When Wright is wrong: The virtue of tolerance

“Tolerance of intolerance is cowardice.”
-Ayaan Hirsi Ali

I received an invitation last week to attend a lecture at my former seminary given by Dr. Jeremiah Wright. This is the same Jeremiah Wright who was at one time Barack Obama’s pastor. But after years of listening to the anti-semitic, race-baiting, fear- mongering, shockingly insensitive remarks the President was finally moved to criticize Wright, and even resign his membership at the church, saying he was “saddened” and “outraged” by Wright’s behavior. Wright predictably blamed Obama’s decision on the Jews.

I responded to the invitation with an email asking for clarification about the nature and intention of the seminary. What was the purpose of bringing Dr. Wright on campus? How, I wondered, was this beneficial to anyone outside of Dr. Wright? Was he going to apologize at the outset for his years of intolerance? Was he going to be challenged about his teachings, and the consequences of his hate speech by his peers? Was he going to be held accountable at all? Or would he receive a tacit endorsement by the school in the form of a bully pulpit and a stipend.

I’m still waiting for a response. But whatever the answer, the whole incident has got me thinking about the virtue of tolerance.

Tolerance as a virtue is deeply connected to freedom, and defending the rights of the under-represented. Tolerance has rightly been identified with freedom of speech, freedom to dissent, freedom of the press, and religious freedoms.

Historically, intolerance has been about the powerful crushing, silencing, oppressing those who do not have as much power, economically, politically, religiously. And this threat certainly remains. But a more subtle yet equally deangerous threat to tolerance is growing in this politically correct, morally insecure society of ours; passivity.

Too often nowadays, what passes as “tolerance” is in reality a lazy acceptance of bad behavior. Maybe this is connected to guilt from past abuses against tolerance. Maybe this is connected to fear of being branded “intolerant.” Maybe it’s connected to an indifference about anything beyond one’s comfort zone. Maybe it’s connected to the false belief that progressive equals permissive. Maybe it’s all of the above. But the result is tolerance as a personality trait, instead of a virtue; a way of “getting along” instead of “getting better.”

“Tolerance of intolerance is cowardice.”

Is there anything you can’t, or more accurately shouldn’t tolerate? Is there any behavior you’d consider a serious enough threat to goodness that you simply cannot stay silent?

Is freedom only about what one can do, or is it also about what one should do? And what responsibility do you have to society?

You may have guessed by now that I am not a fan of Jeremiah Wright. I don’t like his angry, paranoid worldview. I don’t like his assaultive, abusive style. And I don’t like the ways he plays on the deepest fears of human beings. But the virtue of tolerance says he has the right to speak his mind and use his freedom however he chooses within the bounds of the law, and that this right should be protected whether I like it or not.

What tolerance does not say is that his malice should go unchallenged by reason, and truth, and love. And that his message of fear should be met with a shrug.

Tolerance is a virtue that protects against abuses of power. But it’s greatest enemy is weakness.

Question for reflection: Where do you see the virtue of tolerance being compromised?

Finding the middle way: The virtue of moderation

“Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues.”
-Joseph Hall

I read the painful news this week that an 18 year-old Tibetan Buddhist nun had set herself on fire, in protest of China’s policies toward Tibet. Three months ago another nun from the same monastery in the Sichuan Province set herself on fire as well, and died. In the past year, over a dozen Tibetan Buddhist nuns, monks, and lay people have self-immolated resulting in eleven deaths. And for what? The leader of the Tibetan Buddhists, the Dalai Lama himself, asked that very question. Certainly the Chinese government is unmoved, and the response from the world is some combination of pity, confusion, and revulsion.

The young woman undoubtedly believed her radical act would bring attention to the cause she’d dedicated her life to. And for 15 minutes it will. But it’s much more like the kind of attention generated by a car accident or a mudslide, than the kind of attention that brings good. Only virtue does that.

Extremism is not virtuous. Intentional self-injury is not virtuous. Desperation is not virtuous.

Virtue does call one to live radically, to live counter-culturally, to live a life of self-sacrifice. But audacity, courage, religion, zeal, and all the other virtues this young woman was attempting to live out cease being virtues if separated from the virtue of moderation.

Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues.

Moderation is about balance; balance at work and balance at play, balance with self and balance with others, balance with food and balance with drink. It teaches one about healthy self-control and gentleness. It is the middle way, guiding the pursuit of goodness while avoiding extremes. It is the virtue that channels passion, and protects dignity.

And of course moderation is needed just as much in the West as it is in the East. Because these are desperate times everywhere, and in times of desperation people can easily lose their bearings. Their worlds get turned upside down, and in their pain and fear and anxiety they can make really poor choices.

See in yourself, at least something of that desperate 18 year-old nun in Tibet…the potential to hurt yourself and those around you in your struggle to find balance, and manage pain, and even do some good.

Practice moderation; it’s truly a radical statement.

Question for reflection: Do you feel like your life is balanced?

Crack pot: The virtue of sincerity

“Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
-Leonard Cohen


You know the saying that the cover-up is worse than the crime? This was certainly true in the world of pottery-making, in ancient Corinth. Pottery was big business and there was fierce competition for the almighty drachma.

The process always began with the same routine: The craftsman would form the clay into pottery, then fire the pottery in a kiln, and finally examine the finished product by holding it up to the light to look for any cracks that might have occurred in the firing. If none were found, the pottery was good to sell as “clean, authentic, high quality.” If cracks were found, the damaged pottery was supposed to be thrown away, and the process begun again.

However, less reputable pottery makers more interested in the bottom line then in being honest would take a different path. They’d notice the cracks that had formed during the baking process. But instead of disposing of the bad pottery, they’d fill in the cracks with wax, and then paint over the wax to further hide the imperfections.

To distinguish themselves, and the integrity of their product, the honest potters would hang a sign at the entrance of their shops that read, “Sincerus,” which literally means “without wax” This promised the customers that the handiwork was well-done, and that imperfections had not been covered up with wax and paint. The authentic pottery cost more because more had gone into its creation. But for those looking for quality and a greater long-term return on their investment, it was well worth it.

Sincerus.

Sincerity has always been about purity of intention, and trustworthiness, and genuineness. And like anything that is valauble, it will cost you.

Sincerity asks you to value truth more than appearances, so if you’re serious about acquiring it you’ll need to follow the example of the honest potter. Take the time to carefully examine your life in the light, and admit when you find cracks…dishonesty, pettiness, hypocrisy, envy, malice. And then start again.

Sincerity does not ask you to be perfect, but it does ask that you take responsibility for your imperfections, and do something about your imperfections. Care enough to walk the walk, and not just talk the talk.

I will stop cheating.

I will stop gossiping.

I will stop lying.

I will stop making promises I don’t intend to keep.

I will stop making excuses for my bad behavior.

Sincerus!

Practicing sincerity will take some effort, and discipline, and humility. And you won’t get it right away. Short term, it will feel easier to hide, cut corners, make excuses, and cover up the imperfections. But all this does is guarantee failure. Because in the pursuit of goodness, and integrity, and truth, the cover-up becomes the greater crime.

So leave the wax behind and decide to live differently… sincerely.


Question for reflection: What are the cracks in your life that you need to stop covering up, and start addressing with sincerity?

The blind side: The virtue of friendship

"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.”
-George Washington

If I asked you to name a quarterback who has played in the NFL, my guess is that even non-football fans could come up with someone: Joe Namath, Roger Staubach, Terry Bradshaw, Joe Montana, Brett Favre, Tom Brady, Eli Manning. But how many of you could name the offensive left tackles who guarded these quarterbacks’ “blind sides.” Right.

That’s because, fair or not, the quarterback gets most of the glory. The responsibility to score points is literally in his hands, so most games are as well.

As the game is played, the quarterback takes the ball and drops back time and again, while looking downfield for an open receiver to pass to. And he looks, and looks, and looks...and all the while the left tackle stands between him and disaster, protecting him from the violent rush of players coming from behind him and wanting to crush him. The quarterback may get the attention, but he’d be picking up his teeth much more often than wins if someone didn’t have his back.

Michael Lewis highlights this truth in The Blind Side, a good book that became an inspiring movie. But the story of Michael Oher, the young man who goes from poster child for youth-at-risk to NFL star, is about a lot more than football.

Oher had all the physical gifts in the world; massive size, herculean strength, and eye-popping agility. Yet he would have been lost if the Tuohys, his adoptive family, hadn’t taken an active interest in him, continued investing love and care in him, and provided a safe environment where he could develop and grow. Through friendship they had his “blind side.”

Becoming a successful human being, which is not the same thing as becoming wealthy, famous, or powerful, is essentially about relationships. And at the heart of relationships is the virtue of friendship.

It takes a great deal to be a friend. Yet, the common perception continues to be that if you have fun with someone, you’re friends. If you have things in common with someone, you’re friends. If you’re attracted to someone, you’re friends. Friendships apparently demand about as much effort as clicking “accept” on a Facebook invitation.

This, of course, is a recipe for disaster.

“Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.”

Friendship, like any virtue, takes time to develop. It can and should include fun, and common interests, and attraction. But it’s about a lot more than that.

Friendship, true and personal connection that lasts, is always about giving and receiving; practicing and learning how to be trustworthy with another, how to be responsive with another, how to be caring with another, and how to be truthful with another.

But to really understand the virtue of friendship, begin by acting like an offensive left tackle and focus on the blind side coverage.

Question for reflection: Who’s got your back?