It’s about the anti-radicalization session I attended a few weeks ago.
Now. If you go to the comments — and I rarely do — you’ll find some people who fail to see my vision.
There’s one in particular whom I’ve banned from my work blog because his comments there were so egregious, and now he haunts the web page, over which I have scant-little control.
I also am receiving emails this morning that include comments such as this:
…critics such as yourself are a necessity because humanity is not inheritently [sic] good no matter the country or culture and need the watchdogs. In your case, though, I would like to see a little more appreciation for what this country is and what it stands for.
In fact, the rest of the email is fairly reasonable, though I disagree with the bulk of it. What is interesting to me is that the email-sender at least signed his name, which leads me to believe he is open to talking about this, as am I. So I wrote him back. We may not change one another’s mind, but we don’t have to start from a raised-fists stance.
These public commenters are another matter entirely. Once in a seminary class, the instructor asked us all to act out how we act in a conflict. One woman left the room. Another went into a corner. I walked up and stood inches from the teacher. That seemed the honest thing to do.
My usual stance when confronted is to fire back. It’s in the hillbilly code. This has given me some time to practice turning the other cheek. I am not skilled at it.
I’m sharing the link with you not so you’ll wade in and argue for me. (I thought before I posted this to make sure that was not my motivation. I fight my own battles, thanks.) We all get slammed in ways we might consider unfair. I am finding spiritual practice in not answering back. And some days? It kills me — only not really. I’m 51 next birthday. Isn’t it about time I unfold my fists?