The Only Way Forward

The Art of Civilized Conversation

It happens often. We’re triggered by something someone said. Someone else is triggered by something we have said. We cannot imagine where their head is, how they can possibly feel they way they do. Why can’t they accept the truth? Why can’t they listen to reason? Here is the link to an article. Here is a YouTube video. Read this. Watch that. There it is, once and for all. A definitive answer. The reply? “That’s just fake news.”

It feels like I have been drowning. I started writing this article a few weeks ago, but was interrupted by the Kirk assassination. Then I started writing about the contrast I see between sincere evangelical theology and its politicized, weaponized version, but was interrupted by some existential challenges to the right of free speech. So I started writing about the Kimmel thing and got interrupted by an embarrassing display at the United Nations. And after that . . . .

Then this past Sunday I stood before my congregation to wax on about the story of the rich man and Lazarus, a passage I have visited innumerable times over the last forty years. After dispensing with the shallow interpretations of heaven and hell and making my usual case against biblical literalism, I focused on the metaphor of the great chasm between a rich man who wouldn’t let go of his table scraps and a poor man starving to death right outside his door. Even beyond death, the rich man showed no compassion, demanding of Father Abraham that Lazarus come to his aid, to which Father Abraham replied, in essence, “Nothing doing!”

First century Palestine was the definition of economic injustice and income inequality. Against the backdrop of brutal empire, the “oligarchs” of that time had gobbled up the land, concentrating their wealth and power in gleaming cities, leaving the impoverished class into which Jesus was born to scrounge for their own survival. One cannot read the gospels without acknowledging the over-arching themes of wealth and power vs. poverty and helplessness. This was the probable motive for saying, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” Wealthy folks weren’t highly regarded in Nazareth.

Of course this same wealth gap exists today, and that in itself makes a good sermon, but with the help of a congregation that likes to talk back, we explored the other chasms that exist within our polarized culture. The chasm between liberal and conservative came up immediately. So did Republican vs. Democrat, educated vs. working class, male vs. female, old vs. young, and hetero-normative vs. LGBTQIA+.

The fact is, whether we’re talking about the first century or the twenty-first, the “othering” of our fellow humans is something we all do. What is unique to our century is that we live in a media ecosystem invested in highlighting those dividing lines. No one I know reacted with anything other than horror and sadness at the assassination of Charlie Kirk. And yet, much of the media, be it social, legacy, print, cable, radio, or podcast, wants us to think that all conservatives agreed with Mr. Kirk and all liberals wanted him to die. This is a self serving lie that exists because it is profitable for those who want our attention and our pocketbooks.

But here is what I know to be true: the vast majority of us will never favor political violence for any reason. Most of us just want to be heard, to offer and to experience respect and civility, and to talk about our disagreements in ways that aren’t fueled by the insatiable hunger of the tech oligarchy. When Utah Governor Spencer Cox implored us to put our phones down and to touch some grass, I must admit that I did not care about his religious or political persuasion. His words felt like cool water on a parched ground. Amidst the hyper-weaponized language of that awful day, something deep inside of me said, “This is the only way forward.”

I write this newsletter to get my ideas out into the world, lest I hold them in and they eat me alive. Believe me when I say that my personal commitments are non-negotiable. But there’s a guy with a Trump sign at the end of my block, and I can express my adoration of his dog without compromising my principles. If someone is hungry or thirsty, their politics are irrelevant to me in that moment. I can hold the door open for whoever is behind me or help someone pick up some groceries that they’ve dropped in the parking lot, or make more room in an elevator.

It’s called being human, and if we can’t do that, there’s nothing else that makes any difference.