The terrorist in the mirror
Making peace is an obsession of mine. I don’t know if it’s codependence or the Holy Spirit–it’s likely both–but I’m on a mission to bring people together.
When trying to bring people together, it’s crucial to be calm and cool. Empathy is important and understanding is urgent. Affirmation must be authentic. Respect must be relentless.
I take a little pride in how I keep myself level in conflict.
Maybe too much pride.
And “pride goes before a fall” as the Bible says (Proverbs 16.18).
This week, I had a conversation with a very good friend who has a very different opinion on American politics. I wasn’t 30 seconds into the discussion when my radar warned me of danger. He wasn’t curious about my point of view–at least not in the sense that he wanted to learn something new or to understand me better.
He was looking for information he could use to build a case against me.
About seven minutes in, he found what he wanted and his prosecution began. I saw the bait–actually watched him put it in the trap–and took it anyway. The trap sprung. He had me cornered and wounded.
He smelled blood and went for it with the tiniest hint of a smirk.
I’ve imagined myself in these situations. In these make-believe scenarios, I imagine myself responding with grace and tact. I imagine myself winning over my opponent by good humor and kindness, if not the logic and wisdom of my arguments. I imagine myself calm, cool, and in control.
That’s not what happened the other day.
I, who take such pride in being pacifist, began slashing and thrusting violently. There was finger-jabbing. There was yelling. Finally, I snarled something–I can’t recall the exact words–that meant: “To hell with you.”
It’s been almost three days since that political knife-fight. I still feel sick and weak–emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually.
Three reasons:
I care for my friend and love him. I’m grieved that I could so easily lash out at him with such fury and spite.
How bad has our public square become that even good friends are ready to come to blows there? What does this mean for our country? What does this mean for my four-year old son who will inherit our country from us?
It is too easy for me to become the very thing I fear and loathe.
This third one is most troubling because I have to admit two things about myself:
First, I’ve elevated myself in my own mind: “I’m a pacifist who doesn’t allow emotions to cloud my exceptional intellect and spirituality…unlike my political opponents who are mere kindergarteners throwing tantrums.”
This attitude, by the way, is the very definition of contempt.
It would mean that I am an elitist or, in the words of some graffiti that appeared on the band room wall in high school: “Brad Irwin is a self-righteous dick.”
Second, it means I’m as capable and as inclined as anyone to be judgmental, mean, short-tempered, and violent. I say I would never act out of hatred or violence toward people who are different–until I do. I’m not immune to sin. I’m very capable of becoming the thing I fear.
I am the enemy.
History, if not our own Bible, teaches us that when we are certain of our own righteousness and right-ness, we are in grave danger of doing the greatest evil. We do evil in the name of good and don’t even know we’re doing evil until it is too late.
The terrorist we should fear most is not the one from a foreign land; it’s the sleeper terrorist at home. I see him in the mirror every morning.
Onward and upward.