I grew up during the counter-cultural turbulence of the ’60s and early ’70s, an ethos that so permeated every aspect of life that it, ironically, became culturally normative . . . which is exactly when it ran out of steam, inevitably distilling down to the most banal caricature of its demands. And it has been my experience that every iteration of “counterculture” ever since has been a case study in railing against The Man, with the self-involved zeal of discontent. But let’s face it: the status quo has always been broken. So our impulse to go against the flow makes complete sense – except for the way we always end up making it about ourselves . . . which is why it remains broken.
We start out wanting to overthrow the powers that be – only to realize we’ve become another iteration of the power that needs to be overthrown. In this way, the paradigm of viewing everything as a power struggle will only be able to foster an ever-escalating struggle for power. The combustible volatility of this has been on full display in all of our politics. We also experience it in the workplace when colleagues become rivals. And we find it at work in our homes between spouses, between parents and children, and children with one another. So, is it any wonder, given the ubiquity of our power struggles, that we speciously conclude that power struggle is inevitable? Which is why by default we participate in it . . . assuming that’s how things get done.
French philosopher Paul Ricoeur believed that by default, we interpret the world through the lens of suspicion, placing us in an adversarial relationship with everyone and everything in our lives. So, unsurprisingly, we feel powerless facing such a potential threat to our personal sovereignty, leading us to preemptively push back against any opposition – as if guided by some primal instinct to survive . . . as if maintaining our own personal status quo was of preeminent importance. It doesn’t take much imagination to see how such paranoia begins to feed upon itself, ever driving a wedge between us, ever allowing our fears to control us.
So, what would it be like to live fearlessly — to live as if each situation we find ourselves in were a new opportunity to love our neighbor as ourselves? Jesus, in the Sermon On The Mount, gives us a glimpse of what such a subversion of culture would look like. In Matthew 5: 38-42, Jesus invites us to offer generosity to those who would attempt to shame us – then Jesus brings this challenging invitation to a crescendo in verse 44, admonishing us to love our enemies. The apostle Paul describes such generosity in Romans 12:20 as lovingly disarming those who would shame us – because when we choose to respond to hate with love, then hate can only smolder until it burns itself up.
Back in the 60s, those who marched with Martin Luther King Jr pledged themselves to non-violence, knowing full well that they would be facing violent opposition to their claim of civil rights. In this way, the righteousness of their cause could be seen in full contrast to those determined to shame them into silence. But had they responded to hate with hate, then it would have been seen as just one more iteration of protest. But by loving their enemies by not returning evil for evil, they became a clarion call to what loving our neighbor as ourselves could look like. To which I say – go now, and do likewise.
It’s time we begin a new legacy by rediscovering what it means to love our neighbor as ourselves.
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