We Have Much to Learn

This morning I am finishing up the reading of a book, by Desmond Tutu. I am reminded, this morning, that as a nation we have much to learn from our own history and from the history of other nations. You see, we are not so different from our South African neighbors. We are not so different from Nazi Germany. Not even Iran, Afghanistan, or any other nation that Americans have somehow labeled as "racist," "inhumane," or as "terrorists." It pains me to see propaganda distributed about our current President. Not because of who he actually is, but because of this idea that a certain group will "lose" their political prowess and control over the rest of American society. I am sick that as American citizens we cannot display who we want to vote for or work in that candidate's campaign office without being harassed, shot at, or told that we are "sinners." It pains me even more that this harassment and this hate is coming from the guise of "Christianity" and the "Church." You see, we have much to learn from South Africa if we would only listen.

Everything was subordinated to the security of the state as determined by those in power. It made white South Africans feel that there was a bad world out there, eager to get them, to destroy their "South African way of life." This hostile world wanted to overthrow a Christian government and replace it with an ungodly, atheistic, undemocratic, Communist dictatorship. The apartheid government as propaganda machine was adept at pointing out the disasters that had befallen countries to the north of us in Africa that had adopted socialism - basically they had come to a sticky end because these unreliable, feckless blacks had taken over.

Desmond goes on to say, though, that there is hope. South Africa managed to take that path. I hope that America takes a good, honest look at the values that the founder of its main religion actually stood for, and not the hate, discrimination, and dehumanization that some of its members seem to want to use to rule this country. I hope that Americans choose to take the path of hope and true change (even though it is more difficult) that their fellow South Africans have chosen.

None but the most obtuse can doubt that we are experiencing a radical brokenness in all of existence. Times are out of joint. Alienation and disharmony, conflict and turmoil, enmity and hatred characterize so much of life.

Now and again we catch a glimpse of the better thing for which we are meant - when for a little while we are bound together by bonds of a caring humanity, a universal sense of ubuntu. Then we experience fleetingly that we are made for togetherness, for friendship, for community, for family, that we are created to live in a delicate network of interdependence. There is a movement, not easily discernible, at the heart of things to reverse the awful centrifugal force of alienation, brokenness, division, hostility, and disharmony. God has set in motion a centripetal process, a moving towards the center, toward unity, harmony, goodness, peace, and justice, a process that removes barriers. Jesus says "And when I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw everyone to myself" as he hangs from His cross with outflung arms, thrown out to clasp all, everyone and everything, in a cosmic embrace, so that all, everyone, everything, belongs. No one is an outsider, all are insiders, all belong. There are no aliens, all belong in the one family, God's family, the human family. There is no longer Jew, Greek, male or female, slave or free - instead of separation and division, all distinctions make for a rich diversity to be celebrated for the sake of the unity that underlies them. We are different so that we can know our need of one another, for no one is ultimately self-sufficient. The completely self-sufficient person would be subhuman.

*Excerpts taken from No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu.

A Lyrical Response to America's GOP

I've been listening to this song (off and on) since I was a young eleven-year old. It has such a strong message, and it's so fitting, given this year's political landscape. I try not to judge as the lyrics of this song reiterate. But I feel strongly that there is so much at stake for so many of America's people if a certain party gets elected to the White House. So, because this song sums it up beautifully......take a listen. http://youtu.be/bGayAVrH0gQ

A Little Boy

A little boy raises his voice and slams his books against the desk. He says he doesn't have to listen. He's not going to detention. He's not going because he doesn't want to. He's getting more agitated, more belligerent, more demanding. He's raising his voice and he's fighting a calm, steady one because the rest of his life is out of control. Outside of these walls, these books and this playground he doesn't have a voice. All of his choices are made for him; even the impending split of his world, of his allegiance, of his heart. Outside of these walls he is not a little boy.

Who is he, you might ask. He even wonders. He is our present and he is our future. He could become anything, anyone. Maybe an astronaut, perhaps a leader, a scientist who finds a cure, an author whose words inspire change and human transcendence, an actor who becomes other people so that people can see a reflection of who they really are, maybe a difference maker who works with the disadvantaged; the unfortunate. Maybe, perhaps, a healer.

Today he is wounded. He suffers. His pain is well-known. His pain is my pain. His voice, his anger, his hurt, and his sobbing makes my own eyes wet. His teacher knows his pain, too. But his teacher is better at hiding that old wound than I am. I force it back, I stuff it down, and I wait until my tears recede from the edges of my lids. I am only here to fix a different problem, and it's not this one.

No matter what he hears, no matter what anyone tells him, no matter how many people try to help him, he's the only one who can solve the problem. Eventually he will learn he has more strength and more power than he thinks he does. If he learns anything from the aftermath of a broken home, he will learn to release personal responsibility for his parents' choices. He will gain insight into the human condition and become compassionate about the darkness. He will see that light is always in the depths of despair. One day he will wake up and be happy. He will forgive his parents for the pain and the suffering. He will simply say "it's not worth it. It is time to let go."

It is time to enjoy what beauty exists in the world. And it is time to value and share who I am in this journey. It is time to not hide my pain, not stuff it down, not wish it away, not project it onto others so that it becomes a constant reflection that I cannot break. No, it is time to acknowledge it and make it into something good. Because I am good. Not evil, not bad, not lost, not wrong, not to blame. I am just like you. Just like me.

Wings of Trust

Trust. It's a heavy and scary word. At least it is for me some of the time. It may be that way for you, too. That's part of being human, isn't it? Sometimes we trust too fast and when we shouldn't. Sometimes we don't trust something or someone we had no reason not to. And some of us find it difficult to trust our own choices. Even when we've trusted ourselves and our decisions before. Even when our younger version gave little thought to the "what-ifs" and the big, long list of pending uncertainties. I think that's because part of being young means you don't always have that lingering experience that's conditioned you to say "remember what went 'wrong' when you did this last time." You start racking up experience and if it's not positive, it makes you more hesitant (maybe even unable) to trust that something or someone.

Trust is one of those internal convictions that requires you to believe in the unseen. On the other side of the coin of trust is its cousin faith. These two don't keep balance sheets, analyze the data, or debate the list of pros and cons. Nope. These two say 'this is what I feel to be my truth' and follow it. These two are the light in ordinary darkness. They don't dwell on what might be 'wrong' with what is; they seek the possibility of change, growth, and progress. These two always say "why not?" instead of making excuses.

Trust and faith helps us reveal something about who we are. Those answers without questions. Answers that only we know. Answers that don't stop revealing their truth. Trust and faith lead us to something we couldn't have seen otherwise. Something that we don't know how to touch. Sometimes we leave that 'something' smiling. We go back to the place where we've always stared at the moon. And sometimes we don't. Sometimes we leave the familiar for that something unseen.

If we're asked if we're happy with our choice, on some days we might say yes and some days we might say no. There is no sense in torturing yourself over lives you wished you had lived. Perhaps we get to live out all of our would-be choices. We split and divide into other people. Whispers that we only hear beneath tree boughs when we stop and wonder ‘what if?’ Sometimes we see each butterfly emerge from separate trees, identical in appearance, identical in the ways they fly. But they land on separate birches, never touching, never embracing, never quite seeing every leaf on the other branch. Once in awhile the butterflies look over at each other. They stare inquisitively, wondering ‘could that be me?’ One flutters its wings. The other sits and keeps staring. For awhile they both realize ‘it is you.’

They each learn to survive on their own birch; in their own tree. And each one learns to trust their choices. Not because those choices are easy or what will happen because of them. Because they know that it doesn't matter what the answer is. It's better to just ask the question and realize that reflection is always both an illusion and a revelation.

We find what we seek, but we also find what we may not want to see.