Who Do We Need to Become?

King Charles came to the US this week. In DC, ground zero for the sitting fascist-leaning regime, he was  greeted with pomp and circumstance, as well as billionaires in the double digits. First in the gilded oval office  and then in a state dinner in white tie formality, the proverbial and literal red carpet was rolled out, offering the  royal treatment to the rich and powerful.  

Next stop was NYC where a different story unfolded. Our Democratic Socialist Mayor, born in Uganda,  a British colony, the child of parents born in post-colonial India, met briefly with the King and Queen in a friendly,  casual exchange in Lower Manhattan. He then went on to other work and left the King to be escorted by former  mayor Michael Bloomberg to visit the 9-11 Memorial. NYC did not, as it happens, roll out a red – or any other  color – carpet.  

Mamdani is resisting the expectation that some people should be treated differently than other people. It’s  an awkward, maybe uncomfortable, but honest reflection of the reality that, king or not, Charles is a human being  just like everyone else. The crowns, the stolen diamonds, the red carpets, the titles, the castles, the books, the  celebrity are all social constructs the entire planet has agreed to abide. The visual of Mamdani greeting the King  and Queen warmly, joyfully, and briefly, felt like a surprising window into a world not yet.  

There’s a line James Baldwin wrote more than 60 years ago that feels both defiant and compelling. He  wrote: “The world is before you and you need not take it or leave it as it was when you came in.” This exchange  between the mayor and the king felt like a watercolor painting suggesting both the world as it is and the world as  it could be if we don’t “leave it as it was when we came in”. We neither have to accept this world, nor do we have  to leave it unchanged. In fact, I might suggest leaving it unchanged would be a sign of generational failure.  Mamdani demonstrated great courage and an elasticity of thinking in not accepting the parameters given to him  for this visit. He did not fall into the pattern of bowing to this ancient monarchy or believing the social construct  of royalty. One of the most alluring human temptations is to settle for too little. We were offered a master class in  graceful, confident resistance. 

In January, we started on a trajectory here on Sundays that has been attempting to prepare us for this  historical moment. I started by asking what we need so we can resist the oncoming fascist shift of our government,  which I believe has triggered the fall of the American Empire. I started with the question, “What’s happening”,  which opened up the reality that Truth has become difficult to discern. So, first I said we need to say what we  know without capitulating to the gaslighting, the propaganda, the false narrative being offered by the government  and media outlets, parroted by millions of people in every arena. And, I noted that emotional isolation makes that  Truth-telling difficult to do. 

The second question I posed was “What do we need to risk?” After that, we talked about revolution, and  by Earth Day we got specific about the world we dream about, the world we’re suggesting is worth the risk. The  final question, theoretically addressed today is, “Who do we need to become?” Last week we took a step back  and asked if this is really our work, if religious people should be active in the public and political realm. (Spoiler  alert: the answer is yes.) 

The work before us is multi-dimensional. Speaking truth, taking risks, building community – these all  have to be done and often simultaneously. One more thing we have to do, though, is the internal work, the spiritual  work, the deep rooting out of the ways this corrupted world has already taken over our psyches.  

If we are going to find our way to liberation, we have to decolonize our minds. Even more, we have to  make ourselves unavailable to colonization. When I watch Mamdani refuse the King, and turn down the invitation  to the Met Gala, I see a mind that has done or is doing this work, that is making himself unavailable. 

Colonialization is a system, a network of behaviors, habits, fears, accommodations we make all the time, often  without anyone knowing. We limit our imaginations; we settle for too little.  

And societal collapse comes when enough of us have done this, have limited ourselves and our hopes for  what’s possible, that we the people begin to activate and sustain the very systems that are harming us.  Over time, a colonized mind will say what is expected rather than what’s true.  

A colonized mind will avoid questions that might be dangerous.  

A colonized mind will narrow what could be possible.  

A colonized mind will confuse acquiescence with survival.  

A colonized mind will perform roles instead of being a whole or true self.  

A colonized mind will choose denial over reality. 

Eventually, it doesn’t feel like oppression. It feels like the way things are.  

So, how do we decolonize our minds? 

Compassion. Attention. Community. 

The ability to be attentive to suffering is one important pathway toward the reclamation of our True and  Best and Freest Selves, the rewiring of our hearts and minds. Seeing people and feeling their pain. Knowing their  pain is like our pain. Knowing that the way they have responded is the way we would have responded. Knowing  we are connected and dependent on one another.  

Let me see if I can get specific. I was reading a story about a person on her way to work after dropping  her kids at school, who was then captured by ICE and sent into detention. She is here without papers, officially,  but she’s been attending court dates and working toward legalization. The story noted the lack of food or showers  or medicine or beds in the detention center. It noted that no one told her kids who waited at school for hours not  knowing what was happening. The story offered many entry points for compassion, but lots of the people  commenting were unable to find it within themselves to do anything but blame, and even enjoy the suffering of  this woman and her family.  

The ability to remain attentive to suffering is what keeps the mind, the soul, from collapse.  Retaining or reclaiming our compassion is our connection to our deepest selves, is our lifeline toward  decolonization. It is our way to ensure we are not hardened by the suffering, that cultural cruelty doesn’t deny  people the ability to tell their stories, or deny us the ability to feel them. When so much is awful, when the chaos  is constant and the pain is global, turning it off can feel like a kindness. It’s not. It’s a capitulation. It’s the  acquiescence we think we need to survive. It is surrender.  

Compassion is liberation.  

Mamdani was avoiding headlines related to the king, focusing attention on his livability agenda, but when  pushed, he noted that the king should return a diamond stolen many generations ago. This is an example of  interconnected suffering and the accountability compassion leads us toward. He was aware of the ongoing hurt  that theft has created and that was the one thing he brought to the conversation.  

Life in this world can be painful. I’m not going to pretend it’s not. Facing reality, when reality is what we  have now, is heartbreaking.  

But that’s not all there is. In addition to compassion and attention on this path of decolonization, on this  path of liberation, there’s community. And in community, there’s joy. 

Isolation, leading to loneliness, is one of the ways the virus of fascism takes hold in our bodies.  Community is the cure. I’m talking about authentic, covenantal relationships. I’m talking about communities of  care. Communities devoted to truth-telling. Communities where Love is at the center, not in a performative way  but in a messy, committed, loyal, affectionate, honest way.  

This kind of community requires something from us. There’s an obligation. Warmth without commitment  is comfort not covenant. Mutual aid requires mutual demand. This kind of authentic relationship can become a  source of joy which isn’t used as escape, but as fuel. Joy provides a sustained aliveness. It gives us what we need  to endure, to retain compassion, to be in this fight for as long as it takes. Joy is what frees us up to imagine. And  without imagination we’re not going to build the new world. We’re not going to become free of this one.  

Are you in relationships that make bravery possible?  

Are you in relationships that allow you to be your whole and true self?  

Are you in relationships where you can tell stories of your pain?  

Where you can move from your pain into joy? 

Because without that, the calls to resistance are unfair. There is no way we can Resist, there is no way we  can decolonize our minds, there is no way we can sustain compassion, there is no way we can experience authentic  joy, there is no way we can become who we need to be in this moment. Without these things, the call to resistance  is asking something from us that conditions cannot support.  

I’m not sure I have this, but I can imagine it. I am sure we, together, can create this. We’re closer to it than  any community I’ve ever seen. 

And I’m not willing to give in to the temptation to settle for too little.  

I hope you’re not either. I hope you’re feeling as ambitious as I am.  

If we’re going to build something new, we’ll have to be sure not to lose the ability to trust what we know,  to risk what we must, to hold fast to one another in the spirit of love and compassion, to decolonize our minds, and to imagine a life that is not defined by what is already breaking.  

There is no way out of this spiritual work, every one of us is implicated. We are warriors in a revolution  that has begun quietly and without our consent. We are in it, making or not making the world. Let’s live  unambiguously declaring that we have no intention of leaving this world as we found it.