Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts

26 July 2017

Bridging the Liberal Elite/Aloof Conservative Divide


Recently I stood in a block-circling line for a liberal news media event. Surrounded by liberals, all of whom were aware that they, too, were surrounded by liberals--it’s just about as close to a literal political echo chamber as one can get. There is something deeply instinctual in the human psyche that is emboldened by this type of setting. Opinions are stated as obvious facts, views that might be hotly debated in other circles are here voiced with no parsing of words, no measured phrases or cautious clarifications. The assumption here is that at large this group agrees with me. We may debate, but only for intellectual stimulation; at the end of the day, we are all on the same team--go team! 

Honestly it makes me smile for just a moment, but a mild nausea quickly follows. This reminds me of a similar setting on another end of the spectrum. This reminds me of church. Much of my adolescence was spent in conservative Christian church settings--the weekday youth group, weekend retreats, summer camps and Sunday church. In a church lobby it is known that God is good, that Jesus saves, that we’re all sinners saved by grace. It is also known that we are “in”, and, necessarily, many others are “out”. There are jokes and judgments and knowing looks that only someone who is “in” will get. Every word you hear in a church lobby assumes that it will be met with agreement. 

At first these settings are comforting, they feel a little like home, like you’ve found your people, your tribe. It feels good to be agreed with, to say what you believe and hear “yes!” and “exactly!”. But camaraderie tends to very quickly focus us inward. This is where my feeling of nausea came from. There is an arrogance that comes with an echo chamber. You begin with the assumption that everyone here agrees with you, which gives you a feeling of freedom to say whatever you want, no one challenges your opinion in part because many people here do agree with you and in part because group think is extraordinarily powerful and silently shuts down dissent, and there you are, left with the assurance that you and this large crowd agree. You, who are in, are right, “they” who are out are wrong. 

So here you are, in a line full of liberals whose standpoint writ large is defend the poor and oppressed, making jokes about the daily news about the idiot conservatives, walking past a man who’s asking for spare change without saying a single word to him, and not ten seconds later making a joke about how the MC at this event is probably pumping up the crowd FFC style with chants of “cut taxes for the poor!” and “medicare for everyone!”. 

Alternatively, there you are, in a crowd of Christians whose namesake stood above all else for defense of the poor, oppressed and marginalized, making quiet remarks about the "questionably dressed" woman at church and avoiding eye contact with the guy sleeping on the sidewalk, having nodded in impassioned agreement not five minutes earlier when the pastor preached about doing “unto the least of these” and judging not lest you be judged.

Bunch of arrogant jerks all around, really. 

Now, I personally do not understand where the connection between Republican and Christian ideology came to be. I mean, I guess I can see it from the perspective of a Christianity and a Republicanism I do not agree with in any way. But the religion that Jesus talked about--the politics that Jesus talked about--looks so much more like the marginalized-saving message on the liberal side of aisle. But I think it’s a bit of Jesus-ish-perspecitve that the Democrats need to push their message beyond the insular walls of their self-righteous echo chamber and into the ears of the folks who would benefit from their policies, and help tip the electorate. 

The burning question among forward-focused Democrats and non-enfranchised liberals these days is “how do we reach people?” How, in 2018 and 2020, do we reach the people that we missed in 2016. It’s widely understood that the Democratic message missed “Middle America” somehow, failed to win over swing states, and even missed in states they had won easily in 2008 and 2012. “Reaching people” is what Christians are all about, in theory, and their (unfortunate) strong tie to the Republican party I think has carried that connection factor with it. Christians are good at “we” messaging that makes many feel right at home--Republicans piggyback off this message and carry a large portion of our population with them. Democrats are better at “they” messaging, which leaves a lot of people feeling decidedly shut out: they’re backwards, behind the times, all the same.

Clearly Democrats consider their views and policies to be better--better for Americans individually and better for the country as a whole--and yet they have failed, quite spectacularly, to convey that message convincingly to an electorate majority of voters.

And this is where Jesus comes in. Not literally, mind you, at least not literally for everyone. But in action, in love. The great thing about Jesus--whether seen as savior, historic figure, or myth--is that what Jesus talked about, he did. He talked about loving the poor and the oppressed, and he loved  them. He talked about bringing in the marginalized, and he brought them in. He talked about tearing down the tyranny of the rich and did just that, not by putting his money where his mouth was, but by putting his poverty there. Jesus was hugely politically subversive, and no one ever called him a coastal elite, no one ever said he was out of touch with their experience. The rich and powerful feared him, the poor, oppressed and marginalized saw hope in him. 

So why is the Left, with its people-loving policies, not reaching people, while the Right, with its corporation-loving policies, is--and with an 88% approval rating among its base?

I think, policies aside, that those folks feel loved there. When they hear things like “America first”, they think “yeah that’s me, ‘America first’ means me first,” even when the policies don’t fully translate. Because the Party’s message is “we are here for you, you’re one of us, we feel your pain”. Somehow the Democratic message always feels like it’s talking about someone else, or just plainly against whomever.

The Republican base claims to be the Christian base, and I think it’s time for liberals to beat them at their own game. Love the hell out of people. Serve the hell out of people. Be with people where they are at, hear their stories, feel their pain, and work along side them to bring them into a better future. The whole magic of the story of Jesus is that the high and mighty God, the coastal elite of deity, decided to step down into the fray and figure out what all the fuss was about--by actually experiencing it. Jesus was incarnate--there in the flesh--and I think it’s time for liberals to quit merely touting high ideologies and do the same. 


Neither side is perfect, and a multi-party system is imperative to a thriving democracy, but I think it’s time for Democrats to breach the divide to show hurting Americans that they are seen, and show Christians that what they’re looking for might be a little more blue than they thought.

31 March 2011

compassion: to suffer with. (and the reappearing of hope.)

i have been blessed, after a few months of somewhat aimless search, with two fantastic jobs. when i say "fantastic" i don't mean something along the lines of manning a ride at disneyland or being a chocolate tester at the hershey factory...i mean something closer to, in one case, holding a sick child to whom i can offer little more than a soothing pat and, in the other, teaching a similar child to take his own medicine and feed himself, and hope to shout that he takes the lesson to heart.

a youth shelter and a coffee shop/youth mentoring program.

the one breaks my heart, and the other has that potential, but thus far has only given me incredible hope.

in the process of meeting these kids and hearing their stories, i have rediscovered that compassion is not a gentle, "aww, that's sad," it is, rather, the heart breaking on the rocky ground of another's shattered experience. walking barefoot through the shards of another's hurt.

compassion hurts; it has to.

i left the shelter at midnight last night, taking a deep breath and almost laughing in shock at how intense the last seven hours had been. my first few shifts were with pretty quiet kids, or at times when the kids weren't even around. this shift was anything but quiet, and the kids were all very, very, present...

...i heard more f-words in those seven hours than i have heard...ever in the sum total of my life.

...for the first time, i had to mediate between a parent demanding to take her child home and a child who didn't want to go.

and when i got home, i went straight to sleep so i could get up and work at the coffee shop this morning at 8:30.

i woke up with f-words streaming through my mind, snippets from the kids' shouted "conversations" last night, and sighed a few times, hoping to clear those things from my brain and praying for the child who had gone home with her mother in an attempt to lift the blanket of overwhelmed/defeated feelings.

part way through making lattes i began to feel frustration and tears bubbling to the surface, but explained it away with coffee-related frustrations, until it finally hit me, like a pile of snow collected on a tree branch that finally gave way over my head: i was heartbroken for those kids.

i made it to my car before letting that heartache spill out in tears, and as i drove home past a playground full of kids my heart broke even more over the probability that at least a handful of those kids had similar stories. more of the kids from the shelter came into my mind and their stories and the fact that this shelter, no matter how much they rebelled against the rules and complained about the chores, is where they feel most safe.

knowing that their homes don't feel safe. knowing that their fathers aren't speaking identity and strength, that their mothers aren't speaking love and beauty. that their sense of value comes from things they shouldn't have even experienced at their age. that i can't fix it. it kills me.

i cried for a good long while, and prayed for the kids, and cried some more.

what do you do with that sort of heartache? i collapsed under it for a while.



(and this is where hope enters, or rather, makes itself known.)


this afternoon i recounted my night to Mark, who leads the mentoring program. i shared my heartache, and my frustration that i can't just fix it. we talked for a bit about the possibility of getting some of the shelter kids into the mentoring program, and then he reminded me of one of the most foundational principles of the mentoring program:

we focus on what we can do, and go from there, gradually expanding our circles of influence.

it closely resembles a great thought from one of Mark's favourite people, John Wooden:
"Don't let what you can't do interfere with what you can do."


this reminder brought me back to the surface after my morning plunge into the depths of hopelessness. it brought me back to a healthy level of hope and truth.

i can't fix everything, all at once, but i can do something. and i am doing something: being present. and i need to focus on that until i discover something more i can do. and then focus on that. and go from there.

i realized the importance of this sort of heartache, the holy ache for redemption in a broken world. it's the aching of God's heart. and it made me thankful for the opportunity to feel that pain. and be a part of a band of people who are working to change it.



it's so important to feel your heart break over something completely outside of yourself. to hurt simply because someone else is hurting. to learn compassion in a non-theoretical way. to learn to suffer with. and to remember always that you carry the key to hope. that hope is alive inside of you.



there is (was) this fabulous show called Joan of Arcadia, about a girl in high school who meets God face to face. throughout each episode God shows up as different people, some reoccurring through the series, and gives Joan little missions or tasks that teach her things about herself and life and people.
there are a million objections you might have to this premise, but it's a fabulous show, and after my morning cry-fest and my midday hope-injection from Mark, i watched an episode that i had forgotten about, which brought on another small-scale cry-fest.
i won't spoil it for you (because you will watch it, it's called "Trial and Error", from season two, fyi) but at the end of the episode Joan is heartbroken and hurt, sitting on the city bus telling one of my favourite God characters, a sweet but straight-forward old lady, that she will never love again because it gives the person so much room to hurt you.

God puts her arm around Joan's shoulder and replies, "Do you know what innocence is, Joan? Innocence is more than the absence of guilt, it's having faith that there's goodness in the face of cruelty and pain. Some place you still feel that way. And that's me. And I'll always be there."

God is hope. and he is everywhere. and he is in me.
therefore there is always hope, and hope is always in me.
the key is learning to focus on that hope, no matter how it may seem to shrink beside the tragedy, because it will overcome, is overcoming.

always hope.


"the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -john 1:5





"if i say, 'surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,' even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you." -psalm 139:11-12