Pick your translation of a single word and you can spin diametrically opposing views of history. That’s what makes religion so interesting – and so dangerous.
I would like to offer a tweak or mild critique of the ending of your New Year’s Day substack essay, “Whose Side is God on, Anyway?": “The world is divided into [deletion by brackets and additions in caps] [two] THREE FACTIONS right now. Those who talk AND LISTEN, THOSE WHO SHOOT THEIR MOUTHS OFF, and those who shoot.” Murder that targets a group and is fueled by paranoia or hatred is shocking but relatively rare; more common is the poisoning of minds by hateful speech, a poisoning that can incite the shootings and unquenchable resentments that scar our civil society. (This causal cycle is suggested by a cultured but ultimately naïve comment set in 1899 Vienna in Stoppard’s lastest play, Leopoldstadt (page 27): “Prejudice dies harder, but has the mayor [Karl Lueger, who based much of his political appeal on antisemitism, a political strategy that influenced Hitler] physically harmed a single Jew?”) Apart from preventing immediate deadly incitement, America cannot ban such speech, but we should promote ways to counter its message and undercut its appeal.
I offer a trifocal vision of talking and shooting in part because the crucial arena for shaping greater understanding might not be located in Stamford or in other suburbs that are relatively affluent and diverse. In any event, the biggest challenge for thoughtful American Jews and Christians seeking a meaningful conversation about intergroup tensions and violence may be how to reach out to struggling individuals and communities that feel ignored socially and economically, particularly in urban ghettos and in declining suburbs and rural areas. One approach may be to leave this outreach to churches, which are more likely to have, or be able to develop, contacts with such communities. Even if that is so, it may be useful to consider bringing interfaith dialogues like those you have been having in Stamford to churches outside relatively confident suburbs.
I would like to offer a tweak or mild critique of the ending of your New Year’s Day substack essay, “Whose Side is God on, Anyway?": “The world is divided into [deletion by brackets and additions in caps] [two] THREE FACTIONS right now. Those who talk AND LISTEN, THOSE WHO SHOOT THEIR MOUTHS OFF, and those who shoot.” Murder that targets a group and is fueled by paranoia or hatred is shocking but relatively rare; more common is the poisoning of minds by hateful speech, a poisoning that can incite the shootings and unquenchable resentments that scar our civil society. (This causal cycle is suggested by a cultured but ultimately naïve comment set in 1899 Vienna in Stoppard’s lastest play, Leopoldstadt (page 27): “Prejudice dies harder, but has the mayor [Karl Lueger, who based much of his political appeal on antisemitism, a political strategy that influenced Hitler] physically harmed a single Jew?”) Apart from preventing immediate deadly incitement, America cannot ban such speech, but we should promote ways to counter its message and undercut its appeal.
I offer a trifocal vision of talking and shooting in part because the crucial arena for shaping greater understanding might not be located in Stamford or in other suburbs that are relatively affluent and diverse. In any event, the biggest challenge for thoughtful American Jews and Christians seeking a meaningful conversation about intergroup tensions and violence may be how to reach out to struggling individuals and communities that feel ignored socially and economically, particularly in urban ghettos and in declining suburbs and rural areas. One approach may be to leave this outreach to churches, which are more likely to have, or be able to develop, contacts with such communities. Even if that is so, it may be useful to consider bringing interfaith dialogues like those you have been having in Stamford to churches outside relatively confident suburbs.