WINTER
2001 Mario Cavallini
Mickleton MMPerception of distance
Early in the Gulf War, my pre-school daughter feared that the fighting in Kuwait and Iraq would involve our house in Salem. I dragged out a coffee-table atlas, showed her New Jersey, then flipped page after page until I got to the Middle East. She understood the distance, and went to sleep reassured.
How naïve of me.
Geographic distance doesn't seem so important now, and it never was. Even temporal distance is no big deal. The attacks of September 11th — and more importantly, the support those attacks have received in some communities — make it clear that the Gulf War is not over and the front lines are not just in foreign sand. But it is not just that death and destruction have now been brought to the United States; rather, we've been close to the battle all along.
While we slept reassured, the initial Gulf War damage and ongoing sanctions against Iraq have resulted in an obscene death toll, by some accounts 1,000,000 over ten years, half of whom are children. The highly effective persuasive powers of our entertainment and commerce industries have blindly overwhelmed other cultural values, without so much as a glance in the rearview mirror.
No excuse or rationalization can justify the terrorist attacks. That must be clear. However, not liking the way in which we've been awakened does not give us the right to go back to sleep. After all, the Middle East (and South America, and Indochina, and Africa, etc) is right next door.
Perception of norms
One of the lessons of the civil rights movements is that white men in America, even if they are reasonably enlightened and open-minded, cannot help but benefit from race- and gender-based advantages. The momentum of years of segregation and discrimination gives white men a smoother path in the institutions of the dominant culture. The executive suite — with portraits of old white guys, background music composed by old white guys, and filing cabinets, desk drawers, network servers and decision-makers' heads full of the records, traditions and ground rules of old white guys — is an environment that some people fit in more easily than others.
New white guys don't see the old-white-guy patterns as barriers or advantages, but just the "normal" environment, the way it's "supposed" to be. Anybody who wants to fit in "more easily" should act "normal" and perform the way they're "supposed" to. But the irony is that the white guy has contorted to fit in as much as anybody else; his only advantage is that he's been swimming in the pattern longer and is more thoroughly convinced that the patterns are natural for him. Newcomers (such as blacks and women) have not been so thoroughly indoctrinated, and they see the dominant culture patterns as something imposed upon them. But give them time and they fit right in, more's the pity — they adapt to the same inbred system, with ingrained strengths and ingrained weaknesses, virtues and blind spots.
Now, ever since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the American dominant culture has assumed a clear shot at the globe. "See how prosperous and free we are," we proclaim. "Play by our rules and be like us." Of course, we don't mean that everybody should find themselves a pristine continent full of natural resources, force-grow an industrial base through immigrant and slave labor, and then settle into a consumer economy obsessed with growth and hogging more than its share of available resources. We tend to overlook those advantages, seeing them as part of the normal environment. But let's continue to overlook them, and pretend the rest of the world overlooks them as well. Instead, let's just focus on cultural values.
"Play by our rules" sounds so benign, especially when we describe our rules as freedom and democracy. But it's instructive to hear "freedom" defined as the ability to devote your days and your self-esteem to working for somebody else, doing things you might not do of your own accord for more than a few minutes, in order to buy food rather than grow your own, be indebted to a bank for decades in order to have shelter, etc. Not that industry, commercial enterprise, and real estate are bad things — they work for many of us — but objectively, this is not freedom. This is the American dominant culture's definition of an appropriate balance between individual liberty, community order, and corporate prosperity.
Not everybody holds these truths to be self-evident.
In fact, every society has its own dominant culture, with its own notions of "normal," "supposed to" and "appropriate." And societies interact a lot like individuals. Societies or individuals with discordant values might negotiate agreement, go their separate ways, argue, or agree to disagree. But when one overpowers the others, like a bully on a playground, then things get ugly. The American industrial skills in commerce, entertainment, and marketing have made us awfully powerful. Powerful enough that we think we can ignore others' notions of "normal." Powerful enough that, unless we control ourselves, we risk being a bully.
Perception of responsibility
Most of us have enough trouble keeping our own heads straight and needs met, without taking responsibility for American foreign policy, much less justice in the Middle East or human rights in Afghanistan. And yet, it is also true that each of us has power and limitations: the institutional executive may set policy, but cannot change hearts; the production-line worker may not be heard directly by anyone but his neighbor, but he can open someone's eyes, who then enlightens someone else ...
So, we've got this horrendous terrorist crime, and there's inequality and suffering in the world that is made worse by our indifference or even explicit actions. What can I do about any of this? How can I heal the world?
For me, the answer is personal and peculiar to my understanding of how God works in the world. I'm not sure all Quakers would agree with it, certainly not all Christians. It has been shaped by what I've seen of undeserved good fortune and unjust affliction, and by the grace that has seen me safe thus far. It is a product of frail reason, faith, and experience — some of which I am sure is hidden from my conscious awareness. A different understanding may serve you better; I offer mine for what you may find of value.
The way I can heal the world is to realize the kingdom of God.
Healing the world is too big for any of us. And yet, as part of the world, we each and all have responsibility. Healing the world is, in the vocabulary of some of us, bringing about the kingdom of God on Earth. By this, I do not mean that the Bearded Thunderer will sit on a throne in the Holy of Holies and issue rules and regulations about when I can eat fish and how much leg I can show. Rather, I'm thinking about the triumph of good over evil.
Any struggle involves a conflict with an outcome that is uncertain over a period of time. If it's over in an instant: no struggle. If there's no question at any point about the outcome: no struggle. From this perspective, only two points of time really matter: the point in the future when the final outcome is assessed and the medals are handed out, and the here and now, when what I do is progress or setback. The final outcome is in God's hands; I have no idea whether I'll be around for it or not. But the here and now is my turf. Every moment that I spend in holy obedience, that I do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with my God, is a moment in which good triumphs, a place in which the kingdom of God exists. If enough of us put enough of those moments together, then I'm guessing that we'll be doing our part to prepare the way of the Lord.
Perception of role
Fine. Okay. Realize the Kingdom of God in the here and now. Sounds good. But what do I do?
Specific actions will vary. We each have different skills, we live in different settings, and we are called to carry different burdens. We may not know what we are accomplishing, and we may not have the satisfaction of success. The important part is striving to be in right relationship with God, to be responsive to the call, whether it comes in scripture or the still, small voice.
A statement attributed to Mother Theresa speaks to this:
People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
forgive them anyway.If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
be kind anyway.If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
succeed anyway.If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
be honest and frank anyway.What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
build anyway.If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
be happy anyway.The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
do good anyway.Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
give the world the best you've got anyway.You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
it was never between you and them anyway.Actually, it is about God and me, and also about them. I may do all sorts of things that I think are noble and constructive, but unless they are done in the Spirit, then the best I can accomplish is some temporary deed and some self-glorification. I seek a relationship with God in which I do good-not to curry favor with the Heavenly Daddy, not to accumulate points for admission to Heaven, certainly not for reward in this world, and not even out of a naïve notion that "good always wins"-but simply because that's where my heart is. Once I am in that space, then I am with God, and then "they" come into the picture. Just as I have come into relationship with God (and there are many who have helped me to this place), then my role is to help others find their relationship with God. It's about me and God, and then them and God. Next stop: Kingdom of God.
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Last modified:
Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 08:19 AM
