By Reverend Rebecca Bryan

Is dialogue across differences possible, in today’s political and polarized climate?

The short answer is yes — yes if there is a shared common goal or purpose for the conversation and we connect to the worth and dignity of the other person or persons. We see such dialogue in times of acute crisis, personal and collective. This may be a family illness, a natural disaster, or sadly the suicide of a youth. In those circumstances, our differences are set aside. We focus on the issue at hand. In so doing, we form genuine relationships and are changed. The shared experience makes it more likely that we will actually be able to hear one another later on issues we disagree on. 

But I don’t want to start there, because that’s too easy. I want us all to back up and dig a little deeper, do a little a little more self-reflection. 

I find for myself that often I may be saying I want to talk across differences, when in reality what I want is different. I want to know how to handle my intense feelings of rage, sadness, and overwhelm. I want to understand if there is any way that I can change the mind of another person who has an opinion different from mine, and I want to know if any action I could take might make a difference in the apparently overwhelming issues facing our world. 

Those questions – how to deal with intense feelings, the possibility of changing someone’s mind, and discerning effective action – are often what I’m asking. And they are different than the question “Can we talk across differences in this polarized climate?” In and of themselves, none of these questions are wrong; it’s just that the answers are different. 

Thus, accurate self-awareness and differentiation are key to this process. We save ourselves a lot of angst when we admit what we are really asking. 

In his book Healing the Heart of Democracy, Parker Palmer writes about the necessity of dialogue across difference. “It is in the common good to hold our political differences and the conflicts they create in a way that does not unravel the civil community on which democracy depends.”

He goes on to say, “Protecting our right to disagree is one of democracy’s gifts, and converting this inevitable tension into creative energy is part of democracy’s genius.”

Unitarian Universalism places such a high value on the democratic process that it is part of the bedrock on which our religion is built. Since 1985 promoting the use of the democratic process has been one of our seven principles. Giving up on democracy is akin to surrendering part of our faith. I am not willing to do that. 

We have examples of great people who wouldn’t do it either. Reverend John Buehrens was here last week talking about his new book Conflagration, How the Transcendentalists Sparked the American Struggle for Racial, Gender, and Social Justice. One of the questions asked was how our transcendentalist forebears would have responded to what is happening today. Buehrens answered, “They would not have despaired. Their faith was transcendent over any political decision. They would have acted.” 

We don’t have to believe in a transcendent Being or God. We can be process theologians, atheists, or Buddhists, and still have faith in the worth, dignity and inherent goodness of all people. We can see and believe in the overwhelming human tendency to care for one another. We can have faith that transcends any political decision. Or we can allow ourselves to be caught up in the rhetoric of fear and otherizing, believing that there is no antidote to political polarization.

Having faith that transcends any political decision is an act of political and religious resistance. We can choose not to give in to labeling and categorizing others as stupid, bad, or evil, but instead find common ground, be it a shared problem or a shared love. By creating relationships instead of setting up and perpetuating conditions that mimic civil warfare, we can look each other in the eyes and see the person in front of us. We can refuse to return evil for evil. 

What this asks of us as people of faith is that we hold fast to the spiritual truth of the divinity or potential for good in all people and that we develop the ability to hold opposing truths. This means not pointing fingers, but instead taking action to work toward justice. 

We can be outraged or devastated by unconscionable acts and at the same time love this country. We can be angry, care deeply about those who are oppressed, and work for justice, and we can devote time and energy to what is good in our lives and sustaining to our spirits. We can be loving in the face of evil. Sometimes that looks like walking away from a conversation recognizing when our vitriol will not change anything other than help us to release built-up tension and emotions. We can learn to release those emotions in other ways than poking the fire, increasing the distance and misunderstanding between people. 

David Brooks writes about the abolitionist and escaped slave, Frederick Douglass, who embodied this way of living. “Douglass’s genius was his ability to balance his indignation at oppression with his underlying faith in the American project.”  Douglas also believed that all people had souls and that in their essence all people are good and redeemable. It’s a hard act to follow, I understand. And we will fail at this aspiration. Yet, what good is it doing us to think or act otherwise? Is hating another changing anything? 

We cannot fight the dark with the dark, any more than anger heals anger or gun shots create life. 

When we choose to yell our opinions in echo chambers, we are creating more fear. Research reveals that people who are shown solid evidence contradicting their most fundamental beliefs often become more forceful in advocating those beliefs. “Partisanship is a not a problem. Demonizing the other side is,” writes Palmer. 

Irshad Manji, author of Don’t Label Me, says that diversity is where democracy thrives. She says that we must teach children not only how not to offend, but also how not to be offended. “Giving offense is the price of diversity not an impediment to diversity,”she says. It is about embracing the complexity of people, and not pressuring them to be “mascots for a certain tribe.”

People know what is going on today, if they want to. The way we will learn is through civil discourse, collective actions of nonviolence, and civic engagement. Terry Tempest Williams writes of this in her article “Engagement.” Like Palmer, she identifies the human heart as the seat of democracy, and she refuses to give up on its power. Williams reminds us, however, that having a heart is not enough; we must use its powers of listening and suspending belief, even temporarily, if we are to find compassion with others. “The human heart is the first home of democracy. Can we listen with our whole beings, not just our minds, and offer our attention rather than our opinions?” 

Palmer identifies what he calls habits of the heart, which, when practiced, promote and nurture our democracy. These habits include remembering that we are all in this together, appreciating the value of otherness, cultivating the ability to hold tension in life-giving ways, generating a sense of personal voice and agency, and strengthening our capacity to create community.

We are fortunate, for we can practice all of those things here in our faith community where, yes, there is diversity, of abilities, opinions, and politics, among other things. We can start by focusing on issues where we share a common goal and differ in our opinions such as perhaps agreeing on our mission statement, the length of our services, and whether and when we clap in worship. 

Above all, when we enter into dialogue, we need to be brave enough to speak our truth and humble enough to know that it is always and only our truth, which is informed by our experiences, and made richer when we truly understand other’s experiences. 

I wish I could say this was easy or tell you to go out there and fight. But I can’t. I can’t do that, any more than I can tell you it is okay for us to do nothing at this time in history. We must do something. We are called to act, together as a community, in shared power and wisdom, and to do so in integrity with our religious values of equality, inclusiveness, and worthiness of all. All.  

This is hard. It is spiritual work. And I remain convinced of the power of love, which is right thought, speech, and action, to heal and reconcile all that is divided. 

Amen and blessed be.