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OPENING:
On this Sunday, one day before we celebrate “President’s Day” and one
month after the second inauguration of our current president, as with
many of you, I’m sure, I am moved to ask: “What’s going on?” Not because
this is about presidents, past and present, but because it’s about us:
what’s going on in our society at this time in history that had us vote
as we did last November, and what can we, as individuals, do about it?
READING: (from The Nation
magazine, excerpts from a coming book by Vivian Gornick: The Solitude
of Self: Thinking About Elizabeth Cady Stanton)
One afternoon in January 1892, in Washington, DC, 76-year-old Elizabeth
Cady Stanton rose to address the annual meeting of the National American
Woman Suffrage Association. She looked out at the few thousand faces
before her, the oldest living radical feminist among them: the first to
demand suffrage, the first to denounce the laws regarding marriage and
divorce, the first to declare organized religion the sworn enemy of
equality for women.
 his
would be her last public address as head of the woman suffrage movement.
The speech Stanton delivered, “Solitude of Self,” became famous the
world over. While the idea of human individuality was a declaration of
proud independence, she said it was also recognition that each of us is
a Robinson Crusoe, alone on the island of life.
How unspeakable, then, it struck her, that the world should conspire to
increase the forlornness of one’s natural state. Politics is meant to
mitigate the misery to which our inborn condition consigns us, not add
to it. It is precisely because this is our reality, she continued, that
‘every human soul (should be fitted) for independent action.’ To deny
anyone the tools of survival, the power to act, is criminal, and the
strongest reason she knew for giving women every means of enlarging
their sphere of action.
Stanton read these words to a silent room. No one clapped, no one spoke.
Not because the audience was profoundly moved but because a voice
speaking such existential truth was not, at that politically
conservative moment, what they wanted to hear. Yet it was a very
American speech, one that any of the original Revolutionaries might have
made: the idea that equality would let one grow an individual self
strong and independent enough to do battle with life’s starkness.
More than a century later, in this politically conservative moment, we
must begin, again, where Stanton left off.
MEDITATION:
(slightly paraphrased from an unlikely source: Karl Marx…followed by
silence)
Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless
world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the
opium of the people.
To abolish religion is to abolish our illusory happiness, yet that is
required for there to be real happiness. To give up this illusion about
our condition is to give up a condition that requires illusions.
MESSAGE:
The last sentence in this morning’s Reading bears restating: Following
the last election, in this politically conservative moment, we must
begin, again, where Elizabeth Cady Stanton left off.
During Stanton’s time (1815-1902), thousands of reformers like
herself—abolitionists, suffragists, temperance workers—committed their
lives to improving the relationship between politics and the human
condition. This commitment was met with great opposition from those who
dreaded the unrest that came with a growing cultural divide. When
Stanton spoke that day in 1892, it was more in sorrow than in anger. She
understood that the great mass of “the people” cannot bear the
psychological burden of being asked to live without their illusions.
Along with the publication of Darwin’s The Origin of Species and the
Civil War itself, those great reform movements had a profound effect on
America, much more than was understood at the time. Millions were left
psychologically stranded: many unable to return to the Christianity of
the time; many fearful of going forward into the harsh new realities of
science and secularism. Many thousands became part of a great upsurge in
spiritualism, a belief in communion with the dead, people with their
eyes shut, holding hands around a table, praying that this terrible life
wasn’t all there was; there had to be more…perhaps beyond.
Fast forward, now, to the liberationist movements of the 1960s—blacks,
women, gays, the poor, even the environment—creating the very same
issues and anxieties as did the reform movements of the previous
century. As the assault on traditional understanding became ever more
alarming, there was a retreat to another fundamental religiosity, a
desire for basic “old-time” religion a sure sign that there is deep
unrest coming from efforts to create a different, more-just society.
Today, the culture war that began 40 years ago—culminating in the
election of an evangelical Christian president—would seem to have been
won by that fundamental religiosity. Yet, in reality, our culture is
still—now, just as our founders insisted back then—strongly (if
insecurely) secular. While there was much fear of a societal breakup
from “moral values” (like abortion and gay marriage) in this last
election, it is important to see that this is nothing new; it is just
the latest round in the ongoing saga of America’s struggle with itself.
Since our Revolution, the same wars have been fought between those who
fear that reforms will make America an unlimited secular, pluralistic
society, versus those who want to take that same idea all the way to the
end, to where it finally does meet the declared promise of our Republic.
And it’s, also, important to see that this ongoing cultural struggle
parallels that of each individual’s efforts to resolve those internal
conflicts that Elizabeth Cady Stanton spoke of: the struggle to achieve
an equality that would let each citizen grow a personal self strong and
independent enough to deal with life’s solitariness.
So, let’s look at this now as individuals: You’ve no doubt heard that
there are two kinds of people in the world, those who have/are/do (fill
in the blank) and those who have/are/do not. While I tend to think there
are a whole lot more than only two kinds of people for any conceivable
situation, my daughter tells me that my two granddaughters are, in fact,
two kinds of people:
• the six-year-old, when presented with a new situation (a game, school
assignment, or home chore) insists on learning the rules, and then
follows those rules completely;
• the three-year-old listens impatiently to the rules for a similar
situation, but then she’ll determine her own rules and follow them.
(Of course, such anecdotal “evidence” proves nothing about “only two
kinds of people in the world”…though it does provide great delight in
observing their differences.)
When a time of cultural challenge occurs—as it did in the 1960s—we can
see two types of people: those who insist that the old rules be
followed, and those who want to determine and follow some new rules;
that is, those who propose change and those who oppose it.
The proposed new rules of the ‘60s tried to open up our society by
freeing up “We the people” in all our wondrous diversity. And, while
some great achievements did occur, those liberating movements also
generated great anxiety—especially in America’s heartland, where the old
rules were more firmly established and expected to be followed,
completely. Americans had a choice to make: either choose to get used
to—maybe even encourage —such cultural change, or choose to stay rooted
in the fear of losing their illusions.
The answer to “What’s going on in America over these past 40 years?” is
this: the people who chose fear have outgrown in numbers those who chose
hope. Playing on those fears, the Christian right instigated a backlash,
enflaming an activism that they turned to political purposes. Insisting
that the old rules must remain, religious-and-business coalitions were
formed to mobilize popular support from the pews to further the agendas
of the boardrooms, which helps explain why a majority in the heartland
vote against their own interests.
Fear will always trump hope —the emotion behind “protecting moral
values” will always be more powerful than the reasonable possibilities
of new policies or programs. As the establishment mobilizes to defend
the “old rules,” no matter how crippling our current conditions may be,
that is our reality, that’s what we’re used to, and what we know is what
we’ll almost always choose.
But, for those of us who choose hope over fear, what’s to be done? Back
in 1962, an article in The Ladies Home Journal concluded: “Republicans
sleep in twin beds — some even in separate rooms. That is why there are
more Democrats.” Today, however, there are three conservatives for every
two liberals, so some theorize that Democrats must move to the right on
social issues while others believe they must become even more adamant on
the left; and some say that Democrats just need more religion.
But such change in tactics will not change what’s going on these days.
First, we need to understand that the nation as a whole has not become
much more socially conservative just because some loud voices say it
has. And, second, we need to understand that we liberals have given up
on any debate with religious or political conservatives: the Right
believes they have the answers and it’s all been settled, while liberals
seem not to care, so the conservatives win by default—which means we
need to find ways to begin showing that “moral values” are not the sole
property of the religious- and political-Right.
But even that is not enough: it’s not just a matter of what we need to
do; far more importantly, it’s how we go about doing it, how we frame
the debate, the language we use to connect our values-talk with others.
So, allow me to introduce George Lakoff, a University of California,
Berkeley, professor of linguistics, who has written a small paperback
book titled Don’t Think of Elephants. If you’re told not to think of an
elephant, you can’t help but think of one, and that is the trap the left
has fallen into. Like UUs trying to describe our religion in terms of
what we are not, Democrats are put on the defensive and, by using the
same language as Republicans, unwittingly reinforce those ideas.
Lakoff posits two basic political identities: for conservatives, the
“strict father,” and for liberals, the “nurturing parent.” Republicans
have learned how to frame their issues in terms that highlight “strict
father” values, while Democrats have failed to craft their ideas around
the “nurturing parent” model. Conservatives have been perfecting this
strategy for 30 years, investing $millions in think tanks, getting into
people’s heads, creating a new “common sense.” And, while I believe the
Right has gotten it wrong, the Left just doesn’t get it, at all.
Lakoff insists that people vote their identity and their values, often
at the expense of their self-interest: “You don’t communicate your
vision through programs,” he writes. “You communicate your values.”
Democrats don’t understand that voting values is a greater self-interest
than voting one’s pocketbook…it’s no longer the economy, stupid.
Only one party has mastered the framing of its values. Using focus-group
approved feel-good slogans, they preach: No Child Left Behind; Tax
Relief; Healthy Forests Initiative; Save Social Security by Making
Everyone a Private Investor. Their “Americanism” has become a powerful
religion, and arguing that God is not a Republican (or a Democrat) is
just wasting our breath on those waiting to be reassured by “strict
father” language. To restate Karl Marx: asking anyone to give up the
illusion of a religion that promises happiness, is asking them to give
up that which must have its illusions. So, what can we do?
In The Atlantic Monthly magazine, Hanna Rosin writes: “Most of the
post-election commentary focused on the old culture-war which pitted the
people of God against the godless. Although it sounds good, it’s
wrong—if only because there are too few godless people (to have that
kind of divide): Gallup polls show that only 5% of Americans don’t
believe in God or some higher power.
“Rather,” she continues, “the election results confirmed that the more
fundamental divide is within religious America, between different kinds
of believers. For most of our history, the divides were between
denominations—not just between Protestants and Catholics and Jews, but
between Lutherans and Baptists and Methodists…with Unitarians divided
from them all. But since the 1970s, fundamental differences have emerged
within virtually every denomination over all things modern and their
reaction to it.
“Following each election since 1992, the Pew Forum on Religion and
Public Life has attempted to track this shift. They take the three
largest religious groups (mainstream Protestants, Catholics and
evangelicals) and reclassify them into “traditionalists” (who believe in
biblical authority and worship regularly), “centrists” (who want to
adapt familiar beliefs to modern times), and “modernists” (who have a
wide range of beliefs, worship infrequently, and would just as soon
overturn everything traditional).
“All three categories appear in every denomination, all are similar in
size (centrists a little larger, modernists a little smaller) and,
interestingly enough, each has remained about the same size over the
dozen years of the survey. What is most surprising, though, is that the
evangelicals are splintering along the same lines as every other
denomination: about half of them now describe themselves not as
traditionalist but as centrist or, even, modernist.”
Still, no matter how we frame our values, no matter how snazzy our own
slogans, the far Right will not listen to us. Those believing that
homosexuality is a sin, that a fertilized egg is a human being, that
evolution is a scam perpetrated by secular humanists; those needing
their fears calmed by hate-filled broadcasting bullies—they will, almost
certainly, never change their minds.
But there are some hopeful signs within parts of the Religious Right: On
a current tour to promote his latest book God’s Politics, the Rev. Jim
Wallis, editor of Sojourners magazine and a founder of Call to Renewal
(an activist evangelical ministry to the poor) reported that he was
“astounded by the hundreds of young people who came up to him who didn’t
know you could be a Christian and still care about poverty or the
environment or promoting alternatives to war.”
With those new voters finally understanding the true teachings of Jesus,
as the split widens within today’s religious conservatives, more of them
will be willing to listen:
- those who
don’t want America torn apart by intolerant traditionalists demanding
their pound of policy flesh;
- those who
don’t approve of legalizing additional discrimination;
- those who,
while insisting every child must be born, also insist that every child
must be fed and kept healthy;
- those who,
with their earnings declining and their grandchildren going further in
debt, finally realize that the greater “moral value” is providing a
better future for their own family rather than worrying about some
loving gay family they’ll never meet.
And yet, while it’s absolutely essential that we find better ways of
communicating our own values, changing political tactics, alone, will
not completely alter what’s been going on. That’s why it is necessary to
begin, again, where Elizabeth Cady Stanton left off. In this politically
conservative moment—just like in 1892—many will not want to hear us. And
so, beside our talk, must be our walk. A new society based on new rules
requires not just new structures to support it; it needs new individuals
to live it. Besides working to create a more just society, we each need
to grow a stronger, more independent self to help erode cultural
illusions.
We need to exemplify the truth that it is better to leave the old rules
behind in order for more of us to reach that deeper, fuller reality
Stanton urged back then: the idea that greater equality will help more
of us grow strong enough to battle life’s irreducible starkness (the
fertile ground of all illusions)—just as growing stronger and more
independent will help us have greater equality.
President Lyndon Johnson, perhaps, most symbolized the 1960s: for good
(civil rights advances and the War on Poverty) and for ill (the war in
Vietnam). Upon his death, a columnist wrote: “He was not the greatest
president the American people ever had, but then we were not the
greatest people an American president ever had, either.” The writer was
referring to the turmoil caused by those demanding more civil rights,
now, and those marching to stop the war. But, as easily, he could have
meant that those were not the greatest people who provoked such turmoil
by sitting back and wanting to continue the unjust status quo, those
wanting to keep the old rules.
It is the same, today, 40 years later. For those of us who choose hope
over fear, it is well and good and right that we work hard to develop
and make real the new rules required for a more-just society. But that
won’t be achieved through new tactics and new programs and new
structures, alone. We also need to work hard on ourselves in order to
develop that new kind of individual who will not only live more humanly
in this new world but, even more importantly, will serve to show others
that it is OK to go beyond the fear of the unfamiliar, that it is so
much better—for them as for the world—if we move, together,
more-equally, to continue shaping new rules.
Each of us has our own illusions. Our toughest challenge is to respect
the freedom of others to live according to beliefs and values (and
illusions) not our own. But that does not mean we give in to the old
rules, staying silent in what we do as well as in what we say. We need
to work to make ours a greater society, and that means we need to work
on ourselves to become greater people: greater at inspiring others with
a better message; greater at helping those who want to change the old
rules; greater at healing the wounds of those courageously giving up
their illusions.
Finally, it’s said that there are two types of people in the world: one
believes in the “pendulum theory” of history (that, over time, the rules
swing to one side then, eventually, back to the other); the other
believes that one side is the way it ought to be, for all time, period.
But there needs to be a third kind of person these days, one neither
wanting that pendulum to stay stuck on one side nor willing to wait for
it to swing back to “their side.” This third kind of person is one who
is ready to start helping that pendulum move back to “their side:”
helping by their better-chosen words and by their actions to make real
the new rules; helping not just by their work but by their being better
people, as well; helping by showing others they need not be afraid of
losing their old illusions; helping push that pendulum back so that, in
the not so distant future, we’ll have a different answer to that
question: “What’s going on?”
CLOSING: (paraphrasing Thich Nhat Hanh)
There is too much misunderstanding, hatred and violence in our world.
Only by looking deeply into our hearts can we identify the cause, only
through compassion can it be transformed.
Only light can dissipate darkness, so those of us who carry the light
must show it and share it so the world will not sink into total
darkness. Let us help each other so that everyone can have the courage
to speak out for change, to stop this course of self-destruction.
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