Tag: news

Embracing Sabbath

by Abigail Conley

I’m mulling over Sabbath. Maybe it’s the holiday weekend, when much of the country settles in for an extra day off. They pack bags, go camping, grill in backyards and things like that. Some pastors take off this Sunday, too, but for many, a Monday holiday doesn’t mean a long weekend. I’m in the many.

And still, I’m thinking of Sabbath. Here’s my confession: a while back, I stopped intentionally reading the news. My morning routine had long been to slowly wake up, picking up my phone and browsing through headlines in my favorite news apps. I read Al Jazeera English for a broader range of international news. I appreciated the backstories reported in Vox. I gave up HuffPost as it got fluffier and fluffier. I loved the long form stories of The Atlantic. With equal interest, I’d browse The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Economist. The list was long and varied—a nerd wake-up, I suppose.

About this time last year, I stopped doing that. It was Trump, in case you’re wondering. Reading the news under a Trump presidency became toxic, so I stopped for my own sanity and well-being. I’m aware that’s a place of privilege and feel plenty of guilt about that. Of course, I still get a reasonable amount of news. Some of it is sent to my inbox and other pops up in social media. I just stopped pursuing it and gave myself permission to check out of it all together.

I wish I could say it was a carefully thought out and pursued Sabbath. It wasn’t. It was a move of self-preservation. By the time I was making the decision, it was out of a place of pain, anger, and frustration of the damning variety. My soul could not bear it and remain intact.

I suppose I did declare a Sabbath of some sort, knowing that I would return to my previous habits of devouring information. Some day. Eventually. But not now. Not for a while longer.

Part of my job is offering premarital counseling to couples. Most take it seriously and appreciate the work we do together. In the end, much of what we talk about and work toward is intentionality in their relationship. Plan dates. Talk about problems. Set goals. Talk about problems. Say no to things you don’t want to do. Talk about problems. Time and time again, people seem unaware that we actually get to make choices about what we do and how our lives work out in the day to day.

As I consider my own News Sabbath, I am also aware of how easy it is to forget that we have choices. I see people juggling the schedules and the commitments, seeming to forget that they can say no to softball or soccer even if it is good for their kid in some ways. It doesn’t have to be added on top of scouting and school and swim lessons. I see people desperate for some rest. I see people who think they are unable to linger over dinner and conversation. I see all the people who forget that we can choose things that are life-giving and life-sustaining. “Do not worry,” says Jesus. “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink.” It has nothing to do with Sabbath, and yet has everything to do with Sabbath. That passage ends with, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Maybe it is worry more than anything else that drives us, since that is its own manifestation of control. Sabbath, after all, creates space and reminds us that we are not in control. Rest, weary one, for the world will go on just the same. It’s beautiful and haunting, depending on the person or the day. That’s generally the way the Gospel works.

So keep Sabbath this weekend, dear friends, for that is holy work, too.

Erasing Illusions of The Other Not Easy, but Possible

by Greg Gonzales

Comments sections provide a blank, free speech forum where we can discuss an article, get into the nitty-gritty production details of YouTube videos, and share great ideas to transform the world — that is, in another universe. In this world of all possible worlds, the comments sections are reserved for posturing, political parrots, and pointlessly insulting others. Part of why people do this comes down to what David J. Pollay wrote: “Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up,they look for a place to dump it. And if you let them, they’ll dump it on you.” Our nation’s trucks are overflowing — its people are overflowing — with rage, loss, and confusion. When we get caught up in an online argument, we’re not changing the world, but instead letting people dump their garbage all over us. Luckily, so-called “internet tough-guys” tend to hold normal conversations in everyday offline life. The best thing is to ignore the trash, and make real human connections outside the internet, where we can see each other, read body language, and face people directly.

For me, in March of last year, one of those places was at an airport bar, waiting for a flight. A fellow patron and I watched Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump paraded across CNN’s feed for a few minutes. We exchanged work stories and duties, and it turned out he was a Border Patrol agent. Of course, the conversation quickly turned to politics, as the news ticked on about Trump’s border wall proposal. The agent told me his decision was between Sanders and Trump, but he said he liked Trump for his sincerity and lack of political entrenchment, where Sanders is a career politician. Then I asked about the wall. “Trump isn’t going to do it,” he told me. “It’s just rhetoric.” As a border agent, he was against the wall, saying the barriers down there are about as effective as a physical barrier can get. Then we discussed other solutions, like tech and immigration policy (which he agreed were better solutions, after years on the border), until he had to get on a plane and never see me again. What I assumed would have turned into a bicker-fest actually helped us find some common ground. While we didn’t change each others’ minds, we did learn each others’ views, which is a big step in unifying two people with conflicting ideologies. We didn’t fight, we didn’t bicker, we just explained our views and moved on with life, both happier for having learned something.

It’s not easy to convince someone of a mistake, or a character flaw — change is hard, and we can’t force someone to change, but the world sometimes reveals the truth in astounding, painful ways. Allen Wood, a retired Army Sergeant who fought in Vietnam, wrote in a Facebook post about how he was taught to hate, growing up with a father in the KKK in southern Georgia. “I grew up in a racist society and I willingly participated in it. I cannot deny that I used the ‘N’ word many times. Maybe you grew up the same way. That was my world and I had to belong in it.” However, one day, he changed. “The truth came on a very very hot morning in Vietnam when we were ambushed by a small group of local Viet Cong irregulars,” he wrote. “A man almost gave his life to save mine. He did not stop to ask if I was white, black; Christian or not. I was his friend and buddy and he willingly placed his life between me and certain death.” Turns out his hero was a black soldier, but in this moment of crisis, preconceived notions of race didn’t matter. Wood’s arm suffered an injury, and his new friend, George, suffered an injury to his side. As Wood tended George’s wound, their blood mixed right there on the battlefield. “There was no hatred, no distrust. Just two men in a bad situation and wanting to survive. …. After that singular incident, watching his blood mingled with mine, I looked at the world totally different. George and I talked about our different worlds and were constantly struck at how, in truth, they were the same worlds.” Sometimes, to let go of hate, we have to see that we all share the same dark-red blood as everyone else.

Without a doubt, we all live in the same world, even if Socrates was right that “The only wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Reality may differ person to person, depending on individual brain chemistry and impressions and histories. After all, the world we see is relative to the tools we have in our heads and bodies. Even so, through careful conversation, through shared experience, we erase the illusion of The Other and find common ground. Take a breath, smile, ask for your fellow human’s name, and then ask more questions.