“A Rose by Any Other Name?” Yes. But calling one a tulip doesn’t make the thorns go away – Why I think we’ve cornered the market on Forgiveness.

"This is about 'forgiveness?' So what's my picture doing here?"

In response to a post by Paul Louis Metzger which included a discussion of some Buddhists’ quest for “emancipation” and its bearing on Christ’s sacrifice and forgiveness (Dr. Metzger’s post is here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/08/imagine-a-world-without-forgiveness/), my friend and colleague, Chaplain Chris Haughee wrote, “Metzger’s post is entitled ‘Imagine a world without forgiveness,’ and I have one small problem with it…it seems to presuppose that the concept of forgiveness is unique to Christianity, or at least to the person of Jesus Christ.” (Chaplain Haughee’s post is here: http://fullhousewithaces.com/2014/08/27/who-owns-forgiveness/) Here is my reply.

"Forgiveness? MY boys?! Sorry, no. But penance, well..."

I would agree that Dr. Metzger portrays a forgiveness that is unique to Christianity, not necessarily that “the concept of forgiveness” is as unique. Everyone wants to talk about forgiveness, it seems. But the question that comes to this chaplain’s mind is this: Is what you are seeing elsewhere really forgiveness? Sadly, though, I cannot deny that it is too-seldom seen among followers of Jesus Christ. But there seem to be some important distinctions to be made. 

Even where we seek to practice theology-in-community, I’m hopeful that we realize, as you note, that we cannot “simply distill all religious traditions down to their philosophical ideal” without taking into account the “imperfect permutations” we will always encounter. Just as you rightly emphasize regarding Buddhist “denominationalism,” some of Christ’s most visible adherents routinely neglect to pursue justice, mercy, and humility in their interactions with one another, not to mention with the “large number of families that have come to groups of Jesus’ followers looking for grace, understanding, and compassion, and…have been sent away wanting.”

Forgiveness and compassion are too frequently lacking among many followers of Jesus. But in my experience and education, I find that other religious and non-religious groups provide for something labeled as, but only resembling forgiveness. Again, allowing for limitations in my education and experience, I find others prescribing a mutual disengagement of the issues, a patronizing condescension of another’s “errors,” or a patient trust that one may simply wait to see that “what goes around comes around” (i.e., “Karma’s going to get you eventually”).

The foundational principles on which interpersonal conflict results in either conciliation or separation may qualify only as a “philosophical ideal.” But if we are not clear about the reasons and resources for actual forgiveness, we end up “making do” with something else, which is always something less and, I would reiterate, something different than the forgiveness made available to us, and possible through us, by the sacrifices of Jesus Christ.

Not roses. Don't call them that.

In a few similar conversations, others have expressed their preference for other traditions’ approach to conflict. Some have advocated silent avoidance (“Let’s just agree to disagree.”), sullen minimalization (“No, it’s not really that important.”), or Solomonic arbitration (“Can we just split the difference?”) But I have not found elsewhere an approach such as Jesus recommends (in Matthew 18:15-18), much less that which He admonishes (in Matthew 6:14-15), warns (in Matthew 18:21-35), and commands (Luke 17:1-4) regarding a forgiveness based in emulating His sacrifices.

The sacrifices necessary to consistently show mercy require a desperate reliance on the protection and provision promised by Christ. Otherwise, even where some friends are seeking to entirely eradicate their self (see my post at http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/08/unity-in-and-among-diversity-level-two.html), the human tendency to self-preservation, at the very least, requires us to place limitations on the exercise of anything remotely resembling Christ’s completion of and our calling to forgiveness.

From my perspective, then, only in a cruciform, sacrificial servanthood (II Corinthians 4:5, Philippians 2:17, Colossians 1:24, etc.), which is possible only through the Christ-conforming influence of the Holy Spirit, is there any foundation and, therefore, any potential for true forgiveness.

As my friend noted, “This, certainly, is a topic that has been and will be hotly debated.” And it may require some forgiveness, too. But I hope that you will comment in either confirmation, contradiction, or both—depending upon the particular areas that interest you.

Thought I should leave you with a dozen roses.

Unity in and among Diversity – Level Two: Compassion – The voluntary and intentional acceptance of our responsibility to engage others

Another excellent wordless book.

In my previous post on Sympathy, I sought to make two vital truths clear.

First, that the only alternative to sympathy is to actively establish and reinforce our antipathy toward those we choose to exclude from consideration as our fellow human beings. Otherwise, we would be forced to acknowledge even a minimal identification with their experience, and “feel for them,” perhaps even expressing that sentiment before returning to our own personal concerns.

Second, that allowing ourselves to experience sympathy for any other person almost invariably leads us to do more than merely express our acknowledgement of another’s circumstance and its consequences. When we truly recognize the realities of another’s experience, it becomes difficult to ignore the correlation between their needs and “our” resources. For all our more exacting definitions of “ministry,” the simple fulfillment of loving our neighbors as ourselves is this: Applying the resources God provides to the needs He shows us.

The Foundations of Compassion

What is that causes us not only to recognize, but to feel compelled to do something about another’s condition? We may not be able to entirely ameliorate their circumstances (as I noted in the “sympathy” post—ameliorate = to improve or restore another from having incurred damage). Perhaps we may merely mitigate the consequences (i.e., lessen the severity of damage to another from their condition). And sometimes, we will find that we can only imperfectly palliate what they are experiencing (i.e., diminish the pain they feel amidst the damage being done). The frustrations are very real. There is often less we can do than we would like to do. But the need to step forward in compassion is a very real motivator resulting from a foundational impulse built into us as human beings.

Do you hear it? Something's out there.

The reality of our interdependence upon other human beings is undeniable. But rather than begrudging the necessity of interpersonal interaction, most of us choose to form relationships with others. In fact, we often choose to live with at least a few others in authentic, transparent, and vulnerable intimacy. Even if we were guaranteed protection from others’ damaged condition resulting in damage to us (As one has phrased it, “Hurt people hurt people.”), the simple fact of recognizing others’ needs and meeting them from with “our” resources recommends against such actions. So why do we engage others at all? Much less in even casual relationships? Not to mention the handful of close, personal bonds that sometimes magnify the pain of unmet expectations, coupled with the inevitable loss that will eventually occur?

Why do we do it?!

Because that’s the way we are built. For all the other imaginations of what it means to be “created to bear the image and likeness of God,” it is clearest to me when I remember that I am called to serve “one God, eternally existing in three persons.” The interrelatedness of human beings is merely a reflection of the interrelatedness of the Creator who formed each of us, and built into us the same impulse to vital connection that exists among the persons of that one God. There’s much more to say about the Trinity, of course. But I don’t want to leave our discussion of unity in and among diversity, and especially the requirements that must be met for compassion to be fulfilled, not frustrated.

The Essential Condition of Compassion

There are alternatives, of course. Paul Louis Metzger recently wrote regarding the perception of some Amida Buddhist friends that our goal should be emancipation from anything external to ourselves. Quoting Buddhism’s “Heart Sutra,” Dr. Metzger points out that some Buddhists see John Lennon’s “Imagine” as synopsizing their ultimate goal of withdrawal from anything of meaning, anything that would cause passion, or even a response to the physical world in which we live. Success in eliminating one’s own personhood would seem to overcome any interpersonal conflicts. But in a world where our minds and hearts are inexorably intertwined with a body that cannot help but interact with the surrounding world, the necessity of interpersonal relationships is indisputable. The inherently impersonal eradication of self is an impossibility, since it would be the self that must will and act to eradicate its self.

It's not difficult to enforce solitude...temporarily.

Our interpersonal interactions will necessarily entail the recognition of one another’s needs. We are designed to respond in sympathy to one another, and to act on that sympathy in compassion. As Buddhists rightly observe, this leads to conflict. Even when I choose to share “my” resources with another, there is the potential for them to see my actions as patronizing, or even demeaning toward them. And, whether gratitude is shown or not, I may imagine that my role is more essential to them than theirs is to me. I may proudly take on the role of benefactor, forgetting that they possess important resources for my needs, even as I deliver assistance to them.

Is the solution, then, to these inevitable interpersonal conflicts the Buddhist’s eradication of self? If that were possible, if withdrawal into impersonal isolation comes within reach, from where comes this continued longing for “emancipation” that Dr. Metzger’s sources describe? In that context, it would seem that our greatest emancipation must surely be a secure asylum from the “hell” that is “other people?” (That’s existentialist Jean Paul Sartre’s estimation, by the way, not mine.)

But it might be good to hear others' opinions, too.

So, what alternative remains? Our interpersonal impulses are undeniable, and conflict, therefore, is inevitable. On what basis, then, can we fulfill our desires to engage one another in compassion? Rather than withdrawing into isolation, how do we still avoid escalating the conflict until it is the other’s person we eradicate?

Compassion can continue, despite the conflicts our interpersonal relationship create between those in need and those with resources (even when we recognize that those in need have resources that are needed by those with certain resources for the other’s need). Because, in addition to being built with an impulse to interpersonal relationships, we are also built with an innate recognition of our own contributions to interpersonal conflicts. As much, and often more, than I need to forgive others for their roles in conflict, I need the forgiveness of others for my own roles in creating, ignoring, patronizing, or simply failing to ameliorate, mitigate, or palliate wherever I have opportunity.

Dr. Metzger’s conclusion, that “we can break out of the perpetual cycle of hostility and extend forgiveness to others” by pursuing “a way that produces actions of love rather than those of indifference and hate.” That way leads to, into, and through a relationship with the One who has sought to establish the foundations of our compassion by showing, in the most extraordinary terms, His compassion in providing for our forgiveness.

On a practical note: What if there’s nothing I can do?

Compassion’s calling on our lives can be all too clear when another needs financial support, an extra hand for an occasional project, a ride to the doctor’s office, or even a shoulder to cry on…temporarily. But there if often a nagging sense that we should do something about needs that are not so clear, and especially about needs that are clearly beyond our ability to ameliorate, mitigate, or even palliate. (I hope it’s clear that I think you should learn these vocabulary words.)

You never know when you'll need someone to reciprocate.

In the most extreme circumstances, it may seem like we have nothing whatsoever to share, simply because we cannot imagine that anyone has anything to share that could help in any way. For example, regarding the frustrations of those who desperately wish to make a more tangible difference in the brief remaining lives of the imminently dying, a couple of quotes frequently come to mind.

I remember it being Jackson Rainer who said, at an American Academy of Bereavement training, “To exist with them at the moment of their crisis is to be significant in the life of another.” Dr. Chris Camarata, former medical director for Mayers Memorial Hopsital/Intermountain Hospice, frequently commented, “Don’t underestimate the impact of being willing to sit with them, even if all we can do is to bear silent witness to their pain.” I have been in many situation as a chaplain, pastor, friend, and/or family member where there was nothing I could change about the circumstances others were facing. But that doesn’t mean I had nothing to do. It took great effort, in fact. But in those times and places, I stayed.

Sometimes, our greatest compassion is shown by fighting the urge to flee from what we cannot fix.

Even if what needs fixed is my self.

Unity in and among Diversity – Level One: Sympathy – The voluntary and intentional rejection of our tendency toward disengagement

The Queen of Sympathy: Helen Steiner Rice

“Sympathy” is the first of our four levels of voluntary and intentional identification with others. Even at this most basic level, we face our tendency to avoid such identification at all. We are tempted to identify others as “them,” and set boundaries that prevent us from being drawn into the needs of others. Frankly, if self-protection and self-provision are entirely our own individual responsibility, this makes perfect sense.

But the One who promises us His provision and protection (Matthew 6:31-33) calls us to emulate His ministry of cruciform, sacrificial servanthood toward all others. I believe His second great commandment rests on understanding all human beings as persons created to bear the image and likeness of God, and who continue to do so, even while still scarred by sin’s damage, and even when they have not yet learned to trust to Great Physician to begin His work in healing that damage.

The Dual Challenge of Showing Only Sympathy, or Even Sympathy at All

So, then: Sympathy – as I offered in the Overview post about the four levels of identification (August 14, 2014 – Found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/08/unity-in-and-among-diversity-overview.html) – can be defined as “to feel for” others. This allows only a limited identification with others’ experience, and is expressed most often only briefly and verbally (sometimes only in the words of Hallmark) before returning to one’s own personal concerns. But it is, for most of us, the only starting point available.

Oldboy: No sympathy for him.

And yet, it is very difficult to describe how to have sympathy, and not let it become compassion, or empathy, or even solidarity. If we allow ourselves to feel for someone, how do we resist the compelling urge to intervene in their needs, taking action beyond sympathy, actually showing compassion. Even the most carefully limited practice of sympathy cannot prevent us from being pulled further toward empathy and solidarity.

Sympathy is frustrating in other ways as well. We often have no idea what so many experience in their circumstances. Thus, we simply don’t know what we could do for whatever needs and challenges they may face. Imagining, then, that there would simply be more frustration, we avoid allowing any feeling toward those in wide ranges of needs.

Our imaginations are indeed limited with regard to the potential amelioration, mitigation, or palliation of others’ needs. Now, before you go look up those words, I believe the best understanding we can have of what it means to experience sympathy is to consider the ways in which we avoid it (lest it drag us off into compassion, empathy or, worse, the commitment to solidarity with our fellow human beings). So, add one more word to the vocabulary list: “antipathy.”

Definition by Contrast – What Sympathy Is Not

“Antipathy” means to oppose feelings toward another, and even to hold feelings of opposition toward the person themselves. (To save you a trip to Webster’s: to ameliorate = to improve or restore another’s damaged condition or circumstance; to mitigate = to lessen the damage of a negative condition on another; to palliate = to diminish the pain of the damage in that negative condition.)

When you can't find the words...

A couple of recent conversations illustrated for me that our antipathy can be sometimes subtle and relatively benign, sometimes overt and vicious, and, in both cases, sufficiently rationalized as to defend it as “the Christian position.” I won’t bore you with the details of one’s suggestions that a first step toward world peace would be the annihilation of all Muslims everywhere, and that the socio-political problems in California would be vastly improved by “flushing” the underclass inhabitants of the Los Angeles Basin out to sea in order to feed the dwindling fishery reserves. (Yes. Seriously. And in so many words.) Most of my beloved Christian brothers and sisters hold more moderate positions. Still, especially because of their subtlety, the stereotypes, prejudices, and admittedly ignorant conclusions require some scrutiny.

How to Avoid the Snares of Sympathy

Our area’s most prevalent underclass, is less racially identified than it is socio-economically. As some of us discussed those who are marginally housed and fed, and especially the homeless, there were several strong opinions about why we could ignore (what I pointed out were the objects of “pure religion and undefiled before God,” according to James 1:27) the needs of the widows, orphans, and aliens in their distress. Focusing primarily on the homeless, their condition was presumed to be caused by drug addiction in most cases. When that was challenged, mental illness, marital infidelity, and children’s rebellion against their families were among the other top candidates.

Sympathy can be radically misplaced.

What seemed most important, though, was to reduce the complex process by which someone became homeless to as few causes as possible, preferably one single cause. The overarching category that seemed to best serve that purpose: the homeless fail to trust in Christ.

We explored the logic a bit. The most direct cure for homelessness, then, would be related directly to this last cause. The premise: if someone became homeless, then it was a sign of not trusting Christ. The extension: Therefore, in order to no longer be homeless, one should become a Christian. Supporting evidence: Some suggested it is taught by scripture, since David states, “I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his descendants begging bread.” (Psalm 37:25) As an objection: David himself had previously begged bread, which suggests that “the righteous” be considered in the plural sense of fellowship among God’s people (he and his men having received sustenance from within the tabernacle of God). Conclusion: Toward the goal of avoiding such solidarity, or the empathy and/or compassion to which sympathy would usually lead us, the remedy more clearly grasped is a rationalized antipathy toward others. Especially toward those for whom we imagine being beyond any remedy to their presumably self-inflicted circumstances.

A dish best served hot...with tea.

Facing the Reality of Choosing Our Direction

So, sympathy may lead to greater involvement. It may frustrate us by revealing needs we don’t fully understand. And some toward whom we show sympathy may be in need for self-inflicted causes. Worst of all, however, we cannot consistently hold onto sympathy in our voluntary, intentional identification with others. That leaves two choices. Either we accept that others’ circumstances, if allowed to affect us, will lead us to compassion, if not empathy and solidarity. Or we accept that we will concoct as many rationalizations as necessary to justify our antipathy toward our fellow human beings, persons created by God to bear His image and likeness.

However difficult the first option may be, it is far preferable to abandoning our calling to cruciform, sacrificial servanthood. Choose sympathy, and let the Lord lead where He may.

Unity in and among Diversity (Overview): Four Levels of Voluntary and Intentional Engagement, But Still Limited

Community, not Conformity.

Unity in and among our diversity as congregations and communities doesn’t just happen. Much less can we simply state that it exists, without personally committing to making it a reality. I explored this in the Introduction to this series (June 28, 2014), noting the necessity of looking beyond the “indicative” (“we are one because we are all in Christ,” or “because we live in the same community,” etc.) to the “imperative” (“we must work intentionally at being one with one another”).

Diversity? Or US in greater density?

But with so much negative experience in most of our lives, both at the hands of “others” and as a result of seeking unity with others, how do we do that?

In a recent post, Paul Louis Metzger notes, regarding racial reconciliation in particular, that those within the dominant culture hold the greater responsibility to lead in “going down that rabbit hole of racial tension.” (You can find his full post here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/07/the-rabbit-hole-revisited/) I’m not sure that I can agree with Dr. Metzger, especially given Paulo Freire’s insistence that legitimate change can only be initiated by those exploited and oppressed by the dominant class. I find more resonance in Dr. Metzger’s conclusion that “Loving mutuality is essential.” And yet, the question remains, “How?”

I would like to believe that a universal depth of relationship, “the universal sibling-hood of all humankind,” is possible among all our diversity as individuals, groups, communities, congregations, and other categories. But I have found that the intentional, voluntary identification I seek to establish with others has its limitations. From my own observations and experiences, I would suggest that there are four levels of intentional, voluntary identification with others: Sympathy, Compassion, Empathy, and Solidarity.

Collaboration assumes common goals.

In explaining these levels however, I offer two “caveats” (“grains-of-salt” warnings about my personal limitations in both perspective and presentation). First, I acknowledge that my definitions may not match yours, and that many use these (especially the first two) four terms interchangeably. Second, my aim may be too high. I want to describe levels of identification that are independent from temporary evaluations of our personal costs and benefits. For example, a relationship initiated in conflict may reach a depth that continues even when the conflict has been understood, addressed, and concluded. I want to allow for both rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep, even where we have been tempted to rejoice at another’s weeping, and to have wept at another’s rejoicing.

In pursuing unity in and among our diversity, then, I believe we must differentiate among the following four levels: Sympathy, Compassion, Empathy, and Solidarity. Here’s what I understand those terms to mean.

• Sympathy – “To feel for” others allows only a limited identification with others’ experience, and is expressed most often only briefly and verbally (sometimes only in the words of Hallmark) before returning to one’s own personal concerns.
• Compassion – “To feel toward” others involves both identifying with and engaging others’ experience, and is still expressed in a brief and limited manner, but with some tangible action toward the other’s needs.
• Empathy – “To feel with” others requires having experienced similar circumstances, and involves expressing our identification through sharing the knowledge and/or wisdom we’ve gained, and often providing practical assistance known to have been helpful to us in our prior circumstances.
• Solidarity – “To feel as” others requires us to identify fully with others by choosing to experience their circumstances alongside them, and is only rarely expressed, largely because of the impossibility of investing significant resources, time, energy, and other elements in more than one given community at a time.

Why is Violet always ostracized?

I will address each of these levels in detail over the coming weeks, but there are also two other terms that should be more fully defined here.  

• Unity – As I explored in the “Introduction” post in this series, unity requires an intentional, voluntary identification with others. This is so, despite the fact that we often dismiss the impressive depth and breadth of the second important term to consider: “Diversity.”
• Diversity – We underestimate the ways in which we differ from one another, both as individuals and as groups. Any discussion of diversity must allow for the vast array of traits, backgrounds, experiences, passions, and other elements of “otherness” that precludes any individual or group from readily identifying with any other, or one another, much less all others.

Again, in the upcoming posts on this topic (all of which will begin with “Unity in and among Diversity” so that they will be more easily found among the other topics I cover), I hope to explain clearly how we can pursuing unity, not despite our diversity, but, more authentically and effectively, in and among our diversity.

Refining Fire (and the Hazards of Excessive Underbrush)

July 31, 2014 - ca. 8:30-9:00 p.m. - Fall River Mills, CA

As a young pastor, I remember my mentors describing themselves as frustrated firemen. We were called, they reminded me, to glorify God through the proclamation (spoken and enacted) of His word. We were to build maturity and ministry skills into our congregations. And we were to stand in the gap, delivering the resources God provides to the needs of the communities we were called to serve. And yet, they warned, it was often the case that any sense of vision, mission, and progress in ministry was shoved to the back burner as we ran from one conflict to another, pouring oil on troubled waters and putting out fires. I questioned the wisdom of such a focus, even as I fulfilled it. And over the years, I think I have discovered a better pattern in my ministry. More about that in a moment.

First, though, I need to tell you why this comes to mind at the moment. As you probably know, I live in the Intermountain Area of Northern California. We’re in the news at the moment. State of Emergency, mandatory evacuations, and the destruction of homes and businesses by the combination of three wildfires surrounding the Fall River Valley. To the south and southeast, the community of Little Valley is under evacuation order for the Bald Fire. To the northeast, Lookout is being evacuated due to the 3-7/Day Fire. And to the southwest of us, the Eiler Fire has forced the evacuation of Johnson Park, and is threatening the 3500 residents of Burney.

All four photos from back deck of my home.

What’s most interesting to me is a conversation arising repeatedly in the midst of concerns for packing family photos and heirlooms, planning escape routes around the road closures, offering housing to the displaced, and causing traffic hazards by watching the fires, trucks, airplanes, helicopters, and other unusual sights instead of the road. In the midst of all this, most of us find time to discuss underbrush. Specifically, its presence, absence, and/or relative density.

Why is underbrush so important to us up here? As it’s been explained to me by people who not only majored in Forestry, but have practiced the art for most of their adult lives, it’s underbrush that turns a routine, manageable forest fire into the explosive monster that is described in the U.S. Forest Service’s incident reports as running and torching, with long range spotting, rapid rates of spread, and showing “resistance to control (that) is very high” due to “unstable, old decadent brush.”

These are of the "Bald Fire."

Forest fires have occurred for as long as there have been forests and lightning. When they occur naturally, I’ve been told, they keep the underbrush burned out, only rarely topping into the trees because of the limited temperature and duration of the relatively low level of fuel on the forest floor. Why, then, are we seeing the kinds of wildfires we are experiencing, three-at-a-time, in what should be some of the best-managed forests in North America? “Over a hundred years of fire suppression,” was the answer I got. The build-up of underbrush allows the fire to burn hot enough, long enough that it becomes the beast exhibiting “extreme fire behavior” that was described earlier as “exploding” and continuing to “burn in all directions.”

My understanding of Fire Science is minimal. I’m sure some feel that excessive underbrush has little or nothing to do with our current troubles. Certainly, if it was an issue, some would assume, then it would have been addressed long before the destruction of so many homes, businesses, and communities. Maybe so. Probably not. Why am I so doubtful?

Because my understanding of Church is not minimal. And there, excessive underbrush, the continued build-up of dangerously volatile issues, continually collecting while we “put out fires,” making sure that there is hardly ever any open conflict among us…until something touches off the wildfire, the church-fight, the church-split, and (between some congregations/denominations/traditions, we should just as well admit it) church-wars.

The other two fires are the "Eiler" and "Day 3-7" fires.

Our conflict-avoidant behavior requires us to treat minor annoyances, petty squabbles, and most other disputes with analgesics—pain killers. We “agree to disagree.” We “forgive and forget.” We “let bygones be bygones,” and “bury the hatchet.” We pretend that the conflict is resolved, when all we’ve really done is refuse to face, focus, and fix the conflict.

When we pretend that “little fires” can be put out so easily, we often leave those who have hurt and/or been hurt by them to smolder. Even where the flare-ups are extinguished entirely, though, we simply leave the fuel to build up, until something else ignites in close enough proximity that it all goes up together.

What can we do instead? The pattern I’ve discovered isn’t a new one. It’s twenty centuries old. Jesus gave it to us in Matthew 18:15-18. But because it is so rarely practiced, it only gets tried when the stakes, and the flames, are already at their most extreme.

As an alternative, try facing the conflicts, even the littlest ones. Build the relationships among us by focusing clearly on where we disagree. And fix any damage to the solidarity in our families, to our oneness as members of Christ’s body (the Church), and to our mutual interests as a community, by realizing that we may not entirely reconcile our diverse viewpoints, but that in dialogue with one another we can reconcile our relationships together.