I’m looking at the news coverage of a man in solider’s camouflage who got in a scuffle with the pro-immigration marchers here in Louisville. Hoo boy, I think, this’ll be good. I can’t wait to hear what idiot hate-speak comes out of his mouth! But then they put the microphone to him and pffft, he turns out to be intelligent. He actually makes sense; he just disagrees with the other people there. How disappointing!
Can we take some time to see ourselves in a different way from our common view? Let us see if having our faith inform both our attitudes and our actions can give us that elusive sense of hope we look to for sustenance.
Taking some time: Even the act of stepping back from the urgency of opinions to look for another viewpoint alters us.
The question we are used to asking ourselves is, “What do I think about that?” We look at a situation–something in the news, for instance–and form an opinion on it. To a greater or lesser extent, then, depending on our interest, we develop a “stake” in the situation. We develop a greater or lesser concern for how the situation comes out. Having views on the conditions of the world becomes part of the structure of our lives–part of the dwelling we construct for ourselves. Forming and holding views becomes a ritualized habit that contributes to our very identity.
A different question shifts the focus from an idealized view to one of participation: “What do I do?”
The atomizing effects of our cultural evolution, and of our mass media and technology choices, reinforce a tendency to see the world as something “out there” that happens to us, around us. We tend to retreat into our minds and view the world as if on a screen. Asking “What do I do?” helps to lower the screen and put us in the scene with all the other players.
Mother Teresa famously said, “There are no great deeds. Only small deeds done with great love.” Deeds done out of love have the immediacy of impulse because love is brought forth in the moment. Yesterday’s calculation, or the opinions I formed of the people around me and their actions, do not produce the effects of love in the present. In our time only the conscious application of our will to love can have a transformative effect.
“What do I do?” means, “What could my impulse to love do to make this situation better?” Rather than separating people through our judgments, and in doing so defining ourselves as “different” and “other” from them, we might look at the healing power we have right at hand at every moment. And what happens in these moments, when we consciously apply love in our interactions in place of judgment, takes place within ourselves.
Let’s not mistake love that arises from our identification with other people for a kind of pitying condescension that comes from moralistic judgment. Moralism only reinforces our separation. It’s through our ability to see “the others” in ourselves, and ourselves in them–an ability that’s cultivated–that the screens come down. It’s then that we open ourselves to something not of our own creation. When we sacrifice our will to judge or correct others in the moment, we enact love and generosity.
Likewise, in looking to faith to inform our actions, let’s not consider faith as merely the dictates of our particular religious creeds. We will not embody faith by falling back on rules or recitations. Rather, we look for the fruits of these within us and hope to express them in what we think and do. Rudolf Steiner talked about faith as not just a sufficiency of love, enough to fill the heart, but an overflowing of love. I think the emphasis is on the action.
The question I feel I should pose myself every day (many times) becomes: “What would it feel like to stream love out like a burning sun, to everyone I encounter?” I will try to construct a new dwelling out of this.