“You’re an idea guy,” opened my friend Hank, “give me some ideas. I want to stop the war in Iraq, but my representatives won’t listen to me.”
Hank and I have been friends a long time. He worries that he’s become a militant Mennonite. His anger and frustration are palpable.
He didn’t like my first suggestion that he vote and keep voting. “That doesn’t work!” His voice was rising.
“Invite your neighbors on either side for dinner,” I offered. “You may have nothing in common with them except your mail carrier, but that’s what I’m hoping.”
Proximity is one of the few techniques left for random diversity. Our neighbors didn’t choose us. They got us. (Of course, housing usually won’t offer economic diversity, but it’s a start.) I wanted Hank to talk to people he doesn’t talk to, maybe some people who don’t agree with him. Random is good for this. He could do the same calling up the person atop and beneath him in the phone book listings, but people might think that’s a little weird. Inviting neighbors over for dinner is still somewhat acceptable.
Hank didn’t like my suggestion. “How is that gonna end the war?”
Hank didn’t want an idea. He wanted a solution.
My friend Hank is angry about the war. My friend Mary is afraid about global warming. My friend Wendy worries that young people have stopped paying attention to how their government works.
To each in the past few days I have asked them to consider some version of the neighbor formula. Put flesh and blood around your concern. Share it with others who may not agree. But notice how much agreement there is beyond the issue you care so much about.
I’m concerned that the negative emotions produce a myopia that defeats us. The more worried or fearful or angry we get, the less we see anything but what concerns us. “Focus” then becomes a powerfully bad thing, because we lose connections. I think it’s even possible to have so much focus that all emotion gets pulled in and can’t escape — a black hole of “focus.” You then “feel nothing.” It seems immediately like a good thing, because the bad feeling is no longer felt. But gone also is all opportunity to connect with others.
Yes, people are dying who don’t know Jesus. The world is going to hell in a handbasket. We can do precious little to stop it. But that “little” is indeed “precious.”
The solution to most problems will involve other people. Unless they vote differently, or change their carbon consumption patterns, or learn a little more about how government works, no amount of effort on our part will make a difference. But if we can pull together, no solution is beyond our reach. So reach out to a couple people, preferably people not like you, and share what makes you angry or afraid or worried. The reaching out may lead to solutions you’ve not imagined.
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Interesting piece.
Isn’t it ironic that affordable, broad-band, wi-fi, instantaneous global connectivity has led to isolation and self-imposed closedmindedness? I’ve seen the same behavior in my community. I can mentally go down the list, and identify my friends as NPR-lady, Rush-disciple, Focus-On-The-Family guy, etc.
As in other comments, I meander back to the good old days for a reference point. When we only had one or two newspapers and three channels on TV, we all had a common set of facts to use and argue about at work and play.
Now we carry our own facts into the world, as does everybody else. We seek out people with the same set of facts. It’s hard to start conversation or friendship with absolutely nothing in common, after all.
Fenceline chats with neighbors are definitely part of the solution. The common facts are there, just like the old days of three TV channels. Weed control, home projects, news of the reckless teenager down the street, new For Sale signs. There are a lot of common facts to use as a basis for a conversation, and maybe eventually a friendship.
And once I make friends with a neighbor, the dynamic of an argument is completely different. Instead of talking to a liberal jerk, I’m talking to my friend who’s acting like a liberal jerk. The friend part usually survives the argument.
Bill Hybels (Willow Creek Church) has a analogous tradition he calls Matthew parties. Matthew the tax collector, not the disciple. Matthew parties are about putting socializing and fellowship first, allowing attraction to work rather than persuasion.
No wonder this is listed under “Deep.”
Interesting piece.
Isn’t it ironic that affordable, broad-band, wi-fi, instantaneous global connectivity has led to isolation and self-imposed closedmindedness? I’ve seen the same behavior in my community. I can mentally go down the list, and identify my friends as NPR-lady, Rush-disciple, Focus-On-The-Family guy, etc.
As in other comments, I meander back to the good old days for a reference point. When we only had one or two newspapers and three channels on TV, we all had a common set of facts to use and argue about at work and play.
Now we carry our own facts into the world, as does everybody else. We seek out people with the same set of facts. It’s hard to start conversation or friendship with absolutely nothing in common, after all.
Fenceline chats with neighbors are definitely part of the solution. The common facts are there, just like the old days of three TV channels. Weed control, home projects, news of the reckless teenager down the street, new For Sale signs. There are a lot of common facts to use as a basis for a conversation, and maybe eventually a friendship.
And once I make friends with a neighbor, the dynamic of an argument is completely different. Instead of talking to a liberal jerk, I’m talking to my friend who’s acting like a liberal jerk. The friend part usually survives the argument.
Bill Hybels (Willow Creek Church) has an analogous tradition he calls Matthew parties. Matthew the tax collector, not the disciple. Matthew parties are about putting socializing and fellowship first, allowing attraction to work rather than persuasion.
No wonder this is listed under “Deep.”