The assigned topic of my talk today is The State of the World and What to Do about It. Following each talk there will be a talkback where attendees get to respond to what I say with comments and questions.
“This is a big topic,” I say. “Not one I feel qualified to address. In some ways the state of the world is obvious, but what to do about it . . . there’s a question. I think in one sense the state of the world is as it ever was, but in another it’s—at least in ways—a whole new world.”
I am a bit preoccupied by what appears to be Anna’s lack of engagement. It’s subtle—something maybe no one else would notice—but compared to her usual eye contact and encouraging nods and sweet smiles, she seems disinterested and distracted.
“It seems to me that human history is the narrative of human nature—of the continual conflict between our default settings of selfishness and self-centeredness and the better angels of our natures. At our worst we are tribal and brutal—and we’re seeing plenty of examples of this. Rampant xenophobia and the demonization of the other, the different. Bold and blatant abuse of those not us, who are seen to pose a threat to us. We hear it in the rhetoric and see it in the actions of many among us.”
I don’t speak for long—less than fifteen minutes. How to Save the World in a Quarter Hour. I can’t remember everything I say, but it’s mostly a brief introduction for the discussion to follow and the later sessions throughout the week.
“I don’t have the answers, the solutions to resolve the world’s enormous issues,” I say, “but I know it all comes down to love. Ever-expanding love that leads to equality and unselfishness, that treats the other not as an other at all—but as, like the Austrian philosopher Martin Buber said, a thou instead of an it. We don’t treat others inhumanely unless we see them as less than human—less human than us. Be they immigrants or minorities or women or a different religion, culture, political party, or sexual orientation from us, it’s only when we view them as less than that we treat them as less than. Humanity is hardwired to be tribal. We care for and protect and connect with and share with and believe the best about those in our tribe. So what love does is increase our compassion and understanding to such an extent that eventually and ultimately it places everyone—all the people on the planet—in our tribe. Of course, this won’t end conflicts or problems, but it seems to me that there’s no question that we handle these issues far differently with people inside our tribe than for those without.”
The gathered group is a mixture of permanent residents, those who work on 30A but can’t afford to live here, and the wealthy of Atlanta, Nashville, and Birmingham vacationing here.
Though not very diverse racially, they are one of the most socioeconomically diverse groups I’ve spoken to in quite some time. Seated on the same pews are the old-moneyed wealthy who manage millions and the seasonal barely-above-minimum-wage working poor who manage somehow to make it even though they don’t earn a living wage. It will be interesting to see the extent to which this diversity shows up in the questions and comments during the talkback.
I enjoy sharing my few brief thoughts with the audience. It has been a while since I’ve spoken to a congregation—well, a while for someone who’s accustomed to doing it weekly. I haven’t had a congregation of my own since Hurricane Michael decimated much of Gulf Correctional Institution where I was chaplain and the inmates had to be shipped off to other facilities around the state.
Because of the hurricane’s destruction and the uncertainty around when exactly the prison’s reconstruction will be completed, and because I was unwilling to move even temporarily to work at a different facility, I resigned. For the first time in a long time I have only one job—that of investigator with the Gulf County Sheriff’s Department, and I’m hoping for more opportunities like this one to give inspirational talks at various places or to fill in for ministers away in training or on vacation. Of course, such opportunities and invitations will probably be determined by how this week goes, which based on the first question is not promising.
“Are you really saying all we need is love?”
The questioner, a sixty-something white man with a halo of sparse, wool-like hair and a perpetual scowl above the half-glasses permanently poised on the end of his nose, can’t hide the disdain from his voice. Of course, it’s highly likely he doesn’t try.
“Not in a pop song kind of way,” I say. “Not in a trite, sentimental, theoretical way, no. But in the ‘fighting against our selfish natures in order to extend ourselves on the behalf of others’ way, ‘to put ourselves in their place and to care for them as we care for ourselves’ way, yes.”
“How’d that work out for the hippies?” he says.
“It works well for everyone who truly practices it.”
“I guess you and I—and Jesus come to that—have differing notions of what working out well means.”
“I dare say we do,” I say, nodding and smiling.
“Smile insipidly if you want to,” he says, “but ‘Kumbaya’ around the campfire won’t solve anything, let alone everything.”
“On that we agree completely.”