In Abraham Lincoln’s first inaugural address, he appealed to the “better angels of our nature.” That is a challenge that we often hear these days. I work with a decade-old national movement that adopted the title. It turns out that there was an already existing Better Angels non-profit organization, which had a different vision and mission. The older Better Angels asked the new movement, and legally required it to, change the name. And we did – to Braver Angels — partly to avoid litigation, but more importantly, because the challenges of our time called us to be braver.
Which is where we are now. The response to Renee Good’s death has had an earthquake-like effect across the country. The ground of our common life is shaking. It feels dangerous. The polarization that was so evident after the 2016 election, and which was the catalyst for creating Braver Angels, has deepened and darkened over the last decade. Verbal violence and physical violence are on the increase – coming from all sides, directed at the perceived other side — and the epicenter at the moment is Minneapolis.
I’m not alone in the desire to stay out of harm’s way and take refuge in safety. Which is something I can do. I live in rural New Hampshire, far from the tension that has riven communities where people live on top of each other. Given my family’s history and genealogy, I don’t have to worry about ICE showing up at my door. And I have enough financial and relational resources to help me feel safe. I think I can wait out this danger storm.
Or I – and we, can be braver.
The debate will continue about the details of the shooting of Renee Good: who is culpable, who is justified. That debate is currently literally being acted out on the streets of Minneapolis in fearsome and dangerous ways, which is adding more fuel to the fire of anger, hostility and fear.
And we can – and must — be braver. We can claim some of the foundational elements that are part and parcel of every faith tradition and people of goodwill and those who want to act in good faith. Three elements stand out. The first is reconciliation, which is a commitment to finding ways to be in relationship with one another, even when – no, especially when – a reconfigured relationship doesn’t seem possible. Reconciliation is not appeasement, and while it may require compromise, the goal of reconciliation is the repair and renewal of the relationship. This is hard work, especially these days. It takes fortitude and bravery.
The second element is healing. Engaging in practices of compassion, which includes the tending of wounds, be they spiritual, physical or psychic – and offering succor and presence in the face of pain. Our various religious traditions have long histories of providing words, rituals and prayers that offer balm, restoration and hope.
The third element is hospitality. Hospitality is expansive. It recognizes the giftedness of everyone and seeks to offer everyone a place and protection. Hospitality affirms the reality of imago Dei, that we are made in the image of God, and hospitality demonstrates a commitment to welcome. My teacher and mentor Henri Nouwen (1932-1996), a Catholic priest whose wisdom lives on in his many books and essays, said this about hospitality:
“Hospitality means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. Hospitality is not to lead our neighbor into a corner where there are no alternatives left, but to open a wide spectrum of options for choice and commitment.”
As people take refuge in one side or another, hospitality is ignored or openly denied. Slurs, threats, accusations, insults are thrown around with reckless abandon, all of which wound the soul. As awful as the slurs are, and disappointing as the lack of hospitality is, what would make it all worse is to respond in kind. To rid the landscape of hospitality altogether. Hospitality doesn’t necessarily mean open borders, but it does mean that we recognize the humanity of everyone. Everyone. When we refuse the temptation to stereotype and scapegoat each other, we begin to heal our ailing democracy.
This is hard work. It is necessary work. To engage in a mindset of hospitality involves looking at people with openness and curiosity rather than prejudgment. There are days when many of us don’t want to embrace this notion of hospitality. And for people who have a target on their back, hospitality may be nearly impossible, at least for a time. There seems to be a growing swath of people – on all sides of various debates — who refuse to offer any sort of hospitality to those who are outside their political or ideological cohort.
We can do better. We need to be braver. We need to engage the faith-fed resources at our disposal. Our personal and national health require it.
Mark Beckwith is a retired bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Newark, N.J. He lives in Jaffrey. He can be followed on markbeckwith.net.