Prelude . . .
“Hearing
each other’s stories, which are often stories of heartbreak, can create an
unexpected bond between so-called pro-life and pro-choice.” (p. 5)
This is a key assumption of Palmer’s work – not only do we need
to be “in touch” with our soul within, our authentic self, but also with others,
especially, perhaps the “others” who are not like us. The walls that we build so quickly and so
well rest upon false ideas of who the “other” is. Talking to one another (and that requires
patient, careful listening to the other) is the means by which we hear the
stories of those we think to be our enemies.
Palmer will talk more about that:
listening to their stories without judgment, and in an attitude of unconditional
acceptance not of their ideas (which may be radically and dangerously opposite
of ours), but of the person – a “child of God” we would say, giving them the
ultimate praise. When we listen, and
then are listened to, there is an opening for understanding and for peace.
Chapter 1 . . .
Palmer
talks here about the “confusion” that is necessary in a democracy. A dictatorship has the attraction of order in a society. A citizen may not like that order (especially
if the order rigs the odds against them), while another may like it a lot – if
they are near the top of the heap held in place by the power of the
dictator. There is some comfort in
having one’s options limited, or decided by others. Indeed some people coming out of oppressive
regimes my at times wish for the days when they didn’t have to think very
much. The Israelites, once they had
escaped the slavery of Egypt, had times when they longed for the days of
slavery when at least they had food to eat.
So
democracy is “less efficient” and full of tension, not unlike a prairie. The trick is handling that tension. Here Palmer distinguishes between good bad
stress (“distress”) and good stress (“eustress”). The former is negative and destructive, while
the later is healthy – so long as we learn to use it for dialogue and for
growth.
On page 14
he lists “our key civic capacities.” How
many of those do we live out in our political process?
Palmer’s
book is not about mere “techniques,” as helpful as they can be at times. Instead of those, he says, “we need insights
into ourselves and our world.” (p. 15).
At the end
of Chapter One he sketches out the structure of the book, beginning with . . .
Chapter 2 . . .
A starting
place is the truth that “Whatever is in the common good is, in the long run,
good for me and mine.” (p. 31) One wonders, then, at the key question that
many politicians use in their campaigns:
“Are you better off now than you were four years ago?” Shouldn’t a better question be, “Are WE
better off now than WE were four years
ago?” A nation of individuals concerned
primarily about their own lives, it
seems to me, is a nation destined to decline.
It seems inarguably clear that unless we all prosper, none of us will in
the end. That is Judeo-Christian principle,
and a perfectly reasonable one too.
The story
about the Sunday School class Palmer witnessed in 1974 is a moving one about
people who value deeply and seek to live out the gift of political freedom – “Learning
how to listen well, speak clearly, and follow procedures in the larger, more
diverse, and conflicted world of American politics.” (p. 38)
The chapter
ends with Palmer’s “Five Habits of the Heart” that he says we need to cultivate
in our community and political life.
They are under two general categories:
Humility and Chutzpah. See the
first blog on this book for more on the habits.
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