Ironicschmoozer’s Weblog

Sunday, March 18m 2012

Unitarian Universalist Society, Sacramento

Hymns: Wake Now, My Senses; Spirit of Life/Fuente de Amor; Blessed Spirit of My Life.

Prayer:   by Harry Meserve

Singing the Living Tradition #496

From arrogance, pompousness, and from thinking ourselves more important than we are, may some saving sense of humor liberate us. For allowing ourselves to ridicule the faith of others, may we be forgiven.  From making war and calling it peace, special privilege and calling it justice, indifference and calling it tolerance, pollution and calling it progress, may we be cured.  From telling ourselves and others that evil is inevitable while good is impossible, may we stand corrected.  God of our mixed up, tragic, aspiring, doubting, and insurgent lives, help us to be as good as in our hearts we have always wanted to be.  Amen.

Sermon

Sometimes when I read an article about politics on a website, I scroll down and look at the reader comments.   Big mistake!  The lack of respectful conversation–or any true conversation–stuns me.  Many who disagree with the writer or dislike the subject will say unfair things about the people involved or the writer.  When their opinion is the opposite of mine, their hateful comments can make my blood boil.  If their position is one I agree with, then a cheap shot will embarrass and dishearten me:  “Wait, I’m on the same side of the issue, but I can’t bear to be associated with such mean-spirited people.”  The back-and-forth attacks really upset me.  And bad spelling makes it worse.

Yet I must confess, when I’m reading my email, if I feel impatient, hurt, misunderstood, or angry, I have an urge to fire off a righteous retort or a defensive blast.  It’s so easy to vent by hitting the send button, and then regret it later.  Of course, the internet didn’t give birth to potshots and hurtful or

hateful words, it only gives them a powerful platform, always at the ready.

We live in an age of anxiety and quick anger.  It’s easy to take offense, and then hang on to it.  Reactivity and righteousness spill over into all our relationships:  family, friends, groups and organizations.

Even though it can be destructive, such behavior is based in our survival instincts.  It comes from the ancient part of our brain—the reptilian part.  The stimulus for survival takes place in a part of our head where brain activity is automatic.  Consider:  when a reptile sees another being, it does not ask, “Can I eat it?”  or, “Will it eat me?”   Its brain just reacts automatically.  It does not reflect.   From this reptile brain comes our so-called “fight or flight” response.  There is no rationalizing, just an impulse.  We have impulses of which we are not conscious.

Joseph LeDoux, a neuroscientist at New York University, writes:  “Contrary to popular belief, conscious feelings are not required to produce emotional responses.  [Our feelings] . . . involve unconscious processing mechanisms.”[i]  These are primitive circuits, he says.  Through evolution, they have been passed along to all mammals, including us.

Even so, what makes humans different from other animals is our ability to think about the future, assess alternatives, make plans.  We can reflect on the consequences of our actions.  Unless, of course, the reptile brain leads us to react, without reflecting first.

Yet it’s not always easy to reflect.  The part of our brain known as the amygdala “can activate [our] arousal system,” if it senses danger, according to LeDoux.  This can affect how our nervous system will process experiences in the future.  The body’s responses to pain can affect the thinking parts of the brain.  In other words, our mental and physical memory of painful events can lead us to react in fearful ways, even when there is no current threat.  Panic disorders come to mind, as does post-traumatic stress.  Things that objectively should not seem threatening can stimulate a given fear and generate a “fight or flight” reaction.

Few things annoy me more than to be told I am overreacting! However, I can see that a reaction out of proportion to a perceived harm or threat could be a habit of mine, or at least a habit of my nervous system.  We can manage our habits for the better, or we can make habits worse.

Because I work and study in the field of religion, I’ve learned a lot about the damage done to congregations by people and groups who let their reptile brains lead their actions.  Peter Steinke is a family therapist, Lutheran pastor, and organizational consultant.  He studies and works with churches in painful conflicts, and this keeps him busy.  At a workshop I attended some years ago, Steinke said, “Not only is church conflict a growth industry, it is getting meaner and nastier.”[ii] In just a few years, his work with congregations in distress had grown by 200%.  In many conflicts, some people can be very mean.  They do things to one another or say things about one another in contradiction to their stated religious principles.

But churches are not unique.  All kinds of organizations have conflicts, some of them in violation of their stated principles and ethics.  In corporations, clubs, charities and schools; in committed couples and in families, humans have disagreements and stress.  It is part of being in relationship. What matters is how we manage ourselves in the midst of conflict, and how we settle our differences.

In Steinke’s view, most conflicts have to do with anxiety in the system.

Anxiety, of course, is normal.  It is our longtime companion.  Steinke said: If you don’t have some anxiety, you’ll never make any changes.  Just as the pain felt when you touch a hot stove burner can make you pull your hand away, anxiety can serve you in good ways.  For example, the anxiety of loneliness can provoke a person to search for a place of community, for friends, or for a partner.  Problems in society can provoke the anxiety of sadness, frustration, or outrage.  These feelings may lead a person to get involved in making a difference.

The word anxiety comes from a Latin word which means to strangle or choke.  That describes the physical sensation of being in a state of high anxiety.  And, just as we don’t get enough air if we’re being choked, if we’re highly anxious we have less ability to give attention to the options we can choose when facing a challenge.  Anxiety can cloud our awareness the way muddy water clouds a pond.  It can keep us from seeing clearly.

Steinke identified several triggers of anxiety in congregations.  These triggers include the issues of theology, authority, music, money, leadership styles, worship styles, and staff changes.  Anxiety in church life can be provoked by any change between something old and something new.  Fast changes can be disconcerting, yet the slowness of change can be frustrating.  Growth can trigger anxiety in churches, but so can numerical decline.  Sexuality is a charged issue as well.  Imagine all the anxiety in those denominations and churches still unresolved on the status of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender church members or the credentialing of gay ministers.

Issues having to do with property, buildings and space are also triggers for stress in a system.  Steinke said this is understandable, for building issues are territory issues.  Territory is a matter of survival for all animals, including us.  Territory—maybe this is why moving is a big source of stress, as well as kitchen and bathroom renovations.

So it seems, a church is a minefield of human stressors—but so is any relationship of importance.  In any setting, anxiety-triggers have to do with our sense belonging and safety, with identity and inclusion.  We want to be connected to others in meaningful ways.  At the same time, we want to assert our identity and be recognized as individuals.  In human evolution, identity and belonging have been matters of protection and survival.   Even if we can understand the origins of stress and conflict, this doesn’t make it hurt any less.

In all social institutions, Steinke said, there’s been a trend of conflicts with more secrecy, deceit, lying, and self-righteousness.  Some groups not only want to get their way, they want to be seen as right.  They not only want to be right, they want to punish the losers.  I’ve been here for four years, and I think our congregation shows healthy habits, has good skills to engage in disagreement and to respond well in times of challenge and anxiety.

Yet in the country at large, we find ourselves in another big election year.  Self-righteousness is on the rise, perhaps more than ever.   On television, radio and the internet, all the shouting and interruptions, the attacks and accusations, appeal to the combativeness of our reptilian brain.  Yet even as they excite us, they raise our anxiety.  They don’t bring us together, they separate us.

In a family system or in an organizational one, anxiety can spread.  It can be contagious.   According to Peter Steinke, when a group experiences anxiety, there is “an automatic shift of attention and energy” away from reflection and into action.  Under stress we are less clear about all the options available to us. The more a group feels the grip of its anxiety, the less available the group’s values will be for it to draw upon.  This is often why people in organizations can commit acts that violate the group’s own ethical values.  They do not respond, they react.  Sometimes individuals, sometimes whole communities, just react.

However, anxiety is a normal emotion.  Sometimes it can help us.  The question is not how to repress it, but what to do about it when it emerges.  If we recognize anxiety—and respect it—we might keep anxiety from ratcheting up, feeding on itself, tightening its grip.

There are steps we can take, as individuals or by group agreement.  For example, I mentioned how tempting it is to put my anxiety into an email.  For this reason, I try to avoid having important conversations by email.  It’s too easy for my words to be taken in a way I did not intend, and easy for me to take another’s words wrong.  If, as happens now and then, I decide I will write an email about an issue of some tension or confusion, I try to write a draft and save it for a day, to sleep on it before sending it.  This practice lets me vent my feelings, and it lets me reflect.  I may revise an email after sleeping on it.  Or I may delete it, and pick up the telephone instead.

Steinke gives the same advice to families having troubles that he does to leaders of churches in conflict.  This is to maintain clear boundaries between yourself and others.  First, be aware that you need not own another’s anxiety, and need not take responsibility for it.  Second, learn to recognize your own feelings of anxiety.  Own your anxiety, but not that of others.

One way that families and groups avoid inflaming tensions is by the use of  I-statements. For example, “I believe that…” is better than “Everybody agrees…” or “It’s clear for anyone to see that….”

In a stressful conversation or disagreement, Steinke advised, don’t label others or question their motives.  Instead, say how you feel, where you are coming from, what your intentions are.   Rather than make accusations about another’s motives, one can say, “I feel….” or “My intention is….”  Rather than demanding, one can say, “I would like this…”  or “I am making a request that….”

Rather than attacking another person for making a demand we don’t like, we can say “I am not able to do that,” or, if necessary, “I am not willing to do that….” The emphasis is on I and me, not on judging or labeling the other.  By using I-statements, we assert our own needs and set our limits without raising the stakes by accusing others.

It’s good to remember that we have no control over what other people do or say; we have a choice only about what we do.  In case of a verbal attack, it can be tempting to fire back a counter attack.  Steinke suggested more “I statements,” such as “I feel as if I’m under attack and I don’t like it.  I am not able to respond right now.”  Sometimes when I’ve heard hurtful words—about someone else or directed right at me—I’ll say “Ouch!”  That’s my I-statement.

Leaders can be lightening rods for anxiety—leaders of a country, or a congregation, or a family.  For example, a parent is in a leadership role with children.  It takes practice to keep from taking a child’s outburst personally, and to keep from reacting in ways that ratchet up the anxiety.  In whatever setting you might provide leadership, it can hurt to be a lightening rod.  Yet in moments of anxiety, the most important influence we can have on a group is the choice of our own words and behaviors.

We shouldn’t take responsibility for another’s anxiety, but we should accept our own.  We can do this by being aware of our own feelings and experiences.  No need to repress feelings.  Not helpful to take them out on others.  We can recognize our emotions without reacting.  This calls for building our skills of self-awareness.

One way to do cultivate awareness is to sit quietly to be with our feelings, or go for a walk.  The poet Wallace Stevens wrote:  “Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”

A meditation teacher of mine has compared the practice of mindfulness to waiting for muddy water in a pond to settle.  The particles of mud ease to the bottom of the pond, and the water becomes clear.  So can it be with our minds.  This teacher has practiced mindfulness meditation for decades, yet even her mind can play tricks on her.   For such an esteemed person, many of her habitual thoughts and feelings are less than flattering.

She admits that her mind and body go through reactions all the time.  Everyone’s  mind has its habitual thoughts, she says.  Mine does.  How about your mind?   She says that her habitual thoughts and feelings include boredom, irritation, resentment, grief, and judgment.  Funny, I thought those were my habits.

Even when going for a walk, or sitting calmly, watching the breath or eating a meal, her attention wanders.  The attention jumps to habitual thoughts, especially those of self-blame or self-criticism.  But when she notices the mind doing this, she tries to be kind about it.  Rather than judging herself for habitual thinking, she just recognizes it.  She nods and smiles and takes a breath.

In fact, she regards her habits of mind as her longtime companions, never to leave her.  When irritation, self-blame, arrogance or any other unpleasant thought arises in her mind, she greets it:  “Hello, judgmentalism, my old friend.” She does not try to fight it off, she just sees it and feels it.

“Ah, resentment there you are again.  Welcome!”

“Ah, craving, here you are.  Welcome back!”

“Hello, self-loathing, my old pal.  I recognize you.  I bow down to you.”

She does not fight the feeling.  She allows it a moment in the spotlight, but then she lets it be.  She gives it a bit of space in the corner of her awareness, but not the whole room.[iii]

I’ve tried her approach in my own practice—and haven’t often been successful.  Yet by this stage in life, I am unlikely to discard all of my stubborn mental habits.  Rather than despair, I’ll try to see my habitual thoughts and reactions as my longtime companions.   They’re along for the journey, but not in charge of it.

Whatever feelings might arise, they are merely our companions; they need not be our drivers.  Perhaps we can try to put this idea into practice.  When anxiety that comes up—notice it, look at it, even smile at it.  Take a breath.

It’s not necessary to do the first thing that any impulse tells us to do.  Our anxiety may not have all the truth about a situation we’re in.  Especially if it’s hot or strong, our anxiety may need us to take it for a walk around the lake.

Perhaps the practice of awareness is a way to peace—within ourselves, in our communities, in the world.  We can aware of what we’re feeling.  We can own our feelings and recognize the feelings of others.  We can practice patience.

Let us keep a little place for the reptile in our heads.  Let us give it good care.  But a reptile shouldn’t run our lives.  With courage and kindness, let us accept our emotional experiences, and notice our habits of mind.  With courage and kindness, let us practice the ways of peace.  May it be so.  Amen, and blessed be.