Learn To Love Them

Are you ever frustrated with people you care about? Are you more frustrated because it seems as if they just won’t change?

A man tried everything he could think of to eradicate the weeds in his lawn. Finally, in desperation, he wrote to his local department of agriculture, asking advice and listing every method he had tried.

He received a reply back. It said, “We suggest you learn to love them!”

The same could be said about marriage and friendship. We may feel exasperated by the faults and idiosyncrasies of others. We believe the relationship would be perfect if only they would change that annoying habit or correct that irritating behavior.

So we embark on a campaign to “get rid of the weeds” – to get someone we care about to change. We may nag and cajole and plead and bribe. And in the end, we feel frustrated because they are still the same.

The truth is, we cannot, and should not, attempt to eradicate the “weeds” we find in others’ lives. We can never change others. They can change, but we can’t change them. The will to change must come from within themselves. Rather, our task is simply to learn to love them, weeds and all.

Isn’t this the way we want them to treat us? And besides, like a lovely garden, they become more attractive to us when we are not focused on the weeds. We might even begin to enjoy them so much that we remember what drew us to them in the first place! -- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Mathias Liebing

A Cure for Intolerance

Globe in Hands

We live in an age of intolerance and extremism.

Intolerance is an infectious social disease. It has always been prevalent and is usually spread by fear and misunderstanding. It can infect any kind of group and most any individual. Humorist Mark Twain noticed it in the religious communities of his daytime. He once said that he built a cage and put a cat and a dog in it. After a while they learned to get along. Then he added a bird, a goat and a pig. After some adjustments they, too, got along. Then he added a Baptist, a Presbyterian and a Catholic. Soon there was nothing left alive in the cage.

The disease of intolerance is not communicated only in religious groups. I’ve seen it infect racial groups, economic groups and even whole nations (where it is often cleverly disguised as patriotism). Intolerance always fences people out. It creates one group we call US. And the rest we call THEM.

But intolerance can be cured. Let me give an example. An undated letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. can be found in the archives of The King Center. It was written by a certain Jefferson Poland who spoke about his grandfather. Here is an excerpt of the letter and King’s reply:

Dear Rev. King:
     This is something I think you will want to know.
     A few weeks ago a man in Panama City, Florida, one Ross Mullin, sent you a poem which criticized prejudice.
     This man was my grandfather. He had been against Jews and Negroes almost all his life. When I had gotten thrown in jail for sit-ins, he had been shocked and angered. Finally, after some 60-odd years of hate, he grew to the point where he wrote you that poem. I had not had time to write him of my pride and joy before I got a telegram telling me he is dead….

Dr. King replied:

Dear Mr. Poland,
     This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of recent date. Your story was indeed moving. It is encouraging to know that it is possible to grow and change after a long heritage of prejudice. Certainly your participation contributed to this growth and understanding on the part of your grandfather….

His grandfather had been infected with the disease of intolerance. But his grandson showed him a different way and, to his credit, he was cured. As Nelson Mandela said, “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

There is a cure for intolerance. It requires learning a different way. A better way. The cure for intolerance is to recognize a fundamental truth about humanity: there is no US and THEM. The construct of US and THEM is entirely artificial. It is not real. There is only WE. One world. One people. One family. Only WE.

We can cure the disease of intolerance. We must do it if the world is to survive.

No us. No them.

Just we.

-- Steve Goodier

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Walking Together in the Light

Image by Gabriella Fabbri

A funny story tells about a rabbi and a priest that met at the town picnic and began their usual “kibitzing.”

“This baked ham is just delicious,” the priest teased the rabbi. “You really should try some. I know it’s against your religion, but I can’t understand why such a wonderful thing should be forbidden. You just don’t know what you’re missing. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Mrs. Kennedy’s baked ham. Tell me, when are you going to break down and try a little ham?”

The rabbi looked at the priest, smiled and said, “At your wedding.”

It's clear that much of the conflict between people of differing religious beliefs, particularly deeply-held religious beliefs, stems from the assertion that “we” are right and “they” are wrong. Our beliefs, our history, our practices are true, theirs are false. But can one group have a monopoly on truth?

Truth is light, wherever it is found. It is the sun in the noonday sky, shining on all universally. It cannot be bottled and sold or dispensed in secret tomes and ceremonies. It cannot be stolen, hidden or possessed by one group over another. Truth, like the sun, is viewed in different ways and known by different names. It is seen differently from different angles, but it shines in all directions.

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark,” said Plato. “The real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” Afraid of truth. And afraid of one another.

I await the day that all people, all religions, walk in the light. And as they walk, they listen and understand. And in their understanding, they laugh. 

When the day comes that they laugh, they'll know how to walk together in light.

-- Steve Goodier

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We Are Meant to Be One

Where is true peace to be found? Archbishop Desmond Tutu might say it can be found in the African concept of “ubuntu.”

He says, "Ubuntu is a concept that we have in our Bantu languages at home. Ubuntu is the essence of being a person. It means that we are people through other people. We cannot be fully human alone. We are made for interdependence, we are made for family. When you have ubuntu, you embrace others. You are generous, compassionate.”

He also says that if the world had more ubuntu, there would be no war. The powerful would help the weak. That is where peace is to be found.

A story from World War II shines a spotlight on ubuntu. In 1942, the American consul ordered citizens home from the Persian Gulf, for fear they might get caught in the spreading conflict. Travel was difficult, and some civilians secured passage on the troop ship Mauretania. Passengers included thousands of Allied soldiers, 500 German prisoners of war and 25 civilian women and children.

The ship traveled slowly and cautiously, constantly in danger from hostile submarines patrolling the ocean depths. It was Christmas Eve and they had traveled for a full two months. They had only made it as far as the coastal waters of New Zealand and all on board were homesick, anxious and frightened. 

Someone came up with the idea of asking the captain for permission to sing Christmas carols for the German prisoners, who were surely as homesick and lonely as the passengers. Permission was granted and a small choral group made its way to the quarters where the unsuspecting prisoners were held. They decided to sing “Silent Night” first, as it was written in Germany by Joseph Mohr and was equally well known by the prisoners.

Within seconds of beginning the carol, a deafening clatter shook the floor. Hundreds of German soldiers sprang up and crowded the tiny windows in order to better see and hear the choristers. Tears streamed unashamedly down their faces. At that moment, everyone on both sides of the wall experienced the universal truth – that at the core of our being, all people everywhere are one. They experienced ubuntu. Hope and love broke down the barriers between warring nations and, for that moment at least, all were one family.

We are meant to be one. And only after we realize that amazing truth can we find what we need – true peace. 

-- Steve Goodier

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Take Me "As Is"

On her 50th wedding anniversary, a woman revealed the secret of her long and happy marriage. She said, “On my wedding day, I decided to make a list of ten of my husband’s faults which, for the sake of the marriage, I would overlook.”

One of her guests asked her what some of the faults she chose to overlook were. “To tell you the truth,” she replied, “I never did get around to making that list. But whenever my husband did something that made me hopping mad, I would say to myself, ‘Lucky for him that’s one of the ten!’”

It’s nice to decide what to overlook. In relationships, I get plenty of practice overlooking the foibles of other people. And I suspect they get plenty of practice with me, too.

As they hung wallpaper together, one husband became frustrated with his wife. She seemed, to him, to be indifferent about the quality of her work. He felt she was doing a poor job. He finally put it into words this way: "The problem is that I'm a perfectionist and you're not."  

"Exactly!" she replied. "That's why you married me and I married you!"

Miss Not-So-Perfect certainly did one thing well. She knew how to overlook annoying observations from her perfectionist husband.

We human beings are nothing if not flawed and imperfect. But, the point is, people are not meant to be without blemish. We’re scraped and scarred, flawed on the inside and marred on outside. It’s just the way we are. (Sometimes I think it’s one of our more endearing qualities.) I never want to forget that “perfect” is only found in the dictionary.  

Even pottery may be closer to perfection than we humans, if Belleek Pottery in Ireland is any example. I hear that every finished piece there undergoes a final inspection. It is held up to a fierce, bright light and examined for imperfections.  If even the slightest flaw is detected, the cup or plate or vase or sugar bowl is smashed to pieces. That’s right. The blemished piece is never sold as a “second.” If Belleek pottery is not flawless, it is reckoned to be no good at all. No doubt other makers of fine china and crystal operate the same way.

I surely cannot stand up to that kind of scrutiny. I have flaws I haven’t even begun to explore yet.

How much pain prompted the words of that sensitive artist Vincent van Gogh when he lamented, "I wish they would only take me as I am." How many times a day are those words repeated by countless people feeling the sting of rejection? To be accepted as one is and not discarded as useless is more than just a wish; it is a deep, human need.

All of us sport an invisible sign around our necks -- “AS IS.” It means, take me as I am. I may not become what you want me to be. And I’m far, far from perfect. But I have some great qualities, too, as well as my share of faults. You will have to take me “AS IS” and I’ll take you that way, too.

AS IS will be the best guarantee any of us can offer. But quite frankly, most of the time we’re getting a pretty good deal.

-- Steve Goodier

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Image: flickr.com/Arturo Espinosa

A God Too Small

I enjoy a story about baseball great Joe Garagiola. He once stepped to the plate when his turn came to bat. Before assuming his stance, however, fervent Roman Catholic Joe took his bat and made the sign of the cross in the dirt in front of home plate. Catcher Yogi Berra, also a devout Catholic, walked over and erased Garagiola's cross. Turning to the astonished batter, Berra smiled and said, "Let’s let God watch this inning."

If I were God (and thank goodness I’m not), I think I would have wanted to simply watch the inning.

I likewise appreciate the story about an old Quaker who stood during the church meeting and told his fellow Friends about a young man who was not a Quaker and who lived an undisciplined life. This young man invited a pious Quaker friend to go sailing one day. A sudden storm came up and the wild young man was drowned. Having made his point, the old Quaker sat down.

Silence returned to the meeting until the old man once again arose. This time he said, "Friends, for the honor of the truth, I think I ought to add that the Quaker also drowned."

And if I were God (and again, thank goodness I’m not), I think I would have felt sadness for both losses. Neither was a greater tragedy than the other.

I know that religious piety can be a wondrous and beautiful thing. But it disturbs me the prominent role religions have historically played in wars and brutality over the ages. If I imagine a god so small as to favor those who think like me, worship like me and act like me, then I know very little of life and less of faith. I can’t help but think this world would be in better shape if the gods many of us believed in were a little bigger.

-- Steve Goodier


flickr/via tsuji

Millennium Dream

The daughter of comedian Groucho Marx was once denied admittance to an exclusive country club swimming pool with her friends because she and her family were not members. Realizing what had happened, embarrassed officials sent the Marx family an apology and an application to join. Groucho declined the invitation with the comment, “I wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member.”

Someone still tried to smooth over the incident by persuading the comedian to allow an application to be submitted for membership. The country club was embarrassed further when the application was denied. The reason? The Marx family was Jewish and the club was “restricted.”

True to form, Groucho wrote back: “My wife is not Jewish. Can she go swimming and let our daughter wade up to her waist?”

I love his use of humor, but Groucho effectively shines a spotlight on the prevalence and absurdity of prejudice. He must have felt, as did Sir Isaac Newton so many years earlier, that we “build too many walls and not enough bridges.”

I yearn for a time when we courageously break down those walls that divide and build wide bridges between one another. I long for a super-highway of compassion and acceptance spanning our differences that will unite us as one. As we ease into a new millennium, I dream of an age when people will finally be connected heart to heart and mind to mind.

My greatest desire is that we somehow learn what it means to be family.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Ryan Ebelt