The Pageless Book

Above From Photo by Jeff Hitchcock. Below From Photo by Jayel Aheram. Final From Image by Blake Emrys.

It boggles my imagination how much hate people attribute to God. Historically speaking, every group of people that I can think of who have used God’s name in hate has failed. The Inquisition, American slavers, the Klan, Hitler… Republicans - all of these groups claimed to be working under God’s authority and all failed in their mission. So, when a small church in the middle of nowhere begins proclaiming that God hates homosexuals, I’m more inclined to mark my calendar than worry. I think “This, too, shall pass.”

But then I have to ask myself why so many people feel the need to validate their hatred using God. When I really think about it, God seems the obvious choice for justifying irrational arguments, on which hatred is usually based. God is the highest authority and is widely believed to be unavailable for comment should anyone think to ask for her opinion. All one would need to do is quote text, which may or may not be inspired by God, take it out of context and declare your own interpretation as the correct interpretation, and hope that no one is smart enough to think for themselves. Unfortunately, there are enough people in this world who would rather have someone else think for them than think for themselves that this tactic can work for a short period of time.

I’ve recently had the pleasure of listening to author and musician Daryl Davis speak about his experiences with racism, that eventually lead him, a black man, to write about and interview members of the Klu Klux Klan. He explained how, even though he didn’t originally set out to do so, he became friends with high ranking Klan members, many of whom eventually quit the Klan entirely due to his influence. Mr. Davis has the robes of these former Klan members to prove it, which he took out during his lecture. How can a black man manage to persuade members of an organization based upon the hatred of black men to become his friend and confide in him? His answer was simple; it was by listening.

Listening to one another, even when what is being said is the most hurtful thing you’ve ever heard, is a spiritual act. Mr. Davis listened to these Klan members and became an instrument of Divine love. Hatred cannot exist in the presence of divine love, because hatred can only thrive where there is no love. We each can embody that love through listening to each other and choosing to be simply courteous towards one another, regardless of another person’s hatred.

I don’t want you to confuse emotional love with divine love - they are different, although the difference is subtle. Emotional love which you feel for your friends, family, or significant other, is the direct opposite of hatred. It represents understanding and appreciation, where as hatred feeds on ignorance and disrespect. Divine love, however, is beyond understanding and ignorance. It represents a condensing the ego and a deep connection with the universal presence which some call God. Divine love confronts a person abruptly, forcing a person to look at themselves and their life, regardless of whether they want to or not.

Hatred is a form of ignorance - whether this ignorance is cause by not wanting to see or simply not seeing, it makes no different. The Divine does not allow for ignorance in any form. The idea that God would hate anyone or anything is totally foreign to me, as a God ignorant of his own creation cannot be the true God. If the Divine hates anything, it is hatred.

Photo above by Janine C. Photo below is Public Domain Courtesy of the National Archives.

The first experience with racism was when I was five or six… but it was not as you might think. I accused a black child of drinking my beverage when I wasn’t looking. My so-called proof was the swirling of my own saliva in my cup. I believed, at that time, that what I was looking at was his ‘blackness’ that had come off from his skin. When I told an adult, I felt the squirming warmth of revenge uncoil in my heart and was satisfied that justice had been done.

Later, when my mother had pointed out that it was my own saliva I was looking at, I felt guilty and foolish. However, for a brief moment hatred had taken seed in me. Now, it would be easy to dismiss this childhood memory as a simple misunderstanding. You shouldn’t. That is how any form of bigotry takes root - from the inability or the unwillingness to understand one another.

And to be completely honest, that isn’t the last time I have had to struggle with my own innate racism, or the racism of others. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I’ve heard disparaging remarks about African Americans and did nothing. My own cowardice is proceeded only by my arrogance in thinking that I am not racist. No matter how many times I say I am color blind, I still see black and white. No matter how friendly I am towards those who are different than me, there is a part of me that is trying to prove something. And the more sensitive I am about another person’s race or ethnicity, the more I avoid trying to understand them.

February is Black History Month, a month long reminder of the great accomplishments and contributions that African Americans have made despite their struggle against racism in the States. If you haven’t guessed by now, I have a lot of mixed feeling about Black History Month. The fact that we have to attribute a full month to one racial minority is a tribute to how little we understand each other as human beings. That so many other minorities, such as the American Indians, do not have the same distinction also makes my heart uneasy. But it is our history as a species, blighted by so many atrocities, that worries me the most. I’m not entirely sure that we are making progress.

It isn’t enough for individuals to hide their misunderstandings of each other under thin veils of politeness. Race deserves open and honest discourse through which we can come to understand each other. We need to each admit to ourselves our own blind spots and try to broaden our vision. Without that, we are merely ignoring the problem.

Of course none of this is easy. If it were, my parent’s generation would have eliminated racism long before my conception. Its specter still looms over American history, threatening to taint our future and darken our doorstep. I don’t believe that this is a lost cause, but I still have trouble taking anyone who says they are color-blind seriously.

With this in mind, I humbly pray for mutual understanding among all people. God, we are your children; Please make us see!