I am left-handed.
[I’m not really, but play along with me here. OK?]
I was born this way.
Very early in life, my parents noticed my left-handedness and were ashamed. They believed it reflected poorly on their skills as parents. “Your brothers and sisters are all right-handed. Why can’t you be more like them,” they regularly implored me.
As I went through school, I saw that, unlike me, most of my classmates were right-handed. My teachers assumed all of us were, so they gave the whole class instructions based on that assumption.
(If they could have, I think some of those teachers would have tried to change me from a right-hander to a left-hander.)
It all made me feel like an oddball or outsider. It made me feel as if I was some kind of mistake. Like I didn’t belong.
Sometimes I saw another left-handed kid at school. When I did, I got really excited. I would smile at them and give a timid little wave. Sometimes they waved back. Sometimes they didn’t.
As I grew older, I found that the world contained a lot more people like me. Sure, there were still a lot of people who believed there was something essentially wrong with left-handers. So, it wasn’t always safe to come right out and be the person I was made to be. You could never tell who might be accepting and who might not be.
Over time though, I became more and more comfortable with my left-handedness. I found large communities of left-handers where I could relax, enjoy myself, and not worry at all about acceptance. We all shared similar stories and understood the struggles the others faced.
Sure, there were still the occasional bullies, bigots, and ignoramuses to deal with. But I recognized them as people who were full of insecurity about the world around them… resulting, no doubt, from childhood trauma. I did not enjoy being around them, but I resolved not to allow them to control my feelings, my movements, or my love of life.
And then it happened. The tide turned.
It started with leaders on the national stage. It began when those leaders realized they could turn more heads, open more eyes, raise more money, and gain more votes by generating fear rather than by casting visions. So, they found scapegoats. They created straw men and women. They pinned the blame for a widespread sense of unsettledness on groups of people who were DIFFERENT. Different, meaning, different from the leaders themselves.
People like left-handers.
Just when I started feeling that I could breathe easily and walk the street with my head up, the whole world exploded. The toxic stew of instability and blaming led a handful of unstable people to take matters into their own hands.
They lashed out. They picked up guns and started shooting. They went after the people they had been told were to blame for the miserable state of their lives.
They went straight for the left-handers.
And yes, in the aftermath of that horror, most of those unstable people were caught and jailed. Or else they turned the guns upon themselves.
But the problem isn’t solved. The fear lives on. The blaming and scapegoating continue because it still “moves the needle” in the eyes of some leaders. Enemies, they tell us, must be named so the rest of us can be safe.
We continue to live in a place where difference is feared, not valued. Where homogeneity is expected. Where diversity is considered dangerous.
Dear God, save us, because we appear unable to save ourselves. Vitalize the law of love with the force of justice. Redeem our tragedy by allowing it to lead to meaningful change. Shape our leaders into your image of sacrificial service and humility. In Jesus’ name, AMEN.
Abundant blessings;
I had a great bike ride yesterday.
I made my choice a long time ago.
A year or so ago, I got fed up. Squared.
I had gone out to play with my friends after dad finished giving me my every-two-week haircut. His barber chair was right there in the living room of our home.
I am a fan and admirer of the late Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. His sermons and speeches arouse hope and a passion for justice in my heart. But honestly, there is one quotation of his that just bugs the heck out of me.
My wife and I had some fun over the weekend. We were part of a local musical revue that featured songs and dances from several well-known Broadway shows.
Russellings of the Spirit 