I needed a few days to think and pray before responding to the events in Charlottesville. For me, the deeper message seems to come down to two things.
First, I have been a bigot. I’m not talking about participating in the subtle forms of racism that are part of American culture in the 21st Century. I don’t mean the white privilege that permeates my life – that I got well-educated, that I was raised in the upper middle class, that I can walk into a store and not be bothered, that cops are nice to me. I’m aware of the modern day slavery that is our prison industry, but it probably won’t affect me or my family because we are white. What I’m talking about is a period in my life where I was ignorant enough and blind enough to say things that now make me cringe. I know I was offending folks because they tried to rein me in. What they were unaware of is how much pain I was in. The irony of working in a crisis center while suicidal is not lost on me now, but at the time, I was so busy trying to survive, there wasn’t much brain power left to be aware of anything else. That is no excuse, but it was part of the situation at the time. Still, I said and did things that were mean and insensitive. I wonder how painful the lives of the neo-Nazis are to make them act so hatefully. I wonder how scared those white supremacists are that they no longer have cognitive function to see how self-destructive they are. Did you know that when you are really angry or scared, your higher mental function shuts down? We have evidence of that happening in Charlottesville.
Secondly, this neo-Nazi, alt-right, white supremacy thing isn’t new in our country. I remember being warned about it in high school back in the early ‘80’s. It seems to me to be a virus we keep thinking we have beaten, only to find it popping up again because we stopped actively vaccinating against it. Did you know that fleas and ground hogs have been found carrying the actual plague here in Northern Arizona? Seems unreal, right? It’s as real as the plague seen openly in Charlottesville in the past weeks. And yes, it is killing people. It has been killing people all along, although we have ignored it. Vaccination against this plague means awareness, admission of bigotry and having conversations about the subtle and not-so-subtle forms of racism and fear that govern our lives today. For me, it means supporting affirmative action, asking my friends of in minorities how I can use my privilege on their behalf, and refusing to laugh at or make bigoted jokes.
How are you going to vaccinate yourself? Are you willing to look in the mirror and find your own inner bigot? I can tell you from experience, it’s not fun. It’s not pretty. It’s horrifying and painful. And I’d rather do that than explain to the next generation why I hid in my safe house in the midst of this plague.
Book of John Ch 3
Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. 2 He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”
3 Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.[a]”
4 “How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!”
Pharisees were the folks who knew all the rules and followed them. Back in the day, they were seen as the religious 1%’ers. They were doing everything right, after all. They followed all the Laws and everyone knew it; they tended to be the elite both on earth and (supposedly) in the eyes of God. So when people read this part of the Christian Bible, they are to know that the risk Nicodemus took in coming to talk to Jesus was a big deal. That’s why he had to sneak in. It must have been really frustrating to hear such non-sense about being born again.
Here’s the thing. In Northern Aramaic, to be born again means to change the way you think and behave. Nicodemus spoke Southern Aramaic, so he wouldn’t have understood the slang. (h/t to the Lamsa Bible) How many times have you felt like you went out on a limb in your spiritual practice and were given what sounded like nonsense as a reward for your hard work? I’ve been told that the reason I don’t have lots of wealth is because I won’t take it, but I’m standing there asking for it. How frustrating! What do you mean; I don’t know how to receive?!!? How many times have I been in a class and been asked if I felt the energy shift and thought, “No, I have no idea what you mean.”
What I have learned is that it’s best to ask for clarification when I am in such a situation. I’m not afraid of looking stupid – I’m more concerned with missing the point of a valuable lesson. And if I don’t get it then, I trust that someday I will. Some night, I will wake from a deep sleep and say “Ohhhh! I get it!”
This morning I tried to have a bad day. It was working rather well. I got on the scale and it didn’t say what I wanted it to. I tried to make the part I bought for our weed whacker fit and it didn’t. I looked around at all the things I think need to be done and got mad because I don’t think I’ll be getting to them today. Or tomorrow for that matter. Obviously that means there’s something wrong with me. I must be lazy or irresponsible or something.
Thank God for spiritual practice. The only thing that stood out to me from today’s reading was about singing a new song to the Lord. Now, when I read the Bible, I replace the word Lord with Law. And then I started being with how it feels to sing, and the power of music in my life. There’s something about it that goes beyond words, beyond even prayer for me. Singing requires me to breathe differently. Singing is about heart and soul rather than cognitive function. Music goes around all my anxiety or it speaks my anger and anxiety in a way that helps me let them go.
So if I sing a new song into the Law, I’m pouring everything I am in to creating a new experience. I was taught that when we sing, we pray twice. I take that to mean that singing a prayer is more powerful than just reciting it. There’s more emotion and more energy. It’s what Ernest Holmes was talking about when he distinguished between the technique (the steps we use in prayer) and the fire (the emotion and energy behind the words, the part that can’t be taught and must be discovered within each of us).
Today I’m singing a song of trust. I’m singing a song of this moment, not the next several days’ work all at once. I’m singing as sweetly and as strongly as I can that Spirit can get all this stuff done, with or without my help, and I am acceptable in God’s eyes right now. There’s nothing to earn, nowhere to race to and no obligations I have to fulfill. There’s just me and my God, doing what we do and singing in Divine Harmony.