Tag: Current events

• How to be a Contemplative in Today’s Political Climate

  I was speaking recently with one of my Patreon supporters (Patreon is a crowdfunding program to support writers, bloggers, musicians, etc. This blog is made possible by the generous people who support it through Patreon).

  She asked me a blunt question.

  How do you do it? How do you, as someone who writes about contemplation, respond to the political moment that we find ourselves in?

  Such an important and vital query, and not one easily answered!

  When I first started this blog (almost 20 years ago now!) I very much tried to avoid writing about politics, not because I lacked conviction (believe me, I have strong views) but because I believed that prayer and mysticism are topics for everyone, not just people who vote like I do. I did not trust my own ability as a writer to persuade people in terms of core political values or perspectives. I largely still feel that way: I believe some of us are neurologically wired to be conservative, and others are wired to be liberal; I believe God made us that way and in a democracy we have to figure out how to get along.

  But over the years that I’ve been writing, I have watched the train wreck that is American politics — aided and abetted by an increasingly partisan media and the divisive nature of social media — foster what seems to be at least the image of Americans getting more and more hostile toward our political opponents. Of course, I have to remind myself that the image of America becoming increasingly divided might not always be the reality — if we look back to the 1930s or the  1960s, we can see the same kind of civil unrest and extremism (complete with violence) that seems to be bedeviling us today. When it comes right down to it, the Weather Underground of the 1960s and the Proud Boys of today are practically mirror images of each other, both supremely convinced of the rightness of their cause, both frighteningly unafraid to employ violence, or at least the threat of violence, in the service of their political aims.

  But even if we can take some small comfort in the idea that America is no more divided today than it’s always been, my patron’s question still remains. How can we meet the political conflicts of this time (or any time) with the heart of a contemplative?

  Here are just a few thoughts.

  1. Don’t demonize one another. Just a cursory glance through social media sites like Twitter and Facebook reveal a disturbing tendency across the political spectrum: for people to express contempt and even hatred toward those with whom we disagree. I understand how angry we can get when we feel so passionately about an issue — especially when current legislation, court decisions, or public opinion is opposed to “our” view. Such anger can lead to a sense that the other side is not just wrong, they’re… well, evil, demonic. For contemplatives, demonizing your opponent flies in the face of the conviction that all people bear the divine image and likeness. Demonizing others can lead to violence or abuse. Unless we want political violence like the 1969 “Days of Rage” or the January 6 insurrection to recur again and again, we all have to find a way to fight for what we believe is right, without fighting against our opponents as “bad” people.
  2. Tell your story — and be honest about how we see things differently. I believe the only way we are going to find a way forward out of our divided political climate is for people who disagree politically to begin talking, in person — around family rooms, dinner tables, and other “real life” settings. Posting clever social media posts where we “own the liberals” or “own the conservatives” creates heat but not light. We have to meet eye to eye, and find ways to tell our stories to one another. This is not easy to do, and many of us who are contemplatives tend to be introverts and conflict-avoidant. But if people of good will do not learn how to come together, then we are abdicating the political conversation in our society to the extremists (on both sides). And we all know where the extremists will take us. But how do we talk about disagreements? We have to learn to say “I see things differently.” Telling your story needs to be about your story, not about how everyone else is so wrong. If you see the world differently than someone who votes differently, we need to find ways to talk about those different perspectives.
  3. Listen to one another with discernment. There’s no point in telling our stories if we also cannot practice the art of listening to one another. Once again, this may be difficult, particularly when people are separated by economic status, education level, skin color, gender, sexuality, religious belief, and other values. But again, the question is: how do we as contemplatives navigate our political divides? Contemplatives practice the art of listening-as-prayer, so we need to apply that to the challenging matter of listening to those whose life experiences are very much unlike our own. Listening does not mean uncritically accepting everything anyone says, of course. We need to learn how to listen with a sense of discernment, a willingness to consider conflicting viewpoints in light of the larger questions of what is good, what is true, what is best for society as a whole.
  4. We need to emphasize our common ground. We all know how social, political, economic, religious and other divisions seem to erect barriers between different groups of people. But if we let those divisions have the final say, then we are just condemning ourselves and our society to a never-ending cycle of mistrust and suspicion. We have to find ways to relate to one another, in spite of our deep divisions. One way to do this — and again, this needs to happen on the local level, in person — is to balance our concern over what divides us with an appreciation for what unites us. We all want a world where our children can thrive. We all want safety, freedom, and the capacity to enjoy the fruit of our labors. We all want clean air, clean water, affordable housing, accessible healthcare, and civil liberties. We have to keep reminding ourselves, and each other, that what unites us matters just as much as what divides us, and our common ground provides us a powerful incentive to work together for the common good.
  5. Be patient when possible. I know that many of the hottest issues our society faces are not only divisive, but carry a sense of urgency — we can see how people can be harmed or even might die because of specific policy decisions. Naturally, we will fight more aggressively when the matter at hand is urgent. But there is also a long game in politics that we should not ignore, even in the midst of many pressing issues. We need to patiently work on how we can establish or restore civility, neighborly good will, long term policies that benefit us all, and other goals that may take years or even decades to accomplish. Patience, perseverance, resilience, and fortitude are not just abstract virtues — they are necessary qualities to keeping society healthy and productive over time. Martin Luther King Jr. was known to quote the 19th century Unitarian minister Theodore Parker, who said “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Trusting that long arc — and working to support it — is just as important politically as fighting for the life-or-death issues facing us today.
  6. Speak with courage and conviction: but also be humble. Here I’m really restating #s 2 and 3 above. It’s been said that we need to speak the truth, even if our voice shakes. Amen to that. Political progress is not made by people keeping their opinions to themselves! But contemplative spirituality with its roots in monasticism understands the importance of humility — in other words, recognizing that we don’t always know everything, or have all the answers, or have everything figured out. And “we” refers not only to us as individuals, but also to our political party or “side” as well. Humility seems to be in terribly short supply these days. Maybe contemplatives can model a generous politics of humility, by being willing to say “I wonder” and “I don’t know” when such is the case.
  7. Keep praying. I know that “thoughts and prayers” has become a loaded phrase, thanks to the question of how best to prevent gun violence in America. I agree that our thoughts and prayers should never be something we do to avoid the important and necessary action that we need to take to address the problems we face. But I also believe it’s just as dangerous to act without prayer (or, at least, without careful contemplation). Yes, in emergencies we have to act quickly — which is why we need to be contemplative every day. Cultivating a spirit of thoughtful listening, compassionate wonder, willing silence, and heartfelt desire to enact the will of Divine compassion, mercy and justice — once again, this is  something we all need to be doing, but perhaps contemplative practitioners can lead the way.

  

  I’m afraid this post will strike some people as pollyannish, but I believe we have to hope for the best, and to proclaim that hope so that it can guide us even when we have to make difficult decisions.

  So, back to my patron’s question. These are the points I keep in mind as I attempt to maintain a contemplative approach to the political challenges of our time. Please let me know if you see things differently — or if you have additional suggestions on how contemplatives can contribute to improving the political climate in today’s world.

  July 22, 2022

  Current events, Politics

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• An Open Letter to a Priest Who Posts Hostile Political Posts on Social Media

  With the news that Elon Musk is acquiring Twitter, once again the question of how social media functions (or ought to function) in our society is back on peoples’ minds. Ever since I saw the movie The Social Dilemma, I have been conscious of the challenges that social media brings to our common life. Chief among those challenges is the question of how we navigate our social and political differences and disagreements.

  Christians are not immune to these social and political conflicts, and often we tend to stoke those divisions rather than seek to heal them. But faith in Christ is about reconciliation and building a beloved community, so I believe we need to balance our conscientious commitment to fighting for what we believe is right with an even greater commitment to seeking to be agents of God’s mercy, forgiveness and healing in the world today.

  With this in mind, I’m sharing the following email, which I sent out last week to someone who I thought was a friend. He is a priest who recently has been posting a series of very angry, partisan posts. I have not received a response, and as this point I do not expect to. The email was written after this person blocked me on social media, when I responded to one of his posts by expressing my discomfort with it. I’m editing out all personal details from this email and posting it as here as an open letter. Whether or not it reaches the intended recipient, I hope it may do some good nonetheless. If nothing else, I invite you to join with me in praying for everyone who has gotten caught up in anger, resentment and bitterness as a result of the corrosive discourse on social media. Regardless of our political or social “position,” we all are in need of mercy and healing. May we all seek God’s love and grace for ourselves and for each other.

  Father ______, I appeal to you as a priest of Christ — please hear me out.

  The last few months I have increasingly been saddened — not angry, just sad — by the increasingly harsh and strident tone of your social media posts, particularly attacking people who hold particular views on political issues involving race and gender. Please try to see that I would be sending you this same email if your social media posts were attacking people who hold the opposite views. I am reacting not so much to the content of your views, but to how you express them.

  As a Christian writer, I pray every day about how to negotiate these challenging times we find ourselves in. I’m old enough to remember the hostilities of the 1960s and early 1970s, so I know that deep divisions — even within the church — is nothing new. But social media has created a particularly toxic way for publicly attacking those with whom we disagree. I think it makes the spirit of evil happy when Christians attack one another this way. I believe with all my heart that Christians are called to model a new and different way of dealing with and resolving conflicts.

  Search your heart, Father — you know there are conscientious Christians of good will who disagree with you. Perhaps they are in error (and perhaps you are). Either way, your job is not to smear them, but to reason with them.

  As Christians, whether lay or ordained, we have to “be” Christ in the world. We have to be leaders — and we have to lead in the business of reconciliation, not just scoring points for “our side.”

  I absolutely support your right and responsibility to speak on matters of conscience, even if I may disagree on the particulars. I’m not saying you should suddenly start espousing views opposite from your own. But as a Christian and especially as a priest, I hope you will adopt a more truly Christlike tone in your social media dealings.

  I don’t think Christ would have blocked people on social media when they disagreed with him. Just saying.

  Yours in Christ,

  Carl McColman

  April 27, 2022

  Current events, Social media

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• 2020 Vision: How the Challenges of This Year Can Help Us to See More Clearly

  Last month I was invited to participate in a panel discussion with several contemplative leaders here in the Atlanta area, under the topic “2020 Vision.”

  This delicious pun invites us to reflect on how the challenges and opportunities of the year 2020 have contributed to our capacity to see clearly, especially in light of contemplative practice.

  What are you seeing that you did not see before the pandemic? How is your vision changing and what might else look different after the pandemic ends?

  These questions were featured on the flyer promoting this event, And so in preparing for the talk, I realized these were questions worth reflecting here on my blog as well.

  Clearly, my “vision changing” makes sense only on a spiritual level — but I think it makes sense that events in the course of history will alter how we see the world, or circumstances in our lives.

  For me, three ways in which my vision has been changed in 2020 have to do with: 1) The pandemic and our response to it; 2) Social media’s power to shape public discourse and the way we perceive the world, and 3) The necessity for finding new avenues of hope in terms of politics and our shared community life.

  Let’s look at these one by one.

  The Pandemic, Masks, and The Mandate to “Judge Not”

  My wife and I live in the metro Atlanta area, in the shadow of Emory University and the CDC. Because of this, the coronavirus — and the steps we need to take to lessen its toll — got onto our radar in January of last year. I remember vividly having a conversation with a former student who is a physician at the CDC, talking about the importance of social distancing, wearing a mask, washing hands for 20 seconds — all topics that became part of our national conversation several weeks later.

  Maybe it’s because I heard these guidelines from a real human being I trust, rather than just a political or media figure. But I simply accepted that this is what we all need to do.

  Never in my wildest imagining did I think there was anything “political” about responding to the coronavirus. So imagine how dumbfounded I have felt, for months now, as I’ve watched how public health has become politicized. Or, should I say, more politicized than ever before?

  This was brought home to me just this past week, when Fran and I went to stay at a friend’s beachfront condo in Florida. It was our first time away from home since March. We were stunned — simply stunned — by how few people were wearing masks in public, even though COVID-19 rates are continuing to rise.

  What, then, am I seeing clearly? First, I must acknowledge my own capacity to judge — to be judgmental. While I was in Florida, I had to keep reminding myself that people who choose not to wear masks are, in most cases, those who get their news from different sources than I do. If you trust pundits who are telling you the pandemic is either a hoax or has been blown way out of proportion, then naturally you aren’t going to take seriously the mandate to wear a mask or practice social distancing.

  Don’t get me wrong: I still consider it foolish and inconsiderate to go without a mask in public. But I know that judging someone as “bad” because they have made a different decision than I do will not help anyone.

  Part of what I am seeing here is just how deeply divided our nation is. It’s no secret that we are divided in our politics, or in “big” issues like how best to protect the environment or what needs to happen to dismantle systemic racism. But the mask issue makes me see clearly that our divisions are much more pervasive than I previously would have guessed.

  It seems we are so divided that we literally have two entirely different narratives — stories — that define who we are and what we need to do to live well.

  And this brings me to my second point.

  Social Media and the New, Corporate-Engineered Tribalism

  I have long had a rather complex and uncomfortable relationship with social media. I first began to us MySpace (remember that?), followed by Facebook and Twitter, and then LinkedIn, Instagram and Pinterest, primarily for professional reasons. These days, publishers pretty much insist that authors not only have a social media presence, but are actively engaged in connecting with their social media “tribe.”

  I love how social media has enabled me to stay in touch with family and friends, as well as to reconnect with people who I haven’t been connected to in ages — like a cousin who I last saw in person in the mid-1970s; he now lives in New York and is about as deeply involved in both Christian contemplation and interfaith spirituality as I am. Who would have guessed?

  But I have long been troubled by how social media seems to function as an echo chamber for our most divisive and inflammatory political opinions, creating the conditions for people to be truly hostile to those who disagree with them, without much opportunity for reasoned, thoughtful discourse or debate — in other words, shedding much more heat than light. I see this problem defining not only the way we talk about politics online, but also spirituality.

  In September 2020 the documentary The Social Dilemma premiered on Netflix. If you haven’t watched it, I encourage you to (and if you don’t subscribe to Netflix, try to find a friend who can host a socially-distanced watch party so you can see it). It’s a movie that examines how the social media providers, in order to make money off their advertising, have created platforms that work to keep us focussed on content that reinforces our existing beliefs — because we’ll pay more and longer attention to content we “like,” which in turn makes us more valuable consumers to advertisers.

  In other words: social media is actually engineered to reinforce our political, social and spiritual prejudices. Instead of helping us to find consensus and common ground, social media actually contributes to us, as a society, becoming more polarized.

  So no wonder we can’t even figure out a common policy about wearing masks.

  Where Do We Find Hope?

  The pandemic helped me see more clearly how divided we are, and The Social Dilemma helped me to understand some of the forces that work to keep us divided.

  So — where do we find hope?

  I’m reminded of a passage I often quote on this blog, from the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. Here’s a snippet:

  Contemplation is … the key to the essence of a renewed humanity that is capable of seeing the world and other subjects in the world with freedom – freedom from self-oriented, acquisitive habits and the distorted understanding that comes from them… To learn contemplative practice is to learn what we need so as to live truthfully and honestly and lovingly. It is a deeply revolutionary matter.”

  Our political, religious, and business leaders cannot (or will not) do what is necessary to help us overcome our divisions. Mark Zuckerberg will not save us; neither will Joe Biden or Franklin Graham. We may be divided at the top, but I believe our only hope for unity comes down at the grassroots.

  I could see the value of wearing a mask because someone I trusted at the grassroots explained it to me. I believe we need to do all we can, individually and collectively, to restore the capacity of speaking — and listening — to each other, not on social media, not on some global scale, but in the ordinary channels of our lives.

  But this is going to require qualities like a basic humility, a capacity to listen, and a willingness to see with unprejudiced eyes. Qualities, in other words, that contemplative practice helps us to cultivate.

  As Archbishop Williams points out, contemplation is about learning to tell the truth and to be loving. It’s about learning to see with the eyes of freedom. It’s about learning to trust.

  Is contemplation a panacea? Not hardly. It needs to be joined together with learning skills for effective communication, and with a lot of soul-searching, at the national level, about what we understand regarding truth, and science, and the rules of civility and compassion. The divisions we experience will not be healed over night, and they cannot be healed as long as we try to maintain systems of economic and social privilege in our society.

  In other words: we have a lot of work to do.

  So here’s the question: when we learn to see clearly (something contemplation can help us to do), are we willing to do the hard work necessary to make our world a better place? I believe anyone who is serious about contemplative practice will answer that question “Yes” — even though the task is mighty and the work is sure to be a challenge.

  But it’s work that needs to be done. That much is clear.

  December 3, 2020

  conflict, Contemplation, Current events, pandemic

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• Contemplating Dragon Con: Pop Culture, Creativity, and the Masks We Wear

  Each year on Labor Day weekend downtown Atlanta hosts Dragon Con, one of the larger conventions for fans of science fiction, fantasy, comics, horror, gaming, and various other forms of pop culture. It’s been going on for 30 years now, and I have friends who attend faithfully every year, but this year marks only the second time I’ve attended.

  It’s huge — 85,000 people swarming around in seven downtown Atlanta hotels — so if you don’t like crowds, it might not be your cuppa. But many of the attendees dress up as their favorite characters (a practice known as cosplay, from “costume play”), so it’s a great place to people-watch. Indeed, on Saturday the cosplayers take over Peachtree Road for the annual Dragon Con parade, and folks will come in to town just to gawk at all the storm troopers and superheroes.

  

  But it’s worth paying the price of admission (about $85 for advance tickets) because then you get to attend an amazing vendor exhibit, art gallery, panel discussions on all aspects of fandom as well as workshops for writers, artists, animators, and yes, cosplayers. If you’re into gaming, there are tournaments going on throughout the convention. Each evening is rife with parties. “Filkers,” or musicians who write songs based on their favorite books/movies/shows, perform pretty much throughout the convention.

  

  Meanwhile, big-name movie and TV stars come to conventions like Dragon Con as guests of honor. This year’s attendees included William Shatner and George Takei of Star Trek along with David Tennant of Dr. Who fame. Many lesser known (but still interesting) performers and creators from the comic/science fiction/fantasy worlds attend, speaking at the panels and selling their wares in the vendor halls.

  

  It’s a lot of fun — as long as you are comfortable with pop culture and lots of people.

  Contemplating Dragon Con

  I go to Dragon Con to have fun. I enjoy people watching, and I’m a casual fan of enough genre culture that I generally enjoy the panels I attend. I like fantasy art so I always enjoy the gallery, and like most people I get a kick out of the cosplay.

  But I can’t help myself, so even at a just-for-fun event like Dragon Con, I find myself looking at everything through a contemplative lens. Here are some of my takeaways from Dragon Con. If you’ve attended this (or another) fan convention, I’d love to know your thoughts on why these gatherings are so enjoyable — and what we can take away from them.

  

  1. Cosplay is an art: but we are all wearing masks. As you can see from the pictures I’m posting here, cosplayers can develop some incredibly detailed, intricate, and complex versions of their favorite TV or movie characters’ costumes. Some are fairly ordinary: lots of Wonder Women and other superheroes wandering out; plenty of Jedi Knights, Storm Troopers, and Game of Thrones characters. Others are more obscure — and remarkable, like the detailed floral gown worn by Dani as the May Queen in Midsommar (a movie only released in July of this year, meaning the cosplayer had only two months to create it).
     Compared to the cosplayers are the many people (like me) walking around in ordinary jeans and t-shirts. But I reflected on why cosplaying — a hobby activity that could cost incredible amounts of time and money, with no compensation other than compliments from fellow convention-goers — is so popular. And I realized that it’s because we all wear masks. We mask ourselves with our clothes, our material belongings, and even our political or religious identities. We mask ourselves with our career and achievements. We hide behind our friends and family members. Even the notion of the “false self,” which I admittedly have difficulty with, is perhaps simply a mask we wear from the inside out.
     We venerate “the individual” in our culture — we think the individual is more important than the collective, which is why characters from the Lone Ranger to Captain Kirk remain so popular. But we are social creatures, like it or not. So there’s something about cosplay — going to a convention with thousands of other like-minded fans, yet carefully constructing one’s unique “mask” to wear there — that turns our existential fate of always wearing masks into a type of performative play. I imagine this is also why Halloween is increasingly popular, and why Masquerades and Masked Balls were so beloved in years past.
     
  2. Creativity matters. And fun matters too. Pop culture is derivative. This year’s horror movie hit Midsommar is an homage to a 70s cult-horror flick, The Wicker Man. Much of modern epic fantasy is to a greater or lesser extent based on the work of J.R.R. Tolkien, who in turn based The Lord of the Rings on Norse mythol0gy (the same mythos that gave us the Marvel superhero Thor). So why celebrate a form of culture that, in some ways, lacks originality and creativity?
     Notice I said “in some ways.” Pop culture may be derivative, but it’s also a forum where each generation’s writers and artists and other creators get a chance to put their own unique stamp on it. Star Trek in 2019 looks different from Star Trek in 1969. The same can be said for Dr. Who and other long-standing franchises. Likewise, cosplay is a genuine pop culture art form — where talent is put into the service of faithful reproduction balance by subtle cues of originality (at Dragon Con, many veteran attendees have taken a garish blue/gold/red pattern that used to be on the carpet at the Marriott and incorporated it, in subtle ways, into their costumes — making tribute not only to their favorite characters but to the convention itself as well).
     But cosplay is not the only type of creativity on display at the convention. The art gallery, the writers’ track, and the filkers all provide forums where attendees can rub elbows with (and learn from) creative professionals. The ethos of the con is clear: anyone and everyone can create. I attended one art workshop with my wife, and was moved by how all the panelists spoke of the support they get from each other. They may be rivals in business, but they are friends in art.
     So Dragon Con is a place where everyone can find encouragement to work out their own creative impulses. And since the overall ethos of the convention is a spirit of fun, there’s a subtle message: it’s fun to create. We need more of that message in our society.

     

  3. Where is the mindfulness? And the meditation? I don’t have a lot of criticism of Dragon Con. Yes, it’s over-crowded; it’s disappointing to spend half an hour swimming the sea of people only to arrive at a ballroom where the event you’ve been wanting to attend has just been closed due to standing-room-only capacity. But that’s a problem that any popular event will share.
     But there is one thing that bugs me. There is an entire track of sessions and workshops devoted to “Skepticism.” If you are an agnostic or an atheist, you have a home base at Dragon Con. I don’t begrudge the skeptics their own safe space: but as the member of another marginal group (contemplatives/mystics), why don’t we have our own track? I mentioned this to a friend who is a veteran attendee, and he said “You should create it.” Well, okay, except that as someone who’s only been going to Dragon Con a couple of times, I’m very much on the margins. But I’m willing to engage in the conversation.
     I understand that a fan convention is not the place for heavy theological discussions. Indeed, politics and religion are probably the two topics that are best kept off-limits at an event like this. I have no need to talk up religion (mine or anyone else’s), but I’d love to see panel discussions on mysticism and the imagination, or on sacramentalism in science fiction, or even on the relationship between horror and Dante. And I’d like to see interspersed with these kinds of events opportunities for mindfulness meditation, centering prayer, zen, yoga (there is someone who offers Tai Chi for an extra fee, but I think there needs to be something more widely available than that). Basically a safe, silent space in the midst 0f the fun and frivolity of the convention. Because us introverts, we need down time! And also because there’s a place for bringing the imagination and creativity and silence together. And Dragon Con would be a great place to make it happen.

  Okay, so those are my thoughts. I’ll probably be talking up the mindfulness track idea with folks I know. Who knows? Maybe it will be created for the future!

  

   

  

  September 2, 2019

  conventions, cosplay, Current events, Dragon Con, fantasy, science fiction

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