Welcoming Discomfort
Elliot Crary
September 15, 2017
Welcoming Discomfort: How our experiences with conflict and community drive us forward. Bridging between General Assembly and rallying in Phoenix, AZ.
I'd like to thank you all for inviting me to speak here this morning. I always enjoy visiting here, not just because it is my dad's congregation, but because I feel a strong sense of welcoming and community. No two Unitarian Universalist congregations are alike, but from the few I've seen, yours is truly unique. And I'll be honest, the scenery is definitely a plus. I really enjoy every time I visit here.
Today I'm speaking to you about discomfort. Discomfort is an interesting thing to me, because at first glance it seems like something entirely negative, something we'd be better off without. But what I have found, is that while discomfort can hold us back, it is vital in helping us grow. No true progress is ever made without discomfort, and as an ally for social justice, I can't assist as much as I can while staying inside my comfort zone.
I'd like to tell you three stories about some of my experiences welcoming discomfort.
Almost a year ago now, I visited standing rock, Indian reservation. It was a trip I made with my mother and three little brothers. We drove across the country for three days, spending the nights at motels. When we arrived we were greeted by welcoming faces, the smell of campfires, and the sounds of men and women working and children playing.
I went there ready to help however I could, but found that I knew little about the place or the people there. I had to trust in others and myself to do what I could, but ultimately learn that is was okay not to have an answer to every question, or a solution to every problem. Standing rock was different than anything I've experienced because it took what I had come to see as what society is and turned it around. Not everything was about maximizing efficiency - trust and safety were more important. Community was held as the highest value as we all worked towards the same goal.
Towards the end of my stay I witnessed the forgiving of a man who lost his way and broke the rules of the camp. It was inspiring to see such action taken to help this man stay apart of the community, and it reminded me a little bit of the process we take in repairing our covenant.
--
As I arrived at this year’s (2017) General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association in New Orleans, I found a discomfort inside myself.
I can now say New Orleans us one of my favorite places, but at the time I was not as familiar with the area. Although I had been there previously for the youth staff’s pre site meeting, I had never attended a General Assembly before and was apprehensive of my responsibilities and how I would perform them. I was uncomfortable. As I went through General Assembly, I pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone, whether it meant meeting lots of new people, or standing in front of the entire assembly and leading a chalice lighting. If I hadn't been willing to be uncomfortable and lean into a sense of the unknown it probably wouldn't have changed me as much as it did.
But even that discomfort was limited, I had a lot of support from my fellow staff, and was able to rely on them for help.
--
A few weeks ago in Phoenix, I felt a very different kind of discomfort. As some of you may know, at the downtown convention center a Trump rally was being held. I'm sure many of you have been to downtown Phoenix, I had already been myself, but for some reason the tall buildings surrounding me seemed more imposing than my previous visits.
The protesters were gathered to stand against the pardoning of Sheriff Joe Arpaio. Arriving at the protest, I was apprehensive that there would be violence from the other side, but when danger did arise, it wasn't for the reasons I thought it would be. Even when I went to pick up a poster to march with, I could only find one that I could feel good about holding, as all the others were full of profanity and hardly constructive at all.
I marched with the crowd and arrived at the convention center signs in hand and ready to protest against a hateful, divisive and violent opponent. But I did not find one. Because the people walking on the other side of the fence with their families and their dogs weren't that enemy that I had come all the way from Tucson to fight against. They were just people. People, who had different beliefs and values from me, sure, but as the side I stood with began to yell more obscenities and abusive language, I couldn't help but wonder if we were even the ones in the right. I was uncomfortable, but not because of the supposed enemy I stood against, but because the people around me were filled with the same hate that I thought we were trying to end.
After leaving the rally for a short time, my father and I learned that violence had broken out at the protest, and agreed to go back, while being careful and staying away from the danger. When the police forced the protesters back with tear gas and concussion grenades is wasn't because of the other side. It was a radical group who claimed to stand against fascism that threw projectiles at the police, causing them to retaliate in force. And the ones who paid the price for it were people of both sides, most not seeking violence in any way. I saw men and women staggering through the street with pepper spray dripping from their faces and clothing and I didn't know if they were on my side or not because it simply did not matter. As the protest gradually fell apart there stopped being to sides. And the illusion of our separation fell apart as the police sprayed and shot with rubber bullets at anyone who stood in the street.
As the protest was ending, one of the most meaningful conversations I had was with a nurse, who was sprayed with pepper spray by a police officer for simply filming the attacks. She told us that her entire medical career she believed the police were her allies, that they were on the same side. But the events of that night had broken that belief.
It is so easy to look outwards and judge the world we see around us, but it takes courage to look within and step outside our comfort zones. That's not something I am always able to do. But when we push ourselves to not shy from conflict, to look inwards and welcome discomfort we are the most ready to learn. In the end we're all just people, regardless of who we are and where we come from.
I'd like to again read you these words from our prayer from To Wake, To Rise:
This is the love that runs between us, sustaining force of restoration,
The love that nourishes and feeds us, binds us,
Each to our collective core.
We grieve … and march … and weep … and sing through the pain--but not despite it--
Love will repair us, not the same, but stronger in some places,
Honoring memories like treasures,
Living out our lives potential
In the shadow of the trespass
In the warmth of one another
In the light of what, restored, we will become.
If everyone did what was comfortable and easy we would never change or grow. When it comes to Unitarian Universalism, and ever growing and evolving religion we must constantly adapt to what is around us, but also what's inside us. We are the people, on all sides of the fence. We are the people, who welcome the different and the new. We are the people, whose community and faith are one.
September 15, 2017
Welcoming Discomfort: How our experiences with conflict and community drive us forward. Bridging between General Assembly and rallying in Phoenix, AZ.
I'd like to thank you all for inviting me to speak here this morning. I always enjoy visiting here, not just because it is my dad's congregation, but because I feel a strong sense of welcoming and community. No two Unitarian Universalist congregations are alike, but from the few I've seen, yours is truly unique. And I'll be honest, the scenery is definitely a plus. I really enjoy every time I visit here.
Today I'm speaking to you about discomfort. Discomfort is an interesting thing to me, because at first glance it seems like something entirely negative, something we'd be better off without. But what I have found, is that while discomfort can hold us back, it is vital in helping us grow. No true progress is ever made without discomfort, and as an ally for social justice, I can't assist as much as I can while staying inside my comfort zone.
I'd like to tell you three stories about some of my experiences welcoming discomfort.
Almost a year ago now, I visited standing rock, Indian reservation. It was a trip I made with my mother and three little brothers. We drove across the country for three days, spending the nights at motels. When we arrived we were greeted by welcoming faces, the smell of campfires, and the sounds of men and women working and children playing.
I went there ready to help however I could, but found that I knew little about the place or the people there. I had to trust in others and myself to do what I could, but ultimately learn that is was okay not to have an answer to every question, or a solution to every problem. Standing rock was different than anything I've experienced because it took what I had come to see as what society is and turned it around. Not everything was about maximizing efficiency - trust and safety were more important. Community was held as the highest value as we all worked towards the same goal.
Towards the end of my stay I witnessed the forgiving of a man who lost his way and broke the rules of the camp. It was inspiring to see such action taken to help this man stay apart of the community, and it reminded me a little bit of the process we take in repairing our covenant.
--
As I arrived at this year’s (2017) General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association in New Orleans, I found a discomfort inside myself.
I can now say New Orleans us one of my favorite places, but at the time I was not as familiar with the area. Although I had been there previously for the youth staff’s pre site meeting, I had never attended a General Assembly before and was apprehensive of my responsibilities and how I would perform them. I was uncomfortable. As I went through General Assembly, I pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone, whether it meant meeting lots of new people, or standing in front of the entire assembly and leading a chalice lighting. If I hadn't been willing to be uncomfortable and lean into a sense of the unknown it probably wouldn't have changed me as much as it did.
But even that discomfort was limited, I had a lot of support from my fellow staff, and was able to rely on them for help.
--
A few weeks ago in Phoenix, I felt a very different kind of discomfort. As some of you may know, at the downtown convention center a Trump rally was being held. I'm sure many of you have been to downtown Phoenix, I had already been myself, but for some reason the tall buildings surrounding me seemed more imposing than my previous visits.
The protesters were gathered to stand against the pardoning of Sheriff Joe Arpaio. Arriving at the protest, I was apprehensive that there would be violence from the other side, but when danger did arise, it wasn't for the reasons I thought it would be. Even when I went to pick up a poster to march with, I could only find one that I could feel good about holding, as all the others were full of profanity and hardly constructive at all.
I marched with the crowd and arrived at the convention center signs in hand and ready to protest against a hateful, divisive and violent opponent. But I did not find one. Because the people walking on the other side of the fence with their families and their dogs weren't that enemy that I had come all the way from Tucson to fight against. They were just people. People, who had different beliefs and values from me, sure, but as the side I stood with began to yell more obscenities and abusive language, I couldn't help but wonder if we were even the ones in the right. I was uncomfortable, but not because of the supposed enemy I stood against, but because the people around me were filled with the same hate that I thought we were trying to end.
After leaving the rally for a short time, my father and I learned that violence had broken out at the protest, and agreed to go back, while being careful and staying away from the danger. When the police forced the protesters back with tear gas and concussion grenades is wasn't because of the other side. It was a radical group who claimed to stand against fascism that threw projectiles at the police, causing them to retaliate in force. And the ones who paid the price for it were people of both sides, most not seeking violence in any way. I saw men and women staggering through the street with pepper spray dripping from their faces and clothing and I didn't know if they were on my side or not because it simply did not matter. As the protest gradually fell apart there stopped being to sides. And the illusion of our separation fell apart as the police sprayed and shot with rubber bullets at anyone who stood in the street.
As the protest was ending, one of the most meaningful conversations I had was with a nurse, who was sprayed with pepper spray by a police officer for simply filming the attacks. She told us that her entire medical career she believed the police were her allies, that they were on the same side. But the events of that night had broken that belief.
It is so easy to look outwards and judge the world we see around us, but it takes courage to look within and step outside our comfort zones. That's not something I am always able to do. But when we push ourselves to not shy from conflict, to look inwards and welcome discomfort we are the most ready to learn. In the end we're all just people, regardless of who we are and where we come from.
I'd like to again read you these words from our prayer from To Wake, To Rise:
This is the love that runs between us, sustaining force of restoration,
The love that nourishes and feeds us, binds us,
Each to our collective core.
We grieve … and march … and weep … and sing through the pain--but not despite it--
Love will repair us, not the same, but stronger in some places,
Honoring memories like treasures,
Living out our lives potential
In the shadow of the trespass
In the warmth of one another
In the light of what, restored, we will become.
If everyone did what was comfortable and easy we would never change or grow. When it comes to Unitarian Universalism, and ever growing and evolving religion we must constantly adapt to what is around us, but also what's inside us. We are the people, on all sides of the fence. We are the people, who welcome the different and the new. We are the people, whose community and faith are one.