Our inadequacies and mine
I just had an email exchange, in the last few days, with one of my oldest and best friends, about Jesse Helms.
My friend and I were college roommates, student and coach on our college debate team (Carson was the strongest debate coach I ever had, by far), fellowtraveling liberals, and good friends.
We both came from a ideological background of young liberals who had, generally, grown up hating Jesse Helms for his unfailing bigotry, intolerance, and mean-spiritedness. Amongst liberals, Jesse Helms was everything that fueled liberal self-righteousness. He was everything that liberals hated amongst what they thought was common to conservatives, without them acknowledging it. He was stupid, base, narrow-minded, and nasty. And his polarizing attitudes and politics earned him the derision of liberals. And I was writing a friend who could share in my revulsion for this man and his legacy.
I still believe those things are true. Jesse got better by the end. He embraced more compassion with his advocacy of tripling the American foreign aid budget for addressing the crisis of AIDS in Africa. He never apologized publicly, that I heard, or took any real responsibility for his racism and homophobia. But he did move away from his racism, at least, hiring none other than James Meredith, the first black student accepted to the University of Mississippi, and I hope his repulsion for homosexuality and homosexuals. And he showed real compassion for the millions suffering with AIDS, disease, and poverty in Africa and much of the world.
More importantly, Jesse had many good qualities, all along, that liberals, like me, overlooked in their own revulsion for his hateful and small-minded attitudes.
Jesse Helms took American freedom, sovereignty and his opposition to the totalitarian Soviet dictatorship seriously. His advocacy of the cause of Soviet dissident, Miroslav Medvid, who was disgracefully returned to Soviet hands by President Ronald Reagan days before a American-Soviet summit, helped make far less likely that Medvid would face KGB retribution. Helms was a public and needed critic of the United Nations, both of its flaws and of real and potential incursions on American sovereignty and self-determination.
Helms took many stands that I agree with, today, generally for reasons very different than the Senator. I share his concerns about forced busing and forms of integration that attempted to force racist whites in the South, and racist blacks, for that matter, to overcome their racism, a task that force could not possibly accomplish. I also share his skepticism of government taking on unsustainable commitments to the welfare of Americans and people around the world that I think are better and would be more generously funded by private and voluntary donors, long term.
Whereas Jesse Helms often seemed to oppose such measures out of sympathy with the racism and small-heartedness of too many of his fellow North Carolinans and Americans, sentiments that, his apologists' protestations to the contrary, I believe he often shared, I oppose such measures based on what I think is a more realistic assessment of what people are and will be willing to do in changing attitudes in more compassionate and generous directions, to genuinely look out for the interests of their fellow Americans and human beings, in the most sustainable way possible, voluntarily and of their own free will, and to do so in the most honest, proactive, diverse, caring, generous, successful, and responsible ways possible.
So Jesse and I differ in some pretty substantial ways. Where much of Jesse's worldview was animated by his bitterness, pettiness, and opposition to those many things in the world he hated, I am primarily driven by my love for humanity and others and my genuine concern for their welfare and policies most likely to care for their welfare. I do think that is the most real difference between Jesse Helms and, I hope, many of his fellow Americans and citizens of the world, and much of the reason why I was offended by the authority he wielded in one of the most powerful representative bodies in the world.
Having said all that, I saw something else, these past few days.
I saw one of the clearest examples of the aphorism that I have worked to live by in my life probably more than any other.
It was an aphorism by a common hero of Jesse Helms' and mine. It was a great man who lived thousands of years ago who was persecuted and murdered for his commitment to his fellow men and women. And he had one of the most astute and powerful observations of the human condition of any I have known.
Jesus of Nazareth, in the years previous to 26-36 A.D./C.E., made what I regard as one of the most notable comments on the human condition of any I have ever heard. There are many variations on it. But the essence, as found in the King James biblical version, is this:
"And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?"
I've always said that Jesus' question was better aphorism than approbation. It's a better straightfoward observation of human nature than something to chastise our fellow human beings with. And I very much doubt that Jesus meant it as a chastisement, given that a genuine commitment to not passing judgment was a fundamental commitment of his life and teachings.
I am a soft atheist (I attend the Christian church I attended as a child, Unity Church, and find more in common with Christian believers than I find difference) and was a Christian youth leader as a young man. I am a spiritual ecumenical and a political indepenent, today. I am atheist as a technical matter; I don't believe there is enough evidence to warrant the existence of a supernatural being that runs the affairs of humanity. I have no particular stake in the legacy of Jesus of Nazareth as messiah, as the son of God, as a great leader, as a great man, or anything of the kind.
I just believe that he was a great man. And that this teaching he had to offer, along with his commitment to love, compassion, forgiveness and other central virtues of the human condition, are some of the most important and too often denigrated virtues that humanity has to offer.
It is a central commitment of my life to treat others as I would want to be treated. To love others as I would want to be loved.
And I realized over the course of the last few days that this has been a serious failing of mine, a beam that has sat in my eye for most of my life, while I concentrated on the splinters in the eye of Senator Helms.
Jesse Helms had ugliness to be repulsed by, that is for sure.
But that is the whole point of Jesus' teaching.
The bitterness, pettiness, and ugliness of others does not justify our own.
And I have been justifying my own bitterness, pettiness, and ugliness toward Jesse Helms my whole life in the name of pointing to the same in Jesse.
I am embarrassed by this blindspot. Not because I haven't experienced it before. I have experienced it a million times, before, of course. I am embarrassed because it was the very same blindspot that I so abhorred in Jesse as a young man.
And the truth was that I was being harsh with Jesse in the very same way that I felt he was harsh with the world.
And I am embarrassed that it took Jesse's death for me to see that.
It's one of the wisest observations about human nature that I have ever known:
We are more likely to see see the splinter in our neighbor's eye than the beam in our own. We are more likely to see the faults in others than the faults in ourselves. And we are likely to use others' shortcomings to rationalize our own. It is one of the wisest observations about politics, nevertheless people. And it is true of me as much as anyone else.
I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm sorry all I could see was your faults and not my own frailties. And, worse, that I used your weakneses to excuse my own.
Godspeed, Senator Helms. Rest in peace, Jesse.