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For those of us in the United States, in less than
a year there is going to be another presidential
election. I must admit that I am anticipating it
with dread, dread at the “options” that
will be made available to us, and dread at the possible
outcome. In the past, as with so many political
junkies, I always looked forward to these elections.
It is our version of the Super Bowl, actually more
like the World Cup. The anticipation was due to
the excitement of the contest, who would be the
front runner, who would win. Even when the outcome
wasn’t to my liking, there was always the
reassurance that there would be another chance the
next time as well.
On a more important level, the election would take
on a greater significance that went beyond the actual
contest or event. There was also an element to it
that carried with it a great promise and hope. That
promise and hope was due to a utopian impulse that
lurked deep inside, the hope that once the election
is over, and my side would win, wrongs would be
righted and injustices undone. With a loss there
was still the promise that even though we didn’t
quite make it, victory would be ours the next time
making it all the more sweet. But of course it never
quite works out that way. Even with victory, the
hopes would never be fulfilled and the promises
never met. Though the disappointment is expected,
it is hard to give up on hope, no matter how misplaced.
At the core of this belief, at the core of this
hope, is the assurance that somehow the system will
work and things will always work out. But I have
found over the years, as I have seen the causes
that I have advocated and the ideals that I have
defended take a beating time and time again, no
matter who wins, that faith and belief have become
strained and tested. This challenge in my belief
and faith in the hope of political redemption is
only a small part of the doubts and confusions I
am currently facing.
In one of my favorite scenes, in one of my favorite
movies, there is a conversation between the two
central characters following a moment of conflict
in which all of the anger and frustration that had
been building up to that point is let out. In a
tender, almost pleading voice the younger of the
two men tells the other that what the older man
believes in has to be more important than what others
think of him. Shaking his head, his eyes full of
tears, the older man replies that he doesn’t
know what he believes in any more.
When I first saw that movie close to twenty years
ago I identified more with the rebellious younger
man. He was making a stand based on his personal
integrity, willing to make whatever sacrifice was
necessary in order to stand up for his principles.
As I write this almost twenty years later, almost
twenty years older, I have begun to identify more
and more with the older man’s dilemma, with
his crisis of faith. The question becomes: how can
you stand up for your principles, for your beliefs,
when you are no longer sure what they are. For like
the older man in that scene described above, I am
also going through a crisis of faith, a crisis of
belief. The things I had been so certain of, the
basic structures of my worldview, have become uncertain,
shaky. My goals, my beliefs, my dreams have all
become unclear.
Let me state at the outset that I do not believe
that this has anything to do with one’s age.
There is no guarantee that one will have such a
crisis in one’s forties, or earlier or later.
Nor is this an intellectual exercise either. Such
a crisis starts out on a physical level. It appears
in the body as hollowness in the heart center, fullness
in the head, and weakness in the limbs. While a
physical examination will show that there is no
biological cause, the nagging feeling remains, perhaps
at an even deeper level. And you end up having two
choices. One is to smother this feeling, to force
it down and bury it, hoping that it will go away.
But it doesn’t go away – we only end
up cutting ourselves off from the parts of ourselves
that experiences the fear and discomfort. The other
option available to us is to explore what we are
experiencing. To let it wash over us, and see what
remains after we pass through.
It all seems so vague, so general, this feeling
that I am starting to allow myself to experience
– this time of doubt, of confusion. To give
up the moorings that I have been attached to for
so long is so painful, so hard, even though it has
been quite some time since the things I believed
were important had any relevance.
As I face this personal crisis of faith, I once
again turn to the older man in the movie I mentioned
above. It was only after he faced his crisis and
let go of the beliefs and ideals that he held on
to but were no longer true to him, that he found
the ideals and beliefs that mattered to him. And
maybe that is where the answer lies. The real promise,
the real hope, comes with giving up on hope in the
first place. To face the void and to be willing
to give up on the beliefs and expectations that
can not, should not, be held on to. By letting go
we can grow, by letting go we can move on.
I am just beginning to figure out what this means
in my personal life – though I am resisting
and struggling against this. I know this just makes
it harder, but maybe when I am through it, it will
turn out to be exactly what I had to do. The same
thing ends up happening as I begin to confront my
political ideals and beliefs. It is not so easy
to give up on these certainties, on the labels that
I have used to define myself by. These end up being
the same labels that others have used to define
me as well.
Given my explorations of myself and the world around
me, I can’t help wonder what this might mean
to our society at large, especially as we approach
the upcoming presidential election. As there are
events in our own lives that cause us to re-evaluate
and question our assumptions, the election of a
new president offers us the same opportunity as
a country.
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