The real enemy

Is not black 
Is not white 
Is not the poor 
Is not the rich
Is not the police 
Is not the civilian 
Is not the liberal 
Is not the conservative 
Is not the powerful 
Is not the powerless. 
The real enemy 
Is that within each human being 
Which sees other human beings as things. 
Whether things to use 
Or things to abuse 
Or things to destroy 
Or things to ignore 
Doesn’t matter in the end. 
Whenever we treat people as things, 
The enemy is us. 
Let us never forget who the real enemy is. 
Let us join together, 
For only in joining together do we fight 
The real enemy.

© John M. Munzer

My bad habit

I’ve always processed my thoughts and feelings by writing them, particularly when I’m upset. As a kid I did that on paper; now that I can type faster than I can write, I do it on the computer. That’s not a bad habit in itself.

BUT:

I’ve gotten into the habit of doing it, not in a journal or a Word document or even in this blog, but in e-mails and on Facebook posts. Frequently, I start to write them out, look at what I’ve written and realize “That’s something that’s okay for me to feel, but not something that’s kind/ helpful/ wise/ true/ logical/ necessary to say to this person/ an appropriate response to what this person said/ a complete or articulate thought”, and then I hit “Delete” rather than “Send” or “Post”.

But sometimes, the internal editor doesn’t intervene, and I go ahead and send or post something that would have been better written in a journal and then let go. It’s like instead of writing it in a journal, I wrote it on someone ELSE’S journal. Which is being published world-wide.

And that’s when I get myself in trouble. Because I’m more likely to make this mistake when I’m writing about something that upsets me, these things tend to be dripping with sarcasm and invective rather than clearly thought-out, logical points that can easily be followed by people who aren't me. And they also tend to be loaded with anger that isn’t directed at the particular person, or even solely that particular issue, but ALL the anger I have about ALL of the things that are wrong with the world. So I’m not only venting anger inappropriately at the wrong person, I’m not even really explaining what I’m angry about, or that it’s not about the person to whom I’m writing. 

AND I'm doing it in writing, so neither of us are seeing each other's faces, hearing tone of voice, seeing body language. So other people aren't getting the cues that would have told them this isn't about them. And I'm not getting the initial cues that would have told me I was out of line and need to stop and apologize, rather than continue the inappropriate rage-splosion.

Again, all this in someone else's journal. Which is being published world-wide. Where, literally, everyone and their grandmother can read it.

So if I do that to someone who is a LOT more reasonable than I am (which, thankfully, happened last time I did this), the response is simply a baffled “What was that about?” And here, I should offer my deep thanks to the people who are a lot more reasonable than I am, as well as my deep apologies to anyone who's been at the receiving end of one of my misplaced rants.

If I do it to someone who, like me, tends to get defensive if they feel attacked (especially in a public setting) … well, really, when that blows up in my face I’m dealing with the natural consequences of my mistakes there. But it was unfair for me to do this to the person in the first place.

So, I’m going to try and get into the habit of using a Word document that I can save or delete when I’m done venting, rather than venting at the universe in general in a format with a "Send" button.

At the very least, if I'm gonna share a rant with everyone and their grandmother, I'll make sure to edit it so it's at least sorta coherent, and put it in my own blog where it belongs.

In that spirit, I waited a few days after writing this before posting it. I felt that my internal editor needed the practice.

The Throne of Judgement

Four people died, and found themselves standing together before the Throne of Judgment. The Throne was a mile high, made of gold, and mounted atop a great golden gate wide enough for armies to march through. And the figure upon the throne appeared like a thunderstorm with a golden crown. From the Throne boomed a deep voice commanding “Stand before me and tell me why you belong in my kingdom”.

The first person to stand before the throne said, “I’m gay. I’ve heard different opinions about what you think of that, but I know I’m just how you made me. And you talked a lot about love, so I figured that was more important to you than my orientation and …”

The voice from the throne interrupted, “You are not the kind of person

who belongs in my kingdom. Go to the next door.”

The second person to stand before the throne said “I was a straight ally. I knew that the Bible said some things that seemed to be anti-gay, but I looked at the behavior of Jesus Christ – the things He said and did, the people he hung out with – and I figured that if I was going to err one way or the other, I should err on the side of loving sinners rather than hating sin. I felt that the verses condemning homosexuals must have been misinterpreted, or based on a specific cultural context that wasn’t intended to apply for the time and place I lived in. And I looked at how the Bible described Jesus and thought that, in any debate, you would be on the side of the underdog.”

The voice from the throne intoned in deep disapproval, “You were wrong. I expect to be obeyed, and I expected you to tell others to obey me. You are not the kind of person who belongs in my kingdom. Go to the next door.”

The third to stand before the throne said “I tried my best to follow what the Bible said. It was hard, because I knew that you don’t approve of homosexuality, but I also knew you wanted me to treat gay people with respect. So I voted against gay marriage, and I taught my own children that gays were sinners like any of us, and needed to repent of their sin, but I didn’t preach against homosexuality or try to make the gays stop being gay or anything like that.” 

The voice from the throne thundered “You didn’t go far enough. You should have told everyone that they should fear my wrath. You are not the kind of person who belongs in my kingdom. Go to the next door.”

The fourth person to stand before the throne said “I told everyone who’d listen, and lots of people who wouldn’t, that the gays were going to hell for their sinful, unnatural acts unless they repented. I feared for their souls and I told them so. I refused to allow them to take communion in my church unless they were willing to repent – and you’d be amazed, NONE of them did. But I know I obeyed, and I tried to get them to obey, because I knew this moment would come for all of us and we should be afraid.”

The voice said “You sound like the kind of person who might belong in my kingdom. Tell me, how many gays did you beat up? How many did you stone to death for their unnatural acts?”

The fourth person was taken aback, and said “None! That’s assault and murder! Hurting people is the OPPOSITE of what you always told us to do, isn’t it? Besides, you didn’t expect me to break the laws of the country I lived in, did you?”

The voice roared “The only law that matters is MINE! No, you do not belong in my kingdom either. Go to the next door.”

All four, very puzzled to be lumped together in the same group, and feeling hurt by their rejection, made their way to the next door, a narrow wooden door. Before that door stood an unwashed, brown-skinned, bare-footed, long-haired man, who appeared to be no longer young but not yet middle-aged. He opened the door for them and said to them all, “Welcome to Heaven, children. Your sins are forgiven. Come on in through this door.”

The four were stunned by the words, and asked, “What? Didn’t God just tell us we weren’t welcome into his Kingdom?”

The man pushed back his hair, revealing a crown of thorns. He smiled and said “No, that wasn’t Dad on the throne. That was Satan.”

© John M. Munzer