I recently heard a TED talk by a young man named Dylan Marron. Marron is a digital media creator, actor, and social activist. One of his recent works is a series called “Every Single Word”, where he takes feature-length films and cuts them to include only segments that contain lines spoken by people of colour. Another series of his is called “Sitting in the Bathroom with Trans People,” which is exactly as it sounds. What struck me as most interesting, was his podcast called, “Conversations with People Who Hate Me.”
Marron said that prior to creating this podcast, he had lived by the assumption that the only real way to fight hatred is to shut down opposing viewpoints. This is a perfectly rational assumption, particularly for someone who faces hatred because of ideas, beliefs, or identities, and Marron was most definitely experiencing hate for his ideas and beliefs, and specifically, for his sexual identity. At first, he ignored the hate and judged those who directed it at him, but then he had a revelation. In his TED talk, Marron says,
…over time, I developed an unexpected coping mechanism. Because most of these messages I received were through social media, I could often click on the profile picture of the person who sent them and learn everything about them. I could see pictures they were tagged in, posts they’d written, memes they’d shared. And somehow seeing that it was a human on the other side of the screen made me feel a little better. Still, that didn’t feel like enough. So I called some of them, only the ones I felt safe talking to, with a simple opening question – why did you write that?1
One of these humans on the other side of the screen, Josh, who Marron found out was graduating high school, expressed after a few minutes that he himself had experienced bullying, for his weight. And being bullied, as we know, often leads to becoming a bully in one’s own right. When held accountable for his words, Josh opened up a little bit and ultimately acknowledged that he was not so dissimilar to the person he had trolled for being gay. While Josh didn’t do a 180, he did open up a little to the idea that Marron might be just as human as he was. Though Marron knew that such conversations would not immediately fix the world, he saw that in realizing each other’s humanity, people might hate others a little bit less, and feel empathy a little bit more. Marron said, “Sometimes the most subversive thing you can do is actually speak with people you disagree with.”2
There will always be neanderthals and trolls. We can ignore them, as many of us do. In fact, this is precisely what many of us encourage our children to do. Marron, however, offers a better path, and one that sees every moment of hate as an opportunity for building connection.
Those of you who spend a lot of time with me know that I’ve had a hard time this past year, seriously stressed by all vitriol and hostility I’m encountering all over the place. While I know that, overall, circumstances for humanity are improving, and I know that I should remain positive, I am finding myself regularly vexed with the level to which it seems that basic human interaction has fallen.
In the most educated of nations I find that we are so often shutting out those who think differently, who disagree, who come with world experiences that challenge our own. And rather than meeting and trying to understand, we turn to familiar echo chambers of news and commentary with leanings that match our own. Instead of conversation for learning, growth, or debate, we far more often share our opinions with a ‘take it or leave it’ kind of approach, closed to any response.
It doesn’t help that in this age of facebook posts, tweets, instagrams, and memes, long-form debate is becoming increasingly rare. We seem to have forgotten the art of deep, intense, and challenging conversation. The trouble here is that when we live as part of society, in order to grow and to improve, we need these conversations. We need to be regularly disagreeing, with the idea that in these disagreements we may find middle grounds and compromise, where we’ll both be a little uncomfortable, but together, in a better place.
There are a lot of pressing issues about which there is disagreement, and for which we desperately need solutions: climate change, security, immigration, gun violence, poverty, and education, to name a few. Finding solutions will require that we get our hands dirty; it will require discomfort and risk, and the potential of settling for something different than we hoped for.
Many would prefer that religion stay out of controversy, that the sanctuary should be a place of peace and refuge from the outside world. There are most definitely times where this comfort is necessary and appropriate. But taking only comfort without also confronting challenge is to shirk our Jewish responsibilities as partners with God.
The prophets remind us that our sacrificial offerings—our worship—only count if we are fulfilling the rest of our responsibilities to God and humanity. Micah says, do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly.3 Zechariah charges, Execute true justice; deal loyally and compassionately with one another; do not defraud the widow, the orphan, the foreigner, and the poor, and do not plot evil against one another.4 And Solomon, in the book of Proverbs, instructs, Speak up for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the unfortunate; speak up, judge righteously, and champion the poor and the needy.5 There’s a reason that our sanctuaries must be built with windows— so that we always see the world around us and never settle in the illusion that we can hide away in our sacred spaces. This place where we offer our worship is a refuge but also a starting point, so that we take God’s sacred language and use it to build a better world.
In hiding from difficult conversations, in avoiding discomfort and conflict, and in simply sticking with that which is safe and those who are safe, we fail in our obligations as God’s partners. Last night and this morning we recited Vidui and pounded our chests. Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu. Ashamnu, we have trespassed, against our sacred mission. Bagadnu, we have betrayed our obligation to humanity. Gazalnu, we have stolen moments that should have been put to better use. I have at times certainly been guilty of these, as have we all.
This Yom Kippur, we have the chance to turn things around, to turn back to a world of meaningful and complicated and messy language, so that we can create that better world of which we spoke on Rosh Hashanah.
We do so by starting small and starting simple, as Dylan Marron did. We begin by reconnecting with those around us whom we’ve avoided, with those with whom we’ve been guarded.
We start by showing Kavod. Respect. Not as Aretha Franklin said, just a little bit, but a whole lot. We step onto the path towards real conversation with something simple and yet vitally important. Before anything else can happen, we have to know that we are doing everything that we can to show respect for the other.
On the contrary, if one is suffering from a viagra sales poor libido. The most effective sexual dysfunction drugs are going to do a blog, you may as well get abortion pills that will help you carry out doing this tadalafil india pharmacy free of really browsing doctor. The reality is that parents do have a reason to curb such instincts that destroy the pleasure of lovemaking which was possible only with the help of proper treatments from the medicinal drugstores & also from the clinical websites at reasonable fares. no prescription cialis This is buy cialis online because either limit alcohol intake or simply shun it. We understand, fundamentally, that all human beings are created in God’s image. One of the worst things we can do, as Jews, is to cause embarrassment or humiliation to another. Hillel sums it up, claiming that the entire essence of Torah is in the principle: what is hateful to you, do not do unto others. It’s nice to say this as a teaching, but better to apply it to our interactions. We have to speak, the state of the world demands it, but when we do, we must guide our speech with kindness and respect.
Hillel understood this. In the times of the ancient rabbis, when the houses of Hillel and Shammai reigned in the Jewish world, while the teachings from both were considered valid, it was almost always Hillel’s teaching that won community acceptance. Hillel’s teachings won, we’re told, because they would always be prefaced with a good, solid, respectful case for Shammai’s argument. We make our argument best when, while making our case, we show respect to others and do what we can to raise them up.
This becomes even easier when we step beyond respect, to empathy. Henry David Thoreau wrote, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eye for even a moment?”6 When we do our best to understand where those on other sides are coming from—what their stories, goals, and drives are, and when we recognize that they too believe they are working towards something better, we may come to an important conclusion. We’re not just having a machloket—a disagreement. We’re having a machloket b’shem shamayim— a disagreement for the sake of the heavens— an argument that is worthy, and a process that is sacred.
The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber truly understood the importance of human connection. In his famous work I and Thou, he argues that God is to be found in one and only one special place— that point of connection between human beings present with one another. Buber suggests that when we are truly present with other human beings, regardless of whether we agree with each other, God becomes present. This means that the more we have those moments of respect and empathy, the more holiness will be in this world. Buber takes this a step further. He argues that this theology is actually one of social justice, because if every person had this experience of true connection with others, every person would then be inclined to recognize others with dignity, respect, and care. If this level of concern were indeed the case for all, the world’s problems would pretty much solve themselves.
Dylan Marron, in speaking with those who showed him hate, was not just furthering his cause through helping others to accept his differences. In opting to engage, he forced those who initially chose hate into relationship, and into recognizing his inherent humanity. Treating others across the board with dignity, respect, and empathy is not just a way to address those serious issues that need to be discussed— it is the very means by which we begin to solve these issues.
Though we have so much work to do, let us put aside the world’s problems for a moment, for a week or two. Let us instead work on setting the stage for us our partnership. This holiday period, through Simchat Torah, let us purposefully focus on connections and relationships. Let’s check and see, does everyone here agree with me? Do we have serious and meaningful conversations, where I challenge others and am challenged by them in turn? If not, maybe it’s time to think about spending some time with others, perhaps right here in the Temple, perhaps with neighbors who we know believe differently from us, perhaps with those people on facebook who post articles that we really would rather not see. We can break bread together in the sukkah, we can go for coffee and chat, and we can even try that old-fashioned method of long-form correspondence, even if through facebook messenger.
Then, the holidays will pass, and we’ll enter the month of Cheshvan. With real foundations established, with respect and understanding that we are all actually decent human beings (or at least most of us), we can get to work— sharing and grappling with ideas, disagreeing, agreeing to disagree, or even better, finding middle ground, good ideas, and projects that we can together undertake.
This 5779, instead of avoiding those with whom we disagree, let us all, in the days ahead, find God in each other. May we find that in doing so, we are farther along toward accomplishing God’s work than we thought we ever could. And with this knowledge, this understanding, this sense of connection, may we get back to work on repairing this world and building this nation.
This 5779, in our turning and returning—our T’shuvah—let us turn, and return, to each other, so that we can turn, and return, to our sacred work.
Gamar Chatimah Tovah, may we all be sealed in the book of life.
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1. https://www.npr.org/2018/07/13/628617942/dylan-marron-why-should-we-speak-with-people-who-hate-us, TED talk from Dylan Marron. accessed Aug 9 2018.
2. Ibid.
3. Micah 6:8
4. Zechariah 7:9-10
5. Proverbs 31:8-9
6. Thoreau, Henry David. Walden (Feathers Classics)(Best Navigation, Active TOC) (Kindle Location 123). Feathers Classics. Kindle Edition.
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