Archives for April 2018

I spent 10 years writing, producing, and presenting tap dance shows before I preached my first sermon. I walked into this “new” world with all the skill set of a theatre director/writer/performer. I understood how to build tension, offer releases, and send the audience on an emotional journey, pointing them to where I wanted in the end.

One of my mentors at the time was probably quite surprised when I shared the approach I felt led to take when preparing for sermons. No theatre. No preconceived emotional journies. I would speak the truth as revealed to me and that should be enough.

Shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t the truth be enough? As best as we can see it, as clearly as it’s been given, shouldn’t a retelling be enough? Doesn’t seem like it.

It seems like we desire the moving image, the drama, and the song to break through the media that already surrounds us. It seems like we yearn for a renewal of all facets of life around us before we find ourselves changing.

It doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes we have to do the work to see the vision we’ve been given come to life. But the work is contingent on the message. And the message is the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

Have you ever seen a country and all is institutions crumble? I’m the son of refugees from the Lebanese civil war that lasted from 1975-1989 (depending on who you read). My parents bore witness to the internal strife that erupted into war that ultimately decimated the country, and from which it is still rebuilding. It’s been almost three decades.

I live in the United States, and while I can see many of the grievances people have with the institutions here, I do not conform to the constant attack on them often at their root. Frankly, this is because I am living proof what happens when a country is dismantled internally.

Rather I find myself searching for the work that needs to be done in order that the institutions that do exist can find their rightful place again. That their continual consolidation of power may be halted. That we ultimately may find less and less need for them.

Otherwise what good is the use of my parent’s witness? They’ve seen their home country dismantled. I’ve seen how that has affected them. I wouldn’t wish that particular pain on anyone. So I get to work. But not for any particular policy, but rather for foundations of trust, resilient communities, and a shared value set that actually is based on love.

What does it really take to change a society. Here’s an incomplete list: common vision, a willingness to work towards the goal, the accepting of responsibility, dialogue and communication, and a method to deal with relationships when trust is broken.

Common Vision – communal imagination is the thing that allows us to work together without needing specific instructions. We know the goal, and can fill in the gaps as we see others work. We know the frame in which we’re working, and for what purpose. Without common vision there is always friction. The kind friction that breaks down relationships as opposed to strengthening them.

Willingness to Work – nothing comes without work. And so, if a common vision is given, everyone must be willing to do their part. Parts may be different, but all work together for the good of bringing the common vision to life.

Accepting Responsibility – if we are given a particular work, then we must do that work. It is ours and ours alone. We cannot trust that someone else will do the thing that we see needs to be done. Furthermore we cannot trust that someone else is as uniquely designed and prepared for the work set before us. If the work is too large for one person, then we are tasked with bringing people together for the work.

Dialogue and Communication – nothing can happen without dialogue and communication. I’m speaking here more about the stuff that happens between people, rather than the major speeches, campaign slogans, viral videos, and such kind of communication. Dialogue between people is not only about changing minds, but also about learning about who we are talking to.

A Method for Reconciliation – human beings aren’t perfect. Throughout the processes above, we will cause offense. Misalignment of vision will occur, people will not work, not accept their responsibility, and refrain from dialogue. If we have no way of reconciling the offenses, our communities will fracture quickly. Understanding the necessity of a confession, apology, forgiveness, and ultimate reconciliation, is key to building a resilient community.

These are all value based propositions, they are not policy proposals. They are process based, and would be adopted because they add value. People inherently see the benefit. Which mean that social pressure and legislation would not be needed. Could that be possible?

There is a difference between the world we wish we lived in and the reality of life. We all see it. We all recognize it. There is also a difference between the ways in which we believe we can move from the world in which we currently live, and the world that we want.

Legislation – some of us believe that we can legislate our way to the world we desire. Create enough laws and people will behave the way we want them to.

Social pressure – some of us believe that we can pressure our friends into the world we desire. If we make it so socially unacceptable to act a certain way, people will behave the way we want them to.

Both of these boil down to coercion or manipulation. Both leverage judgment and punishment (fines, prison, or becoming a social outcast) as pressure to conform. We all know how kids respond to coercion and manipulation. They lash out, their heart breaks on account of the lie, they feel less human. Why should we feel any different?

It may be said that both legislation and social pressure have been used to varying degrees of success in the course of human history. But I think we are now seeing the limits of these methods to get us to where we really want to be. We are feeling the oppressive nature of each, especially when used for a purpose not aligned with our particular world view. I wonder if there is a different way?

Every generation looks at the institutions that have existed and consolidated power from before they were born and asks a question: Are these working? Are they doing what they say they’re supposed to be doing?

If the answer is yes, the institution stands, without issue. If the answer is no, there are at least three paths we can take.

One is resignation, in which the institution engages in dialogue, but does not see any issue, and resigns to continue operating in the way it has been. We stand along also resigned to accept the status quo.

One is reformation, in which the institution engages in dialogue, acknowledges the problems posed, and begins to change internally to reform itself. We stand by or work with it during the process of reformation.

One is revolution, in which the institution either engages in dialogue or not, but regardless, takes a stance of animosity towards those posing the issues. This creates tension, leading towards a standoff in which upon the release of the pressure (this is what we normally see as the actual revolt), the institution either lives, often with greater power, dies leaving a power vacuum, or is somehow fundamentally transformed.

If institutions are resigned to remain unchanged, some kind of revolution is often just a matter of time.

If a stand off occurs the kind of pressure build and release that accompanies revolution sits at our door step.

But if honest dialogue opened, if the institution remembers its own humanity, then reformation can happen.

I would rather the latter, wouldn’t you?

Do you know how you learn? You, personally. Not the way people have told you how you should learn, but how, you, in all your predisposition, really learn. I wonder if this isn’t the most important question.

What are the tools, information, exercises, I need in order to learn?

In so many places, but it seems especially in the arts, we rely on the magic of intuition, to show us that a student has aptitude. We often think that someone either takes to a particular form of expression, or not. But what about the person who needs a little bit more before something clicks? Shouldn’t we provide them with the tools to know what they need and where to seek it? Isn’t the goal that they may find it, and then whatever it is can click?

This is the reason I find myself more attracted to teaching people how to learn than teaching people how to execute.

The saying goes something like, “Give me a fish and I’ll go hungry tomorrow, show how to fish and I’ll never be hungry (at least for fish).” But I wonder if there is another step still. Something like, “Show me how I learned how to fish, and I will not be stuck only fishing.”

I recently watched a great miniseries on Netflix called The Tokyo Trial that recounted the war crimes tribunal which tried those in Japan after World War II. This trial happen after the famous Nuremberg Trials, was staged in its shadow, and had to uphold some of the precedents just recently adjudicated in Nuremberg.

In the film, the judges are seen privately deliberating the three categories of crimes in which the defendants are to be judged. The categories are crimes against peace, crimes against humanity, and conventional war crimes. The most contentious debate was about crimes against peace, or stated another way, crime of aggression.

Here is the basic argument. Those who perpetrate war (and lose) should be punished for any aggression that they perpetrated during the war. Without getting too deep into the weeds of what constitutes a just war, one of the characters posed a conundrum that resonated with me. I will paraphrase:

War is hell. When a war is finished we look back and see the inhumanity that it is. We want to punish the losers for the inhumanity we bear witness to.

However, they argued, the world has not yet reached a place in which the inhumanity of war may be called a crime. War itself, and by extension the perpetration of war (it was argued) could not be considered a crime.

As I look around the world, and see the formal (and informal) violence that is perpetrated by individuals, groups, and nations, I wonder if we are any closer to the ideal that war itself should be a crime. I wonder if we will reach a point that we all see the hell of it, and do the work necessary to end war as a means to an end.

I’ve been witness to this happening too many times. You know the language. If you are this, you must believe this. There is no room for divergent thinking. Otherwise you are threatened with being ostracized from the community, stripped of your identity, left to wander the world alone.

Think about the words that have been fought over in just the past two decades. What does it mean to be patriotic, an advocate for justice, even a “good person.” It gets worse.

The social pressure to conform to a particular set of values on account of how we look, where we’re born, what sub community we’re a part of, is intense. The pressures help set and amplify stereotypes, culture clashes, and the ever growing divide we see in the public square.

So let’s ask a question: what are we actually responding to as we become aware of the moral code we operate by? Are we responding to the pressure of our surroundings? Or is there something deeper, more true, that we should be paying attention to?