I think there are so many Biblical stories about people choosing wrongly not because I believe the Holy is punitive and vindictive, but because I find that discerning what to do and how to do it well is probably one of our biggest challenges in developing a mature faith, and I imagine that the collectors and writers and editors of these traditions had noticed the same challenge of being human trying to live faithfully. As free people we have choices. And, as free people, we will be challenged and misinterpret and following those misinterpretations possibly make some stunningly bad choices. I’m not talking about the kinds of bad choices where going through the cafeteria line I put the starchy fatty foods on my plates and regret that later. I’m talking about the kinds of choices where lives are at risk. Are we ready not to plead our own daily cases and causes but to pick up the cases and causes of those who are suffering and targeted for hate and cruelty? We may indeed belong to that larger number and when that is so, are we pleading for ourselves or are we most concerned with others?
Recently, in mid-June, the people of Portland, Maine faced such a discernment challenge. Due to changes by the Trump administration, asylum seekers from the U.S. southern border were to be transported to settlement cities without beginning the asylum process, which does two things: prevents asylum seekers from accessing any assistance while they resettle and opens the country to seekers who haven’t done the usual security or medical screenings. Settlement cities like Portland and South Portland with only a few days’ notice had to prepare to receive people. Now in the old settlement process, medical and security screenings were done prior to settlement and settlement locations had a chance to say how many people they could take, including if they could resettle families. Changing the federal administration rules wasn’t something that the cities could do in the short term. So what were their choices? They opted to open emergency shelters and start the settlement process, drawing in assistance from the State of Maine Centers for Disease Control so that they could assess asylum seekers’ health and well-being. This choice is not without costs. But these cities took a harsh decision by the federal administration and decided to answer differently, more generously and compassionately, attentive to hospitality and care for these strangers now residents of the area. At the same time, the federal administration continued to choose to incarcerate children separated from their families of non-asylum seekers in former and now once-again concentration camps. This was the very opposite choice, one that was neither generous nor hospitable, nor morally just, and a choice that has put the health and well-being of many at risk.
Misinterpretation of sacred texts and what the best course ahead of us is happens all the time. We might react from other assumptions rather than using reason and compassion, especially when those assumptions are rooted in fear, bigotry, and mistrust. We might interpret that a devastating storm is the Holy punishing us for some unrelated issue, say, our immigration policy, or we might observe how human-caused climate change is intensifying storms and recognize our responsibility for these devastations, which also, by the way, intensifies the number of people needing to migrate from resource wars and from economic losses and from loss of land and salting of the waters.
Part of spiritual practice is to prepare us when facing the challenges of interpreting complex and challenging events so that we answer humbly, compassionately, generously, and with the well-being of this earth in mind and heart. In this week’s section of Numbers (16:1-18:32), note how quickly Moses and Aaron drop to the ground and appeal to the Holy to protect not themselves, but the others who did not do anything wrong (Num. 16:22; 17:10). Moses and Aaron plead for the people repeatedly and reflexively. When we’re well-rooted in our spiritual practices, it is easier and easier to answer one challenge after another with consideration not first and foremost for protecting ourselves and our cherished beliefs, but with consideration for those who are in trouble and in need of compassion and generosity. It is difficult to hold onto hate and anger when our hearts our full of compassion, difficult to be gripped by jealousy when we can truly find ourselves empathizing with another and imagining ourselves and how we would wish to be treated in their place. It is easier to be generous reflexively not when we have a lot of resources but when we are grateful for the resources we have and thankful enough for today’s enoughness to share with others, trusting that in the future scarcity, others may treat us at least well.
We can make terrible mistakes when we’re tired, frightened, or fueled by hate or jealousy or greed. But human beings are also capable of great generosity, compassion, care, and resilience. To reliably be ready for what challenges life presents, we need our spiritual practices, our sense of connection to ourselves and to the sacred and to this world. Practices that do nothing but reinforce our sense of superiority, our fears, or hates, our jealousies, our anxieties, and our frustrations are not spiritually nurturing. We need the practices that can help us relate to what’s happening with our neighbor, meet them there, as Rumi says, beyond the fields of right-doing and wrong-doing, and find the heart of compassion’s direction together. We need practices that help us take faithful risks, choosing, if we err, to err on the side of love, compassion, and generosity. These are the practices that connect us to the Source of Being and help us face what is with the grace we ourselves desire when we turn out to misinterpret or choose badly. This is partly what it means to love one another at least as well as we love ourselves: if we are in those people’s place right there, how would we like to be treated? And then to risk faithfully to be that loving and that kind.
Today, lives are on the line, as asylum seekers and displaced peoples try to find needed welcome and rest. Like our spiritual and blood ancestors seeking a place to call home, they have experienced one horrible trial after another. Ready or not, they are on the move, desperate and trusting that throughout the trials ahead, they may find safe harbors. Ready or not, here we are, in this great unknown of how climate change is shifting and affecting our world. Ready or not, here we are, and we are called to choose open-heartedness and humility, recognizing that we too could be displaced and in need of care, recognizing that our spiritual or blood ancestors once were in the same situation. The world has plenty of stony-heartedness. Shall we turn and plead for the people in danger? the caged children? the babies separated from their mothers? the dispossessed and others thirsting for justice and a place to be? Are we able to follow Aaron and Moses in pleading for the people? Because ready or not, this is the world as it is, and the choice for stony-heartedness or faithful compassion is up to us.
