Competition vs. Cooperation

I've always been highly competitive.  If I couldn't be best at something, I tended not to do it.  That's not something I'm proud of, it's just the way it was for me ... graduated number 1 in my high school class, was first chair flutist, won piano competitions, the homeletics award at seminary, etc, etc, etc. Believe it or not, I don't share those things to brag, but to point out a mind set that I'm just beginning, truly at a deep level, to question.  And while opportunities to be that competitive have, in many ways, slimmed, that competitive edge has still continued to be part of me and my experience.  It shows up now in different areas.  One of those is in the playing of games - I play to win, and because of that games are not always as fun for me as they are for other people. Despite the idea that "it's only a game" and "the point is to have fun", it's often, at some level that I usually don't admit, still about winning for me.  The truth is, I don't like losing.  I play these brain fitness games on my computer and if I can't be in the top percentile for people in my age range, I get upset and frustrated.  The point of these games is to improve one's brain fitness.  But even in this area, I play at some level "to win". But tonight I was playing a simple card game with David and found myself challenged to think differently.

In the churches I've served I've emphasized the importance of cooperative, rather than competitive games.  I do this for a variety of reasons.  First, I think there is much to be learned from games that encourage working together rather than competing against.  But additionally, I come from a theology that says there really is enough for everyone.  We don't, therefore, have to grab what we need as quickly as possible so that someone else can't take what is ours. That way of thinking is not helpful.  If we believe there is enough for everyone (or to put it in theological terms, that God gave us all enough, if we only share it) and if we can remember that what enriches you also enriches me, that we are connected, and that therefore to "win" looks like everyone succeeding, our way of walking in the world changes.  We are freed, truly, to love one another without the fear that my care for you will somehow cost me too much.  We are freed to live with the understanding that my supporting you in your gain will actually lift me up as well.  When you don't have enough, none of us do.  But when I can help you get what you need, we all have more of what we need, too.  I believe this, deeply.

But it was only as I watched myself playing this card game this evening that it occurred to me that while I believe this from a theological position, while I trust in it from a place of faith, I don't practice this belief in some very basic, practical ways. I have been gifted (there is no other word for it) to have in my life a few amazing people, truly saintly people, who comprehend the truth of our one-ness so much more deeply than I do.  David is one of those. When he plays a game with me, I have seen him actually work for ME to win, though in these competitive games it means he loses.  I've been aware of him doing this, I've even called him on it, but at the same time, there has been a part of me that hasn't minded so much because it has led to my winning more than I otherwise might. Pathetic, I know.  What is a "win" when the other person is helping you?  Well this evening, I got what it was.  It was a lesson.  A deep and valuable lesson for me.  I was convicted by this at a cellular level as the shock, the reality of the lesson went in deep.

There is a story in which an anthropologist proposed a game to a group of children in a particular African tribe. According to this story, the anthropologist put a basket full of fruit near a tree and told the children that whoever got there first won the sweet fruits. When he told them to run they all took each others hands and ran together, then sat together enjoying their treats. When he asked them why they had run like that as one could have had all the fruit for himself they said: UBUNTU, how can one of us be happy if all the other ones are sad?  UBUNTU meaning: "I am because we are". Whether the story is true or not, there are other cultures which do a better job of teaching sharing and cooperation than we do.  They don't see us as all individuals trying to outclimb or outgain or outwin one another.  They understand that we are all in this together and we either work together or we fall together.  I've studied these cultures some and I see how the truth of this cooperative way of working has deepened their lives so much more than what we, with our individualistic entitlement at the cost of what others have, experience.

Again, I understand this, I believe it.  But when I saw how poorly I was putting this into practice in this card game, I found myself challenged, about half way through the game, with the idea that maybe I needed to change my thinking and my strategy in these games and try to live out what I actually believe.  So I changed my tactic.  Instead of working to win, I decided to see what it felt like to help him win instead.  What would it look like, not to sabbotage my own play, but to support him and do things in my playing that supported the possibility of his winning instead?  What if I put aside the careful strategies I had developed that gave me the upper hand and instead played in such a way that his chances of winning were better?  So I tried it.

To be honest, after 48 years of practicing competition instead of cooperation in games, I didn't find it completely easy to try this new way of playing.  I did it, but found myself fighting with a part of me that still felt, strongly, that if I helped him I might "lose" and that this would hurt.  But I breathed in deep, reassuring that child within that it really would be okay.  After all, this was a card game, and nothing more, right?

But I know, really, that it is much more than a card game.  It is a way of walking through life.  I've tried to practice something different when it has come to big things - sharing finances, food, resources, with those in greater need. But I'm beginning to see that I've gone about this backwards. And that this change in approach needs to start with the simpler, smaller things to make a real inward change in me.

Next time we play, I will try to start the game with this different approach.  And I will see how it feels, perhaps, to celebrate someone else's win, knowing I was part of that. We become the people we are called to be through the practice of loving and caring for the other.  This choice is a small step for me.  But each step, each small choice to be conscious and to do it differently can move us forward. Hopefully I will be able to keep my eyes open through the practices of changing my actions. We will see where it takes us.

Thoughts on the Homeless Population

Your biggest fear about the homeless is absolutely true.  I hate to be the one to tell you this, to cause more fear and pain for you.  But until we face this reality, there is nothing we can do to move through our fear or figure out a solution to the problem.  So I will tell you the truth that we are so afraid to name, but that is true, beyond a shadow of a doubt:

It is absolutely true that the homeless are no different from you or I.

There it is.  A terrifying reality, but a true one.

Like us, some homeless are educated and others aren’t.  Like us, some homeless struggle with addictions and some do not.  Like us, some homeless struggle with mental illness and some do not.  Like us, some have tempers and some do not.  Like us, some are violent and some are not.  Like us, some homeless work and some do not.  Some have children, some have elderly parents that they worry about.  Some have skills, some don’t.  Some have had hard childhoods and others haven't. And so here is the corollary that is even scarier for most of us:

It is absolutely true that you or I could easily become the homeless person we fear so deeply. 

The one thing that separates us is that we who are not homeless have resources, and usually those include a support network for when times are hard, whereas the homeless don’t.  That is the only difference.  And sometimes even that difference is a slim, fleeting and tenuous one.

For two and a half months this summer, the children and I were homeless. We did not have a home. I became all too aware that the difference, again, was that we had resources which included and continue to include a support system.  Therefore we were lucky and we had a place to sleep each night.  We bopped around from house to house, dragging our bags, not in a grocery cart, but in my car (another resource that I have that many homeless do not, though again, that, too, is not universal). We did not experience what it was to have to sleep on the street.  We did not experience fear of the police, of being moved from whatever shelter we found, of being attacked, or of having our things stolen.  We did not experience hunger or worrying about where we would eat next.  I am not unaware that our experience was completely different from what the normal homeless population experiences.  

But I did learn some things.  I learned how hard it is to feel ungrounded, displaced, and without a place that is "ours" to go home to.  I learned that it is extremely stressful and hard on kids (and adults) to be moved around from place to place, to not be able to relax, to feel that we can't breathe or we might break something that wasn't ours.  I learned how easy it was for things to go missing as we moved from place to place, sometimes expensive or irreplaceable things, and how few things we could actually manage to take with us as we moved around so often.  I learned what things, therefore, were "necessary" and what things were really luxuries.  I learned that each day was an unknown, each day the schedule was unpredictable, each day involved chaos, and stress, and confusion.  I learned that when all you have is each other, you do bond closer together, but it doesn't mean you are always nice to one another.  Stress causes crankiness, it just does.

Without a home address I was unable to register my kids for school. Without a home address I was unable to get a California driver's license.  Without a home address I couldn't even obtain a library card, or a grocery discount card.  Without the California driver's license, other doors were closed to me as well.  I couldn't get anything notarized, I couldn't set up a bank account, I couldn't get local checks.  In each of those cases I not only had to give an address, but had to provide "proof of residency", something I simply could not provide.  There was no address to forward my mail to. There was no place to receive my bills.  Without "free wifi" places like Starbucks, I really would have struggled to do these basic things like paying bills and staying in touch with those who could help us along the way. Without a cell phone I really would have been sunk in terms of how to connect with the resources that would help us to get "un"-homeless.  Without my car...well, there is just nothing we would have been able to do.

Financially, moving across the country, trying to get into housing, dealing with still having a house to sell in Ohio - none of that would have been possible without the financial help of my extended family.  And of that, too, I was all too aware.  I had a job here.  I had it immediately and that, too, is a difference from what our homeless brothers and sisters often experience.  And yet even with that job, I needed help financially.  I learned it is extremely expensive to be homeless, and to move, and to set up in a new place.  If something had happened to my parents during that time?  All of us would have been in serious trouble.

I learned.  I learned what I said above.  The only difference between us and the homeless is that we have a support network with resources including the generosity of others that allowed us to be okay, each and every day.  I learned what I have said before, that to those who have, even more will be given, and that to those who have not, even what they have gets taken away (NOT taken by God, but by our culture which fears and distrusts the "have nots" to such an extent that they are simply not allowed to get what they need).

I was all too aware, as I dragged my children with me everywhere I went of places that had policies that discriminated against the homeless and others who are "without".  If a place made a "no children" policy or a "no loitering" policy then my children and I could not be there.  We had places to go, family to be with, friends to visit.  Still, without a home, there were times when we meandered, when I felt we could not impose on someone and went to find places to be during the day.  We went to parks and libraries.  But I wondered how we would have managed if we had not had places to stay at night.

We want to put the homeless in a separate category.  We want to believe it is their fault they are without, and that if they had planned, or had worked, or had...whatever it is, that they would not be homeless.  We want to believe it is their "karma" that has led them there and that, therefore, we have no responsibility to help them.

But I say to you again what I said before, there is no difference between the homeless and us except for resources.  And if we were to care for one another as we are called to do, there would not be homelessness in the way there is now (there still might be a few who choose not to have a home - that is a different situation and is such a tiny percentage of the population that it is not what I am focusing on here).  If we were to care for one another in the way we are called, then we would not have to fear the homeless because we would not have to fear being "without" ourselves.  We would know that we would be okay because the community would help us get back on our feet.  We would know that our kids would be okay.  But that is not the way things are now.  In our fear, we see them as "separate", as "other" and as "not like us". And so, in our fear, we keep them ever more "separate", "other" and "not like us" even when this is a myth we are buying, selling and promoting.  This myth escalates the problem.

We won't get through this treating people as different or as other.  We won't grow or be safe until we truly get that we are all one and that when you hurt, I hurt too; or until we understand that, as Seal put it so eloquently, "I may not know what you're going through, but time is the difference between me and you." We won't know community and love and peace until we treat all people with the kind of care and compassion we are called to embody.

I am grateful for my limited experience of "homelessness" just for the reminder of how close we really are to being truly homeless and truly without.  May it inspire more compassion within me as I encounter those who "have not" each day. I wish compassion and understanding for you as well.

Anger, Road Rage, etc.

I saw an encounter on the road today.  Not atypical, actually.  But since I was off to the side, wasn't driving and could give it my full attention, I saw it more fully than I might otherwise have done.  The drop off process at my kids' school is, well, it's pretty much a "drive where you can, drop off when you can, get back into traffic when possible" kind of process.  Since there are no buses out here, it is pretty crazy actually.  Often there end up being three lanes of cars in the one lane, each dropping off kids in the middle of the road, while others are trying to get out and back into traffic.  To say it's not orchestrated well would be a huge understatement.  Truly, I don't think there have been any attempts at orchestration at all.  It's an insane free-for-all and, inevitably, there are conflicts in this process. It's amazing that no kids have been hit through this so far.  And I find myself holding my breath each day as I watch Middle try to get out of the car and into the school, just praying that he, and all the other kids, will actually make it.  So this morning, no surprise, a conflict arose. Without trying to go into details about a very confused and confusing situation, let's just say that two of the three lanes of cars (which were actually all in one lane) had dropped off kids at the same time, and both where trying to pull back into the one lane at the same exact time.  They almost collided, but didn't.  What was interesting to me though was that one of the drivers became irate, started screaming his head off, calling the other driver an idiot and other names I choose not to print here, and eventually gunned his car in rage, almost hitting two or three other cars as well as an older man trying to walk into the school, and squealed off cursing the whole way.

I thought about how we choose what we contribute to the world and that this morning that driver contributed anger, hurt, and pain rather than grace, compassion and patience.

I thought about the other driver and prayed that being yelled at like that did not ruin her day.

I thought about the fact that none of us know what either of those drivers had and were experiencing this morning, this week, this month or this year and that we therefore just don't know what led up to that rage, nor how it affected both once it was expressed.

I thought about how we try to teach our kids to control their rage reactions by using words - not attacking words, but good words, words that tell how we are feeling rather than words that attack the other.  And yet sometimes we fail to model that for our children, and some even seem to grow up without learning these lessons for themselves.

But mostly, I found myself thinking about anger, about rage.  What is it in those moments that causes us to forget the humanity of the other person?  What is it about being in our cars that allows us to classify all the other drivers as either maniacs (those who drive faster and wilder than we do), or idiots (those who drive more slowly and cautiously than we do)?  My guess is that if I were to ask that angry driver if he ever made mistakes in his car he would have to agree that of course he did.  Does that then make him an idiot?  No, it makes him a person who is human, as we all are.  Why, then, are we unable to have compassion for other drivers who make errors in their cars?  More to the point in this situation, why are we unwilling or unable to see our own contributions to difficult driving situations?  Both cars were trying to get through a tough situation.  Both cars failed to look at the other before pulling out. One was not at fault.  BOTH were.  And yet, one was able to own her part.  One was not.  Why? Why is it so hard to just admit we make mistakes too?  And then, under it all, why do situations like this cause rage at all?  Maybe he was afraid for a moment of his car being hit and that fear became anger. But many times people are rude, angry, rageful in their cars when there is no danger to either body or property.  And then I wonder, why is anger our first and strongest reaction in those situations?  The other person was not trying to hurt us.  The other person was not intentionally making errors or was not intentionally the person who was in the wrong place when we made an error.  Rage just seems like the American "go to" feeling right now, especially in our cars.

So, here is my lecture for the world this day:
Rage is dangerous.  And I think we would do well to work towards a different "go to" feeling.

The expression of that rage in these childish ways is unhelpful.  We would do better to go back to kindergarten lessons.  Take a breath.  Step back.  And then, use your words productively; "I feel x when you do y because of z".

We really do choose how we contribute to our world each day, and it would be good to strive to contribute more compassion, grace, patience and understanding.  We seem to be in short supply as a world lately.  It would be good to practice these and strive in all things to contribute more of these positive things to those around us.

When we are struggling to do that, we need to try to remember that the other person is human.  We don't know what they are going through this day. And chances are, if there is that much anger, they are having a hard time of it.  We can strive therefore to have compassion for them.

People in their cars are still people.  They are not all "maniacs" and "idiots".  They are people. Others on the journey.  Imperfect.  But trying.  That person you are looking at could be your mother, or your brother, or your future spouse.  Try to remember that.

Sunday's Sermon - Acting with Faith

Acting with Faith

9/6/15

Prov. 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23

James 2:1-10, 14-17

Mark 7:24-37

Dwight Nelson told this story about the pastor of his church. Apparently the pastor had a kitten that climbed up a tree in his backyard and then was afraid to come down. The pastor coaxed, offered warm milk, etc, but the kitty would not come down. The tree was not sturdy enough to climb, so the pastor decided that if he tied a rope to his car and pulled it until the tree bent down, he could then reach up and get the kitten.  So that's exactly what he did, all the while checking his progress in the car. At one point in this process, he figured if he went just a little bit further, the tree would be bent sufficiently for him to reach the kitten. But as he moved the car a little further forward, the rope broke.

The tree went 'boing!' and the kitten instantly sailed through the air – and out of sight.

The pastor felt terrible. He walked all over the neighborhood asking people if they'd seen a little kitten. No. Nobody had seen a stray kitten.

So he prayed, 'God, I commit this kitten to your keeping,' and went on about his business.

A few days later he was at the grocery store, and met one of his church members. He happened to look into her shopping cart and was amazed to see cat food. This woman was a cat hater and everyone knew it, so he asked her, 'Why are you buying cat food when you hate cats so much?' She replied, 'You won't believe this,' and then told him how her little girl had been begging her for a cat, but she kept refusing.  Then a few days ago, the child had begged again, so the Mom finally told her little girl, 'Well, if God gives you a cat, I'll let you keep it.'

She told the pastor, 'I watched my child go out in the yard, get on her knees, and ask God for a cat. And really, Pastor, you won't believe this, but I saw it with my own eyes. A kitten suddenly came flying out of the blue sky, with its paws outspread, and landed right in front of her!'

Most of the time, God’s messages to us are not quite so clear.  At least for me, most of the time my prayers are not answered so quickly, so clearly, or with such an enthusiastic “yes!”  Most of the time we have to listen, in each situation, for the direction God is calling us to.

I hear in today’s scriptures the command to love your neighbor as yourself, again, always, consistently THE message from Jesus.  I hear in the James passage and in the Proverbs verses that faith is active, that being a person of faith means loving our neighbor in the concrete ways of caring for the poor, in particular.  I hear in the passage from Mark that Jesus included many whom we might not include in his care, that he reached across lines to bring healing and comfort and that we are called to do the same.  So it isn’t that God doesn’t direct us or tell us what to do.  But I also recognize that when it comes to every day behavior, every minute action, it can still be hard to hear God, to get a clear message about what we are supposed to do, how and why.  I love stories like the kitten story in part because I wish that God was that clear with me.

           

So how do we discern?  Well, again, we start with scripture.  We start with the message, loud and clear that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves.  We start there.  That means we don’t start the conversation, or any conversation, with “what is best for me in this situation” but instead with “what is best for you.”  And by best I don’t mean what is most comfortable or even what seems most profitable at the moment.  I mean what is really, ultimately best for the other.  I don’t believe that is something that we can discern on our own.  We simply can’t figure out what is best for another alone…that would be patronizing and condescending.  We figure this out with our neighbors, with the community of faith, with one another and in prayer with God.

            That cliché question, “what would Jesus do?” is frankly the most important question we could ask in our everyday behaviors and interactions.  A friend of mine told me this story…a pastor went to a tribe in Africa that was mostly made up of warriors, fighters.  And after teaching them Jesus’ message, the pastor took them down to the river to be baptized.  But as he baptized the men in this tribe, he saw that each of them kept their right hands out of the water.  They would go all the way in, except for their right hands.  Confused, the pastor finally asked one of them what was going on.  Their answer was that they needed to be able to fight with their right hands.  They had read the gospels, they knew that Jesus would not approve of killing another, even their enemies, so they left their right hands out of the water so that they could still do their jobs of fighting, keeping that part of them separate and unbaptized.

            We do this, too.  What parts of us do we keep out of the water of our baptism?  Is it our wallets, during stewardship time or when someone is in need?  And again, I don’t mean that we should just give anybody who asks us whatever they ask for…we need to do what is BEST for people, which is not always giving them whatever they ask for.  We know this as we care for our children and others.  But what is best for the other is never going to be our judgments when we are angry and feel vengeful rather than seeking out forgiveness, grace and reconciliation.  It will never be our sense of who should be included and who shouldn’t in our hearts, in our lives.  If Jesus is our model, our actions need to be consistently in favor of the poor, the needy, the outcast – and that needs to be every day, not just Sundays.  What parts of ourselves do we keep above the water?  We all have these parts, these areas that are uncomfortable for us to really commit to loving the other.  And our call, as people of faith, is to see them, to remember these passages that call us to act in faith and love, and to be willing to put all of ourselves, even our hands, into the water of our baptism, to ask, “what would Jesus do?” and to do it, too.

Henry David Thoreau said, “Could a greater miracle take place than to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?”

Today in the story of the Syrophoenician woman, we see Jesus doing exactly that, looking through her eyes and understanding.  Understanding her desperation to help her daughter.  Understanding her willingness to do anything in order to make that happen.  Understanding her faith, her absolute trust that he could help her.  And through that vision, seeing through her eyes, that understanding led to compassion for her and choosing to do what was best for her.  It is through her story that Jesus’ whole ministry changed.  Before her, his service was strictly to and for the Jews.  After her, his ministry expanded to any and all who asked for his help.  His seeing her was a miracle that changed history for all of us.  His seeing her was a miracle that all of us are called to repeat as we look through the eyes of those with whom we are uncomfortable, those who challenge our ideas of what an “equal” human being looks like, those who need us to have compassion and understanding, those whom God calls us to love as we love ourselves.

            We may not be given as clear a message as the little girl in the kitten story, but the message is still pretty clear.  We are called to live out our faith by loving everyone as we love ourselves.  It’s all that easy, and it’s all that hard.