A spoonful of sugar

An older friend liked to teach, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.” It was somewhat of a mantra for her, and it became one of the most profound jewels I’ve ever learned regarding playing nicely in the sandbox of human interaction. It’s somewhat of a more sophisticated version of Mary Poppins’ “spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” This simple, elegant remark has informed my thinking about how to deal with others, respond to challenges, and even express my most emotionally hijacked concerns.

For me, the greatest calamity to befall American politics in the last decades has been the decline, or utter collapse, of civility in public discourse. I’m not speaking here of the debate by some about “political correctness” or “saying what’s on my mind” or “spouting the ugly truth” – though these notions are certainly at play. Rather, what distresses me is that the willful (and often nasty) use of demeaning, demonizing language has replaced thoughtful, intelligent, articulate dialogue – beyond the political arena, this has become true of sports, communal life, and perhaps its most complicit provocateur, the media. Vilification (and the ultimate desensitizing to its effects) has become de riguer to the children of this generation. This is sad for us all.

Yes, I wish I were in the position to call for a return to civility, a collective elevated sense of how we are supposed to engage one another, particularly when we disagree. I am hopeful that we as a society have not “jumped the shark,” never able to repair this broken part of our culture’s day-to-day reality. And even witnessing the awful behavior of so many during the current political season, I think that there are an overwhelming number of us who would prefer, insist, that better standards should guide us.

Last week’s Republican National Convention was a farce at best. Third-rate “celebrity” speakers regurgitating hateful, ill-informed (and often outright false) accusations to help foster fear in an ignorant electorate; self-righteous, narrow-minded elected officials and hopefuls cheering their own spate of bigotry; poor planning and execution by the conference organizers; all enough to wish for the time prior to reality TV. I cannot guarantee what might happen during the DNC which begins today; I remain mystified by the ongoing blathering of so-called “Bernie-of-Bust” people – if they hadn’t rendered themselves irrelevant by their actions so far, Senator Sanders’ support for Hillary Clinton’s candidacy concluded that last week. Yet I do remain ever expectant that we will see something far more civilized, more refined over these days ahead: as I look at the scheduled speakers, the rollout of Tim Kaine as running mate, at the *positive* perspective that the Democratic party and campaign have tried to muster – there may yet be a way that we will be, according to Lincoln, touched by the better angels of our nature. 

Spark plugs & the mechanics of democracy

When I was about 15 years old, before I was allowed to start learning to drive, my dad insisted I learn certain fundamental mechanics of car maintenance and care. Prior to me ever sitting behind the wheel, he taught me to change a tire, change the oil, replace spark plugs, check/refill brake fluid, antifreeze & windshield washer, beyond simply knowing how to pump gas (this was true for my siblings as well). At first I thought, “why do I have to know how to do this stuff?” Over the weeks of practicing driving, and years on the road, it’s become always more apparent that if the driver doesn’t know how the parts work, and have an appreciation for the system as a whole, I’d never become the safe – or best – driver I should be.

*****

The same holds true, or should, in our political arena. From career politicians to idealistic hopefuls, from part-time dabblers to overzealous business moguls, too many of those who run for public office seem to have precious little grasp of American history, governmental process, and the basic mechanics of democracy.

It be powerful, and yes perhaps transformative, if before people register as a candidates for office, there was a demand that they have a working understanding of the system. I guarantee this would make for better suited contenders, elevated dialogue, and stronger, more effective governance. The following is a list of ten volumes that I suggest might be a good place to start, offered alphabetically by author.

 

Sara Bullard, Free at Last: A History of the Civil Rights Movement and Those Who Died in the Struggle

Joseph Ellis, Founding Brothers

Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution

Doris K. Goodwin, Team of Rivals

Allen Guelzo, Gettysburg: the Last Invasion

Pauline Maier, American Scripture

Robert Putnam/David Campbell, American Grace

William Rehnquist, The Supreme Court

Gordon Wood, The Idea of America

Howard Zinn, A People’s History of the United States

Of course this doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface of the vast amount of important, inspiring, instructive material to be explored. These few truly came off the top of my head. Yet wouldn’t it be something if we knew that political aspirants had *some* general knowledge of what they were talking about, *before* they did so?

What items would you add to the list? This could be a very interesting conversation.

Eid Mubarak, for all

(I originally posted the following piece more than five and a half years ago, in a very different place, time, and period of my life. Yet its hopeful message about the world we live in, the world that might yet be, remains. Whatever your faith, conviction, religious background: Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, Bahá'í, None, or Whatever, we all deserve the blessing of EID MUBARAK.)

Yesterday, on Rosh HaShanah afternoon, a group of us from Temple made a visit to the local mosque. This year our holiday coincides with the last day of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month centered on fasting, prayer, repentance, and purification. A few weeks ago in a planning meeting, about five of us came up with the idea that we’d like to make outreach to the Muslim community. When I discovered the overlap between our two Holy Days, I also looked up if there are any special customs for the end of Ramadan. As I shared what I found about Iftar (the evening meal that breaks the daily fast during Ramadan) we immediately saw the similarity of eating sweets as a symbol of our hope for goodness in the year ahead. We brainstormed the idea of asking about the idea of Temple members bringing a basket of such goodies to the mosque – we hoped to demonstrate our desire to cultivate a relationship between our congregations.

With the encouragement of the others around the table, I sent a note to the Islamic Society of Michiana, posing our question about a possible visit. I concluded my message: As we look to enter the New Year on the Jewish calendar, with hopes for sweetness and peace, we wish you a season of goodness and blessing. Please accept our best wishes. May this holy season be meaningful. I didn’t really have any idea about what kind of response I’d receive. I got a warm and enthusiastic reply, which included the following: Thank you so much for reaching out to us with your kind wishes. We are very excited and looking forward to the visit of your Temple members. We also want to extend our warm wishes for your Rosh HaShanah. May the New Year be filled with health, happiness, sweet moments, and peace. Needless to say, I was delighted.

Perhaps more than our little discussion group would like to attend? We decided to announce our plans during our Holy Day worship services, opening up the invitation to anyone from Temple who’d like to join us. We arranged to meet at 5:30 in the afternoon to “assemble” our gift baskets, and then caravan to the mosque. I thought it would be great if ten of us came together. Nearly thirty of us made the outing – a source of genuine pride and satisfaction.

We were welcomed with gracious hospitality – as should always be the case in our human interactions. It was amazing to mix, mingle and share with our Muslim neighbors. And it came as no surprise as we live in a smaller, tight-knit city – that several of us, Jews and Muslims, already knew somebody else: from the neighborhood in which we live, or the local supermarket, seeing one another at the gym, or having sent our children to the same schools. This was a truly uplifting culmination to our celebration of the New Year. What began as a modest outreach effort became something much more. As we continue to strengthen the connection between our Jewish and Muslim communities, I think we have a real chance to create meaningful relationships among the members of both. I look forward to this ongoing opportunity, as we might just make a difference in the world.