I lose that vision when I separate myself from people. Sometimes that looks like doomscrolling or looking for all the details about the most recent incident of injustice in communities that are important to me. Sometimes it looks like spending the time I have in person with people to complain about others or swap stories about the stupid thing someone said or did. I think that by focusing on my anger about a situation or spending time “othering” I feel like I’m doing something, like I’m engaging on the issue. Both of these activities have a way of swallowing time and attention – there is no bottom to the anger or despair I can feel if I keep digging for more information or seek out people just like me to commiserate about all the people who aren’t like “us.” In dehumanizing others I lose my own humanity. 

What does that look like? I flail about trying to recover or regain control. I’ll start a new blog or start commenting on every post I see. I’ll start planning new programs or approaches to take in my sphere of influence. I’ll order 4 new books to read that will help me unlock how to harness the anger or despair into action. I think I’m a little bit like what C.S. Lewis described as people running around with a fire extinguisher in a time of flood. When I’ve lost sight of whose and who I am I feel like I lose access to the power and light that comes with internal peace. I am “acted upon” rather than acting with intention in the way I seek out information or engage in conversation.

I wish I had good guardrails. I guess if I lose that vision when I separate myself from people, then practices that draws me to people helps me keep that vision. As I think about moments or periods in my life when I felt consistently centered, it is when I have been intentional in my contemplative practices, particularly starting the morning by previewing the day’s activities and conversations in prayer and then reviewing them again at night. I feel like this helps me invite God – and the perspective of whose and who I am – into my day. I also feel consistently centered when I am intentional in my interactions, particularly with my family, coworkers, and people I serve with in my church – people that I interact with the most. I am very intentional with people I don’t know; with close relationships I too often put them on autopilot. When I put my phone down, make it a point to listen to my children, spend moments with coworkers, or ask questions of fellow leaders at church, I find that helps me feel centered. I feel God’s presence in me from moment to moment and am more likely to see others that way. And when I see others that way I am able to be more gentle with myself in recognizing whose I am. Rather than running around with a fire extinguisher in time of flood, I feel like I’m in a rowboat, moving carefully, but with intention, to those in need.

For a long time before this park existed, a vacant lot sat in its place. It was both an eye sore and a safety hazard, but our neighbors wanted something more. They wanted a safe space for their kids to play. Through the years, different groups of people organized and put in the work in hopes of bringing this park to fruition. Often times, people came in with big visions and a strong belief that this would finally be the time for breakthrough, only to be disappointed by barriers and red tape.

Finally, last year, after all the effort that has been put in and some leverage from a couple City Council members who caught sight of the vision, this long held dream became a reality. This little piece of paradise now sits hidden away in a neighborhood that is often forgotten. The children of those first neighbors to cast the vision are now grown. People have come and gone, never getting to see their dreams realized. The park, one year in, is no longer shiny and new. It holds the scars of our neighborhood, but it also holds the beauty of hope embodied.

This park came to mind as I listened to Ben McBride talk about having a 100-year vision. He challenged us to think not just about the goals that we are seeking to accomplish in the present or near future but to think in terms of what we would hope to see in 100 years. He implored us to think about what it would take to show up to work each day knowing that we’ll probably never see the fulfillment of our vision. As Resmaa Menakem puts it, we’ll see the world we want to live in in three to five generations. This sobering reality brings with it an awareness that true, lasting transformation takes time.

Often times, when we start a new venture, our hope takes the form of rose-colored glasses. We might come in with grand visions and action plans to help us get there. Though we might acknowledge the challenges that lie ahead, we move forward in confidence that our vision will be realized in our lifetime. Maybe this type of hope is necessary in those early stages. We need something to grasp onto and to motivate us. We need a compelling vision to inspire others to join in the work. But if our hope is only centered on the immediate outcomes, those rose-colored glasses will lead to disillusionment as we face the barriers that are sure to arise.

As a peacemaker, the vision of building bridges appeals to me. I desire to be someone who is making connections when the world is pulling us apart. I want to help people see a path forward when they’re stuck focusing on the waters raging before them. It’s a beautiful vision, but bell hooks reminds us that “bridges are made to be walked on.” When we seek to create some sacred space in the middle, people on both sides are going to be skeptical. We have to be prepared to be misunderstood, rejected, and even betrayed.

Jesus warned his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion that because they followed him, the world was going to hate them just as it hated him (John 15:18-16:4). That’s not the type of vision that’s going to draw in the masses. Yet, just as Peter had expressed in John 6:68, after traveling around with Jesus for some time, he and the other disciples were convinced that he had the words of eternal life and that there was nowhere better to turn. They had experienced the beauty and goodness of following in Jesus’ footsteps even when they didn’t understand where they were heading, even when they were bruised and broken along the way.

In order to keep moving forward through the trials and setbacks, our hope must evolve. At some point, we have to take off the rose-colored glasses and choose to take up our cross. We have to die to the illusions we’ve had of ourselves. We have to release our timelines and expectations. We have to trust that the twists and turns and stones that cause us to stumble are leading us to something more beautiful than we could have imagined. And though we might never lay eyes on the fully realized fruit of our labor, each step of the journey matters as we are being made new in the process and paving a path for future generations to walk on.

That’s the hope that I walked away with as we ended Module 3. It’s not a shiny or idealistic hope. It’s raw and honest and becomes more beautiful as it’s embodied.

I am aware that the trend towards division has been growing and I have been told this is exacerbated by computer algorithms fueled by profit through advertising that is getting out of our control. I think that the question of political division has felt to big and hard for me to get my head around but I have had a bit of a wake-up call recently.

I have a sort of father figure, Jim, who I lived with when I was 18 at a very formative time in my life. Since then we stay in touch and I go to visit when I can although him and his wife Helen live in the very north of Scotland on the way to Orkney. Last time I visited I was surprised at the dinner table to hear him speak about Black Lives Matter protests as if the protesters were terrorists and should be imprisoned for their behaviour against the police. I asked which protest he was speaking about and he showed me the news coverage for the event. I showed him the different news coverage of the same event from a source I read and trust. The accounts were so startlingly different – photos cropped to either portray the police or the protesters as more or less violent – videos edited to change the meaning of speeches. I was shocked. It was a wake-up call. It is easy for me to say he had gone down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos and articles that an algorithm squirreled him down but equally, I have been funneled in the other direction.

We see the world so differently now. In only ten years we have been travelling in different directions. To the point where meeting together is now painful. His views on equal pay for women are sexist to me. His view on Black Lives Matters is racist to me. His views on same sex marriage are homophobic to me. But beneath it all, I see him as a father figure still, and I love him. And this is what I told him. I told him I love him. I told him he could not push me and all the people he knew, and even his wife away. That he might be finding community of like-minded people online but that we are his family in the flesh and we won’t let it come between us.

This is how I am trying to ‘navigate divides in my community’. I am trying to love my way through pain and division. I am trying to have the courage, knowing that if we avoid the uncomfortable conversations now they will only become impossible and completely intolerable conversations in twenty years time. I am noticing my avoidance of pain and discomfort and I am asking friends to keep me accountable to staying in that place of uncertainty and difference and summoning the courage to see love and connection when capitalism and other forces want us only to see division.

The United States was founded on principles of peaceful coexistence among people of diverse viewpoints and backgrounds, and the ideal that a free people engaging in free debate and discussion can navigate such diverse views to arrive at solutions and decisions. Yet too often now, we seem to be moving from spirited discussions of differing views on how to address a given problem to fundamentally different understandings of the problem itself (or perhaps even whether it exists) and seeing those who hold opposing views as evil or a threat to our deeply-held values.

One way I’ve engaged this problem is as a member and facilitator for Braver Angels (https://braverangels.org/), which works to address toxic polarization by equipping Americans who lean liberal or conservative politically with skills and opportunities to engage in more civil and constructive conversations about issues of deep importance to us. We have chapters in all 50 states which are working at the community level, with religious organizations and educational institutions, through engagement with national media, and most recently with US political leaders and their staff.

One way this work has affected me is through a greater appreciation of the nuances and complexities of the views of many of my fellow Americans on critical issues facing our country. The overwhelming dominance of two primary political parties, in my opinion, is a hindrance in our society to recognizing and grappling with those complexities. It encourages people to be labeled (whether by themselves or others) as one or the other—Democrat OR Republican; liberal OR conservative. But real life is more complicated and messier than that.  Rarely is an issue purely black OR white; rarely are there only two solutions to a problem. As a Catholic, I don’t feel well-represented by either party—I align more closely with the Democrats on issues like care for immigrants and refugees, gun control, expansion of healthcare, and abolishing the death penalty, and with the Republicans on abolishing abortion to protect the lives of unborn children. Thus I am a political Independent. But even among members of a given party, there can be a great diversity of viewpoints on how to address a given issue.

As a nation we need to get better at discussing these differences with greater compassion and openness and less judgmentalism and blame. Recently our local Braver Angels chapter held a conversation about the deeply polarizing and emotional issue of abortion. It struck me that almost unanimously, across various differences of opinion on whether/when abortion should be allowed, people considered the act of abortion to be deeply solemn, not to be taken lightly, and something worthy of deep moral consideration. Understanding the nuances of each other’s views and the deeper values underlying them gave us greater compassion for each other, and also helped us to see areas of commonality.

Being able to engage in, and facilitate, conversations where people can share their deeply held beliefs while still listening respectfully and learning from each other has been transformative not only on an intellectual level, but perhaps more importantly on an emotional and spiritual level, as I have grown in understanding and respect for those fellow Americans who have strongly different opinions from me on some issues but share with me a love for our country and a desire to work together to make things better.

(Image Source: https://hatehasnohome.org/index.html)

I sit outside a coffee shop reading the LA Times. It is the 30th Anniversary of the LA Riots when police were acquitted after the brutal beating of Rodney King. My 13-year-old eyes digested that story in a context without guidance on the system at play. Where I live now, we will soon mark the 2nd year after George Floyd’s brutal murder was watched round the world. 

How am I navigating divides?

As I visit my parents and hear their off-hand racist comments, there is great conflict inside me. If silence is complicity, then I am complicit with racism. What is the way to a new perspective? Where is there an opening to a conversation that won’t be shut down?

Mr. McBride reminds me again–

self-reflective questioning, 

curiosity, 

practice vulnerability. 

If I continue to feel it’s all so big, and so deeply embedded, how can I have any impact? I must hold near–yes, it’s in “them” and it’s in ME. 

My co-worker reflects back to me ways I sought to comfort the white leader, where in the past the power differential had impacted me in a negative way. Instead I see that the anti-racist route would’ve been to seek after the wellbeing of my BIPOC colleagues and how they were impacted in a specific hurtful conversation. And to acknowledge that there isn’t a general way to engage, it’s different for different people. She reminds me to ask questions, to LISTEN. Self-awareness is a long road. 

“Follow the leadership of subordinated people in structural change,” he said. I am leaning into this by listening and circling back to voices that are trying to be heard. If, as McBride also said, “the right first question is– who do we need to become?” then it is the time spent on inner change that is needed as much as or more than, “What do we do?” I keep hearing that meditation is the way to self-awareness and healing and can impact how I show up as a white person, how much space I take up in a room, in a conversation. To regulate my body, my responses. I endeavor to learn and embody how this learning and these practices will show me who to become. 

The answer to this pressing question seems more distant to me right now. Rather than moving on this pilgrimage toward “the vulnerability of community,” it feels like my church congregation is suddenly and painfully falling apart at the hands of fear, control, and the failure to see the image of God in one another. And yet, today I feel peace. I don’t know exactly why, but I choose to slow down, be still in this peace, and receive it as the gift that it is. I wonder how many times I have rushed right past gifts such as this one in my eagerness to “arrive” somewhere or to “accomplish” something in my peacemaking journey. Today, I slow down.

In Module 3 of Journey of Hope, we explored what it looks like to move from interfaith dialogue to interfaith peacemaking. Today’s leg of our pilgrimage began with Maha Elgenaidi, a Muslim woman who is dedicated to the work of combating Islamophobia. I have studied Islam and Christian-Muslim interfaith relationships before, but while listening to Maha, I was struck by the reality that we will not overcome Islamophobia until we address anti-Blackness, and that we are struggling with the current racism problem because of the white-centric way in which history is taught. Next, Sikh advocate, Gurwin Ahuja discussed the importance of recognizing our common humanity over any of our religious differences, as well as the need for us to hold space for open conversation and potential disagreement. Finally, mediator and Anglican Priest Liz Griffiths highlighted the importance of engaging in interfaith dialogue with curiosity rather than assumptions.

After today’s leg of our peacemaking pilgrimage, I am struck with the somewhat uncomfortable realization that I am learning more about what it looks like to follow Jesus from these non-Christian leaders than from my own faith community at this time. I see these faith leaders, as well as my own Muslim friends, reflecting the love and mission of Jesus more than I see from many Christians right now. And with that realization, I feel a refreshing sense of freedom to engage with, listen to, walk with, and learn from people of other faiths where I may have felt a hesitation before. I recognize the liberating love of Jesus which is big enough to embrace all of humanity. This is a freedom I hope my own church congregation can experience. And so, our journey continues.

Image Source: https://www.happify.com/hd/how-to-slow-down-time/