Conquering the Divide

This afternoon, Don & I went to a talk by Karen Armstrong. She spoke about her new book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, and introduced us to the Charter for Compassion. I’ve reprinted the Charter below.  Please read it carefully, and if you’re interested in learning more (and I hope you are), check out charterforcompassion.org.

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

I’ve attended 2 wonderful wedding celebrations in the past month.

The first one, in September, was the wedding celebration of an old friend from Baltimore.  We were law school chums, having met at the library smoking table (believe it or not, we had a smoking table on the lower level of the law school library – it was a motley group who congregated there; smoking, of course, was the common denominator).  My friend and I were also older students for the day program – each of us had been out of undergrad for upwards of 10 years.

Her wedding was small – held in a courthouse in Washington. D.C., with only family members in attendance.  But the next day the newlyweds held a lovely party on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, where family and friends – many of whom travelled some distance – toasted the couple.  It was wonderful to see my friend happy – joyous might be an even better word.  It was fun dancing to the DJ’s tunes of music past – 60s and 70s rock & roll, Motown, and of course a bit of disco.

I just returned from the second wedding, held in Iowa this past weekend.  My first cousin once removed was married.  In this case, the couple was in their 30s, but had been together for some time – in fact, already had a family through foster parenting which turned into adoption.  The 3 children – ranging from about 7 to 14 – had a integral role in the ceremony.  While they participated in “hand binding” or (“hand fasting“), each of the children read part of the Apache wedding prayer blessing:

Now you will feel no rain,
For each of you will be shelter to the other.

Now you will feel no cold,
For each of you will be warmth to the other.

Now there is no more loneliness,
For each of you will be companion to the other.

Now you are two bodies,
But there is one life before you.

Go now to your dwelling place,
To enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

The ceremony, held in a barn in the Amana Colonies, was followed by a down-home Iowa dinner of pork, stuffing, green beans and pie.  The band, Acoustic Mayhem (who also provided the wonderful music before and during the ceremony) plays traditional music, so traditional dancing followed:  square dancing, Virginia Reel, and of course the ever-present chicken dance.

Both couples were surrounded by families – siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles and close friends.  In the younger couple’s case, parents and grandparents attended, and there was a full complement of children – of the couple and their friends.

Both weddings were perfectly ordinary.  People who attended both weddings were perfectly ordinary, hard working, responsible folks who were delighted to celebrate with their loved ones.   But neither couple could have married a couple of years ago.  Yep, both weddings were same-sex weddings.   Iowa’s Supreme Court wisely decided in April, 2009, that sexual orientation should not be a bar to the rights, privileges (and yep, obligations) of marriage.  In December, 2009, the District of Columbia voted to allow same-sex marriages in D.C.

I only wish that the opponents of marriage equality could have been to one of the celebrations.  I think that those so opposed might just soften if they could be part of the delight of a couple and their family and friends.  The time is long past to make marriage available to everyone.

Don rightly points out that making resolutions often sets up one for failure when the resolutions aren’t met. That doesn’t mean, though, that I can’t try. So, here are my 2008 resolutions (goals? hopes?):

• I want to lose weight, and keep it off. I lost a lot of weight a couple of years ago on a very low calorie diet, but regained it all by poor eating habits. This time, at least at first, I’m going to try to do it on my own, by making good food choices – lots of veggies and fruits, cut way down on breads, pastas, etc. If I’m successful, I’ll look better, and it’ll help my bum ankle, as well.

• I’m going to be more cognizant of social justice in my purchasing decisions. For the past couple of years, we’ve been good about purchasing Fair Trade Coffee, at first (and still occasionally) from Ten Thousand Villages, but my church has now adopted Fair Trade Coffee as its standard. We use the coffee at the church, as well as sell it. Our supplier is Planet Bean Coffee in Guelph, itself a cooperative that has the added benefit of promoting a coffee named Cafe Feminino. Cafe Feminino is not only Fair Trade coffee, it also helps women from a society that’s not always woman-friendly.

In 2008, I’m going to expand my fair trade horizons, and do what I can to purchase clothing and other goods from vendors who care about how their products are produced. We started this year by purchasing all of our Christmas presents through Ten Thousand Villages (a favorite vendor, because it not only assures that the makers of the products are fairly compensated, but it is also an effort of the Mennonite Central Committee, an excellent group (along with other organizations such as the American Friends Service Committee) promoting peace.

But I digress . . . making a decision to purchase items that are fairly produced, non-exploitive is not all that easy. Fair Trade coffee is always labelled as Fair Trade Certified. But when looking at other items – be they socks, spatulas, or whatever – how is the purchaser to know if a child was exploited in the manufacture of the item? And I won’t become a protectionist, either. While I know that it’s unlikely that a US worker is not being exploited, at least in the same way that perhaps a Chinese worker might be, I don’t think that’s a reason to adopt the “Buy US” mentality. (Of course, I needn’t mention that the “Buy US” approach would be a bit absurd as we live in Canada.) We are very much in a global economy (Lou Dobbs, the idiot, notwithstanding), and I have no problem with a spatula being manufactured in Indonesia. I do have a problem if the low-price-above-all-else mentality causes the spatula to be manufactured by children, or if a living wage isn’t paid.

As I figure out how to do this, I’ll share with you. I welcome any and all ideas!

• I’m going to figure out who I’m going to support for President. (Well, that’s not really a resolution – it’s a decision, one that I have to make soon if I want to vote in the Dems Abroad primary.)

• I’m going to try to be better with paperwork.

• I’d like to take up drumming in a drumming circle, perhaps with a djembe.

• I’m going to be a more regular blogger.

Well, that should be enough to get me started and keep me busy. Here’s wishing to you a gentle 2008 – may lots of good things come your way.

This past week, a remarkable woman named June Callwood died in Toronto. While she enjoyed a successful career, her lasting legacy is that of her social activism. According to the the Library and Archives of Canada, Callwood “found or co-found over 50 social action organizations . . . includ[ing] Digger House, a youth hostel; Nellie’s hostel for women; Jessie’s, a centre for teenage parents; Casey House Hospice for those with AIDS; PEN Canada; the Canadian Civil Liberties Foundation and Feminists Against Censorship.”

The morning after her death, Andy Barrie, the talented host of CBC Radio‘s Toronto-area show, Metro Morning, re-broadcast a portion of an interview with Callwood recorded several years previously, and read a wonderful tribute to her. What particularly struck me was his query:

The expression, “been there, done that” has become the jaded throwaway of a cynical society. But how many of us, like June, will be able, at the end of our lives to say, profoundly, that we have been here, that we have done that, and that, and that. . .?

I couldn’t help but compare the accomplishments of Callwood with my Mom’s legacy, and thought about choices we make to contribute (or not) to our world, and what forms our contributions may take.

Callwood seemed to embrace the macro approach to making this world a better place. She had grand dreams, and the skill and energy to turn those grand dreams into reality. Without question, she affected thousands of lives.

My mother’s approach to volunteerism was much different: she took a one-person-at-a-time approach. Often, her work was outside any organized group.

For example, for years she drove an elderly woman and her brain-damaged husband 60 miles (about 100 kilometers) roundtrip, so the woman could have dialysis. Mom covered at least 1 of the 3x per week dialysis days, an effort that took most of her day. Because of the complication of her brain-injured husband, the woman had fallen through the cracks. Transportation was available for her, but she couldn’t leave her husband; there was no assistance to place her husband in any kind of respite care while she had the dialysis. As a result, Mom was both driver and caretaker of husband.

Mother was always ready, willing and able to care for neighbors and friends who needed dressings changed, rides to specialists. For years, every Wednesday she would spend with a friend sick with cancer – she brought lunch and jokes she’d printed off from e-mails sent to her.

Every month, she would drive over 100 miles (160 kilometers) to visit with my totally disabled nephew. She would spend 2 or 3 days with him, although he was unable to communicate. His face lit up when he saw her; I suspect that often she may have been his only visitor in weeks. She did what she could to advocate for him, endlessly making calls to social service agencies, churches, doctors, dentists.

Mom didn’t affect the 1000s of lives that Callwood did, but for those whom she did touch, she made an enormous difference. To the woman needing dialysis, the woman with cancer, the folks needing dressings changed, and my nephew, Mom’s death has a significant effect.

What do the respective legacies of the Callwoods and Moms of the world mean to me? While it would be wonderful to be able to leave a Callwood-like macro social justice legacy, social justice, volunteerism and advocacy can be as meaningful and beneficial on a micro level, as well.

What’s important is not that we all aspire to be June Callwoods, but that “at the end of our lives [we can] say, profoundly, that we have been here, that we have done that, and that, and that,” in whatever for “that” might take.