Posts Tagged #goldenrule
Dear Senator Portman,
Can you tap into that part of your soul that unlocks and opens up with compassion for your neighbor? You did once.
Part of me, that hopeful, naïve girl raised in a suburb that was “nice” and had “good schools” believes you can. That’s the sliver of me that tenaciously refuses to let go of the notion that at heart, a man like you with every advantage, a man like you with faith, a man like you with power — will try to be compassionate. That surely, surely, you would not be complicit in ending the fragile protections afforded the Dreamers among us.
And yet: you turn your back. You coat yourself in political Teflon and try to slide under the radar. You want it both ways. You want to be obedient to your party and your president — and also be seen as a fine Christian conservative. I wonder how you manage this juggling act. Are you hoping redemption will save you, in the end? Are you hoping that denial can allow you to be complicit in great injustice, and still, you can claim, somehow, to love your neighbor as yourself?
I invite you to try a thought experiment. Remember when your son told you and your wife that he was gay? You had an epiphany then, a spiritual awakening: suddenly you could see that gay people are simply people with different sexual orientations, and that they should be able to marry if they choose to. Suddenly, through the eyes of your son, you saw that the policy you firmly supported denied him something you valued very much.
Back then, you said it like this: “Jane and I were proud of him for his honesty and courage. We were surprised to learn he is gay but knew he was still the same person he’d always been. The only difference was that now we had a more complete picture of the son we love.”
Okay, here’s the experiment. Imagine back to when you and Jane were new parents with small children. Perhaps when your son, Will, was 11 months old. Close your eyes. Really, really think. Remember how oftentimes Will was only comforted in the arms of his mother? Remember how he’d stop sobbing and burrow his head into the crook of her arm, how his whole body would relax into a deep sigh, feeling safe and held? Remember how you’d well up, feeling the palpable love, seeing that bond, being part of that circle of love. Did your chest expand as it filled with fatherly pride? Would you have done anything for that son, for that wife?
Breathe into that. Feel it in your body.
Now imagine the next moment there is a knocking at the door. ICE agents are there to examine Jane’s papers. Only now Jane, in this thought experiment, was brought to this country by her uncle when she was nine. She’s as “American” as you are, but not to the ICE agents. You are not a Senator in this experiment. You are just a working man, a brown one at that. But inside you are you and Jane is Jane and they are taking her away and Will is screaming for his mama and you cannot afford a lawyer and it wouldn’t do you any good even if you could and now they are deporting her — sending her to a country where she knows no one. Leaving you with your heartbroken son. Perhaps Jane was still nursing your son when they ripped her away — she didn’t get to pack a bag, or kiss you or the children goodbye. Stone-faced, they took her away. Locked in a windowless cell, her breasts fill with milk; they swell and ache and grieve along with her heart. You imagine her there, alone, and feel angry, powerless. You pray to God for help.
You write to your senator, pleading.
A miracle! Your senator answers: “the overriding message of love and compassion that I take from the Bible, and certainly the Golden Rule, and the fact that I believe we are all created by our maker, that has all influenced me in terms of my change on this issue.” (1)
And the senator who previously towed the party line — why, God must have spoken to him, for now, he speaks up for you, a helpless father, because he cannot bear the idea that a person brought to this country as a child would be expelled, for no good reason. That a mother would be ripped from her child. For an accident of birth.
The senator who previously stayed silent or tried to atone by speaking up for sex trafficking victims sees that you, the bereft father with the crying children, living on the edge of extreme poverty — and sees that you are his neighbor too. Your senator sees that he can, and must, speak truth to power.
Or else lose his own soul, supporting policies designed to terrorize those not born the right color or orientation. Supporting a president who would pardon a man known for his cruelty and abuse. Suddenly, in an amazing moment of grace, the senator rises up and does what is right.
Oh, it’d be a miracle if you read this. I know that. A miracle if you’d put yourself in a Dreamer’s worn shoes.
But there’s a sliver of me, foolish and hopeful as Anne Frank once was, who believes in miracles, like Anne did, before the political powers of the day refused to speak and act for her: “I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
And so: are you? Good at heart?
Before you answer, think of Riccy Enriquez Perdomo and her 11-month-old baby and the ICE agents that tore her away, and will tear her away again, if you and others like you remain silent. Imagine the anguish of her husband. Think of them and multiply by 700,000 or so of your neighbors. Make the calculation; square it with compassion. (2, 3)
Look into your loving heart and ask yourself if you can really turn away this time. (4)
4. silence on DACA http://americasvoice.org/press_releases/sen-portman-not-on-letter-for-daca/