Neighborliness is still possible, and more needed than ever

Published 1:30 am Wednesday, July 20, 2022

The other day I had coffee with a friend. We were discussing our personal tendency to (try to) be peacemakers. We wondered out loud if, in reality, we’re just cowards.

“Sometimes,” I told my friend, “I feel like my efforts to bring people toward a middle are like someone standing up in eastern Ukraine today and saying, ‘Come one, everyone! There are two sides to every story!’”

No matter who that person might be standing near, the next thing they’d experience would be a blow to the head (or worse). And, to be honest, maybe they’d deserve it.

For my own part, I’ve spent a lot of time licking my own emotional wounds these days. I’ve become more reactionary and conservative. I went back to my theological roots for a time to get re-grounded in my own particular expression of the faith. And I sought out more conservative sources for news and social commentary, rather than simply filtering things through my own perspective as I listen to NPR and read The New York Times.

And, let me tell you, I hate it.

Don’t get me wrong. Some of this has been really good. I would even say it’s been necessary (for myself, anyway). But it’s also put me into the same “us vs. them” mental dichotomy that I’ve long felt was my personal mission to critique.

When I listen to NPR, for example, white, straight, cis-gendered, male, evangelical Christians like myself are pretty much always the bad guys. It’s like watching a “Law and Order: SVU” episode. Is there a white, conservative Christian (or even pastor?) in the story? He’s the bad guy. If he didn’t do it, he (or she) has done something even more horrible than the crime they’re investigating.

So I have to listen to the news on my toes. I have to be thoughtful — critical, but still open-minded. The commentators have something to say, after all, even if they treat folks like me as somewhat of a meme.

But when I turn to a conservative news source, suddenly people like me are the heroes. Those who always paint folks like me with suspicion are the villains, and jerks too! It feels good for a minute — but oh boy. A lot of things that feel good (or taste good, or look good) can also kill you. In part, at least — speaking to you Bible-savvy folks out there — isn’t that kind of the point of Genesis 3?

A few weeks ago I had coffee with two fellow ministers. One was a Roman Catholic priest, the other a progressive Protestant who also happens to be an ex-evangelical. We had a really good time and even prayed together before we left. A couple of centuries ago, the priest and we Protestants would have been trying to kill each other. And the priest and that baby-baptizing mainliner would have both been trying to kill an “anabaptist” like me.

We “traditional Christians” (the Catholic and me) would have decried the liberal Protestant as a heretic, and the two “confessional Christians” (the mainline Protestant and the Catholic) would have shunned an “enthusiast” like me. Sitting around sipping coffee and talking about church life would have been the last thing on our collective agenda.

But fast-forward to today and there we were. Neighbors, colleagues, and friends.

Sometimes I still hope our society can be more like those pastors I was with. Our beliefs are hardly identical. We all pastor different churches, after all. Politics almost certainly divide us. So do theology and tradition. But there’s a commonality that grounds us (in our case, our faith and careers), and a commitment to be cordial — even curious —about what makes us different.

After the overturning of Roe, someone told me that the days of my “let’s agree to disagree” messages were over. Maybe they’re right. Perhaps peace is behind us and ahead of us lies only war.

But there’s a part of me that believes neighborliness is still possible. In fact, I believe it’s our society’s single greatest need. Is that the hope of a coward who hates conflict? Absolutely. But I’d like to think it goes deeper than that.

Mike Ivaska is the pastor of Vashon Island Community Church.