The Mean Season
Like many of you, I am already bemoaning the tone and tenor of the Presidential campaign. I’m not surprised, mind you, nor are you, I’m sure. While we might have hoped that the candidates and their surrogates would “take the high road” and focus on issues in substantive ways, this fall promises to be the meanest, nastiest, most vitriolic campaign in our nation’s history. I am sick of it already, and it’s not even Labor Day, the traditional “kick-off” date for the campaigns.
To make matters worse, I find many of my friends, both real and “virtual,” pouring gasoline on the flames of division and divisiveness. No sooner are words out of the mouths of the candidates (or some talking head supporting one or the other of them) and – BAM! – social media is riddled with outrage. My friends (who tend to be left-leaning) are quick to both create and forward postings about the latest affront or indignity uttered by their conservative counterparts, often without taking the time to step away from the keyboard, much less to check the facts.
Why, I wonder, do people who ordinarily behave in compassionate ways, support and perpetuate the vitriol that we’re so quick to bemoan? Is it just too easy to pass along a degrading comment about a political opponent with the push of a button? Are we trying to come across as “hip” or clever to our friends, most of whom are already aligned with our position already? We’re certainly not seeking to lift the political discourse out of the gutter that it’s in. Many of us wouldn’t dream of uttering in public many of the accusations we hurl online, yet we hit the “like” or “share” button with reckless abandon. And that makes us participants in, and part of, the problem
As people of faith (no matter what faith you subscribe to), we are called to seek out the best in ourselves and in others. That doesn’t just apply to our flesh and blood selves, but to our online identities as well. In our lives we stand in solidarity against schoolyard bullying. We march for human rights and the doctrine of inclusion. Some of us proclaim loudly and proudly that we “Stand on the Side of Love.” Yet behind the protection of our keyboards and our computers we don’t think twice about “othering” and even demonizing those who don’t share our political viewpoint or who see the solutions to our problems differently than we do.
Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against moral outrage and indignation. We need to voice, both loudly and clearly, our concerns and our solutions. We should advocate for our positions and our candidates. But when we mock, degrade and vilify those who think differently than we do, we debase not just them, but ourselves and the very democracy that we all so dearly treasure.
As we become inevitably immersed in this mean season, I invite you to join me in striving to live up to the principles of our faith, of your faith (whatever it is), no matter how hard that might be. In the language of Unitarian Universalism, let’s ask ourselves how might we continue to “affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity” of our political opponents? How might we remember to strengthen, rather than degrade, the strands of the interdependent web of which we’re all a part? Let’s consider how we might, in the words of Jesus, love not just our friends, but our “enemies” as well? Perhaps it begins by simply taking a breath before we hit “share” or “like” on our Facebook page. May that be our spiritual practice in the weeks and months ahead.
This day, and every day, I wish you peace.
Peter
Fantasy? Myth?
As a minister, I am constantly learning, and sometimes learning about completely unexpected things. At my congregation, my summer worship services have used movies that are currently in the theaters as the text. I chose the films by reading reviews and story lines online. I chose them before seeing them and sometimes before they were released. The movies have led me to new learning. This week, the text is the independent film, “Beasts of the Southern Wild.” Many critics have praised it as mythical and as fantasy, but my research has led me to believe that it is not fantasy. Indeed, filmmaker Benh Zeitlin said in an interview posted in a Patheos blog, “I don’t think of the film as a fantasy film, I think about it like what it’s like to be six. There’s no real separation between reality and fantasy a lot of the time.” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tinseltalk/2012/06/interview-benh-zeitlin-on-beasts-of-the-southern-wild-falling-in-love-with-louisiana-and-prehistoric-monsters/)
What my research showed me was that the film was made on Isle de Jean Charles, Louisiana. The people of the island are indigenous and Cajun, and their island home is literally disappearing. The story of this island and its people is not at all mythical. The people of this real and highly endangered community jokingly call the community “the Bathtub” which is the name Zeitlin chose for his fictional community. It is a very real, very troubling and very urgent tale of environmental racism, climate change and loss. It’s a true tale of loss of culture, loss of home, loss of livelihood and loss of community. It was once a rich and fertile ecosystem for farming and fishing. As we can see in the movie, it is still a beautiful place.
Before 1953, the only way to reach the island was by boat; in 1953, a road was built through marshland. Now, the marshland has turned into open water and the road is often flooded and inaccessible. The island was 11 miles long and 5 miles wide in the 1950s; now it is only 2 miles long and a quarter mile wide. Climate change has led to rising sea levels. Saltwater has killed the forests and made the land infertile. Saltwater flooding is due to the construction of levee systems to protect Louisiana and the canal dredging for the oil industry. State and Army Corps of Engineers decisions left Isle de Jean Charles outside of the levee system because of the cost. Fishing is decreased in part due to the BP oil spill. Once a thriving small community of 400 people, now about 70 people remain, and the tribal chief, Albert Naquin, has urged folks to leave the island. He is hoping that they could sustain their native culture on higher ground. They are probably the nation’s first climate change refugees.
Just like the fictional residents of “the bathtub,” many residents defend their right to stay in their homes. Edison Dardar, Jr. has posted a sign, “Island is not for sale. If you don’t like the island, stay off. Don’t give up. Fight for your rights. It’s worth saving.” Another resident, Delores Naquin, said, “You can’t just uproot – like this oak tree – you uproot it and it will die.” They’ve seen so many hurricanes that some the storms as an annual ordeal to endure in order to keep their connection to their home.
The people of the Isle de Jean Charles may be the first North American climate refugees but they are unlikely to be the last. It is troubling to witness people losing their homes and communities; all the more so because so much of the reason is due to human actions. They need help to find a new home and to sustain their community and culture.
“My tribal council and I have been traveling far and wide to meet with government officials to ask for help in finding a place for our community to live together again. They all want to listen to our cry, and then we never see or hear from them again. Yes, I get mad and frustrated but we will not give up the fight and ask for your prayers and support and ask that you spread the word about the plight of our community and hundreds of other communities just like us along the Gulf Coast that will soon lose our land, our home and sadly, our culture.” Albert Naquin, Chief Isle de Jean Charles Band of Biloxi-Chitimacha-Choctaw
This community is no fantasy. My theology says that we owe these people and their culture respect as all people have worth and deserve respect. They deserve to flourish as human beings. I believe that we are responsible to help each other. We need to listen to each other about how we can help. Climate change is no myth. We are also responsible to the earth. We must address climate change now. There is no time to wait.
(See http://www.isledejeancharles.com/island.php and http://www.pbs.org/newshour/multimedia/isle-de-jean-charles/ and Can’t Stop the Water on facebook)
Spending Your Values
There’s been a lot of controversy lately about chicken sandwiches. Specifically the fact that the family that owns the fast-food chain Chick-fil-A has donated millions of dollars to groups opposing marriage equality for same-sex couples. Suddenly, supporters of marriage equality are calling for boycotts of the chain and opponents of it are feasting there to prove their conservative credentials.
Most perplexing of all to me are the people who insist that chicken sandwiches have nothing to do with marriage equality. Maybe its just the crowd of folks I’m friends with on Facebook, but I’ve seen a lot of people insisting that where the owner of Chick-fil-A spends his money is none of their concern—they just like their pickles and sweet tea. These folks are indignant that anyone would dare ask them to give up this pleasure by connecting it to things they claim to care about.
Unfortunately for these people, it is impossible to separate where we spend our money from what values we espouse. While we might claim to hold certain things dear, if we’re not supporting those things in the world through the way we use our resources (even the smallest amounts of those resources), our value claims are lies we tell to ourselves and others.
I learned a long time ago that each time I spend money, I make a choice. I can make that choice intentionally—to support the things I care about—or not. If my choices are made in ignorance, I might just wind up supporting things I oppose. When I take the time to examine my actions, I can decide which values are most important to me, and how I want to support those values in the world.
Having lived in North Carolina for fourteen years, I know Chick-fil-A and its owners’ politics well. Even when their sandwiches were otherwise-acceptable in my diet, I didn’t eat there because I knew what my money would be used to support. It is possible that you value time and cheap food more than equality for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people. If so, please continue to buy your lunches from Chick-fil-A. I won’t be joining you there.
Lest I leave you with the impression that this is all about chicken, it is not. Every time we spend money—even a few dollars—we make a value statement.
When I travel from my home into New York City, I choose to spend the $20 it costs on a round-trip train ticket rather than on gas and parking for my car. In doing so, I am saying that I value mass transportation and environmental sustainability more than freedom and time.
When I buy coffee, I choose to spend my money on fairly traded beans even if it means going to a store I know sells them that’s a little out of my way. In doing so, I am saying that I value economic justice and accountability more than convenience.
And if I want a chicken sandwich, I’ll get it from a company that supports my right to marry. I don’t honestly know which company that is (can I order chicken sandwiches from Amazon?), but rest assured I’ll find out if I’m ever jonesing for some chicken. Maybe I can convince whatever company it is to throw a few pickle slices on the sandwich for good measure.
