“We will disappoint you” was the promise made in a sermon during the life-profession ceremony of a friend of mine. He was about to commit himself to the rhythms of life in a monastery, and dedicate his life to prayer. The preacher, who was the senior monk and widely admired for his wisdom and compassion, was offering him the secret to life in community; and my friend thought he would receive the key ingredient of what it means to live a holy life.
“We will disappoint you.” The preacher didn’t add “deal with it”, but that was the implication. For many years I held to a belief that monastic communities would be free of squabbles, pettiness and ego-driven agendas, given their depth and rhythm of prayer, along with the cocoon-like architecture. That there would be little, if any disappointment. Not so, my friend has said after decades of life in that same community.
I learned, reluctantly, that disappointment affects all communities, perhaps no more acutely as the American community approaches the November election. So many of us — on every point on the political spectrum, are disappointed. Many are on the edge of despair, and millions have found that their psyches, spirits — even their bodies, have fallen into the abyss. And it is becoming harder and harder to deal with the existential crisis many of us find ourselves in.
It is tempting to think that the abyss has two distinct spaces: one for people who support Trump and the other for Harris supporters. But the abyss has no boundaries. It is a space where one feels disoriented from body, mind and soul. The abyss can consume and constrict — and once in the overwhelming desire is to get out. And while the abyss has no boundaries, there are two rather distinct strategies for bringing people out.
For many who support Trump, the key to extrication from the abyss is a combination of religious certainty and racial prejudice. They see themselves needing a would-be rescuer who puts on the garments of religious certainty, and either blatantly or indirectly invokes racial animus — and people can then feel that they are lifted out of the abyss. And too bad for those who don’t subscribe to the prevailing religious ideation, and for those whose racial makeup doesn’t fit the paradigm, because they get thrown in. They are often regarded as demonic, if not Satanic, which provides justification for consigning their enemies into a hell-hole.
For many who support Harris(which is where I spend most of my time), the exit from the abyss is more subtle. Two qualities emerge: intellectual integrity and moral indignation. What can often happen when people find themselves under enormous stress (and as a populace we are under enormous stress) intellectual integrity can morph into elitism, and moral indignation can evolve into a smugness. In either case, there is a level of superiority, which gives the illusion of being lifted out of the abyss — and those who don’t measure up — the “deplorables”, the uneducated, the duped – remain in the existential morass.
Neither strategy works. Both end up being destructive, and undermine the fabric, if not the structure, of community. Disappointment reigns, which can perversely serve a political campaign, but ultimately leaves us unmoored and at odds, if not in enmity, with one another. And the prospect of violence looms.
In the past few weeks, as I listen, read and view the viciousness, misinformation and disinformation that has descended on all of us like a toxic cloud, I have found myself on the edge of the abyss. A few times I have lost my spiritual footing and fallen in. What helps lift me out is not certainty or superiority, although each can provide what feels like a tenuous island in the roiling abyss. No, what can lift me out is faith, which is not a quick fix or a creed of certainty. Faith can provide a way through suffering, can build up trust, and can open up horizons of love and imagination that were not thought possible. Faith is riddled with doubt, honors disappointment – and yet through it all invests in hope. Faith needs to be continually worked at, so that grace can enter in; grace that reveals that we – all of us, are equally blessed and at the same time have our own unique flaws. Faith that can inspire us to dare to see each other as brothers and sisters on life’s journey, and can enable us to deal with unrelenting disappointment.
When we live out of faith, no matter the religion, we defend the rights of our friends, neighbors and enemies. When we live out of faith, we embrace the privilege, if not the duty, to care for one another – and to embrace the conviction that we are all blessed.
Simple? Yes. Easy? No. I don’t know any other way.
