A Catholic Arrives to the Southern Baptist Convention

Getting to this year's Southern Baptist Convention felt like a reenactment of that classic 80s movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

First, there was an early morning drive to the airport only to discover that almost all parking lots were full. A couple drives around the airport and I found an option. 

Next was a turbulent flight crouched tightly in the middle seat while a hyperactive kid was incessantly bugging me: "What game are you playing? Who are you texting? Can I set this food on your tray? Can you push the button for the stewardess? I can't reach it." Queue headache medicine. 

After landing, it took what seemed like hours of wrong turns and coaxing drivers to get a transit to the right airport terminal to find the light rail that took me downtown. Even work weary Dallas travelers remarked to me, "man... you look tired." 

I got off about a half mile from the convention, so with a week's worth of clothes on my back, I made the walk in nearly 100° heat and full Texas sun. Afterwards, the journey to my hotel involved missed trains, wrong trains and even longer walks in the heat with my feet clearly feeling the blisters by now.

What is the point of all of this? Aside from demonstrating a clear case of first world problems, I guess my point is that I would tell all my evangelical friends: Don't ever say I don't make personal sacrifices for the cause of Christian fellowship across denominational lines!

And how small those sacrifices are compared to what so many others have gone through (and continue to go through) elsewhere in the world. I'm safe, well-fed and there's a comfortable bed waiting. We can do better without even much risk.

Before closing for the night, I'll leave you with these thoughts. I saw a sign in the convention area: Every church has a part to play in reaching every nation (posted by the IMB - International Mission Board).

I don't know the intentions of the authors. How wide of a scope did they imagine in this statement? More importantly, how wide of a scope do YOU think it has? 

Is this just for Southern Baptists, or at least other evangelicals?

Can Catholics think this way of Protestants? Can both liberal and conservative churches regard each other this way? Can we all believe that each church, each denomination, each theological system has a unique role to play in reaching people that other churches, denominations and systems either can't or won't reach--despite their imperfections (or maybe even through their imperfections)?

Sure, there are limits, but what if our limits are too, well, limiting?

In the Walking, Talking and Breaking of Bread: The Road to Emmaus and Immigration

I usually like to have things all figured out before I do something. I don't support charities without researching them nor vote for politicians without applying the same scrutiny. You can get burned if you don't do your due diligence.

However, many aspects of the faith only become apparent once we take that first step on the journey. We can still research and verify as we go, but we have to be moving in the right direction to get an accurate read.

Case in point: The two disciples on the road to Emmaus traveling with the Risen Christ (Luke 24:13-35). Their hearts burned when they talked with him, but they didn't realize what this meant until they had time to reflect later. They finally did recognize Christ in the breaking of the bread. Talking, walking and breaking bread is what it took for them to understand. Had they only seen Jesus standing by the side of the road without interacting or journeying with him, they could easily have dismissed him.

A lot of Christians are unsure what to do about immigration problems in the U.S. However, I am convinced that if we just do what the Bible says, the wisdom will be clear in time. Let's follow the biblical mandate of hospitality and give them a warm welcome. Let's attend to their immediate needs and take time to listen to their stories. Let's walk on the road with these immigrants and break bread with them. We may not have all answers figured out, but once we do this we will recognize Christ among us.

You simply have to trust in the words of Jesus and in the Bible. The wisdom will become apparent as you follow his way.

At first glance, some arguments against hospitality to immigrants may seem reasonable. Our country has a right to secure borders and immigrants can come here legally if they want to, right? Once you start justifying the breaking of some laws, how can you have an ordered society? Can you reward somone who breaks the law?

However, it quickly becomes apparent in the walk with immigrants that these concerns do not adequately frame the discussion. Here are some points to consider:

Does the punishment fit the crime? Separating families over a legal misdemeanor is out of scope. Imagine if the police took your children from you just because you got a speeding ticket! That's a parallel situation. Colonists were frustrated with English laws that could imprison someone for years over small debts. The U.S. Constitution is built with the idea that the punishment ought to fit the crime. Further, all human beings have the right to due process under the law, whether they are here with documents or not.

Even worse, asylum seeks are not actually breaking any law at all.

As Glenmary's President Fr. Chet Artysiewicz says in a recent statement:

"There is an adage which states, ‘The cure is worse than the disease.’ That could well apply to enforcement activities that separate families. We are a nation of laws and affirm that reality, but the application of laws must be done in a way that improves a situation, rather than exacerbates it... The families affected by ICE detainment and deportation are our neighbors. Our country must find a better and more moral way of dealing with these issues."

Imprisoning children and separating them from their parents—possibly for life—is cruel beyond all belief. They should not be kept in cages in warehouses under any circumstances.

Many immigrants coming to the U.S. face an impossible situation in their homelands. Many face death if we send them back. They are here desperately seeking safety. Very often, the situation they are running from is at least partly the result of U.S. policies in the first place, which speaks to our responsibility to do something.

In many cases, there is virtually no legal path to entry. Our nation has needed to overhaul our immigration system for many years now. Quotas and other parameters do not match the current needs of our business community nor the wishes of immigrants. The immigration system should be continually updated and reformed as circumstances change. Instead, immigration reform has been the victim of political gridlock now for more than a couple decades.

Multiple studies show that the overwhelming majority of undocumented immigrants are simply hard-working, family-oriented people who are less likely to commit crimes than native-born citizens. As a result, they pose no national security risk. They are simply well-meaning people caught in an impossible situation attempting to do the best for their families that they can. We have plenty of room for them!

Myths abound about immigrants taking welfare money from the U.S. On the contrary, undocumented immigrants pay substantially more into the system than they could ever hope to extract.

On top of all this, some laws are simply unjust. Yes, we must respect the law but the laws must be just. 150 years ago, slavery was legal and people who helped runaway slaves could face serious consequences (including death). Back then, runaway slaves were "illegals." Now, we call them—and the people who helped them—heroes.

Christ tell us that when you see the people who are the "least of these" you will see Christ (Matthew 25:31-46). It is hard to find a group that qualifies as "least of these" more than undocumented immigrants in the U.S. Most are fleeing life-threatening circumstances in their homelands and they face persecution, family separation and unending prison sentences in the country they are going to for asylum. They are desperately poor and willing to work for less-than minimum wage and without the safeguards that U.S. citizens enjoy. 

Christ tells us to be close to the poor and marginalized, because that is in fact where we will find him. Sometimes it takes the rest of us some time and effort to see the Christ within.

The people who have close, personal relationships with undocumented immigrants almost always have a favorable, sympathetic opinion of them and overwhelming disdain for their circumstances. Maybe like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they were only able to see the Christ within while on the journey with them.

How White Male Privilege Leads to Fragility and Violence

"To make the kind of society where it is easier for people to be good."

 —Peter Maurin, co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement

Society can be tough on white males these days, especially if you are a white male with a conscience. White males have had a disproportionate amount of power for a very long time. The rest of society is clamoring for justice and equality. And rightly so. We are becoming increasingly aware of just how much power and privilege white men have had and just how much that power has been abused.

Most commentators level criticism more at while male privilege than at while males as individuals, but not every person makes that distinction.

What is hard for the rest of society to understand is not just the amount of power that white males have had but rather the abuse of that power.

Mass shootings in the U.S. are a perfect example. Virtually all mass shootings in the U.S. are perpetrated by white males. This can be difficult to understand, since terrorism is usually the last desperate tool used by groups who lack institutional power. Given all the horrors and injustices committed against other demographic groups, for example, it might seem more likely than a white woman, an African American youth or a Native American male would buy and AR 15 and shoot up a crowd. Yet, we almost never see that.

Sexual violence is another place where we see abuse of power. Experts tell us that sexual violence is almost always done out of a grasp for power rather than sexual desire. But how can this be when the perpetrators are almost always people who seem to have more power to begin with? Certainly not all sexual predators are white males, but given their position in society, it is surprising that so many of them are.

We are forced to come to the surprising conclusion that white males in these situations obviously do not feel very powerful!

How in the world can this be when males (particularly white males) seem to have more power than any other demographic group?

One idea that gets floated around a lot is "white male entitlement." The theory goes like this: White men feel so entitled to their power and privilege that whenever reality does not match it, they feel they have the right to simply destroy everything and everyone around them to get what they feel is theirs—or if they can't have it then no one else should, either.

Indeed, whenever stories circulate of mass shootings or sexual violence, my social media feed is quickly filled with accusations of "toxic masculinity," "white male entitlement" and "white male fragility." There is a lot of truth in this, absolutely. We need to continue to explore the concept of entitlement as a lens for understanding white male privilege. However, there is another way of looking at this. It's on the flip side of the coin from entitlement: I'll call it white male expectations.

It's a chicken and egg scenario where entitlement and expectations create a feedback loop, constantly building on each other. When white men are expected to be dominant in all circumstances, and when the world is increasingly not working that way, some men—particularly those who lack better coping mechanism—may take up violence to compensate for that gap between reality and expectations. 

A white male feels he must be dominant in all circumstances. He has to be the hero who saves the day. He is expected to provide for his family, or at the very least, make more income than his wife. If a while male wanders into a group of people comprised of mixed races and genders, the white male will assume it is his job to be the leader, the loudest or the funniest. After all, it's what he sees in the movies. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and generations of Hollywood figures show us that the white male can singularly take on the whole world and rise to the top in every circumstance. If he can't, it's an indictment against his character and a mark of his shortcomings—this is key.

The white male does not simply enjoy his privilege as a free gift. Rather, he is told he must be capable of achieving that dominance solely through his superior skills, savvy and character. In other words, he feels like he earns his position. When he doesn't rise to the top, he feels like a failure. Society neglects to tell white men that their dominance does not come solely through their own efforts but rather through complex and numerous mechanisms of privilege—legal, historical, inertial and social infrastructures—that push him to the top.

It's a double-edged sword. Whatever dominance he has, he believe he has earned through his own merits. He believes he is getting a 1st place trophy when all he really deserves is a participation trophy. This is bad enough, but it gets worse: The dark side to this is that when he does not achieve dominance, he feels it is a reflection of his own shortcomings. A fragile, insecure man is very dangerous. He's going to augment himself with guns, steroids or all manner of aggressive trappings. He's going to find someone to dominate. His very sense of self is on the line. He is going to lash out as if his own life were at stake, because in a sense it is. Cue spousal abuse, sexual violence, mass shootings and just general bullying.

I think this is why many white males do not recognize their privilege. What others see as a privileged position, white males see as the bare minimum. They don't get to enjoy it as much as others might think. It's a never ending battle of king of the hill and their very worth as human beings depends on the outcome.

These high, rigid expectations create fragility. It's actually quite horrible when you are never allowed to be weak or to even come in second place. It creates incredible brittleness. In my own experiences, I am always stronger when I allow myself to be weak. I win more often when I allow myself the possibility of losing. That's the paradox. Fragility begets violence because something that is fragile is prone to breaking.

White male privilege creates a dynamic that is akin to bullying behavior. Like a bully, white males are rarely happy about their circumstances. They may hurt a lot of people to maintain their standing but they are rarely satisfied for long. It's never enough. Everyone else feels their privilege—except them. If you take away the privilege, they may feel "oppressed" because they can no longer dominate others anymore. It's a problem of perception, because that was power they never should have had in the first place, but yet white males are led to believe that this power is necessary for them to feel complete. White male privilege is a rotten system that causes a lot of damage and rarely brings out the best in white males. There are no real winners but there are many who lose.

Perhaps society is not ready for a sympathetic treatment of white males. Perhaps there is simply too much anger and a perception that society has already been overly sympathetic to white males. After all, who is going to shed a tear for the plight of the white male? They can get in line behind everyone else, right? But if what I wrote above is true—that white males lash out violently out of a sense of powerlessness and a lack of self worth—then heaping a message of negativity on top of what is already a message of negativity is not likely to yield a better result. In truth, no one is justified lashing out violently, and I'm not writing this to make excuses. But we know people are in various stages of emotional health and maturity, and some have better coping mechanisms than others. As the Peter Maurin quote above states, let's "create a society where it is easier to be good." Let's remove the stressors that drive some people to commit violence and assert dominance so that it'll be easier for their better selves to shine forth.

Recognizing and understanding privilege is key here. Yes, it can be a blow to the white male ego to realize that his dominance does not come through his own efforts or natural superiority but rather through the unfair advantage of privilege. However, there is tremendous freedom in this message when he realizes his self-worth does not have to be tied to his ability to dominate in every circumstance. He is created good exactly as he is.  He does not have to augment that with weaponry, "conquest" marks on his bedpost or any other marks of dominance. He can re-join the rest of society as an equal member, give up false narratives of superiority and save the wasted energy proving something he's not. He does not have to feel threatened when women and men from all demographic groups make strides in education, the workforce, politics and elsewhere.

This may sound counter-intuitive and even completely unfair, but I am here to suggest that the answer to white male privilege is that white males need more compassion, sympathy and understanding rather than less—even though it seems they already have all of that in abundance. Their actions tell us something is missing. Truly confident, self-assured people are rarely violent. White men are constantly being told to give up their entitlement, power and privilege. In order for this to happen, we ought to offer them something to replace all that with, and the answer is a positive self-image for themselves as they are. We have a choice. We can either say that white males are dirty, rotten scoundrels by their very nature, or we can say that they are reacting to the expectations put upon them. 

Entitlement and high expectations go hand in hand, Both are important in understanding white male privilege. I hope this essay has shown that the high expectations that come with white male privilege have at least two outcomes: First, they makes it difficult to recognize that privilege, and second, they creates the fragility that leads to violence.

Jesus, the Rich Young Man and White Guilt

Jesus answered, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me. When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth." 

– Matthew 19:21-22

There is one reason for racist behavior that does not get talked about enough.

One reason why so many white people behave in racist ways is not necessarily because they openly hate other races—they may or may not (although they probably have at least some implicit bias). No, the reason for their racist behavior is that they feel those other races have legitimate grievances—this includes grievances against them. Instead of facing up to that responsibility, looking that guilt square in the eye and working to mend those wounds, it is simply easier to turn their backs on that pain and the people behind that pain.

It sounds crazy. It doesn't seem to make logical sense. But one reason we push away people is not because we hate them, it's because we actually love them—but to actually acknowledge that love and then adjust our actions and lifestyle in light of the truths of this love would require far too much. We instead turn away like the young man in the quote from the Gospel of Matthew above. That young man was far too attached to his possessions and his lifestyle. He was not ready for the radical changes in his life that following Jesus would entail.

We all know at a deep level that we are all sisters and brothers to each other. We just know. The Bible tell us. But once we admit that, then we quickly realize that this truth requires drastic changes in our life.

It's easier to blame the victim than do the hard work listening to their pain. Listening to their pain means feeling their pain. This is hard to do not because we hate them but because we don't hate them. Their pain hurts us because we genuinely care about them and feel solidarity with them.

If we really hated them and didn't value their lives, hearing about their pain would not matter. But it hurts us because their pain reminds us of a kinship that we don't want to be reminded of. Their pain reminds us of our common humanity and family relationship to one another. Their pain reminds us that we have responsibilities to each other.

This is probably poor consolation to the black man being assaulted by police officers or the young high school student walking home terrorized by profanities coming from a truck with a Confederate Flag displayed.

You might think that once people recognize that they are doing something wrong that they would stop it. But sometimes it just makes them do it more.

This goes far beyond racism and into other issues of social concern. It's much easier to mock the homeless person or yell at the poor unwed mother than it is to take their concerns seriously. If you blame them for their circumstances, then you can try to rest easy at night. I'm not convinced that we ever really convince ourselves to blame them, but we sure try.

Guilt Management USA

A whole industry has sprung up in America to help people rationalize away their guilt.  My uncle once told me this was the driving force behind Rush Limbaugh and so many radio commentators like him.

At a deeper level, the point of Rush is to help listeners feel okay about not giving a damn about their neighbors. The reasoning goes like his: Not only do you not have to care about your neighbor's welfare, but they are in fact better off if you don't. Instead, let the 'free market' take its course, let nature take its course and all shall be well. It's the moral adjustment that has to be made to live in to the neoliberal philosophies of Ayn Rand which drive most of our current politicians.

We know in our bones that this is wrong. This is why we people like Rush, Sean Hannity, the FOX News Network and so many others have been pushing this message over and over and over again for years. It's not natural to believe this way, but people can be pushed (dare I say brainwashed) into believing it if it is the only message they hear.

For a well-to-do white person, listening to Rush can be somewhat comforting. His message can be summarized as: You're okay just as you are, and you don't have to do anything. In a twisted way, I can sort of appreciate that. He helps assuage guilt. It's okay to tell people they are okay as they are, but it's not okay to tell them they have no responsibilities to their fellow sisters and brothers.

Racism at our Core: The Divided United States

I have a terrible habit of accumulating books that sit far too long on the bookshelf before getting cracked open. One of them currently is America's Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege and the Bridge to a New America, by evangelical Christian author Jim Wallis.

Despite not having read a word of this book yet, the title has spent a lot of time rolling around my mind. I think of it often. I chew on it the way others might chew on gum or perhaps a mantra. I take the expression of racism as America's original sin and apply it like a yardstick to other issues I am contemplating to see if it fits. What I have found has changed my perspective profoundly.

Even if I never end up reading a single word from this book, it will still have had a significant impact on me.

At first, I thought the title was an exaggeration. Surely racism is one of many sins in this country, but calling it our "original sin" seemed like an overreach. After all, we have no shortage of sins in the USA. I used to think racism was an issue that only impacted certain racial and ethnic groups, and I reasoned that no matter how bad those issues might be for those groups, other issues were more important simply because they impacted all of society in a broader way—militarism and poverty being two glaring examples. Well, I am here to admit that I was quite wrong in this! The more I delve into different social issues, the more I see the unmistakable footprint of racism underneath almost all of them. Contrary to my earlier thoughts, racism actually involves and impacts all of us. It's just everywhere and it's ugly.

In short, Jim Wallis is right.

Layer upon Layer of Racism

The US is built with layer upon layer of racism. The most obvious example is that the US was populated mostly by western Europeans who massacred their way across the frontier, wiping out whole cultures of people along the way. Native peoples who had built robust communities and civilizations were almost completely eradicated from the face of the earth, all so that European settlers could steal their land. Many settlers were convinced God has granted them this land and the people who were already there were treated like some kind of nuisance. Settlers rarely regarded native people as equal persons with rights and innate dignity bestowed on them by their Creator.

Then those European settlers brought in Africans who were kept in the cruelest form of chattel slavery for a period of over 250 years (longer if you include slavery in the Caribbean and elsewhere in the Americas). Each was legally regarded as only 3/5 of a person. After they were "freed," African Americans were still subjected to harsh treatment and denied opportunities through strict segregation (which was not, to say the least, a kind way to treat people who had been so terribly brutalized through slavery). Full freedom and inclusion for African Americans has still not been attained by a long shot, especially with current oppression in the form of mass incarceration.

As horrific as both of those are, racism doesn't stop there. No, it seeps into the cracks and crevices of life in America in other sinister ways, in places where you might not think to find it.

Waves of immigrants fought for jobs, status and opportunities by trying to push down successive waves of immigrants from other races, cultures and religions. Competition between the racial, religious and ethnic groups was built into the fabric of America this way. Poor whites were pitted against poor blacks as a way to divide and conquer. The repercussions of this go on to this day. It's deeply ingrained in us. We've been trained to see different groups as threats and competitors. We've been trained to see different groups as, well, different.

Education and Health Care

Racism is a driving force even in our education and health care systems. How can this be?

For example, white middle-class people living in a white middle-class neighborhood usually don't quibble too much over paying taxes to support their public school (or paying tuition for a private school) that serves mostly white middle-class families like themselves. But suggest that this same tax or tuition money should be distributed to schools in a wider circle and outrage will probably ensue. Why is this? Because there is a perception that "those people" as not part of "my society." If we really and truly felt in our bones that we are one united society, we would not hesitate to invest in each other the way we do when our communities look like ourselves. The original sin of racism stains everything we do.

It's all racism: We don't want "those people" to benefit from "our money." We only want "people like us" to share in what we have.

It's more than a little ironic if white folks do not want "their" money to benefit someone else. Much of white wealth was earned on the backs of enslaved Africans on free land stolen from native people and it is all kept that way through a deeply entrenched system of white privilege. This in turn even benefits white people who have had no direct inheritance from the days of slavery.

When people talk of "states rights" and are against "federal spending," these are often code words for racism. The reasoning is simple: If something is instituted at the federal level (such as spending for education or health care), then it would be distributed to all members of society evenly and equally. People who value states rights or local decision-making are hedging their bets that they can create a higher class of living for their select group at the expense of others outside their group—hence, racism. They want to maintain divisions to maintain privilege and power.

Rich people in rich neighborhoods pay for the education of each other's children—that's true whether it's a private or public school. So why do many not not want to pay for the education of ALL kids in society?

Many pay for the health care of other people through shared health insurance group plans. But try to suggest that all Americans should be covered under a single-payer, federal plan, and you will encounter all manner of resistance. Why? Because "those people" who we have been trained to hate, fear, mistrust, rival—and who might have legitimate grievances against us—could stand to improve their stature and thus their "risk" to us. At least, that's the fear.

Whatever feeling that arises when you read those words, perhaps a fear or a resistance, that is what this blog post is about.

The United States is not so United

We Americans just don't see each other as members of the same family and society. If we did, it would be easy to convince each other of the value of investing in each other. We act very differently when we have that sense of shared commonality with others.

One problem with the sin of racism is that our best efforts to exclude others and deny that we have a shared identity with certain groups does not change the fact that we actually do have a shared destiny together. After all, what happens to you impacts me and visa versa. As MLK said, "we must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools" [emphasis added].  Either way, we are indeed "together."

A lack of a shared vision is a poor vision. When crime goes up, when our nation falls behind other nations in the competitive world market, when our health care and education systems lag far behind other nations, we have only ourselves to blame. We are so threatened that another group or race might grow in power and standing that we end up just shooting ourselves in the foot in order to try to stop them. By attempting to hold them back we hold ourselves back. We cut our nose to spite our face. That's reality whether we want to believe it or not.

Our country is built on paradoxes. That's the polite way of saying it's built on hypocrisy. As George Carlin so eloquently said: "This country was founded by slave owners who wanted to be free." In a likewise fashion, this country was built by immigrants who wanted the door to immigration closed after them.

Our national rhetoric describes us as a "great melting pot" and a "nation of immigrants." However, in light of our national history, those seem more like lofty goals than a description of the reality on the ground. The name of our country is the "United" States of America, but we have yet to actually unite as a whole people. We just don't see "those people" are part of "us." If we did, these discussions would be so very different.

That's about as foundational of an issue as you are going to find. America was indeed built on racism itself, the deeply-ingrained notion that groups are to be divided and treated differently (with some treated as though they were better and others lesser) than others. American pioneering was built on the unquestioned assumption that natives did not have rights. The economy was built on the assumption that Africans were not fully human. Established immigrants keep treating newly-arrived immigrants as not deserving of the same opportunities that they themselves had. These notions, these assumptions—this sin—is at the core fabric of what it means to be American. And we need the Holy Spirit to help us repent, restore, offer penance and reconcile with one another.

This is racism. It impacts nearly everything we do. In short, it's why we can't have nice things. It is so ingrained in us to divide people up and value some lives more than others that we don't even realize we are doing it. And racism is indeed America's original sin.

A Climate of Trust

How do we build trust?

Do you remember the mid-80s hit "A Matter of Trust" by Billy Joel ? You might have to be a Gen X'er like myself or older.

That song has been going through my mind when I think about the debate over climate change.

Why are so many people opposed to the conclusions that scientists have reached? No amount of scientific data seems to change some hearts and minds on this issue—even though it should. Sharing statistics, charts, data and reports doesn't seem to budge the opposition. Most of us do not have advanced degrees in science but usually we do not need that to take what scientists do seriously.

Without spending any time at all listening deeply to what scientists say, many people just disregard their findings and say, "Nah, that can't be possible." On top of that, they want others to respect their opinion, as if their feeling—which they arrived at with no time or study whatsoever—is somehow equal to the evidence-based conclusions of people who have dedicated their wholes lives to deep study of the topic.

Yet, people trust scientists all the time: Whenever you fly in an airplane, use a computer to surf the internet, heat a frozen burrito in a microwave, trust a surgeon to perform open-heart surgery on you or check your app for upcoming weather predictions, you are showing a great deal of confidence in the work of scientists.

When meteorologists predict a Category 5 hurricane, people pack up their belongings and get outta town. Yet, when these same scientists use the same kinds models to predict climate change, many seem to think that there is enough uncertainty that they don't have to do much of anything at all about it. Admittedly, there is a difference between forecasting next week's weather and forecasting the next century's climate, but there are also more similarities than most realize. We all know that meteorologists can be wrong. Hurricanes can change speed and direction. We saw that with Irma this past summer. That being said, anyone in a high risk area who is wise has packed their essentials and evacuated when a big storm has been predicted.

The hurricane may change direction here or there, but the overall fact that a very large storm was occurring and moving in a general direction was spot on. The same is true for climate change: A few details may change as it plays out, but the overall prediction is probably not going to change. So why aren't people reacting the same way to climate change, which is by far more dangerous?

Yet, people who deny climate change act behaving like someone lounging around on the beach with flip-flops and a swimsuit with a Category 5 hurricane headed straight for them  Complete, total denial means not taking any precautions whatsoever.  All scientists know there is a margin of error, but so far what they have discovered is that the changing climate is far more significant than most early models predicts.

It's a Matter of Trust

I have come to realize that the real issue with accepting the conclusions of scientists about climate really has nothing to do with science at all. It's a matter of trust. Many people simply don't trust scientists and therefore do not heed what they say. Scientists are just East or West Coast liberals, right? Many scientists have a reputation for being atheists (not all of them). They often have different political views. So when they come along and say that the earth is warming and that human are the primary cause, well, it's hard to take this message seriously if you don't trust the messenger. Most people do not have the time, skills or inclination to wade through a landslide of peer reviewed scientific papers to reach their own conclusions.

People do this all the time. Whenever a piece of evidence arrives that challenges a person's worldview, the most common response is to simply disregard the new evidence. You would think the best response would be to adjust their worldview in light of new evidence! But that's not what seems to happen. People ignore the new evidence or assume there must be some flaw in it.

When someone comes along who you don't trust, then you probably assume that whatever numbers or charts they bear have simply been rigged at worst or are shortsighted at best to give faulty conclusions. It is easy to believe that the data is simply skewed or botched to serve a purpose.

I think a similar issue happens when people deny the evidence for human-caused climate change. It's not as much that they don't believe the message—the bigger issue is that they don't trust the messenger. No amount of evidence is going to change their minds because the problem is not a lack of evidence—it is a lack of trust in the person sharing the evidence. Oil and gas companies have helped to take advantage of this lack of trust and intensify it with a denial campaign.

The climate change denial campaign has convinced folks to "follow the money." They seem to think that the world's scientists have some kind of financial interest in pushing for climate change. This baffles me. I'm still trying to figure out how virtually all of the world's scientists—for decades and decades—in every country on earth—with no financial relationship to each other whatsoever—are in some kind of a grand conspiracy to make up the story about climate change to somehow... get a new tax plan with energy credits? It's foolish.

It's much more obvious to conclude that the oil and gas industry is purposefully promoting doubt because it stands to make a lot of profit if it can delay the world's acceptance of climate change.  And guess what? There is actual evidence for this, as the oil and gas industry has been caught doing this very thing.

Psychologists call this projection:  Accusing the other side of doing the very thing you are doing.

You won't find evidence of the world's scientists in a massive conspiracy because it is simply not happening. But this isn't about evidence—it's a matter of trust.  So how do we build that trust? What is standing in the way? We trust scientists all the time about numerous things every minute of every day. You are using a computer or smart phone to read this because of the work of scientists in multiple fields. What makes climate change any different?

Should Bloggers Smell like the Sheep, too?

Pope Francis is famous for saying that priests (and presumably other church leaders and ministers) should "be shepherds living with the smell of the sheep." This statement is often repeated and resonates like a mantra. And rightly so—it reflects a powerful vision of accompaniment, solidarity and servant leadership.

The statement has been greeted with proverbial cheers by the masses who know all too well the problems that can arise when church leaders are too distant from the lives of the people they are attempting to shepherd.

Leaders—especially those who aspire to imitate Christ—lead best when they are close to the people. This closeness can be expressed in many ways, from sharing in the same lifestyle, sharing in the sufferings and just being geographically close.

I’m privileged to work for an organization that lives this out very well. The missionary priests, brothers and lay co-workers of GlenmaryHome Missioners walk close to the people they serve in the small towns and hollers of the rural US South.

However, Pope Francis has made another, very similar statement that has failed to grab the imagination of the people the way the first one has. It was initially shared by Catholic media but has all but disappeared with the passing news cycle.

Pope Francis has also said theologians should also "smell of the people and of the road."

The second clause is great emphasis:  Not only are theologians charged with having the smell of the people, but Francis also thinks they need to be on the road. In other words, they need to be out there in the muck and mire of the world, rather than some secluded office. He doesn't use the word "sheep" here presumably because academics are not necessarily pastors, but to the extent that we all minister to each other, we are both sheep and shepherd at times.

Admittedly, Francis shared this statement in quite a different format than the one about clerics. The first statement was said in one of his first Masses as pope when he had the world's attention. The second was in a letter to faculty at a university in Argentina two years into his pontificate. Still, I tend to believe that the statement could have taken on the urgency of the first if only we had ears to hear. Other offhanded comments by Francis have captured the world's attention, after all.

Perhaps the statement about theologians has been forgotten because it points the finger at a great many of us. I take his comment to apply not just to professional academics but also to us amateur and professional bloggers and commentators on the faith—in other words, just about all of us. It’s easy to point the fingers at those church leaders—it’s harder to point the finger at ourselves.

Everyone has different gifts. Some are thinkers. Some are healers. Some are pastors. Some are activists. Some are janitors, dish washers, nurses and mentors. However, there is something amiss when a life is completely un-integrated—for example, when someone is predominately a thinker and little else. I have known people who are profound theologians who flounder—if they bother to make any attempt at all—at integrating any of that theological insight into their lifestyle and actions. One of my first mentors was one such person. Probably the greatest lesson he taught me was the one he didn't intend. I have worked hard in the years since to see his example as a cautionary tale. There are reasons, of course, why people become so fragmented, and my intention is to learn from them without judging too harshly.

People love the Church Mothers and Fathers. These were great writers and holy people from the very early Church. Even 2,000 years later, their writings are still powerful and capture our attention. One thing that just about all of these people had in common was they seemed to display a very integrated faith life. They were profound theologians. They also lived holy lives. Some wrote—literally—on the road to martyrdom. They lived lives of sacrifice, dedication, some in solidarity with the poor and doing what we would refer to today as "activism." Their lived experience was not simply in addition to their theology—rather, it seems their theology was all the stronger because of this lived experience.

A biblical scholar once noticeably scoffed at me when I suggested that Fr. Daniel Berrigan's exploration of the Book of Job was one of the most helpful in my scholarly studies of the book. As an activist priest who has been very close to suffering all this life, including spending years in prison for the cause of the gospel, perhaps Fr. Berrigan had a better chance of truly understanding the message of Job than an academic sitting alone in a comfortable library. Rigorous academic study is important (as I'm sure Berrigan would have agreed), but it is worth asking whether we can truly understand the biblical texts outside of a lived experience of suffering, oppression and the other contexts out of which the biblical authors wrote? In other words, can you truly understand Job if you don't, well, smell like Job?

I've had suffering in my life, but I am quite comfortable today writing in my warm home on a mild Ohio day. It's hard to willingly leave my comfort zone to be close to the ones I am ministering to, whether that involves suffering, oppression or simply change and discomfort. But that is why Francis' words are a much needed challenge to me and perhaps also to a great many of us. They help me examine the ways I have—and more importantly, have not—theologized from a position of closeness to the sheep while being out there on the road.

Good Friday: Nothing Left to Lose

It is a good thing there aren't people walking through the streets flailing themselves with bamboo switches, like in the Philippines. It is a good thing no one is getting nailed to a cross, today (hopefully). But I'm not sure that it is such a good thing that there is nothing different about Good Friday here.

From where I be, you can hardly tell this is a holiday at all. There is little solemnity in the air. There is virtually nothing different about today, except for a few anticipatory Easter wishes at work. Same dirty jokes on the radio. Same advertising. Every day its just pizza and chicken.

It should be expected. There is nothing commercial about a holiday whose distinguishing features are fasting and the memory of a torturous death. Its hard to make something to sell out of all that. Maybe that makes this a very special holiday, indeed.

It is a good thing that we don't live any longer under an oppressive religious system that forces us to attend services and adhere to strict and sometimes unfair lifestyle guidelines (like fasting). It is a good thing that it is no longer a scandal for someone to break with convention, out of necessity or choice. Its a good thing you can get yourself an emergency tank of gas, if you need one, or stay home from church. On Good Friday, of all days, it is good that there is mercy in the system.

But like the song goes, freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.

And nothing from nothing leaves nothing. You gotta have something.

40 Days of sacrifice. 40 days of fasting. 40 days of walking the death walk with Christ. The Lenten season: an inconvenience. Church services and religious observance. It is a hollow victory to throw all that away and replace it with . . . nothing. Or more of the same, which is really a big nothing. We are free from the shackles of oppression, now go buy something. Target is open late. We beat that bad church, now let's collect the spoils and have another day of same ole, same ole. There's a porn star on NPR. And that's nothing.

And maybe this is a day of nothing. I'm not even going to memorialize it with a capital "N". No, its not "Nothing Day". It is just nothing.

And maybe this is a day to experience nothing. For if there ever was a day when nothing promises to turn into something, it would be Good Friday. If there were ever a day when the hollow becomes the hallowed, it would be today. Good Friday: God as Creator again makes something from nothing. Because, you know, you gotta have something.

And that, like the rest of creation, is good.

***

[This post originally written and published by me in 2008 on my personal blog.]

9 Reasons I Never Became Protestant

A house divided is only half a house.

I have read a lot of articles from my Protestant friends and colleagues celebrating the 500th year of the Protestant Reformation this past year. They varied in timbre and tone—some were overtly triumphalistic while others offered a balanced treatment of the pros and cons.

Despite that, I was struck by how the Reformation just seemed to be taken for granted to be a universally good thing by virtually all Protestants, Evangelicals and Pentecostals. I guess it's to be expected that people wouldn't call into question the origins of their own movement. I was still taken aback by how it was simply taken for granted. Whether it is spoken outright or simply implied, the idea that the Reformation was simply a good thing seems embedded within the American consciousness, even at the secular level.

I'm not convinced. 

I have always seen the Protestant Reformation in zero-sum terms: It brought some good. It brought some bad. It's a very mixed bag. God has certainly showered on it many gifts. Still, it leaves me disappointed. It never truly surpassed Catholicism—the promise of the Reformation stalled and at best settled into a stalemate. So to go through all that effort to break off from Catholicism only to create somewhat parallel traditions without really raising the bar equates to a negative, in my book.

I've often been frustrated with my own Catholic Church and have been tempted to shop around. I have enjoyed visiting other churches but have always fallen short of joining. I have always come away from that search with the strong sense that I would only be exchanging one set of problems for a different set of new problems—and possibly worse ones. So why bother? At least I have history with my own church. 

Let me show you what I mean:

1. The Protestant Reformation opened the door for more diversity in religious approaches—a good thing! However, that came with a cost of disunity and outright conflict—a bad thing. This is a perfect example of a positive that arrived married to a negative through the Reformation. Not all reform movements break that way. The rest of this list tells a similar tale:

2. The Reformation was coupled with the rise of individualism, which is not inherently good or evil. It helps provide the framework for people to follow their conscience—a good thing! It also provides the framework for individuals to see themselves as the center of the universe—this is the cardinal sin of pride, a denial of sola gratis, the very pride that Protestantism arose to protest!

3. Protestantism is very "head" focused. This sometimes manifests as a beautiful intellectualism, and Protestants have been pioneers in academic theology. All too often, this head focus turns into a tedious obsession with hairsplitting concepts and doctrines. Protestantism has been very cold—when it hasn't been downright hostile—to the arts, liturgy and contemplative practices. It has been cold to an embodied faith.

4. Speaking of the arts, while we celebrate the intellectual Enlightenment that came along with the Protestant Reformation, we also cannot forget that this was coupled with the literal whitewashing of much of Europe's artistic heritage. The destruction of countless frescoes, statues and paintings all over Europe had all the darkness of the Inquisition. A movement that literally goes around destroying centuries-old sculptures with some groups forbidding dance and art for centuries is a Dark Age, not a Renaissance. 

5. Concerning the above, one person told me: "It wasn't my denomination that did that!" But therein lines a problem. When you have 40,000 denominations, who takes responsibility? Or does the whole movement have to take some collective responsibility for what happened as a result of it? For better and for worse, the structure of the Catholic Church kept a lot of this extremism in check over the centuries. When you tamper with that, you bear some responsibility for the fallout.

As a Catholic, I am often asked to answer for every sin that was ever done in the name of the Catholic Church, even sins committed hundreds of years ago on another part of the globe (like the Inquisition). Fair enough. But Protestants don't have to do that. They can simply close down one denomination and open a new one. But that does not clean up the mess. It reminds me of a corporation that can sidestep problems it has created by declaring bankruptcy and its members starting a brand new corporation with a new name and blank slate. It may exonerate the individuals of legal responsibility but not a moral one—the problems still exist and someone still has to do something to fix them.

6. For every denomination that is forward-thinking and progressive, there is another that is perhaps more regressive than the Catholic Church they were rebelling against. Remember the Puritans? How many reactionary, repressive cults have there been? Protestant fundamentalism? The horror stories that have come out of conservative fundamentalism are worse than anything I've seen in Catholicism, especially in the modern era. Stories of soul-crushing control and forced conformity abound among Protestants, Evangelicals and Pentecostals. It's hardly where I'd go to find "freedom." The same denominations that celebrate Luther would be quick to crucify young reformers in their own ranks. It is a timeless tale of human nature that certainly isn't limited to Protestants, but it begs the question: Why bother with the Reformation if you are just going to re-create the same mess elsewhere?

7. Luther's initial protest was as much about Church practices as it was theology. It was the corruption, power-grabbing, censorship, control and manipulation that were at the heart of Luther's initial concerns. He was right about much of that. However, when I look at Protestant, Evangelical and Pentecostal churches both today and throughout history, I also see corruption, greed, power dynamics, and every form of human drama under the sun. I also see bad theology everywhere. What was gained?

8. You can see abuse of power by bishops and priests in the Catholic Church. However, I don't find more freedom in Protestantism, as congregations regularly control their pastors by manipulating their financial offerings. Strong hierarchical control tempers this in the Catholic Church, although admittedly not nearly enough. While we in the Catholic Church are quick to blame the hierarch for all sorts of things, the grass isn't always greener on the other side. In Protestantism, there may be less hierarchical control but more congregational pressure. It is hard to preach to the same people who pay you.

9. Unmerited Grace. I have never grasped the Protestant fervor over sola gratis: By grace alone. I understand the theological point that we humans always get in trouble when we tip the apple cart and start taking credit for things that are of God. In principle, Catholicism agrees. After all, the Catholic Church's Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and the Lutheran World Federation even signed a joined declaration on justification in 1999—supposedly settling the primary conflict of the Reformation. It's in the Bible; it's in Augustine and Aquinas. 

One of the worst theological slams a Protestant can say about a church is that it tries to merit grace through its own effort—i.e. the dreaded "works-based righteousness." This may be something Protestants believe in principle, but overall they certainly don't live it very well. Again, it's human nature. We often hate in others what we hate about ourselves. 

While Protestants profess to believe in a God who showers humankind with unmerited grace, many have no interest in showering unmerited mercy and grace on their fellow human beings in need. It's all "tough love" and "pull yourselves up by the bootstraps." Everyone earns their own worth by how hard they work. Unmerited grace is hard to find in their politics. For two hours every Sunday morning, they may hear a message about unmerited grace from the pulpit, but the other 166 hours of the week are consumed in works-based, merited righteousness. The standards for heaven and earth seem quite different indeed. Yet, Jesus prayed "on earth as it is in heaven."

Protestants take quite a bit of pride and boast of the "Protestant work ethic." What exactly is the Protestant work ethic? I define it as a tedious lifelong task of judging the worth of everyone around you by whether or not they "work hard enough." Bonus points if you can mask your condescension with an even more prideful faux humility. We try to mask this shame with pride, but pride is the absolute opposite of unmerited grace!

You could give me the theological run-around and say that the Protestant work ethic isn't a way to earn salvation but simply evidence of that freely-given salvation—the Calvinist twist. Step away from the theological double-speak for a second and see it for that it is: A system of works-based righteousness. Even more damaging, these thoughts lay the groundwork for the prosperity Gospel.

I prefer the very Catholic approach that we should love one another and not try to judge who is worthy. 

Case in point: A colleague of mine says that in his town a poor person can sometimes have a hard time getting help. Most of the soup kitchens and shelters have conditions on their charity.  In some, you have to be a member of their church, listen to a sermon or meet other criteria. If a person cannot or will not do that, they are advised to go to the Catholic outreach center "because they'll help anybody."  Unmerited grace.  We are accused of not preaching it, but I see us practicing it all the time. 

Summation

The Protestant Reformation serves as a cautionary tale whenever I've been tempted to jump ship. Other reform movements were able to open horizons of possibility while also sidestepping so many of these negatives. The reforms of Francis of Assisi comes to mind. His radical movement could have been the start of something like the Protestant Reformation. Francis was able to set in motion his reforms without creating a rival denomination and all the problems that entails.

The initial reformers themselves were fear-based people. Many were quite harsh, if not downright brutal. That's not exactly what I look for in a spiritual leader. Luther for example, was complex and relatable. I can appreciate his righteous anger at censorship and his zeal to hold the Church accountable. But there's something missing when I hold him up against Francis of Assisi. I don't know what's missing, but whatever it is is somehow essential. I can understand Luther, I can sometimes agree with Luther—but I would not follow Luther. I'd like to think I'd follow Francis. 

While there is so much good to celebrate in the Protestant Reformation, let's be clear that it was a colossal failure at peacekeeping, harmony and family unity—admittedly that sin is on both sides. Both the Reformers and the institution of the Catholic Church failed to resolve differences and stay together. It was an ugly time and few of the leaders on either side inspire me. Celebrating the Protestant Reformation is like celebrating a divorce—perhaps it had to happen but it's never a good thing. The only true winners were pride and ego—on both sides.

Perhaps the Protestant Reformation was a necessary stage in the evolution of human consciousness. If so, I don't think it's the final stage. What unfolded perhaps need to unfold, but it also opened a Pandora's box of other problems. 

To me, the Protestant Reformation is one of many movements within the life of the Church. It has value, as I hope I have illustrated above. But with almost each positive comes a negative, and I suspect there is something about the movement itself that lends itself to this. I see the Reformation more as a wound to be healed than as a pure victory. Now, Protestants and Catholics are separated but we are all still struggling over the same things we were struggling over before—the only difference is that now we are struggling apart from each other, which just adds to the tragedy of what happened. I'm reminded of the last verse of Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd:

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

And how we found

The same old fears

Wish you were here

ADDED LATER: If you are going to have a "protest" movement, that means one of two things is true. You are either throwing out bad theology and practice to have a more streamlined, purer church—or you are throwing out half the wisdom of the church.  Given the zero-sum nature of the examples above, I suspect more of the latter may be true in the Protestant Reformation.

Abandoning Trench Warfare: 8 Ways to Find Common Ground in the Abortion Debate

Trench warfare.

More than any other issue, abortion is the poster child of the polarized culture wars. People just scream at each other. They recite talking points, often with their fingers firmly in their own ears. They lob verbal grenades at each other while staying lodged within their respective bunkers. Neither side gives an inch, and, perhaps because of this, neither side advances an inch. These steps are repeated ad infinitum. Many are weary of the fighting but don't know how to stop.

Trench warfare is getting us nowhere fast.

Literal trench warfare didn't work well in World War I, either—it mostly left a wake of immense trauma and loss of life while battle lines moved only a few meters back and forth. As the war lingered on, no side abandoned the trenches all at once, but each starting putting resources into other strategies. It was obvious that the trenches were a losing endeavor.

This analogy works quite well for the culture wars today, too. Incredible energy is expended by both sides. All this effort may enable each side to hold its ground, but each also gains very little with no end in sight. For every small "victory," you have to wonder how many people are forever alienated by the brutal conflict.

Can we open pathways for discussion so that energy can move more freely? Is there any way to tip the scales to encourage people to talk in a different way?

A number of people are hard at work trying to figure this out. Some great examples are these articles in Nurturing Faith and Secular Pro-Life Perspectives. The organization The New Pro Life Movement is also an attempt to find a new way. Along with this blog, that includes Baptist, Catholic and non-religious viewpoints, suggesting that people from multiple backgrounds are trying to re-think how we approach this issue.

It is my hope that this essay can contribute to that discussion. Let me suggest the following 8 points:

1.  Reflect on how we talk to each other.

We can bravely set aside our talking points for a while and just reflect on how we regard each other and talk to each other. Take a step back—instead of talking about "the issue," talk instead about how you talk about it. That can be a difficult thing to do when your hands have been clenched around your weapon for so long, when you can pull out your talking points faster than Bill the Kid could pull out his six-shooter. Yet, there are stories in every war where this happens. After fighting each other in battle after battle, sometimes soldiers put down their weapons and say, "We can't keep doing this, we've got to find another way." Do you practice active listening and nonviolent communication when someone with contrary views talks to you? Is it more important for you to "be right" and "change people" than it is to help others? Would you like being talked to in the way that you talk to others?

Check out The Story of the Christmas Truce, which incidentally occurred in the trenches of World War I.

Perhaps we can learn to speak the language of conversation and conversion rather than condemnation.

2.  Admit it: People of goodwill exist on either side of this debate.

The culture wars have gotten to the point where it has become impossible for people on either side to say anything good about the other side. They are afraid of giving ground or appearing to soften their viewpoints. Personally, I have strong views on this issue, but I can still affirm the people and perspectives on the other side.

I've met a lot of people on either side of the abortion debate and in every position in between. I've come away from that with a strong belief that there are simply good people of good will on either side, as well as in the middle. They aren't monsters. They simply disagree on a very contentious issue. I still think some people are very, very wrong and have huge blinders on.  But I respect them as people. I like them. I love them.

People can often be so disgusted by differing views that it can be hard to even acknowledge each other's humanity. They look at each other in disgust, thinking, how could someone possibly hold that viewpoint? 

Admittedly, it is a fair question. I sometimes find myself asking it, as well. We may never fully understand how or why someone could take the opposite view in this debate. But we also have to admit that millions and millions of people do. We also have to realize this debate is probably not going to be settled anytime soon. We may want it to go away, but it's not. Yet, somehow we have to live together, share this world together and function in society together in the meantime. That's simply a fact.

3.  I can understand and affirm the concerns on either side. 

Even though I may not completely understand why someone could hold a differing view on abortion, I can still sympathize with the profound issues in play on either side of this debate. It is not hard to see why people are passionate about this issue.

People on either side should be able to at least affirm that the other side has valid concerns. You may not think their conclusions are good, but I'm talking here about their concerns.

For example, I am a strong proponent of peace and nonviolence, but I can certainly understand why someone would choose to go to war.  I think that in most (if not all) cases, war and other forms of violence come from an unenlightened place. However, I can at least understand the emotions and fears that go into that decision, even though I hold out for a still more excellent way (1 Corinthians 12:31). There are all sorts of actions that would make violence a tempting response for me, and I don't lose my nonviolence credentials by acknowledging this temptation.

4.  Understanding the other side does not mean I have to lessen my own views.

We are afraid that if we affirm the people on the "other side" and validate their concerns, that our own argument will lose something. That does not sound like a person who is confident in his or her point of view. Odds are, my position will be strengthened because I have the courage to face the points from both sides.

But you can still respect the other side even if you think they are totally missing the boat.

5. Some people do a good job of living up (or down) to the stereotypes—but most don't.

Some spokespeople for both sides are all to often caricatures of their positions. There are some pro-life people who seem to have an anti-feminist bent and there are some pro-choice supporters who express a lot of anti-male fervor. So what?

These people do not represent everyone. There are good, decent people who have arrived at their viewpoint on either side of this debate through the hard road of life. 

6.  People on both sides can be accused of being inconsistent.

There are some pro-life supports who are very inconsistent—they seem to be against abortion but rarely invest time or energy in other "life" issues, even those that may yield less abortions. You could make the same argument on the other side—why are some on the left so concerned with just about every social injustice except for the unborn baby in their own body?

Contradictions are sometimes useful to point out, but most of this is just deflection. Instead of addressing the argument, people instead try to discredit the people on the other side. These arguments usually assume people fall along political party lines, but many people fall somewhere in between the two parties.

7. Find a goal we can share

There is possibly one thing that pro-choice and pro-life activists have in common: Many are weary of the culture wars but don't know how to end them. They feel they can't give up, but they see little hope in continuing the battles.

Can we all commit to ending the trench warfare? Can we all apply ourselves to the task of melting the stalemate? In other words:  Can we try to figure out how to figure this out?

What's interesting is that many people on both sides want to live in a society where no abortion occurs. Let that sink in for a moment. The linked articles above go into more detail about this. Do you agree? If so, this seems like a profound unifying platform to work toward!

8.  Redefine victory.

Ardent activists on either side might define victory as convincing the other side to change its stance. I'm not asking anyone to give up this goal. But perhaps we need other short-term goals along the way: Can we at least agree to disagree and find a way to respect each other in this? Maybe that's not the magic answer anyone was looking for, but don't knock it till you try it. Simply agreeing to disagree can be an immensely healing experience:  The plates shift. The whole discussion may not be resolved, but it could graduate to a higher level, laying the groundwork so that a more substantive change may happen later.

***

We don't trust each other.

I can't promise that in any of this there is a magic bullet that will break the stalemate. But perhaps if we did the recommendations above we might get somewhere over time. This is a marathon, not a sprint.  But one thing is clear to me:  The current trench warfare is getting us nowhere fast. We need to be brave and try something else.

Listening deeply to the concerns on either side has not changed my mind on this issue a whole lot. I still hold the views I held previously, and actually my viewpoint is stronger because I am no longer afraid of what the other side might say because I have had the courage to hear them out.

But it has helped me see the human beings behind those views.  And that matters.