The news situation (if I have to choose just one) is The loss of USAID funds to two Quaker entities that I serve or have served on the boards of. One is a hospital in Kenya that has been serving AIDS and TB patients, the other is our Quaker school in Ramallah, Palestine that has been there since just after the American Civil War. Both have lost funding. One lost 1.3 million in project funds, and the other the ongoing support, not just for meds, but for social workers who help families survive-as people now will die form AIDS or TB, these families will lose bread-winners and possibly their homes etc. These are people I know, places I have been, causes that I really believe are vital and life giving.
As news of the bombing resuming in Gaza today, I have a hard time feeling anything but despair and anger.
In thinking about belovedness it feels like a move from a place of unfocused anger to a more focused confrontation of the uncomfortable.
I am realizing that means I need to engage with the hard things not just swing wildly. It’s this realization that makes we recognize that I allow anger to let me off the hook from a response that is intentional.
I think I tend to fawn as a response to these hard things. I allow anger to be my only response and it is so incomplete-but it is the safest, most distant, and the lowest level of commitment. I’m wrestling with the complexity of the beloved response. I need new eyes to see. Osheta’s words that the learning mindset is not linear gives me hope. Listening and learning but also doing. What will doing look like for me in this instance? How can I sink into the waters of my own belovedness so I can hold others in that same way?
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Shawn, these words: I allow anger to be my only response and it is so incomplete-but it is the safest, most distant, and the lowest level of commitment. These words are so convicting for me but oh so necessary for me to hear. I tend to justify my anger as “righteous” (ie: what they are doing in Gaza and the West Bank is barbaric, ie: cutting off medical aid to those whose very lives are dependent on it, is inhumane). And while there may be righteousness in my anger, nevertheless it is a cheap righteousness if it does not lead me into loving and just action. Thank you for facilitating this insight for me!
Shawn, a line that stood out to me in your post, is, “I allow anger to let me off the hook from a response that is intentional.” That’s a really honest appraisal and I appreciate it and it is a good challenge for me.
Your post is also a reminder that things are so much different when they are up close and personal (rather than seen from far away and often just in the news) and even though I’m sorry for the difficulty you’re personally experiencing, I’m grateful for hearing your first-person account.
Shawn, I appreciate your honesty and vulnerability with this. I have heard that beneath anger is a treasure that is dear to you. I wonder how you might name this ‘treasure’ – the people you know and also what is at stake.
I appreciate how you are challenging yourself to press into action while still doing the hard work of upholding the belovedness of all involved…
Shawn, I really appreciate the way you have described your experience and the way you questioned your habitual anger reaction. I’ve been experiencing something similar this week, seeing how easily I fall into reactive patterns that block “the waters of my own belovedness”, as you put it.
And I am also deeply saddened to hear about the ways the recklessness of the USAID cuts have hit the people and institutions that you know personally. Thank you for sharing this and witnessing to it. The truth matters and what is really happening is often getting distorted now and it has so much power hearing it directly from the people who are being affected. Sending prayers for the hospital in Kenya and the school in Ramallah.