Like everyone I know, I have been devastated over the massacre in Orlando. It seems like some terrible, sticky nightmare from which I keep hoping to wake, and yet I can't manage to pry my eyes open. I will not wake up from this one. This is our tragic, terrifying, and heartbreaking reality. I feel broken, sad, weepy, and mostly just helpless. Yes, I can sign petitions, call my legislators, attend vigils, and pray until my knees are calloused, but still, a hollow, powerless fog lingers over me right now. What can I actually do to change the way that hate and homophobia and Islamophobia and fear and fundamentalism have gripped our society? I don't know.
One of the things that has me most paralyzed is the state of the Christian community. I have witnessed over the years countless Christian institutions exclude, hurt, abuse, and tokenize the LGBTQI community. And now, these same Christian communities are sending their prayers to the families and friends of the victims. While I believe that these prayers are heartfelt (I really do), the problem is the disconnect. While the right hand is praying, the left hand is subscribing to a theology that condones and even promotes microaggressions against the LGBTQI community on a daily basis. We pray while promoting theology that excludes this community from being in leadership roles. We pray while ascribing to theology that excludes this community from ordination. We pray while upholding theology that excludes this community from being married by the lead pastors of our churches. Theology that essentially says, "we will pray for you in a the midst of a horrific tragedy, but still, you cannot be a part of us, not really." And I'm left feeling trapped and hollow and disenfranchised from it all. There is this void between the prayers and the practices, and I cannot fathom how to bridge this gap.
Yesterday I went to yoga with that helpless feeling in my gut. And there I was. I sat there with all of the helplessness. I sat there with the weak feelings. I sat there with the paralyzed feelings. I sat there with the ugly, cry-your-eyes-out feelings. I sat with the hollow feelings. I sat with the disappointed feelings. I sat with the fear feelings. I sat with the rage feelings. Oh! The rage feelings.... I have those too.
And as I moved, I started thinking about Gandhi, and how he admonished us to BE the change that we want to see in the world. I thought about how in the face of gross hypocrisy, I should also keep working on being that change, on the hypocrisy within. Because, guess what? I have hate in me sometimes, and sometimes I act out of fear when I'm backed into a corner, and sometimes I am afraid of others who are different than me, and sometimes I'm selfish, and sometimes I can say things that aren't supported by my actions, and sometimes I can be really narrow and stuck in my ways. Not that a simple self-reflection will heal this gaping wound in our nation, in our churches, and in our world, not at all; however, today, in this moment, perhaps one of the most radical things that I can actually DO is choose love. I can choose to embody love. I can choose to BE love and DO love and ACT love. In the sacred places, in the secular places, in my classroom, with my clients, in my friendships. I can choose to overcome the hatred with love. Because no matter who you are, no matter your faith tradition or sexual orientation or gender identity, and no matter your theology, love mobilizes, love listens, love changes, love softens, love moves, love heals, and in the end, love always wins.