It’s Time to Get Unhooked: Part 1 (or Hate the Poison, not the People)

I’m driving home for lunch listening to Rush Limbaugh rant about “those people.” I smile thinking about the emails going around on the other side filled with suspicion and claims of tricks in the aftermath of the March 4th primaries. They are calling this election trench warfare. Meanwhile, I read a story from the BBC confirming what has widely been assumed: the post-election violence in Kenya was in part orchestrated by the government. On top of the violence in Palestine, Sudan, and the US bombing in Somalia this week, I should be feeling very angry.

But, instead I smile. I’m smiling because for the moment I’m not moved to outrage by claims of what “those people” are doing or even knowledge of what my own people are doing. For so long, my quest for social justice has been fueled by guilt and anxiety about being a white, privileged, (Christian), American, for being part of a system that practices and supports apartheid against the rest of the world. But recently, I have been discovering a different type of fuel.

It’s the type of fuel that lets me realize that despite systemic violence, evil, and oppression, I don’t need to play the game of “those people.” I don’t need to be driven by a spirit of condemnation. I don’t need to stand in accusation or judgment. My experience tells me that the root of our problems is the clouds of suspicion, fear, and guilt that hang in the air we breathe. These clouds poison us until we are ready to kill – literally and metaphorically – brother and sister, lover and friend.

On the other hand, my experience also affirms to me the goodness and dignity of people. Despite the length and tediousness of caucusing the other night, it was an opportunity to connect with diverse people. I had my initial suspicions, but I sought to reach across the divide and assume the best in people. I greeted everyone and celebrated that they were engaged, no matter who they were supporting. I talked with a Hispanic man about the shift in generations – how his parents never voted and only worked, how he and his wife worked but also developed a political and social consciousness encouraging their children to both work and learn, and how his children are now all in college and one of his son’s wants to teach sociology. I loved what he told me about discipline – how it does not mean to punish or instill in your child the sense that they are bad, but rather how he emphasizes the word disciple and seeks instead to teach his children and affirm their dignity.

I’m still working this all out, but I do think there is a difference between speaking out against violence, oppression, pride and idolatry, and condemning and denying the humanity of others. The former is righteous and prophetic. The latter is degrading and insidious forming the very barriers that lead to war and abuse. Every time was separate ourselves from “those people” we deny their humanity and our own. This promises momentary advantage but sucks the life out of everyone.

It is tempting for me to criticize and other those who are different from me. It is tempting to stand in accusation or condemnation of my fellow citizens. It is tempting to draw dividing lines between me and “those people” for justifiably good reasons. But I want to stop being fueled by my guilt-ridden self-righteous desire for separation.

It’s time to get unhooked.

More to come…