“Mankind is composed of two kinds of men –
those who love and create,
and those who hate and destroy.”
~Jose Marti
We are the sum of the stories we tell ourselves.
Most of us spend our lifetimes reinforcing our beliefs about who we think we are. We’ve all heard responses like, “Oh it figures. That’s my kind of bad luck.” Or, “I’m just not very creative.” Or, “My brother was always the smart one. I just suck at (fill in the blank).
These are not harmless words. We box and limit ourselves with our expectations. But then, aren’t so many of our limits self-imposed?
The more frightening stories are the ones we tell ourselves to create a feeling of superiority. The stories that create a sense of them versus us.
You know the ones…”All Christians are rednecks.” Or, “All Muslims are terrorists.” Or, “They want to take away our right to say Merry Christmas.” Or, “All Mexicans are lazy.” Or, “Those people are invading our country.”
It behooves us to pay strict attention whenever we hear a story that has a distinct ‘Us versus Them’ motif.
I grew up being told that we, the Mennonites, held the golden ticket to Heaven. We needed to feel sorry for the rest of the wayward world who were destined to burn in the everlasting flames of Hell.
This confounded me then and bewilders me even more now. Why would I ever want to be part of a belief system that smugly punished so many of my fellow beings? Where on earth does love live in such a scenario?
This kind of thinking would suggest that a God like that would still damn all those wrong-religion-Jews who created a protective human shield around many Canadian mosques after six Muslims were murdered while praying. Or maybe that punitive God would rather burn those wrong-believing Muslims for creating a similar human shield around Toronto area synagogues act after the horrific Pittsburgh shooting?
Those wonderful acts of love and caring are exactly what is needed in our world. They counter the whole notion of ‘my God is better than your God’, a terrible idea which only serves to ensure our separation from each other.
Recently a friend told me of a Christian who has spent years researching everything she can find to prove the threat of Muslim terrorists. Will she find what she is looking for? Of course.
But if she spent as much time making friends with any of the other millions of Muslims who are busy being good and kind citizens, would she also find what she is looking for? Most definitely.
If we were to analyze the crazy-assed number of mass shootings in the U.S. and created a profile of who was doing the killing…we wouldn’t be worried about immigrants or refugees…but we’d certainly be very very nervous about white men and their guns.
Do we need to hate all white men? Obviously that is ludicrous, as ridiculous as it is to be fearful of any other stereotypical category of humanity.
Currently, we have the fear-mongering story about the ‘infestation’ of the migrant caravan. Demonizing people for fleeing war and horrors that we can’t begin to imagine, and then calling those same terrified people an ‘infestation’ has only one agenda; to make it easier to hate.
Once fear of the ‘other’ has been established, hate and cruelty follow quickly. We don’t need to look very far back in history to know this is not a new trick.
Now, more than ever, language matters.
It starts with each of us. First, we must listen to the stories we tell ourselves. Do we show ourselves compassion and love? When we believe we are worthy of love, it is easier to love the people around us. When our hearts are open, we realize there is no ‘other’. Love is inclusive, compassionate and most of all kind.
And then we need to listen to the stories we hear in the world. Are they words of inclusion and love, or do they foster fear and create barriers? Whenever we hear a reference to some grouping of people that reduces them to a stereotype, alarm bells should ring. If there is no love in the language, we must always ask ourselves, what is the true agenda? If love does not feature in the answer, then we can be sure that something is very wrong.
Walls are first built with words. Brick by brick we not only fence others out, but in the end, we wall ourselves in.
Language. Stories. Words.
They matter.
Let us choose our words and listen wisely.
I have grown up in a family atmosphere where I never heard my parents, grand-parents or aunts criticizing other people so it has continued with me. I see the world with love and compassion.
What a blessing that was. To grow up in an atmosphere of love and acceptance is the key to a better world.
Appreciate your words and insights, Colleen. You have a gift to eloquently express my own thoughts when I’m fighting against the draw of the sludge of despair within which I can only wallow.
I know what you mean Tamara. It’s horrible watching the orange bombastic ugliness from the safe distance of Canada…I can’t even imagine how hard it must be when you’re surrounded with it. Keep the faith darling. We only have to know a little about Shakespeare to know that the dark king cannot triumph for long.