Summer School

My summer so far has been interesting. “Interesting” here means a variety of things. It has been interesting because my wife and I shared our second trip across the country this year as we gradually come to roost in California. It has been interesting because my son finalized his plans to head to Thailand this fall to begin teaching there. It has been interesting because I attended General Assembly as a presbytery exec. It has been interesting because almost daily, we awoke to news of some atrocity somewhere in the world and even close to home. “Interesting” can mean a lot of things.

There is, however, a theme that ties all of these disparate experiences together—no matter what the experience was, it involved human beings.

Some might argue that such a common thread is so general it could bind together a lot of things in almost any context.

Yes, that’s my point exactly.

As my wife and I drove across the country, we say a wide swath of our nation at “see level” from inside the cab of a U-Haul truck. Flying is convenient, generally quicker, and more efficient when traveling a long way, but on the road, you actually get to interact with the world—sometimes a good things, sometime, not so much. Pulling in for the night in a town one has never seen before, walking among the people of the neighborhood to get supper, you see and hear and fall into what is happening. Accents add flavor, different ways of being polite spikes things with bite, and the scenery itself is so diverse. But in each place along the road, we found that being respectful, smiling at someone, and generally trying to be open to whomever was in front of us went a long way toward ensuring we navigated each new place. In general, we noted that most everyone just wanted and needed acknowledgment of their reality as a person.

My son will need to keep that in mind as he enters a truly foreign culture. In his previous travels in Europe and South America, even when there were language issues, the culture itself was somewhat congruent to what he knew. Not so in Asia. There is a completely different way of being, one that has no roots in anything remotely Western. Thailand itself is a convoluted web of of cultures, language, and thinking. Its history is old and ancient, yet completely present. Thai has no congruence at all with English. Just being understood or understanding will be an amazing hurdle to clear. Yet, each person he meets will be a person. Each face will be a human one that conveys meaning, feeling, and intent. To get by, he will need to master non-verbal cues and communication. Even as he gets a handle on the language, those initial lessons will be invaluable. He will need to be sure to meet people the way he wishes to be met. 

At this year’s General Assembly, there was an unspoken consensus to be sure everybody had space to be who they were. There was also an acknowledgment that we have not always done so well at this basic task. We forewent positions that were all on one side or another, choosing instead a middle way on most every sensitive issue. We acknowledged those who have felt left out of the conversation in our history. We cemented an affirmation of basic human diversity in having co-moderators, both women, one white, one African-American; and we elected an African American as our stated clerk. We still need an Asian and a Latino somewhere in full visibility to complete our public face that matches who we are internally, but movement was made. The main thrust was to tangibly live into the wide sweep with which God created humanity. Everybody has a place at the table. That needs to be the message for and from any fellowship that roots itself in the presence of God. We tried.

Which brings us to the horrendous string of violent moments that ripped across the globe, then tore through our own national fabric in Orlando, Baton Rouge, Falcon Heights, and Dallas. We even had a small taste of it here in Sacramento when neo-Nazis clashed with anti-Nazis on the Capitol steps. No one died, but it made for a horrible Sunday afternoon. We aren’t as together as we want to be. Listen to passionate testimonies from African Americans about their real and actual experience in their own neighborhoods, confessing fear over people meant to protect them. Listen to passionate pleas from law enforcement men and women of all colors, confessing their fear about going to work. Listen to passionate cries from regular folk just trying to make sense of much of anything. We might throw up our hands, hide in the closet, and emerge only when the world falls silent. Or we can try hear all the cries, and then do something that answers them. One recent speaker at a post-horror gathering reminded the crowd that real change is going to take more than lighting candles, joining hands, singing songs, and hugging the person next to you, it will take hard, hard work, and a complete change in outlook, attitude, and approach. Then there can be peace.

Do you see the thread? 

People need to be heard.

All of us—every one of the seven billion of us on the planet—want to be heard. 

We want our dignity, value, and inherent identity as a child of God affirmed. That ability to listen without defensiveness, acknowledging only how poorly we have listened previously, or warped our listening through filters applied through years of upbringing, exposure to conventional wisdom, and assumption, goes a long way toward laying the foundation stones for lasting peace. It acknowledges the other as worthy of our attention.

Try it.

The world may change.