In A Time Of Deep Division, A Message Inspired By The Lord Of The Rings
“But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something. That there is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.”
It is not much of an exaggeration to say that 2021 was a challenging year. I think for most, the turn of the clock hands at 12:01 am a year ago brought with it a level of hope and expectation that the new year would usher in a level of joy and ease not seen for many months. With contended election results, violence at the nation’s Capitol, protests, and challenges to mask-wearing and vaccination mandates, a growing sense that the world would not yet be made right weighed heavy on the psyche of many.
While I am hopeful that 2022 just might be the year we start to move towards a brighter and more peaceful future, I want to leave you with my own reflection on 2021 and the work still before us this new year.
1. THE WORK OF RECONCILIATION IS HARD WORK.
While we have witnessed a growing cry for unity and the healing of our ever fraying national fabric over the past year, the work we do in these divided and polarizing times is hard. It is wearying. It can make you want to remain in bed some mornings with the covers pulled solidly over your brow. Admittedly, that is me most mornings.
I am often asked why I rarely watch or read the news. I think some people assume that to do this work of empathy-building well, I must be up on the newest scandal in Congress, or the latest school board meeting brawl. I’ve worked in the global conflict space long enough to recognize that the human capacity for cruelty and for kindness does not change with the flow of the news cycle. It is ever-present, in need of the daily transformation that only a good dose of prayer and humility can bring. So, rather than consume news that is never new, I instead look to the one who will hear my prayers and remain humble in the face of human tragedy that I alone have no power to heal. But, make no mistake, I am well aware that I, too, am limited by my own human frailty and lack of empathy at times. Which makes it even harder some days to get back to work.
While I am hopeful that 2022 just might be the year we start to move towards a brighter and more peaceful future, I want to leave you with my own reflection on 2021 and the work still before us this new year.
2. SOCIAL NORMS ARE BUILT ONE CONVERSATION AT A TIME.
I am going to go out on a limb and guess that those of us whose formative years occurred in the last century rarely, if ever, worried about the political or ideological views of a friend or colleague. While I admit that political life has always been fraught with moments that teeter on the edge of all-out chaos, our ability to talk about hard issues with people we care about never seemed to quite get to that level of dysfunction. I, for one, never considered breaking fellowship with someone over their political affiliation or voting record, much less their public health beliefs. Yet, I hear over and over again from people across the country about the broken relationships that are themselves the result of these very things. Let me affirm that we did not just get here by accident. The road to incivility, mistrust, and hatred began long ago with small, and seemingly insignificant comments in everyday conversations until, one day, we woke up and realized our social norms had changed, and that not only were we no longer able to speak with the neighbor next door, we were “canceling” family members and friends out of a sheer difference of opinion.
3. DEMOCRACY HAS ITS LIMITS.
Most of us have grown up with the notion that our democracy was a certainty, a foregone conclusion that required little if any real care. It was a resource to be shared with the rest of the world rather than a precious, living thing that requires daily care and attention. But, like any fragile item not taken care of properly, our democracy can and will fray, tear, and break, becoming nearly unrecognizable after a period of time. Are we there yet? I am not sure.
If you were with us 6 months ago, you’ll remember that I penned a President’s Perspective titled “How the American Experiment Can End.” That, too, was hard to write. It forced me to consider the future of our country, as well as the future of my own children, with a sense of dread and foreboding I could not have foreseen even a decade ago. Some of you might have. However, I do not think I speak with a melodramatic chord by saying that not only can the American experiment end, it is fraying at its very seams while we speak. My only question is do we, the people, have the will to start mending it. If you aren’t already, I encourage you to start repairing the worn-out areas within our own proximity. Our nation desperately needs your help.
"The road to incivility, mistrust, and hatred began long ago with small, and seemingly insignificant comments in everyday conversations until, one day, we woke up and realized our social norms had changed, and that not only were we no longer able to speak with the neighbor next door, we were “canceling” family members and friends out of a sheer difference of opinion."
4. HOPE, HOWEVER, IS LIMITLESS.
With minute-by-minute news cycles and social media superhighways, bad news is now delivered harder and faster than ever before. It can seem like the world is burning down all around us if these platforms become your only lens into what is happening in neighborhoods and communities outside of your own. And while there is reason to be concerned about the growing fragility of our economy, our environment, institutions, and government, we aren’t even close to the final chapter of this story. And unlike the books we read, the ink hasn’t dried. There is still time to write the end of this story.
Moments of crisis are also moments of incredible opportunity. They invite creativity and ingenuity, while opening people to begin dreaming once again of something different and unique. They also encourage new alliances and the introduction of new allies and colleagues. That is what we have found this past year. You could not have convinced me 365 days ago that we would be less than a week away from launching a national event with nearly 20 (and counting) partners, many of whom I am grateful to now call friends. Nor could you have told me that I would be putting the final touches on a documentary film that just might spark hope in Americans across the country in desperate need of something positive to grab on to.
Let us not falsely assume that the times we find ourselves in is a first. We know that our nation has moved in and out of tragic periods throughout its history. You only have to pick up one of the latest bestsellers to learn about how whole generations of Americans were able to move the country from the brink of destruction before. We can do it again. Our future relies only on the will of the people who will create it, as well as those who will inhabit it. Yes, our future still relies on our ability, as individuals, and as a nation, to engage in a generative version of dialogue that brings with it a new, shared vision of tomorrow. Our future will be the culmination of what each of us decides to make it. I hope you’ll continue to join us in making it a more empathic one.
So that I can leave you with a sense of joy and hopefulness at the end of what could be considered a fairly burdensome essay, I will end this, my last President’s Perspective of 2021, with my favorite passage from the Lord of the Rings:
“It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end.
Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?
But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.
But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something. That there is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.”
- Samwise Gamgee, Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
