Out of the Box

I want out. Out of the box. Out of whatever box people have me in. My heart and mind and soul call me out. The Christ of my faith calls me out.

I don't want to be in a Republican box or Democrat box, a conservative or liberal box. I don't want to be in any of the ideological or political religious boxes, either. I don't want to be in any boxes of inherently divisive identity. And I don't want to argue about political parties or political identity, save my freedom to be out of those boxes. It's all a frustrating waste of my time and yours. I want out.

Save me from the dance, the totentanz, of one step forward and two steps back spitting vitriol and hissing at each other through clenched teeth. Save me from the disingenuous who engage the debate offering up misleading information and shouting half-truths—for whom winning is more important than good answers or reasonable solutions, more important than serving and helping. Save me from those whose ersatz patriotism, faith or altruism declared artfully thinly veils self-interest, ambition, even avarice, the need for power, even control. I want out.

I want to talk about issues and answers, problems and solutions, building community and supporting people. I want to talk about respect for families (however those families may be arrayed) and different cultural identities in local and national community—in international community, too, however difficult the challenge, however frail and attenuated the reality. In these places, we can find common ground, respect, inclusion, can’t we?

Can’t I support or not support—or change my mind about supporting—an answer or solution without instigating ad hominem disparagement of people in different boxes, even me? Can’t we disagree on an issue and still find common ground on another—and respect each other in the process? Can’t we give more open-minded attention to the process, the way we identify issues, carry out inquiries, analyze findings—and agree on what we know and don’t know? Can we be rational? Can we do it together?

We can. And we can also agree that we have the potential for real community, and that that’s a good thing. We can listen to what other people are hearing, read what other people are reading, watch for what other people are seeing. We can try to understand. We can agree that we have responsibilities toward each other, for each other. We can allow this to inform our understandings, to raise our hopes and aspirations for community, too. (It is allowed.)

But can I be for economic growth and still place people and community first? For competitive markets and also for social justice? For free markets, but also protective laws? Can I be for individual opportunity, initiative, and reward, and still expect those who create or earn more to contribute more? Can I be for families, as I find mine, without being against yours, as you may find it? Can I be for freedom, mine, without denying you yours?

I can. And more, I can live by my faith and allow others to live by theirs, or not. I can live a faithful life—devout, in its own flawed way—without the need to legislate or force-feed my faith ideals on those who neither profess my faith nor have interest in it. I can be confident in how God reveals himself to me in the writings He inspires, in prayer, in community, in the Mystery of His intimacy with me—and still respect the faith orientations of others, and hear and see God in them. You can, too. (It is allowed.)

And if others claim a faith in God, can’t I expect to sense something of His presence in them? Can’t I expect more love than legalism? More forgiveness than judgment? Can’t I expect more humility than self-righteousness? More compassion and charity than self-interest and selfishness? Can’t I reasonably expect to sense their trust that God is in charge, and that others can make their own faith choices as they feel led by God, or not?

But you think I ask too much, don’t you? People can’t take me out of one box without putting me in another. I understand that. It’s just the sense of order we apparently need to live with who we are and the seemingly random, uncontrollable circumstances of life. We seem desperate to create or declare our own sense of order and profess cultural, ideological or religious faith in it—and with it, find comfort in identity. It’s just the way we are wired and put together. I may want out, but it doesn't seem to be part of the deal.

Is it also too much to ask, then, that others would respect me and let me grow in my own way in the box they have me in, and that I would treat them in the same way (even if we won’t openly concede that we have each other in boxes)? It probably is—too much to ask, that is—isn’t it? Oh, we could agree that it isn't, yes, but it wouldn’t last. However right and appealing it might be, it just doesn’t seem to be part of the deal either.

So, how about this: I’ll live my life as well as I know how, and others can do the same. We will try, so far as we are able, to respect each other. But failing that, we will politely tolerate each other. Civility. I can live with that. How about you?

First written: December 2004. Edited 2007, 2008
© Gregory E. Hudson 2007