My mom was a believer and my dad was an atheist.
That made for some interesting dynamics in our household, but it also taught me to listen to more than one source about what’s true and what’s false.
Whether or not you’re a believer or call yourself a Christian, I think it’s worth pointing out that Jesus wasn’t a hater. He also wasn’t a politician. He led by example. He taught in parables that only those with ears to hear could hear. If you set out to refute a teaching from the very beginning, you will never change your mind about anything. In Alcoholics Anonymous, that’s called “contempt prior to investigation.”
You don’t have to believe in God to admit there’s a power greater than yourself. Usually that means you have to bite the dust first. That greater power could be nature or the universe, or it could be the mutual power of a group of individuals that cares more for something greater than individual gain. It’s a new code of conduct that means I’m more likely to find the right path if I’m thoughtful and kind and leave hate, resentment, envy, and jealousy in the dust I’ve already bitten with the remainder of my pride.
You don’t have to take Jesus literally to see that you can literally move mountains just by planting one little mustard seed. Today, there are almost no mustard fields left in the state of California, but conjure up an image for a moment in your mind’s eye. The hillside just above Pismo Beach is covered in bright yellow every spring. I keep that image alive in my mind.
The things I learned from my mom and from going to Sunday School growing up stick with me. She left the church of her father, which filled her with fear, and found a church where they really did love their neighbors and really did welcome the little children no matter the color of their skin. I know it’s a truism, but not if you don’t get caught up in semantics and really practice what Jesus preached.
What that means to me is that I am hurting myself more than I am hurting others if I don’t have mercy even upon my enemies—the people who don’t believe what I do. Admittedly, that’s a little hard to swallow. If so, take it metaphorically. “Let the little children come unto me, for such is the kingdom of God.” That means I can’t pass through love’s portal with a heart hardened by hate. It’s just not possible. So if that’s the only thing holding me back, I can just drop that bag at the door.
“Render until Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and render unto God the things that are God’s.” Even as a child, it was easy for me to understand that the things that belong to Caesar pale in comparison to the power of the universe. And every Caesar meets the fate from the seeds every Caesar has sown.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we shall not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea . . . God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved.” (Psalms 46: 1-5). That is the Psalm my mother read to us when we were crossing the ocean to be reunited with my father right after my fifth birthday in early January 1955. It is the verse I recited when she lay dying in early January 2000. A mother’s love and pearls of wisdom. A father’s real world knowledge and practicality.
My mom was a believer and my dad was an atheist. I told him not long before he died (eleven years after my mother), “It’s not what you believe, Daddy, it’s who you are.” He was a kind and generous man, but he always took pains to prepare himself for the worst instead of the best. He lost his mom when he was an eleven-year old boy. He went overseas during WW II. That made for some interesting dynamics in our household, but it also taught me another big thing.
Tolerance
to respect differences in beliefs and opinions—to be able to hold more than one opinion at once, and to reserve judgment till I had all the facts I needed to make up my own mind instead of trying to control someone else’s.
“Judge not that ye be judged.”
Humorously enough, when I have used that aphorism to point one finger outward, it has usually ended up bringing my awareness to the three fingers pointing right back in my face. It serves as a good reminder to take the mote out of my own eye before concerning myself with the splinter in someone else’s.
“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” It certainly isn’t mine. But when I remember that, I can learn to exercise better judgment. You could say this is merely a set of good common sense beliefs, and you wouldn’t be wrong. But common sense is not so common. I am grateful to the framers of our Constitution for keeping church and state separate. It’s just plain good boundaries.
Ever since the Supreme Court ruled in favor of holding the future president above the law, which some will argue is not the way it actually happened or that it’s what needed to happen, I am being tested mightily every day to hold to the center and not swing too far either to the left or the right. I’m talking about refraining from an over-reliance on rhetoric, which some may argue is what I’m doing right now by coyly couching things in biblical and metaphorical terms. I’m talking about not engaging in name calling and hate speech. Polar opposites just continue to swing erratically. Never knowing where things stand.
As my mother liked to say, “The pendulum swings,” and there’s no way of knowing how long the majority will rule before the scales are tipped again. She was talking about virtually everything—fashion trends, psychological theories, as well as politics and religion. (She died before the Internet came on the world scene.) She wasn’t condoning any of it. She was merely observing, and even though I didn’t quite know what she meant, it made me an observer too.
Hate can’t be rooted out; it has to be replaced with its opposite. You may or may not agree with Episcopalian Bishop Mariann Budde for asking President Trump to “have mercy on the (immigrant and trans) people in our country who are scared now,” but you would do well to believe her when she says that she doesn’t hate President Trump. Hate is not the principle on which she strives to live her life.
I’ve taken to noticing the little miracles this week. The little miracles that are not little. While my eyes have been over focusing on the state of the world, my daughter has gotten sober. She knew I wasn’t going to bail her out again, so she found help for herself and let me know about it with no attitude. I didn’t do anything to make it happen. The miracle is that I let go. With love. Love is letting go of control, even with my claws slowly sliding down the wall.
I keep refocusing on what I can change, and although that seems be a constantly moving target, if I take first things first today, I will have more energy to do what I can tomorrow. It’s a simple philosophy that works pretty well for me. It’s a better alternative than throwing up my hands or going to bed with sleeping pills. Not that I would ever do that, but depression is a real thing.
I’ve been searching for reliable sources to counter misinformation and disinformation, so I can make up my own mind, know what I think, make more informed decisions, and become a little more emotionally regulated. Human behavior exists on a continuum. A good goal for everyday mental health is to accentuate the tendencies that work well for me and to minimize the tendencies that do not. Move toward the center rather than the extreme. That’s a gross oversimplification that will only work if I am even the least bit interested in changing my behavior.
I remember when I was in my twenties during the Vietnam era when being called “middle of the road” was not meant as a compliment. Today, I’m not so sure trying to hold your ground in the center of the playing field isn’t harder than flying off the handle.
I am not going to cite my sources today
because it’s easier
because I’m not trying to preach (or trying not to anyway)
I’m just trying to make sense of the chaos
Suffice to say some of it comes from the Bible, some comes from Twelve Step Programs, and some of it comes from my mother and father. I find that the older I get, it still serves me well to honor their memory.
Whether you’re a “believer” or a “doubter,” or neither, you don’t have to be a hater. It’s good to know that we are not alone. We are all human.
Thank you, Wen. It’s simple but not easy.
I appreciate your open-minded cynicism and free spirit.