Three months ago I wrote about wanting to shut up. As it turns out, shutting up happened, and only now am I starting, maybe, to figure out why.
It was never intentional. Since my Black Lives Matter post on June 26 (the “shut up†post), I’ve written two pieces for this blog. Both are OK. Both may be useful to others. But something held me back from publishing them.
Then yesterday I posted an angry comment to a friend’s political post about the Supreme Court nominations. (I sharply refuted my friend’s premise and called Mitch McConnell a hypocrite.) I believe the word hypocrite is accurate. I saw, and still see, value in countering the argument (made in the original post) that “both sides are guilty.†Yet something else hit me too: my comment might alienate friends, and it will change nothing.
Which got me thinking that posting to social media in 2020—especially opinions and perspectives about the state of the world—is pointless. At least for me.
It’s pointless because of a saying attributed to Jesus: those who have ears, let them hear. As a group, as a nation, as a culture in 2020, America no longer has ears. If you want evidence, visit some of the more contentious corners of social media. You won’t have to look far.
I wonder if this is feeding my heart’s desire to shut up. Why share a thought in the American public square (of which social media has become a central part) when America has no ears to hear?
It’s not all this way, of course. A few of my most amazing friends are managing to have honest, tough, openhearted, and/or respectful conversations on social media. May they do so forever. I have to find another way.
To date I’ve found several activities that look like “another way,†and maybe they are. Not long ago, one of those amazing friends said this to me: in a culture where no one’s listening to one another, the saving grace might be art. To oversimplify, comments and opinions try to tell people what things mean; art invites people to make their own meaning. So I’m writing personal essays as a way of saying to readers, “Here’s something I learned/wrestled with in my life. See what you can make of it.â€
There’s also prayer. Wouldn’t you know it, today’s email brings a message from Richard Rohr, ecumenical teacher and mystic, quoting 20th-century teacher Bede Griffiths: It is only in prayer that we can communicate with one another at the deepest level of our being. The idea that we can connect with one another by going inward—via God, through the vehicle of prayer—is classic contemplative thinking.
All of this is in the early stages, and I’m sure there might be other “other ways†to connect and communicate as well. What do you think? What in this post, if anything, resonates with you? What new ideas does it spark?
A story to support what you’re saying, John, and to amplify it a bit. I have a friend who lives in a small senior apartment complex. She is the only Democrat in a raging Republican stronghold. Ardent Trump supporters, all, surround her. And there is a group of women there she loves dearly – we call them “The Posse” – who meet several times a week to chat about the world at large. My friend loves to sit and talk, but for these many months has sat quietly when the topic became political, geared toward support of Trump and the Republican position, and attacks on Democrats. With the election drawing near, she reached a breaking point. One night, she told me, the conversation went a step too far, and she spoke. She prefaced her comments by saying she loved them all, and respected their positions. But she was a Democrat, and disagreed with their political views. She was not asking them to change, nor was she asking them to tone down the attacks. She was saying that her views were different than theirs, and she needed them to know that. And with that, she wished them well, picked up her purse and her cane, and walked away, convinced they would never speak to her again. And the next day, one of these women texted her from the restaurant where they routinely ate brunch, and said, “We’re all here. Where are you?” The story does not have a full fairy tale ending. Two of the women are still cold when she is around. But one has apologized if she hurt my friend in any way, and the others? They continue the friendships. She spoke from love, and was able to maintain her self-respect, and friends she valued. Bottom line? I agree, John. There is such value in shutting up. But our self-respect is important, too, if only we can express it in love.
What a great story, Jim. And it reminds me of an aspect of my own experience. I am part of a hobby with many people who support Trump. People in this hobby tend to bond pretty tightly (when they’re not fighting like cats and dogs, but that’s another story). This means I live with a paradox: I could not object more to their politics, AND they are my friends and have been for years. A while back one of them invited me to fly cross-country to oversee one of our events. Not only does she enthusiastically support Trump, she believes many things about gender that deeply offend me. At one point I told her I am nonbinary and wear nail polish and offered to withdraw. Her response: “Oh, for heaven’s sake, John!”–as if our conflict could stand in the way of our friendship.
I want to be honest here. Her beliefs DO hurt me. There may come a point, in whatever relationship, where I cannot abide a friend’s convictions to the extent that I must end the friendship. (Already done it a few times.) And I believe there’s great value in trying to hold the tension. It’s getting harder the deeper we go into the Age of Trump, but I am not ready to let it go yet.