One of my all-time favorite quotes from any movie is spoken by the great Rick Moranis, in the cult-classic, “Spaceballs.” In the spoof of Star Wars, Moranis’ character, Dark Helmet is meeting his minions in the control room of their battleship. His commander is introducing him to the men running the ship who are all related and all share the same last name—“Asshole.” In his surprised response, Dark Helmet proclaims, “I knew it! I’m surrounded by assholes.”
As I grow older and (hopefully) wiser, there have been moments in my life where I feel this is strangely applicable. One of those being every single election season since I was old enough to vote.
I’m from rural Ohio. I grew up in a conservative and Christian home, but politics and religion were never really center stage for our family until my 20s and even then, I was mostly agnostic about both. As I grew into adulthood and started a family of my own, my interest in leaving a legacy and having hope in the process fueled my desire for purpose and meaning. I became interested in the world outside my household, what my role was in it and naturally, I aligned with a more conservative worldview.
During the 2008 election cycle, my husband at the time was leaving the Marine Corps after 8-years of service. He had spent a good amount of that time in direct service to President Bush as part of the military helicopter squadron known as HMX-1. When he decided to cast his vote for Barack Obama, I was flabbergasted.
How did that support any of his true beliefs and moral framework? I desperately wanted to change his mind because it was the future of our country’s freedom at stake! His beloved Marine Corps were founded for this very reason. How could he not see the danger in reverting to such liberal and progressive policies? I poured myself into conservative books and talk radio, armed myself with counterpoints and “gotcha” argument-enders. Started debates on purpose to push and challenge him. I wanted to be able to checkmate at all costs. I was right after all. I was on the good side of this argument. I needed to win!
I had become an “asshole.”
For a few years following, I continued to lean mainly into the echo chambers that supported my existing belief systems. My friends and family mostly saw the world similarly, so not challenging the status-quo felt easy and safe. However, I frequently jumped onto Facebook and offered my opinion when a friend used the platform for political debates. I enjoyed these conversations and welcomed the challenge.
Luckily, time had softened me a little. I tried often to reach across the aisle when someone saw the world through a different lens. I frequently had people on both sides of hot button topics thank me for approaching them in a respectful way, but I was always left with a sense of unease. I knew the onslaught was only a matter of time and eventually found myself under attack. When a complete stranger called me a “racist” and my good friend whose feed it had been on refused to defend me, I put my tail between my legs and closed the door on political debates and any aspirations I had of actually running for office.
Eight years later, I do my best to avoid most anything to do with politics. I no longer listen to talk radio. I rarely watch the news and I’ve carefully cultivated a Facebook and Instagram feed that is free of vitriol and behind-the-screen political activists. The sad thing is, most middle-leaning friends of mine have done the same, while the loudest among us seem to have only gotten louder.
I vote quietly now. I do my own research and seek out the most non-biased media sources I can find. I avoid debates and when asked, I admit that I know very little about most of it. I move further and further away from alignment to either party and my level of trust for the political process and machines that run it is hanging on by a thread. And I’m okay with it. In fact, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Being called a “racist” by a complete stranger rocked me. It made me question everything and forced me to do a lot of soul-searching. Initially, I wanted to defend myself and make it clear that these people had me all wrong. I wanted to fight back and point fingers and make them feel small, insignificant, ashamed and stupid too. I needed to win! I wanted redemption.
Over time, I have come to realize that the best way to affect change is to start by listening. The media and political parties want us in boxes and they want us to stay there. Attempting to step outside of them and have conversations with living and breathing people who have different opinions and paradigms threatens their agendas. The more of us on the extremes, the easier to move the needle one way or the other. If we don’t attempt to lean into others and find common ground it will be lost forever.
In the midst of my existential crisis, I found God waiting to teach me something. Even those of you who aren’t Christian, are likely familiar with 1 Corinthians 13. It’s read at almost every wedding I’ve ever attended.
In it, Paul writes:
“13 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
You see, your political cause might be completely justified in your eyes. You might have all the knowledge to prove your points, but if love isn’t woven through it, you are just a loud noise. Your path to a brighter future for this country may look different than mine and that’s okay, but if in order to get there you choose to destroy others at all costs then you are part of the problem. I was once a part of the problem too.
We’ve been willful participants in this grand social experiment where we can anonymously (and cowardly) shred people who disagree with us behind our keyboards. That has created an environment where “assholes” beget “assholes.” Many times, they are the only people left standing after the court of public opinion has finished humiliating or canceling the good ones. Many aspiring politicians who have the best intentions decide that staying quiet is safest for themselves and the ones they love. And I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of being “surrounded by assholes.”
~~~~~~~~~
I’m not asking you to abandon your values or your beliefs, but I am asking you to put other people before your well-crafted talking points. I am asking you to be humble when your life experiences have lent themselves to different opinions than the person standing next to you at the grocery store. I am suggesting that by honoring someone and asking them their opinion, you might just learn something new and you may even find yourself with empathy instead of hostility.
In the summer of 2020, our country was riddled with “Black Lives Matter” protests and the world was partially shut down due to the COVID pandemic. I had gone through my divorce, but my years as a police officer’s wife still colored my perspective of what only the media could tell me was happening in our cities. In the height of the chaos, I decided to see what was going on for myself.
I drove to the state building in Columbus and met a friend who had marched daily since George Floyd’s death. I stood amongst the protestors crying, “No Justice. No Peace”. I saw boarded up windows of businesses that had once thrived, but had been destroyed by what some would call righteous anger. And I wept, as I watched a young girl riding in the backseat of her parent’s car in the procession with her arms out the window in solidarity to the cause. Aside from the color of her skin, that little girl looked a lot like mine.
My advice this political season is to not be another loud voice or clanging cymbal. This time around choose to love and honor people well—in the decisions you make, the conversations you have and the votes you cast. Go have coffee with someone who sees the world differently. Listen to podcasts and read articles about both sides of issues not to be able to argue against someone else, but to try and understand them better.
Every political battle is actually a desperate attempt at harnessing the powers of safety and security. People need to believe in something greater than themselves that will advocate on their behalf. They simply want to know they matter and they are loved.
Sadly, we have gotten away from the fact that this can actually start with us. We have allowed political systems and social media algorithms to speak for us and tell us how to think and feel. We have stopped pointing to the true author and perfecter of love for how to navigate in the mess. At the end of the day, it’s really pretty simple. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves. It’s long past time we started doing just that.
Love and light,
Ev
