May 2012

How to Survive the Political Season

Joanne and I play Skip-Bo almost every evening. A few nights ago, I found myself getting too intensely focused on winning (instead of the joy of the game with this lady I love). Then, strangest thing, it seemed that I floated away and looked down on the game. And I realized, we are sitting at a table, shuffling pieces of colored paper. And we think this is important!

That moment reminded me that the late Eugene McCarthy, US Senator (D – Maine) and Presidential candidate, once said, “Being in politics is like being a football coach. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it’s important.”

McCarthy was right; politics is a game, just as football and Skip-Bo are games.

Part of being “smart enough to understand the game” means knowing that crises — economic, legal, environmental, cultural, governmental, social, global — are essential to winning. Crises keep people off-balance, polarized, and dependent on the experts who presumably possess the wisdom needed to get through the crises.

Of course, the crises must continue; they can never be resolved. As much as they may be “deplored,” the political game will never abolish or resolve poverty, racism, abortion, bullying, greed, global warming or any other useful problem.

Now, I hasten to add that politics can be an honorable profession and worthy field of activism. But, like anything, it can and should be approached with good will, good humor, wit, style, and panache. Do what you can, enjoy the journey, quit at five o’clock, let God do the heavy lifting.

The assumption that politics is a path to righteousness causes the political game — especially in presidential election years — to rise to inhuman levels of deception, demonization, and decibels. And the absence (even abhorrence) of objectivity, humanity, and elegance! How can a self-respecting human listen to that, let alone participate? Why should anything jerk me into a pretzel of anger and angst?

I think the most burning political issue is: how do we survive the political season? The following is not a “how to” list, but rather a gentle light on a possible path:

Live locally

The pace of modern life (especially in political seasons) spins all of us away from our own life, family, community, and local culture. We are pulled into fixations on issues which, in fact, are too theoretical and remote to have much influence on our own lives.

In fact, the quality and joy of life have nothing at all to do with who is elected to any office. The sounds, colors, passions, and delights of my life will remain the same regardless of who is elected.

Live simply

The political impulse will always make things complicated. A dense web of complexity, crises, and intrigue forms a compelling need for experts. As a result, we are losing confidence in our own ability to solve problems.

But, most issues are, in fact, simpler than the experts will admit. So, rather than accept the invention of complexity, live simply. Slow down. Step out of consumerism’s tyranny. Pray. Do it yourself. Learn to live in relationship with neighbors, friends, and family rather than dependence on experts.

Live generously

Politics thrives on scarcity. It must validate threatening limits of air, water, energy, health, security, and many other essentials. It does so in order to control the distribution of the “scarce” resources. The long-term effect of that is to make people fearful and miserly toward life. We do not have to live by that construct or within the centrifuge it has built.

The antidote is to live generously. For example, love those who are different. Embrace those who are politically, religiously, economically, philosophically, and racially unlike you. Choose care over conflict. Deliberately bless your times, places, and relationships. Refuse to live in anger or in a bunker. Be vulnerable to few, loving to many, and kind toward all.

Live lightly

Have you ever noticed that only people who take life seriously seem capable of a light touch? A healthy sense of humor is more the result of being properly aligned with life than it is of knowing what is funny. I agree with Saul Alinsky “A sense of humor is incompatible with the complete acceptance of any dogma, any religious, political, or economic prescriptions for salvation.”

Come to think of it, these four trail markers are good in every season! Maybe now is the time for an old fashioned altar call. Oh, friend, just step away from the noise. Go on home to your life. It’s not too late. Yes, I see those hands.

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Falling Upward

Even the youths shall faint and be weary, And the young men shall utterly fall, But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,They shall run and not be weary,They shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40: 30-31 (NKJV)

Father Richard Rohr’s new book, Falling Upward (Jossey-Bass, 2011), examines the two stages of life. He calls them “first half” and “second half,” although they don’t conform to that bisected organization. As we all know, many people never leave the first half.

According to Father Rohr, the first half of life is consumed with nailing down our “personal (or superior) identify, creating various boundary markers…, seeking security, and perhaps linking to what seem like significant people or projects.”

The second stage is the quiet and peaceful place beyond strength, speed, volume, reputation, self-assurance, and ME. It is the place of finally letting go of falseness and finding the freedom to fall. When we do, we find that we fall up!

Although Rohr does not quote Isaiah 40:30-31, for me that famous passage mirrors the message of Falling Upward. In the second stage, we find our true strength in waiting on the Lord. To “renew strength” is to “exchange strength:”ours for His.

I must admit that the first five chapters struck me as almost insufferable; it was like listening to hours of sitar music while drunk-gazing at a dripping faucet.

But, then on page 77 of the chapter, Necessary Suffering, Rohr wrote, “Creation itself, the natural world, already ‘believes’ the Gospel, and lives the pattern of death and resurrection…Most of nature seems to totally accept major loss, gross inefficiency, mass extinctions, and short life spans as the price of it all.”

He had me at “creation believes the gospel.”

Then, Rohr becomes like a fine old viola in the final 40 pages of the book. So rich and vibrant and melodic. At 65, I hear, taste, touch, see, and sniff most of life in the deeper register. In those forty pages, Rohr spoke straight to my heart.

Consider a few of his observations about the second half. I resonate so deeply with every line:

  • “…it is good just to be a part of the general dance. We do not have to stand out, make defining moves, or be better than anyone else on the dance floor. Life is more participatory than assertive, and there is no need for strong or further self-definition.”
  • “God is no longer small, punitive, or tribal. They once worshipped their raft; now they love the shore where it has taken them. They once defended signposts; now they have arrived where the signs pointed.”
  • “…we do not have strong and final opinions about everything, every event, or most people, as much as we allow things and people to delight us, sadden us, and truly influence us. We no longer need to change or adjust other people to be happy ourselves.”
  • “…your self-image is nothing more than just that, and not worth protecting, promoting, or denying.”
  • “…most of us have to hit some kind of bottom before we even start the real spiritual journey. Up to that point, it is mostly religion.”
  • “Today, I often find this receptive soil more outside of churches than within, many of which have lost that necessary ‘beginner’s mind’ both as groups and as individuals.”

And, this, near the end, serves as a fine summary of the book:

“Most of us tend to think of the second half of life as largely about getting old, dealing with health issues, and letting go of physical life, but the whole thesis of this book is exactly the opposite. What looks like falling can largely be experienced as falling upward and onward, into a broader and deeper world, where the soul has found its fullness, is finally connected to the whole, and lives inside the Big Picture.”

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