Can We Ever Get Along?
Some blame the internet, for giving a measure of anonymity to folks who now post in more anger and name-calling than they would ever display in person.
Some blame our political climate, with people on both sides who will not listen to the other one.
Some blame the decline of manners in general, no longer enforced in many schools and obviously not taught in all our homes.
I blame Satan, who uses all of the above to foment not just division, but a level of loathing that leads to mindless violence and even killings.
So how can we pull out of these chains? How can we look at other people with genuine compassion, the kind Christ told us to feel? Can someone please cure hatred?
Come with me, for a moment, to a subway car, stuck between stops until someone can get the subway going again. Inside are three women, two middle-aged ones and a young, pregnant one. All are of different races and political stances.
Suddenly the pregnant one goes into labor. The other two women panic—They call for an ambulance, but they’re stuck between stops. One gulps, and pulls off her jacket. Another puts her sweater under the pregnant woman. Both of the older ones rinse their hands in a bottle of water, and begin offering assurances to the soon-to-be-mother.
“It’s gonna be okay,” one says. “Just breathe.”
“You’ve got this. We’re helping you,” the other says.
Both of them have given birth, and are now drawing on every memory they can think of, to help the agonizing pregnant one.
More words of encouragement guide the young one to breathe, to rest, to push, as the baby is slowly guided down the birth canal. You’re doing great, Honey. One more push. Your baby is almost here.
At last the head comes out, then the shoulders and the rest of the body. A cord is all that remains. It’s a boy! This is your baby! You did it!
Can I hold him? Thank you so much!
Tears of joy are on all their faces. Hugs and hand squeezes. They have just experienced something rare—bringing a new life into this world. And not once did they care about the other one’s race, politics, education, or money. They set aside all the ridiculous judging we do, and connected as human beings trying to help.
You see this in emergencies. People rally to rescue a child who has fallen into a well. Someone who is trapped in a collapsed mine. Soldiers in battle. We focus upon other children of God the way we’re supposed to—as brothers and sisters. For a few glistening moments, nothing matters more than helping someone else.
And it lasts. The women on the subway—all three of them—will get together again and celebrate their chance meeting. They’ll watch a little boy grow up and feel a sense of belonging. They’ll wonder if God planned for them to meet that day.
We can’t always have emergencies, and we wouldn’t want that. But we can see each other as people to love, people who matter, people we can help.
We’ll remember that most people are fighting some kind of secret battle, and we’ll be tender with our words and actions. We’ll look for ways to lift and love. We’ll slow down and see them as God does.
On social media we’ll look for ways to inspire and encourage. We’ll follow promptings to call a friend when a name pops into our mind. We’ll hold our tongues when we’re having our own tough days.
Mortality is actually a pretty quick journey, and there isn’t time to rage our way through it, if we want to grow and become more like our Savior. We have to consciously decide not to give in to the loathing and angst that laps onto our shores like steady tides. We have to choose to look within these people, find common ground, and find a way to give them the love they’re missing.
We can’t hug everyone, but we can give people a verbal hug. We can look for something to admire, to ask about, to delight in. We can find a way to be glad we met them, if only in a line or a crowd. They might be different from us in all the visible ways, but our hearts both beat, our feelings both get hurt, and our souls both soar when someone cares.
Would I jump in to rescue this person if he were drowning? Would I help deliver that woman’s baby? Would I watch their kids while they deal with a huge issue? Would I listen without arguing?
We can re-frame our first impressions of those we meet by asking such questions of ourself. We can find the love for them that Christ told us to have. He ministered one at a time, and we can do the same.
But what about people who are on the attack, who falsely accuse us, or who condone sin?
Elder Dallin H. Oaks has said, “On the subject of public discourse, we should all follow the gospel teachings to love our neighbor and avoid contention. Followers of Christ should be examples of civility. We should love all people, be good listeners, and show concern for their sincere beliefs. Though we may disagree, we should not be disagreeable. Our stands and communications on controversial topics should not be contentious. We should be wise in explaining and pursuing our positions and in exercising our influence. In doing so, we ask that others not be offended by our sincere religious beliefs and the free exercise of our religion. We encourage all of us to practice the Savior’s Golden Rule: ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them’ (Matthew 7:12).”
In 3rd Nephi, we read the Savior’s teaching, “For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another.” (3 Ne. 11:29)
Again and again, on both continents where we have records of Christ, He urged us to put away hatred and fury. His is the example we should think of when we feel tugged to join the fray. Then, instead of following the father of contention, we can follow the Prince of Peace.
Joni Hilton is a Latter-day Saint author, Seminary teacher, and shares life hacks at https://m.youtube.com/c/jonihilton