For decades I have embraced an identity which, for lack of better words, could be called “liberal” or “progressive.” For numerous election cycles, the idea of voting for a Republican would be worse than eating an onion like an apple—then topping it off with a heaping serving of sauerkraut! (With extra brine, please.) In case it isn’t clear, I am no fan of either.
I even sometimes found the Democrats not sufficiently left-leaning enough. A few years ago, I became a member of the Green Party. Aside from their clear emphasis on the environment, I appreciated, among other things, their positions on human rights and foreign policy.
Having just used the description “left-leaning,” I find the terms “right” and “left” to be mind-numbingly and soul-crushingly dualistic.
Let’s visit the mid-2010’s. The rise of Donald Trump as a candidate filled me with loathing and disgust. In 2015 and 2016, I kept thinking with his every reprehensible statement and action, Trump’s support would fall away. But it never did. I began referring to his supporters as his followers, with all the religious connotations that carries.
As is often said, hindsight is 20/20. I still find Trump, the man, to be unpleasant (though not quite as vile as I once did). I now confess to agreeing with several of his policies. The possibility of his once again becoming president doesn’t fill me with the previous level of dread, though a bit of the dread lingers. (Avoiding both major parties with their chokehold on our democracy, this time I will vote for the Libertarian candidate.)
I mention Trump because, in a way, he symbolizes my changing viewpoints. I have learned—or relearned—the value in listening to perspectives I might find objectionable. That’s a big part of what dialog is about: really listening and opening one’s mind. It’s the willingness and expectation to being challenged and not shying away from it.
With 2020 and the advent of Covid, for me things took on added momentum. As my subtitle indicates, this will be an abbreviated reflection! Initially, I was an advocate of Anthony Fauci’s recommendations. Nonetheless, as we progressed through the year, I found concerns about the wisdom of the lockdowns, social distancing, and then the vaccines to be increasingly valid. The strong-armed tactics of mandatory vaccination, the censoring of other points of view, and political hectoring (starting at the Oval Office) produced in me a sense of revulsion.
I could go on, but I promised abbreviation!
I was puzzled and disturbed by self-identified liberals behaving, to my mind, in an illiberal fashion. Those who previously had major problems with Big Pharma and censorship apparently now seemed okay with them. In addition, serious discussion and interchange of ideas became increasingly supplanted by ridicule and shaming.
Let me give an example of my experience. This is in the ecclesiastical arena. In the past, I served on a committee dedicated to representation. Here is a key guideline for our mission: “In Christ, by the power of the Spirit, God unites persons through baptism regardless of race, ethnicity, age, sex, disability, geography, or theological conviction.” [Presbyterian Church (USA) Book of Order, F-1.0403] A number of times, I noted the categories listed from race to geography are rather easily quantified and observed. That doesn’t make them any less of a challenge, to be sure.
However that last one, theological conviction, is a different critter altogether! I asked on more than one occasion how important it is to us. If we do care about that aspect of representation, how could we envision it? What would it require of us? I never received a coherent response.
We might be expected to display some genuine humility and desire (and here it comes again) to learn.
Sadly, the church is not immune from the increasingly prevalent cancel culture. I imagine many of us know something of that. Actually, I’ve just mentioned some of its characteristics. Cancel culture takes one’s “sins,” and refuses repentance. It rushes to judgment and excommunication. There is very little room for grace, very little room to learn from one’s mistakes and one’s foolishness. All too frequently, we are dealing with a tempest in a teapot.
The one targeted almost becomes a non-person. To avoid danger, one must adopt the art of self-censorship. Do not ask the wrong questions! One might pay, both personally and professionally.
Cancel culture is thin-skinned and humorless. Please, is it at all possible to hear a joke without deeming it the end of the world?
Can we recognize Jesus—who has a wonderful sense of humor—as the way and a guide to acknowledge our divisive virtue-signaling and open up and follow the path to genuine care?
By the saving grace of God, it is within us to fashion a more joyful world, one baby step at a time.