The unreasonable invitation?
The morning following super Tuesday in the United States 2016 presidential primary election I was listening to a Ted talk by Zak Ebrahim entitled “I am the son of a terrorist. Here’s how I choose peace.”. There is also a Ted book entitled: A Terrorist Son: A story of choice.” For obvious reasons he has changed his name. No one would want to have to respond to people as the son of a terrorist who was responsible for extremist views and actions which resulted in the death of many.
Of course it is wonderful that his very bright, well-spoken man was able to open his mind and heart to the possibility that the God of his understanding did not create him essentially any different than those who are Jewish, those who are members of the GLBT community, or others that he was brought up to believe were enemies of the God of his father’s understanding. I cannot help but wonder what allowed him to open his heart and mind to getting to know those who he has been taught to hate because their beliefs and actions did not please the God of his father’s understanding. We know that once any of us opens our mind and hearts to experience the shared humanness of others that it is difficult to hold on to judgment and hatred. Yet, many are seem unable to take that first step.
Although this question has haunted me for as long as I can remember, I have been particularly cognizant of this question this election period in the United States. I have usually had some fairly strong or even strong preferences for particular candidates or some particularly strong negatives about a particular candidate, I am having a difficult time remembering having such a strong, negative feeling as I have towards the candidacy of one particular person. I find myself thinking unkind thoughts, predicting dire consequences should he be elected president, and struggling to identify any shared humanness with him. Although I have previously had strong moments of fear or even anger towards some individuals I perceived or experienced as bullies, I cannot recall having such consistent, long term feelings of disgust. Even before I was pressed by the media to think about the issues of Mr. Trump having a penis much less the size of it, I had to fight the gag reflex every time I heard his name. I know, of course, that the bully is an essentially lonely, fearful person who has to constantly attempt to prove his or her worth. I can almost always call up an image of holding my infant son in my arms as we took him home from the hospital and imagine that the bully I am tempted to discount was once such a small, innocent child who was easy to love. I know that the same bully was easy to love as an infant unless he or she had a diagnosis such as autism or some other brain dysfunction.
I also know what it is like to attach oneself to a very conservative religious group who promises that if one fits oneself into this tiny little, behavioral box God and all His/her servants will one day be proud of you and welcome you home to the heavy room He/She has prepared for you. The rent on this room will be paid for eternity. Even though one “knows” that one has sinful thoughts and feelings if one does not act upon them one will be loved. When one feels underserving, unloved, and disconnected that is a powerful promise. I was that young teenager and then a young man who was baptized and washed clean by the blood of Jesus. The arms of the congregants were open to embrace this poor sinner. I patiently waited for the sinful thoughts and desires to finish the wash cycle. It never happened. I “knew” that I was not a “true” or “absolute” believer and that I would never fit in. Fortunately the bully religious group of which I was a member did not require proof of one’s sincerity by becoming a suicide bomber. It did often require judgments of others who were not like us. Sometimes the judgment was “merely” pretentious, patronizing pity. One did not call one’s behavior hatred or consider that it might drive others to suicide because we had consciously or unconsciously affirmed that the sinner whose repentance was obviously not truly sincere was not deserving of God’s love.
The distance between the judgmental religious group to which I tried desperately to belong, the extremist groups who lynch in the name of the God of their understanding, and the groups which convince true believers to become true martyrs as they strap on the bomb, carry them onto airplanes, drive them to a crowd of people, publicly behead the infidels – this distance is very narrow. While it may be comforting to think that self- righteous judgment is different than encouraging the terrorist or the suicide bomber martyr, it seems to me that the truth is that hatred is taught on a continuum. Teaching a little bit of hatred and calling it concern for the sinner is like becoming a little bit pregnant.
We are not going to defeat the terrorist or the extremist bully by inviting them to a more fluffy version of hatred. I am not going to be able to justify a limited version of inclusiveness or unconditional love.
Certainly, if the Jewish person, the gay person, or the others who opened their arms and hearts to Mr. Ebrahim had said to him, “Your father is a terrorist. He is a Muslim. You are a Muslim. You are not worthy of love” he would not have learned that those “others” were the same as him and “the others” would not have learned that he was the same as him.
The challenge for me if I truly want to do my part to create a less frightening, less hateful world is to open my heart to Mr. Ebrahim’s father, and to that presidential candidate who mirrors an unattractive part of me. As I understand it, this was the challenge or the invitation of the Buddha, Jesus, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and many other spiritual leaders. It was an invitation to love even those as unlovable as this writer.
Written March 16, 2016
The morning following super Tuesday in the United States 2016 presidential primary election I was listening to a Ted talk by Zak Ebrahim entitled “I am the son of a terrorist. Here’s how I choose peace.”. There is also a Ted book entitled: A Terrorist Son: A story of choice.” For obvious reasons he has changed his name. No one would want to have to respond to people as the son of a terrorist who was responsible for extremist views and actions which resulted in the death of many.
Of course it is wonderful that his very bright, well-spoken man was able to open his mind and heart to the possibility that the God of his understanding did not create him essentially any different than those who are Jewish, those who are members of the GLBT community, or others that he was brought up to believe were enemies of the God of his father’s understanding. I cannot help but wonder what allowed him to open his heart and mind to getting to know those who he has been taught to hate because their beliefs and actions did not please the God of his father’s understanding. We know that once any of us opens our mind and hearts to experience the shared humanness of others that it is difficult to hold on to judgment and hatred. Yet, many are seem unable to take that first step.
Although this question has haunted me for as long as I can remember, I have been particularly cognizant of this question this election period in the United States. I have usually had some fairly strong or even strong preferences for particular candidates or some particularly strong negatives about a particular candidate, I am having a difficult time remembering having such a strong, negative feeling as I have towards the candidacy of one particular person. I find myself thinking unkind thoughts, predicting dire consequences should he be elected president, and struggling to identify any shared humanness with him. Although I have previously had strong moments of fear or even anger towards some individuals I perceived or experienced as bullies, I cannot recall having such consistent, long term feelings of disgust. Even before I was pressed by the media to think about the issues of Mr. Trump having a penis much less the size of it, I had to fight the gag reflex every time I heard his name. I know, of course, that the bully is an essentially lonely, fearful person who has to constantly attempt to prove his or her worth. I can almost always call up an image of holding my infant son in my arms as we took him home from the hospital and imagine that the bully I am tempted to discount was once such a small, innocent child who was easy to love. I know that the same bully was easy to love as an infant unless he or she had a diagnosis such as autism or some other brain dysfunction.
I also know what it is like to attach oneself to a very conservative religious group who promises that if one fits oneself into this tiny little, behavioral box God and all His/her servants will one day be proud of you and welcome you home to the heavy room He/She has prepared for you. The rent on this room will be paid for eternity. Even though one “knows” that one has sinful thoughts and feelings if one does not act upon them one will be loved. When one feels underserving, unloved, and disconnected that is a powerful promise. I was that young teenager and then a young man who was baptized and washed clean by the blood of Jesus. The arms of the congregants were open to embrace this poor sinner. I patiently waited for the sinful thoughts and desires to finish the wash cycle. It never happened. I “knew” that I was not a “true” or “absolute” believer and that I would never fit in. Fortunately the bully religious group of which I was a member did not require proof of one’s sincerity by becoming a suicide bomber. It did often require judgments of others who were not like us. Sometimes the judgment was “merely” pretentious, patronizing pity. One did not call one’s behavior hatred or consider that it might drive others to suicide because we had consciously or unconsciously affirmed that the sinner whose repentance was obviously not truly sincere was not deserving of God’s love.
The distance between the judgmental religious group to which I tried desperately to belong, the extremist groups who lynch in the name of the God of their understanding, and the groups which convince true believers to become true martyrs as they strap on the bomb, carry them onto airplanes, drive them to a crowd of people, publicly behead the infidels – this distance is very narrow. While it may be comforting to think that self- righteous judgment is different than encouraging the terrorist or the suicide bomber martyr, it seems to me that the truth is that hatred is taught on a continuum. Teaching a little bit of hatred and calling it concern for the sinner is like becoming a little bit pregnant.
We are not going to defeat the terrorist or the extremist bully by inviting them to a more fluffy version of hatred. I am not going to be able to justify a limited version of inclusiveness or unconditional love.
Certainly, if the Jewish person, the gay person, or the others who opened their arms and hearts to Mr. Ebrahim had said to him, “Your father is a terrorist. He is a Muslim. You are a Muslim. You are not worthy of love” he would not have learned that those “others” were the same as him and “the others” would not have learned that he was the same as him.
The challenge for me if I truly want to do my part to create a less frightening, less hateful world is to open my heart to Mr. Ebrahim’s father, and to that presidential candidate who mirrors an unattractive part of me. As I understand it, this was the challenge or the invitation of the Buddha, Jesus, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and many other spiritual leaders. It was an invitation to love even those as unlovable as this writer.
Written March 16, 2016
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