancipation--not just in our hearts--but also emancipation that carries with it actionable policies and equal justice under the law, not just for a privileged, white few.

 

As I neared the end of my portion of the march, I stepped out of the street onto the sidewalk to wipe the sweat from my brow. At that moment, I heard a gruff voice to my left growl, "Mother-f*cker, get out of here with your f*cking bullsh*t." 

 

My head jerked in his direction, and suddenly, this wave of compassion flooded my soul, emerging from I-know-not-where: Sir, bless you. God bless you. My voice was so tender in that moment, even I didn't recognize it. I was surprised by this overwhelming sense of grace.

 

HIs big, burly white frame buckled a little. He backed down and went quiet. My mind immediately went to the words of Dr. King, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

 

In that moment I felt this profound sense of compassion for man who was cursing us from the sidelines, taunting us from the cheap seats. It's as if the eyes of my heart were opened, and I could see the condition of his soul. I didn't want to curse him in return. He's already living a life full of curses. He didn't need mine. He needed to know we can live from a place of blessing instead of cursing. Maybe I needed to know that too.

 

Now I recognize that there are many people who oppose these protests. I recognize that there are a many good-hearted, sincere, Christian people who even oppose those of us crying out that black lives matter. They find this too political or too extreme or too radical. They discredit the whole movement because agitators spew hate or rioters loot in the streets. Perhaps in discrediting, these naysayers feel more justified about their personal inaction or just don't want to be roused from their seat of comfort.

 

But all I can tell you is that today, I woke up itching for a fight. And after I went out and let my voice be heard, after I proclaimed sight to the blind, liberty to the captives, justice to the oppressed, my heart was softened. My heart was broken and in the best sort of ways. Not just for the systemic racism against black and brown lives, but also for those white souls bound up with prejudice, fear, and hate. I no longer needed to tangle with foes on Facebook. A deeper work of transformation had been accomplished in my heart.

 

A few people have asked me, should I go out and protest? I can't answer that question for you. I can only tell you to listen to the still, small voice within you, pointing you in the direction you should go. Then do your portion, and have faith that good will follow.

 

You may be changed for the good in the process, and in so doing, change the world.

 

 

My Experience from the Epicenter - Saving Grace

Some mornings reality rudely awakens my dreamscape, and the thought of facing the day is more than I can bear. I roll over to my other side in hopes that I can descend back into restful bliss and avoid earth's current doomsday scenario.

And most mornings that doesn't work. So I get up and go ahead with my morning routine because honestly in times like these, routine helps.

Routine hems borders to the frayed edges of my nerves. It provides banks to the river rapids of my soul. Routine brings back some semblance of normal.

Yesterday was such a day. After twenty-seven days at home, my mind had decided to have a mind of its own. The day started dodgy. From brewing the coffee to making the bed, I strained against my simple, morning rituals. 

My psyche was living life on its own terms and did not want to behave. I felt irritable and easily-agitated. Watching the news, looking at my Facebook feed, or listening to the daily White House briefing only served to wind me up more.

So much blame-shifting and finger-pointing and fear-mongering. It seems like stay-at-home orders have turned the world upside down. Or maybe it's just revealed the true nature of our deeper selves, when left to our own electronic devices. 

Either way, this prolonged shutdown of most of the earth's population is giving us time to look at ourselves, our systems, and our solutions in new ways. Some say that innovation comes out of such times. If that's the case, we are in for a windfall of wonders and miracles in the months and years to come, because this has not been easy.

But back to my conflicted mind and heart. I escaped for a walk while keeping physically distant and found myself on a huge boulder in Central Park. For a few moments, I felt grounded on that warm stone while spring sunlight attempted to baptize my wintry sins away.

Bless her heart, Spring really does want us all to bloom.

It's Passover and Holy Week after all. It's supposed to be a season of renewal, a time of rebirth, a moment when the Angel of Death passes by and the plagues don't come near our door. A time when resurrection of lost things occurs when we least expect it.

Spring is hopeful. She doesn't give up. She stretches out our days trusting we will lift our gaze to the sun and come back to life.

So much for that, I thought. I know people who have died just this week, as do many of my friends and family.

Where is light when darkness seems so impenetrable? 

Where is joy when we are faced with such sorrow?

Where is healing when we see so much death?

I mean, what if this goes on through the the end of the year? What if it cycles, spins, and returns for the next flu season? What if it mutates and becomes something stronger, more nefarious in weeks and months to come, all before scientists can develop a vaccine?

The weighty pressure of so much uncertainty bore down on my mind and body. The inner rhythm of my soul was not staying on beat, and try as I might, I couldn't get in sync. I found myself drowning in a deep hole of despair with no ladder to climb my way out.

And then I paused, and took a breath. It didn't immediately silence the questions or the feelings. But it did cause me to question the fear behind them.

You see, we are living through an extraordinary time. And it's more important than ever that we be gentle with ourselves. 

We've never traveled this way before. We don't have all the answers to this pandemic. Science doesn't have a cure yet, and clearly, the Federal Government doesn't either.

If we listen to all the outside voices, our hearts will surely fail. That's why it's important to step back, get quiet, and take perspective. 

Perspective-taking allows me to see the bigger picture and find some empathy for myself and others. It doesn't always come naturally, and I do believe it is a skill that can be developed. Such times are primed for developing new coping skills that allow us to plumb emotional depths with newfound nimbleness, delicacy, and dexterity.

I believe these times call us to become much more compassionate with ourselves and demonstrate graciousness to others because none of us is doing this perfectly, and that's okay.  That means we all have to be nicer to each other if we are going to come through to the other side.

I also believe that a lot of this division and rancor is fueled by great fear and assumptions about the way we think life should go.  And when it doesn't go our way, we get overwhelmed and lash out at other people. Our smart phones make it that much easier because the other person is not standing in front of us. We can say what we want with much more limited consequence.

Perhaps things would look and sound different if just for a moment:

Bernie-supporters were kinder to Biden-supporters, and Biden-supporters were kind to everyone. 

Conservatives would loosen up on their rigid adherence to legalistic standards that puts party over people, and liberals would be less snarky in their rhetoric regarding those on the other side of the aisle.

Media outlets would begin reporting more facts and drop the one-sided political bias.

The President and elected officials would measure their words and work together for all the people, not just their own political tribe.

Fundamentalists would stop declaring God's judgment on everyone else, and the rest of us would stop becoming so emotionally reactive to them because that's exactly what they get off on. It's how they justify their tepid theology and shore up their fragile souls.

Because in times of pandemic, words and deeds must carry with them the balm of healing, not the politics of war. We can debate all this stuff once we aren't losing hundreds of thousands daily to this virus.

It's too much to expect us to grieve the dead and fight the living all at once. Our souls are not equipped to do both right now. We are weary, we are tired, we need a little more time to take all this in and process these enormous life changes that have come.

That's why this starts with me and with you. I am allowed to have a bad day and not beat myself up over it. I am allowed to have a bad day and not beat you up over it. 

I can read a post on social media and not become emotionally reactive just because I feel powerless and alone. I can look at it, give the person a little benefit of the doubt, and move on. I can change the channel or turn off the tv.

I don't have to respond to every contrarian that presents before me. Sometimes, the best response I can give a provocateur is my silence.

This doesn't mean that I give up my strong opinions or that my momentary silence is mistaken for assent. I think it just means we will have more strength to work this stuff out once the death rate falls a little lower.

I believe we would benefit from being more forgiving and less judgmental in these times, especially when it comes to the media, religion, and politics. Or we may just keep devouring ourselves over and over again until we end up broken, bitter people who are alienated from our neighbors, friends, and family. I am not convinced all of the relentless backbiting, name-calling, and over-sensitivity is serving us very well. 

We need to give each other a just little bit more room to be human and to make mistakes, or none of us are getting out of this thing alive. We need lots of grace. In doing so, we just might save ourselves.

If there is anything this virus is teaching us, I think it is that we are all interconnected. The virus doesn't observe political borders nor discriminate solely based on gender, race, sexual orientation, identity, tribe, nation, or creed. So why do we?

It's as if Mother Nature herself is screaming at the human population, calling back her unruly children to their divine nature, reminding us that we really are all One.

Let's begin acting like we really are all in this together because the reality is we are.

Let's be kinder to ourselves and each other because gentleness will heal our tender wounds.

Let's go a little easier on ourselves and each other because compassion will carry us forward.

During my meltdown on the hot rock in Central Park, a friend rang. She lives only across the bridge in Jersey City, but in times like these that might as well be a million miles away. It was good to hear her friendly voice.

She said I had been on her mind and wanted to check in. We began to catch up, giving updates on friends and family. Her call gave me a a much needed moment to reconnect my disjointed parts. We talked about the great suffering humanity is collectively enduring and how the virus doesn't care about our differing perspectives.

She then observed, "It really is all about grace, you know."

Amazing grace. 

Reconciling grace.

Saving grace.

May we all be overcome by this grace, and may we never recover! 

And let it begin with me.

Why I Marched

I marched in the March for Our Lives in NYC two weekends ago. It was an extraordinary experience and one of the most important things regarding civic engagement that I've felt I've ever done.

You see, I know a young man who survived the Parkland shooting. I used to live and work in Broward County. I know this area very well. I recognized and even knew people from Broward who were on the national news.The shooting at Marjory Stoneman became up close and personal.

I began interacting with people on social media about the issue of gun violence and reform. I heard from Facebook friends who own guns that they support limits on that freedom. These people understand that rights in America are not absolute but are weighed and balanced for the common good.

And I am convinced that the easy accessibility of firearms in this country is not good at all for the common good. I have witnessed on television the horror of the many mass shootings in schools, workplaces, nightclubs, and yes, even churches. A few years ago I became increasingly concerned for my family's home church. If it could happen in a church in Charleston, who's to say it won't happen in Palm Beach Gardens?

I could no longer just post my support for the student survivors of Parkland or Sandy Hook or the many, many other places of unrestrained violence. I had to get out and do something.

It concerns me that this issue has become an either/or debate in our country. If you support gun control and background checks, then you cannot possibly support better access to mental health. If you support mental health measures and beefed-up security in schools, then you cannot support reasonable, rational gun legislation. I think it's possible to support all of the above.

I had one person comment to me that she could not support any gun reform at all because it is a veiled attempt to take away all of her guns. This kind of affection for firearms paired with intense fear of having rights taken away seems at best irrational and at worst, pathological. It would appear that some Americans have an inordinate love for owning weapons. Unfortunately, this rigid thinking does little to bring people of differing opinions together.

But the pivotal reason why I marched was the positive messaging. I have always had a heart for social justice issues. However, I could not always get on board with some of the protest marches because of the negative stance. I wanted to march FOR something, not just against.

I gathered with hundreds of thousands across the country and world. The March in NYC was packed with grandparents and moms and dads with strollers. There was no rancor. People were kind and patient. We waited for a couple of hours on the Upper West Side until we could actually start marching. It was a peaceful, positive demonstration of people's voices being heard that is part of parcel of what this country is all about.

I saw a feed recently of some Facebook friends speaking against one of the Parkland students because of his use of four-letter words. While I am not in favor of  vulgarities, I would never decry a seventeen-year-old survivor of a mass shooting. What further dismayed me is these critics were Christians. I suppose they missed the parts where Jesus said "love your neighbor" and "bless your enemies". This speaking out against student survivors must stop.

These students are merely carrying out the legacy of their school's namesake. Marjory Stoneman Douglas was a suffragette, civil rights activist, and conservationist. Why would we expect anything less from these students? These young people are doing exactly what she did: letting their voice be heard. And an increasing majority in this country are listening.

So I marched because I want to make a difference. I am choosing social action over Facebook rants. I choose to stand with the Parkland students and speak out for them. I choose to bless the thousands of survivors of gun violence in this country with the healing they need and deserve. And yes, I even choose to be gracious to the nay-saying critics (although I will not engage in endless debate).

If you have interest in being part of this cultural shift, I encourage you to do so. Stand for common sense. Stand for safety. Stand for justice. Stand for the kids. Stand for life. 

I Must Speak, I Must Listen

I must speak. I cannot stay quiet. As I said in my last post, I lost my voice for a little while due to grief. But my voice is coming back.

I'm sure some would rather I stay silent. They'd rather me not get "political", especially on social media. Some would like to delete issues of injustice from their present reality the way they block Facebook friends with whom they disagree.

You see, for me speaking out on issues of social justice is essential to being true to myself, my community, the values I was raised with, and most certainly of all my faith and moral compass.

I am of the opinion that many people stay silent because it's too risky to speak. Some might say that for those of us who are white, staying silent is the epitome of white privilege and entitlement. We don't want to speak out publicly for people of color or people of a different religion or sexual orientation because we fear it will upset our safe, neat categories at home, school, or church. 

The truth is, none of us lives in a place of safe, neat categories anymore. The internet has changed all that. So has the smart phone.

We live in a land of diversity whether in the heart of New York City or the peaceful, backwoods of small town America.

Lines are blurred now. They most certainly always have been, we just lived as if they weren't. Life is most often lived in shades of grey. Rigid categories don't work very well. The may protect us but they also keep our neighbor out.

I need my neighbor. All of them, whether I want to admit it or not. We are all in this together, and none of us really make it out alive anyway.

I need my neighbors who are different. I need to learn from her experience. I need to listen deeply when he speaks. I need to understand that the color of my skin gives me a qualitatively different experience than that of my sisters and brothers of color. I must understand that with that privilege comes greater responsibility to make room for everyone.

I learned this from a colleague a few years ago. She stated to me, "Jonathan, we have to tell our black sons what to not say and not do when they get pulled over by a police officer. You'll never have that experience. Our black sons are more at risk at being shot than you."

She is very correct.

I must speak, and I also must listen.

I listened last week to a colleague tell me about the times he has been stopped by police for doing nothing wrong. The color of his skin made him suspect. Listening to him made me pause, reflect, inquire, and hear more than just his words but also his deep, emotional experience that is very different from mine. I found a new place of compassion for him, and we now share a deeper connection due to his courageous vulnerability.

This last week I have mourned for my nation. I have mourned for the people beaten and the life of Heather Heyer.

But I too have mourned for my white sisters and brothers who fear speaking out. I have mourned for the white Christians who are trapped so deeply in religious strictures that they can't see beyond their toxic theology. I have mourned for the white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and other fascist groups that feel emboldened by this American President's tolerance for white supremacy, classism, hate, and intolerance.

Be wary of those who stay silent in this hour. Their silent increases hate and wickedness in this land. 

We must become more tolerant, inclusive, accepting, understanding and embracing of those who are different than ourselves. We must boldly denounce those who subjugate others on the basis of their gender, sex, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or nationality. We must see beyond these categories to each other's common humanity.

Einstein said:

A human being is part of the whole, called by us ‘universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

We need to speak boldly, but not so loudly that we can't be heard.  To my white sisters and brothers, now is the time we must also listen. I encourage you to sit down with someone who is different than yourself and listen to their story. You might find you have more in common with them than you think.

5 Social Media Survival Tips in a Trumpian Universe

I've been un-friending and un-following a lot recently, and it's not exactly as one might think.

While I lean to the liberal end of the spectrum and am definitely not pro-Trump, I have tried to keep people in my social media circle who think differently than me. I understand that not everyone who disagrees with me is necessarily "less than".  

If I surround myself with people who think just like me, I'll never be challenged. And if I'm never challenged, I'll never grow. So I like diversity of thought, even if I disagree with another's premise completely.

However, recently I have had to get rid of a few people on Facebook and Twitter. Name-calling and vulgar language is not the energy I want in my life. So when I see vitriol and intolerance on either side, I block. Period.

Here are some simple tips I'm finding helpful to navigate social media in a Trumpian universe:

• Only post from reputable sites. If it's a 100% right- or left-wing leaning news site I usually skip right over. I try to only post from more bi-partisan sites but occasionally I will post from MSNBC or Fox if I think it solid information or provocative and perhaps useful.
• If a social media friend gets hostile or offensive, I try not to call them out in public. I use private message and ask them to clarify.  I find that a better way to engage as no one enjoys a public scolding.
• Refrain from name-calling. It's easy to default to stereotyping people to "narrow-minded bigot" or "jigsaw liberal" (both epithets I saw recently online). I don't like to be demeaned so try not to demean others.
• Hold your ground--but in a more reserved way. If a post is open to discussion or debate, rebut with facts, not feelings. Emotion does not translate very well over the internet. I also never know with what kind of voice a person is reading my posts so I try to be less passionate and more factual. I also try to refrain from ALL CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! It's just annoying, and makes me feel like I'm being lectured. 
• Assume nothing. When in doubt, ask "What do you mean by that?" Sometimes I jump to conclusions that the writer isn't intending. This happened recently with a friend who voted for Trump. I asked her to clarify why she believed the way she did. I also stated at the same time that I think she has integrity so I genuinely want to know and understand. Guess what? She replied with her reasoning. I still didn't agree, but I did leave our encounter with a better understanding of her point of view. We also retained our warm rapport.

I'd like to think that things are going to cool down politically, but I highly doubt it. So it's incumbent upon me to do my part in standing for justice and truth--as I see it--while still being polite to my neighbor. After all, we need more kindness in the world. I really think that's what could pull us through these very difficult, divisive times.

"I'm praying God elects my candidate (and so should you)"

My Facebook feed was littered with a lot more political posts than usual this morning.

One was an invitation to join an online prayer meeting to pray that Trump would win. A few posts later was a minister calling for people to pray that Hillary would win.  Right after that was a formerly-religious individual calling for the Religious Right to f-ck off. Then came a very devout Evangelical woman recruiting people to join the Trump Movement promising that God is going to use him bring a new-found freedom to America.

You know it's very important when you need God (and others) to back your cause!

But these diverse posts got me thinking:

• For people who believe that a higher power is involved in national affairs, is God taking sides?
• If prayer really works, then do the prayers for opposing candidates cancel each other out?
• How does someone know that God is actually on their side?
• If one's preferred candidate loses does that mean that evil won and their righteous cause(s) lost?
• Does God even become entangled in the political divisiveness of American society?
• Would God perhaps step back in disgust and have us sort it ourselves?
• For spiritual people, is their well-being and peace centered in the next President or in the meaningful faith they profess?

It's all become quite confusing at times--even disheartening. I don't have the answers to the above questions, but I have lamented with friends our inability to "do unto others as you would have them do unto you".

Do we really dare to "love our neighbors as ourselves" anymore? Or does that only happen after national tragedies?

I'm not sure how prayer plays into getting someone elected but I do know that if prayer doesn't result in a restful, peaceful spirit within me then it probably isn't going to work nationally either.

When we manipulate religion and spirituality to further our political agenda, we are missing the point. Meditation, reflection, contemplation, and prayer are first tools to transform me internally, not to further my agenda of changing others externally. I can't change another, but I can perhaps do the soul-searching work of changing myself and hope that others do the same too.

So I will continue to unfollow some and even unfriend when necessary. I also will thoughtfully consider and engage those with whom I disagree, as long as the tone remains civil and respectful.

I think that's how we become better as a people and as a society: showing kindness to another, one person at a time.

So by all means, share your convictions and vote. And of course, be kind to one another while doing so.

 

 

 

 

My Election Season Survival Tips

I've been following this wild and woolly campaign season fairly closely. I find myself getting completely caught up in it: feeling at times concerned, anxious, shocked, disgusted, frustrated, or any combination of the aforementioned.

 A few weeks ago I made some changes, realizing that this election isn't worth sacrificing my psycho-emotional well-being.

So with a little less than four weeks to go, here are my tips for surviving this election season:

1. Turn it off. I find myself watching various news outlets whenever I'm near the tv. I enjoy hearing the different political spins on the same story. But sometimes it's too much, and it's time to turn it off. Just because there's a television in the room doesn't mean it has to be on.
2. Put it down. My smart phone not only shows me political rants of Facebook friends, it also gives me headlines all throughout the day. I can get stuck in iPhone la-la land. When that happens, I put the phone down. I can always review my social media feeds at a later time.
3. Watch what you post as well as who sees it. While I've been fairly vocal to friends and family in person, I've been purposely silent on social media because I didn't want to engage in the contentious fray. There's tremendous diversity among my social media friends, and I haven't felt like debating acquaintances or people I rarely see (or have never met) face-to-face. I finally posted something political this last week and found myself judged and admonished by both conservatives and liberals alike. (Ain't nobody got time for that, especially me.)
4. Unfriend, unfollow. For me, I only receive rebukes from people who walk with me closely on my journey. These are the people who will call me out and then help me walk out positive change. If someone publicly and aggressively calls me out--and is not willing to follow up in private and in a non-snarky manner--I'm not interested in their feedback. I tell them as much and if they don't receive it, I put them on a limited viewing list--or better yet I unfollow. If they aren't open to collegial discussion, I unfriend. I don't need contentious people in my life from either side of the political aisle.
5. Watch what you say. I assume that most people think just like me; after all I'm brilliant and always right (sarcasm intended!). But it's also probably a little arrogant to think that people see things from my perspective. So unless I'm really sure I know the people I'm socializing with, I'm very careful what I say, and how I say it. I've found it's just not worth it. The climate is too explosive right now. Pausing and taking the perspective of my listeners helps me cultivate empathy. And if there's anything I think we need right now in America, it's more empathy.

Now having said all of this, I love a good debate. I really enjoy political discourse. It's been hard for me at times because I want to go on rants and raves. But I've found other people's rants and raves are not really changing my mind (nor are they producing much good within me). While rants might help me blow off emotional steam, I don't think they are really going to help change anyone's mind either. In fact, my emotional steam may even turn people off who agree with me.

At the end of the day, most people's minds are already made up. As much as I'd like, I probably won't change them.

So I'm doing my best to follow the Golden Rule this election season:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

For me that includes how I share, the timing, the tone, the content, and my intentions behind it. I think if we all do that a little bit more, we might get a long just a little better. 

 

For further ideas on this subject, read Bridging the Divide.

 

 

Responding to Grief and Tragedy in a Way that Brings Deeper Healing

I awoke this morning to my Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter feeds awash with people standing in solidarity with Paris. That is wonderful and reminds me of how connected we all are in our shared humanity.

I also awoke to a lot of political and religious commentary about Islam, the West, the Middle East, and white privilege.

What I have learned about grief is this: in the early stages the most helpful thing I can do is to feel the pain, shock, disbelief, anger, fear, helplessness, and sadness. I do that by standing with people in these complex emotions and simply recognizing the emotion, feeling it fully, and not judging it. 

That's because the most healing thing I can do initially is to feel fully. 

For me, entering into religious and political commentary too early--making conclusions about what we did/didn't do right--blocks that ability to feel, and thereby, blocks the necessary healing that feeling deeply brings.

This approach works better for me and enables me to come to more objective conclusions that are not colored by overwhelming emotion.

I believe it's normal to rush to political and religious conclusions--just not always helpful to the grieving process so early on.

Aggression, Intolerance, and Maniacal Thinking

In the last few days, we've seen a number of provocative comments from influential voices on the religious and political Right.

Franklin Graham called for an immediate halt of all Muslims immigrating to the US and for them to be treated the way Japanese and Germans were in WWII.

Then Donald Trump attacked John McCain and veterans in this country as less than heroic if they were captured as POWs. He never served in the Armed Services so this makes his criticism of our veterans all the more appalling. Here's his follow up response and some more of his rhetoric:

ABC US News | World News 

While these statements expand these men's voices in the American culture wars, enough is enough!

I do not identify as Evangelical in my faith or as conservative in my politics. These are not ideologies I espouse.  

Having said that, I do not think being Evangelical or conservative automatically makes one intolerant, misogynistic, homophobic, or anti-Muslim. I work and associate with politically and religiously conservative folks who are none of the above.

But these days I'm not sure it helps.

And that's a shame for the many thoughtful and intelligent people who get associated with this new brand of aggression, intolerance, and maniacal thinking.

 

I hate what is happening in Israel and Gaza.

My Facebook screenshot says it all.