Much was said at the memorial service for Charlie Kirk which was attended by thousands, including President Trump and other national leaders. Much was said about his life, his faith, his passion, his positions, his patriotism, his family. And much will continue to be said and written about the many dimensions of his life, legacy, and the ongoing impact of his witness.
As I scrolled through the testimonies from his service, one series of comments particularly stood out: that Charlie Kirk was a prophet, and that he spoke the truth.That observation was profoundly comforting to the packed stadium, and to millions of others around the country who were inspired by his prophecy and aligned with his truth.
And yet there are other leaders across the country, many of them young, most of them not having achieved the fame of the founder of Turning Point, whose prophecy is the polar opposite of Charlie Kirk, and whose truth rejects, if not repudiates, that of Mr. Kirk. This harsh contrast, which is yet another manifestation of deepening conflict in the country, reminds me of an insight offered by Niels Bohr, the Danish founder of atomic physics (1885-1962): the opposite of a truth is a competing truth.
Our lives are buffeted about by competing truths, and increasingly people are taking refuge in the truth that is the most comforting to them, and which reinforces their world view. Silos of circles get created, and prophets are seen and heard as those who can clearly clarify the boundary of their silo, and can dismiss, demean and seek to defeat anyone and everyone who reside in what is regarded as an opposing circle. It is a disturbing and ultimately dangerous cycle.
Several years ago, when I was running our annual diocesan convention attended by hundreds of delegates, a resolution was brought forward condemning the Muslim ban that President Trump had just issued after his 2017 inauguration. In response to the resolution I said something about justice. In some ways it was an offhand comment, but I made it with some passion. Immediately the whole assembly jumped to its feet and cheered. Their vigorous support generated an adrenaline rush in me, and I was tempted to continue to berate the executive order and receive even more adulation.
It took all my discipline, not to mention a pressing convention agenda, not to do that.
What I absorbed from that experience, and am continuing to learn, is that the prophetic perspective needed today is not to contribute to the echo chamber of a particular circle, nor seek the cheers of a crowd, but to dare to find space where the circles intersect. It is the space of the mandorla, which is the Italian word for almond, and which is the shape created when two circles intersect (think Venn diagram from 6th grade math). It is not a place of compromise, but a space of common purpose. It is a place of risk and vulnerability; a space that provides the opportunity for transformation. People can’t be forced into the mandorla; they need to freely and willingly enter that space. (The mandorla is the featured image on this post).
At another church assembly gathering where I was speaking a few years ago, one person responded that she wasn’t able to enter the mandorla space and engage with someone of an opposite position because she thought she would be betraying her values. Her comments were heartfelt and honest, and I have been thinking about what she said ever since. What I have discovered is that my theological and political positions have become even more passionate and clear, and at the same time my desire to seek common purpose continues to grow. I am more committed to insisting – especially to myself – that we are imago Dei, that we are all created in the image of God, regardless of our background or beliefs. For me to seal myself off – for any of us to seal ourselves off in a silo of the like-minded — tempting though that is to do (not to mention the many media platforms encouraging us to do so), runs the risk of seeing those who take up residence in another circle as “other” , which then makes it easier to deny their inherent divine essence.
It is said that Charlie Kirk was willing to enter into the mandorla, that his gathering at Utah Valley University was the first leg of a national college tour to listen and engage across difference. He was a fierce advocate of his positions. While most of my theological and political truths are in sharp disagreement with his, I honor his intention to engage different truths. That part of his legacy is something we need to build on.
