Tuesday, June 5, 2007 at 1:01am
Even at gunpoint
Column: Life at First Sight
I recently heard a speaker assert that it's a spiritual imperative in life to have a personal mission statement. She further qualified that it needs to be "simple enough to be understood by a 12-year-old," and it has to be "deliverable at gunpoint." Even in the most tumultuous or traumatic moments of our lives, it must be indelible enough that we never forget it.
It just so happens I know someone who managed to remember his mission statement at gunpoint. Or, perhaps it's more accurate to say that being at gunpoint helped solidify for him what his sense of mission was.
I've known Mark since he was 12 and watched him grow up and weather quite gracefully the inevitable trials one encounters when he wants to fulfill his personal sense of mission through the arts when most everyone he knows is making it big in high tech or high finance.
When he was 23, Mark and his roommate were returning home to their apartment after a late-night trip to the grocery store. They'd shopped on their way home from one of many long rehearsals of a production Mark was helping to direct at a nearby university. The play was called "Race," an adaptation of a Studs Terkel book that addresses the issues of racism in America. It was perceived as a slightly controversial production in that, to enhance its themes, it segregated its audience into different sections for blacks and whites.
As the pair unpacked their groceries from the car, two black teenagers appeared and pointed handguns at the two white men.
To his complete surprise, because of his immersion in the subject of race at the time, my young friend's first thought was not "Oh, God, I am going to die" but "When this is over, how will I view black people?"
His roommate, obviously more focused on the first idea, dropped the bag of groceries he was holding, a response Mark thought unnecessarily wasteful, especially given how tight their resources were.
The young muggers wanted the men's wallets. The roommate quickly complied, throwing his at their feet.
Mark, according to his roommate's description, looked at them as if very, very disappointed and then slowly withdrew his wallet from his back pocket and held it out to them resignedly.
"Those muggers were kids, probably 17 or 18 — not professionals, but probably crack addicts, and they were scared. That's a dangerous finger to have on a trigger," Mark later noted.
The young muggers instructed the two men to run down the street and not turn around. Mark didn't know why they asked this, but simply did it.
His roommate was certain the assailants were going to shoot them in the back. It turned out they just wanted to run in the other direction.
The two older men stopped after about 30 feet. They were alive. Their groceries were still there, if slightly the worse for wear.
They carried them inside and talked about what had just happened and ate Ben and Jerry's ice cream and laughed. It was an especially funny moment when Mark discovered he had a five-dollar bill in his shirt pocket, and then his roommate remembered that he had a 20 in his, a bill Mark had paid him back with earlier. The laughter helped a bit with a terrifying sense of craziness they still felt.
The next day, the tears and the shaking started to come, the inevitable kind that go with having looked death in the face. But Mark connected with something even more important, he says.
"I realized that the work that I was doing to try and address and overcome the problem of race prejudice was work that could eventually help eradicate the disparity that has created this type of situation my friend and I had faced. I was heading in the right direction, and this event only made it more real."
The solution to the challenge of race prejudice in America is not simple, Baha'i teachings acknowledge. It involves commitment on many fronts — including those of education, economics and politics.
But none of these can have a lasting effect without the kind of inner commitment; the kind of spiritual and moral imperative, that encourages each of us to honor all Americans for the dignity of their human spirit, and the unique role they play in the shaping of this nation. This is a spiritual mission to which members of the Baha'i Faith across the nation, and around the world, are deeply committed. Join with Baha'is in your community this coming weekend to celebrate Race Unity Day.
Perhaps most important of all is that we help a whole new generation of Americans come to recognize — and live — the truth of the the oneness of humanity. While at gunpoint, the essence of this vision and mission somehow still loomed larger for my young friend than any personal fear the situation might have provoked. That's a mighty spiritual thing indeed.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
It just so happens I know someone who managed to remember his mission statement at gunpoint. Or, perhaps it's more accurate to say that being at gunpoint helped solidify for him what his sense of mission was.
I've known Mark since he was 12 and watched him grow up and weather quite gracefully the inevitable trials one encounters when he wants to fulfill his personal sense of mission through the arts when most everyone he knows is making it big in high tech or high finance.
When he was 23, Mark and his roommate were returning home to their apartment after a late-night trip to the grocery store. They'd shopped on their way home from one of many long rehearsals of a production Mark was helping to direct at a nearby university. The play was called "Race," an adaptation of a Studs Terkel book that addresses the issues of racism in America. It was perceived as a slightly controversial production in that, to enhance its themes, it segregated its audience into different sections for blacks and whites.
As the pair unpacked their groceries from the car, two black teenagers appeared and pointed handguns at the two white men.
To his complete surprise, because of his immersion in the subject of race at the time, my young friend's first thought was not "Oh, God, I am going to die" but "When this is over, how will I view black people?"
His roommate, obviously more focused on the first idea, dropped the bag of groceries he was holding, a response Mark thought unnecessarily wasteful, especially given how tight their resources were.
The young muggers wanted the men's wallets. The roommate quickly complied, throwing his at their feet.
Mark, according to his roommate's description, looked at them as if very, very disappointed and then slowly withdrew his wallet from his back pocket and held it out to them resignedly.
"Those muggers were kids, probably 17 or 18 — not professionals, but probably crack addicts, and they were scared. That's a dangerous finger to have on a trigger," Mark later noted.
The young muggers instructed the two men to run down the street and not turn around. Mark didn't know why they asked this, but simply did it.
His roommate was certain the assailants were going to shoot them in the back. It turned out they just wanted to run in the other direction.
The two older men stopped after about 30 feet. They were alive. Their groceries were still there, if slightly the worse for wear.
They carried them inside and talked about what had just happened and ate Ben and Jerry's ice cream and laughed. It was an especially funny moment when Mark discovered he had a five-dollar bill in his shirt pocket, and then his roommate remembered that he had a 20 in his, a bill Mark had paid him back with earlier. The laughter helped a bit with a terrifying sense of craziness they still felt.
The next day, the tears and the shaking started to come, the inevitable kind that go with having looked death in the face. But Mark connected with something even more important, he says.
"I realized that the work that I was doing to try and address and overcome the problem of race prejudice was work that could eventually help eradicate the disparity that has created this type of situation my friend and I had faced. I was heading in the right direction, and this event only made it more real."
The solution to the challenge of race prejudice in America is not simple, Baha'i teachings acknowledge. It involves commitment on many fronts — including those of education, economics and politics.
But none of these can have a lasting effect without the kind of inner commitment; the kind of spiritual and moral imperative, that encourages each of us to honor all Americans for the dignity of their human spirit, and the unique role they play in the shaping of this nation. This is a spiritual mission to which members of the Baha'i Faith across the nation, and around the world, are deeply committed. Join with Baha'is in your community this coming weekend to celebrate Race Unity Day.
Perhaps most important of all is that we help a whole new generation of Americans come to recognize — and live — the truth of the the oneness of humanity. While at gunpoint, the essence of this vision and mission somehow still loomed larger for my young friend than any personal fear the situation might have provoked. That's a mighty spiritual thing indeed.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.