“I had to hold on for dear life.” Most of us have said this at one time or another, accompanied with some degree of breathless panic or abject fear. Many of us can recall situations when we felt that if our grip wasn’t tight enough, we were certain we would fall into oblivion. So we held on. For dear life.
Increasingly, what so many are holding onto these days are things that can’t be seen: morals, faith, hope. But what seems to be overtaking those timeless assets, and what is increasingly regarded as the most important value to hold onto, is our political orientation. In a conversation I had several months ago with the John Danforth, retired Republican Senator from Missouri (and an Episcopal priest), he observed that people are investing more of their heart and soul in politics than politics deserves. And what I have seen and heard is that more and more people, be they Republican or Democrat, not only overly invest in politics, but are holding on to their political preferences for dear life – for fear of what will happen if the other side wins.
Regula is a Latin word from which we get regulation and rule, or straightedge ruler. Regula is often depicted as a railing that leads us to more abundant life. The railing also provides a level of safety as we hold on while navigating the rocky paths and unseen potholes (which sometimes end up being chasms) that life throws at us. Building codes require railings on stairwells. We cannot safely go up and down stairs without them. We need railings. We need the security they provide.
And yet.
What is happening these days is that people are holding on to railings ever more tightly, which creates the temptation to demean or dismiss people who are not holding onto to the same railing. And there are endless platforms equipped with forces and voices that encourage, if not insist, that theirs is the only railing – and that their followers need to hold on to it. Some of these forces and voices also suggest, if not insist, that people remove a portion of the railing and use it as a weapon to whack people over the head who are not holding on to their railing – who are regarded as political apostates or enemies. The railing then becomes an object of control, rather than a path to wholeness.
It turns out that there are different railings, each with its own version of truth, and each with people holding on with varying degrees of tenacity. And these different railings can end up keeping us separated from one another; and the stronger the grip the greater the distance between different railings.
During his three-year ministry, Jesus was often accused of not holding on to the railing of tradition. He ate with outcasts and tax collectors. He not only spoke with lepers, he touched them. He honored women, to a degree that he let a woman with a hemorrhage touch him, which was virtually anathema at the time. He taught and healed on the sabbath. It was an extraordinary – and to some, a threatening example.
Instead of a railing, Jesus was inviting people into a space. A space which had the capacity to bring people together. An invitation to a space where people could listen and learn from one another. It is a space of vulnerability and risk – and offers the possibility of transformation. The space Jesus was inviting people into is the mandorla, an Italian word for almond, which is the almond shape that is created when two circles intersect. 
Whereas a railing requires us to hold on, the mandorla is an invitation to move in – to move into a space where relationships can be built, renewed, or repaired.
It is a risk to enter into the mandorla, because it renders us vulnerable. The current world, particularly in the next several weeks before the November election, does not countenance the mandorla, and would rather us not dare to venture there. Railings are presented as the safer option. But if our grip is too constricting, as we are often encouraged to do, our railings can keep us separated, isolated and polarized.
Railings, rules and regula are important. They can guide us – and lift up our souls. But we also need to accept the invitation, always offered, to enter the mandorla. The mandorla space can keep us more open to hope, and more connected to our common humanity.
