“Kindness Revisited: ‘Reconstituting’ the World”

June 19, 2016

The Rev. Heather Janules

As a journalist, Mike McIntyre was used to communicating with the public. But the young people sitting in front of him was a particularly tough crowd – a class of seventh-graders in a small town in the South. The students asked their guest speaker many questions:

How many pairs of shoes do you have?

Do other places have pigs’ feet as tasty as ours?

What are you most afraid of?[1]

They asked McIntyre these questions as he was in the middle of a unique pilgrimage. A resident of San Francisco, inspired by curiosity about his fellow Americans and personal restlessness with everyday life, Mike McIntyre was crossing the country, fueled by nothing but kindness. With few possessions on his back and no money in his pocket, McIntyre set out to travel from California to North Carolina, fed, sheltered and transported by only human mercy and generosity and what he could barter with his own labor. McIntyre left home committed to not taking anyone’s money on this trip and hoping that the nine energy bars his friend gave him at the outset would still be in his bag when he arrived, the bars uneaten because McIntyre was so cared for by strangers along the way.[2]

What are you most afraid of? the students asked. The metaphor of McIntyre’s final destination, Cape Fear, was intentional. Through this experiment in vulnerability and trust, McIntyre challenged his anxiety about the depths of his courage and stamina and our collective fears about the nature of the human heart.

This week, when the shooting in Orlando has, once again, given us a front row seat to depravity, it seems strange to be considering something so genteel as kindness. When a man kills 49 strangers and sought to kill more for reasons we may never fully know, he acts in a realm beyond simple cruelty. We do not need to understand why there is evil in the world, only that it exists. And when lives are lost and destroyed through evil acts, consideration of kindness may seem like a distant, philosophical exercise.

And, yet, the words of Adrienne Rich never fail me in times like these: “My heart is moved by all I cannot save: so much has been destroyed. I have to cast my lot with those who age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.”

The need to rebuild a sense of stability and peace which, if we are honest with ourselves, is always temporary and fragile, shown through the vigil on Tuesday at the Winchester Town Common. Friends, neighbors and strangers gathered together to acknowledge the complex reactions inspired by the shooting, to join in solidarity across different identities, to sing, to weep, to kindle a flame and to remember the dead. Standing in the vigil, holding my dripping candle, I could see that, though we were far from Orlando, Florida, the shooting violated the spirit of the Winchester community and that reconstitution was something few of us could do alone.

And, yes, kindness – each tiny act of kindness – works its own healing magic in times like these. The senseless events that inspire me to turn to Adrienne Rich’s simple reminder of all that is lost and how to render the world whole again are also the moments when the quotation by Fred Rodgers makes the circuit, shared after so many senseless gun violence and terrorism tragedies that it has become a cliché: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”[3]

To balance out what one colleague has described as “the steady stream of tragedy porn” in the media this week, I have taken Fred Roger’s advice and have looked. And I have found “the helpers.”

I found helpers when I learned of Orlando residents standing in line for over nine hours to give blood in hopes that, through their donations, victims would live and recover.

I found helpers when a college friend posted on her Facebook page that her emotions were in check at her neighborhood vigil until members of the local mosque brought food and water to serve the gathering. For a community so vulnerable to our nation’s hate in this moment to reach out with care and compassion unlocked the floodgates of my friend’s wounded heart.

I found helpers when I learned of high school students in New York State who transformed the annual tradition of the senior prank into a peaceful tribute to the Orlando victims, including posters calling for peace, the planting of 49 pinwheels on the lawn at the base of the flag flying at half-mast and a sing-a-long concert they described as “a celebration of life.”[4] This last action by “helpers,” teenagers giving up the chance to play a joke on their school and choosing instead to organize a festival for peace sounds like something our own youth group would do.

It’s not just the youth in our congregation who know something about helping, something about kindness. This past Fall, as part of the celebration of our 150^th anniversary, we launched a campaign, inviting members of our congregation to offer 150 Acts of Kindness to the wider world before May 1^st. It was a joy to announce on the morning of May 1^st that we had succeeded with 184 recorded Acts.

While one could argue that some Acts fell outside the guidelines of the campaign and other Acts – like the youth group’s week-long service trip – were undercounted, I am confident that we exceeded our goal of making the world’s kindness more tangible and more abundant. From the simple – our very first Act: “I helped reduce water bottle use at my workplace” to the ambitious – “I made three memory quilts for the family members of a Winchester youth who died in a tragic accident.”- to Acts that required emotional risk: “I made a difficult phone call to a former co-worker who is struggling with Parkinson’s Disease,” reading the list of Acts inspires me. I am particularly moved by the Acts by children: “I used my own money to give my cousin the Minecraft game during his visit with us” and “I made bird feeders and hung them up all over the yard after the first big snow storm.” Even at early age, we learn we can create and “reconstitute the world.”

Throughout the Acts of Kindness campaign, I noticed some uncertainty about the endeavor. Why are we doing this? people asked. We should act kindly because it is the right thing to do, not to reach some goal. And shouldn’t we be quiet about the kind things we do, lest we end up serving more our ego than our neighbor with these good works?

And I confess I had my own uncertainties. Promoting “acts of kindness” sounds so…saccharine, like a liberal caricature. Even before this most recent insult to our collective sense of human decency, creating kindness sounded like a weak response to the world’s suffering.

Truth be told, I hadn’t thought much about the Acts of Kindness campaign before we made it part of our anniversary celebration. As a faith community, we are perpetually in the “kindness business,” fostering people of kindness and offering acts of mercy as Apple produces iPhones and Starbucks brews lattes. It is what we do. It made sense that we would stretch, go the extra mile in what we offer the world as part of our celebration. As a community that has given back for 150 years, I figured we could give even more, each in our own way.

After the Acts of Kindness campaign was complete, I followed up with some of the most engaged participants and asked them about their experience. As we often learn to get ahead through greed, bullying and intimidation, what inspires us to do otherwise? More recently, I have wondered, as yet another mass murderer projects his own inner turmoil on the world, is “an eye for an eye” the only path left for us?

Connecting with our Kind Actors was illuminating. For one person, acting kind is something she learned at a young age, something with a practical element, leading to greater efficiency. She recalls,

My dad was a glorious example for me.  He was constantly helping friends with projects, or repairing their clocks, or applying his green thumb to their sickly plants.  I feel good when I am working with others.

My mind works like this:  If three of us work on something together, the something gets done in one-third the time, and we all get to enjoy that great feeling that we contributed to it getting done! …Also, I was given particular gifts.  I am lacking in other areas.  If I share my gifts with people who need them, then maybe others will share theirs with me.

For another, a parent of young children, deciding to volunteer for their Acts led to a meaningful and enjoyable day with her daughter. She writes:

When the idea of an Act of Kindness was put out there, I felt frustrated (and maybe a little resentful)… As parents, our days are packed more and more with STUFF…Later…I felt like this was something we needed to do…I asked [my daughter] if she wanted to participate, and of course she said yes… so…we went for it- and I knew she’d pick Wright Locke [Farm]…

Once there I was so glad to be focused on ONE thing for the day- it was very rewarding, and in my head I thought that we should do this every year…It was a beautiful warm spring day-  my hands got grungy…Our arms were sore, but our spirits were high.  It’s not often that my kids really “work”… but this was a different kind of work- tough work.  I’m glad we were there that day.

And, for another, the campaign inspired somewhat of a spiritual practice:

At first it was about trying to recall “if” I had done anything worthy of writing down…but then quickly moved into a conscious effort daily to do something kind for someone else. I then realized that it wasn’t about big things (but I tried) but more about the little things I did that mattered to others…But a lot of acts were done and I have no idea what or if any reaction or impact was made at all. And that is so okay by me. Kindness soothes the soul and I almost feel guilty about how much joy being random with kindness brought me…because it’s not supposed to be about me. However, doing for others feels so good it’s positively infectious.

The participants in our Acts of Kindness campaign make persuasive arguments in the case for kindness. But, for me, at the end of the day, the impulse to choose kindness is grounded in the reality, as Mike McIntyre demonstrates with his trip across the country, that we need kindness to survive. We need kindness to heal the persistent wounds of the world. No matter how independent we may be or think we are, we are utterly dependent – on the earth, on other people – to sustain life. This utter dependence is at the heart of what it means to be spiritual and what it means to be human. And, if I am to draw from the well of kindness again and again for my own sustenance, I must also contribute towards the fragile mercy of the world, lest the well run dry. Kindness may not turn a mass murderer away from his evil work but in the tender and temporary moments between times of chaos, it makes a meaningful life possible and worthy of our own vulnerability and trust.

This past Wednesday, I attended the Building Bridges program at the Islamic Center of Boston in Wayland, an open house of their mosque including tours, a keynote address, inclusion in their prayer life and a meal to break the Ramadan fast. Considering the Muslim identity of the Orlando gunman, this interfaith gathering intuited the heightened vulnerability of Muslims everywhere. Despite anxiety in the room, it was so good to be together.

The keynote address was by Dr. Kecia Ali, Professor in the Department of Religion at Boston University and a member of the Center. Along with offering a very brief summary of the history of Islam in the United States, Dr. Ali made the compelling point that a South Carolina man arrested for threatening a neighbor with a gun because the neighbor was Muslim and the gunman in Orlando have more in common with each other than the gunman and the millions of Muslims around the world working everyday for peace. She also observed that hostility towards Muslims is now greater than it was in the wake of 9/11.

Later in the program, the President of the Center told a powerful story, more testimony about kindness.  The Westboro Baptist Church, described by the Southern Poverty Law Center as “the most obnoxious and rabid hate group in America,” once came and protested the Center. But, without mosque leaders even knowing the young organizers, a group of forty local high school students stood in front of the Center at seven o’clock on a cold, February morning to serve as a barrier between the mosque and these protestors whose actions have brought shame to the word “church.” The forty young people far outnumbered the twelve protesters and thus they “reconstituted a world” of kindness and respect in Wayland. In response, the mosque now gives a yearly scholarship to a local high school student, in recognition of the students’ refusal to let hatred make its mark in their community.

The shots ringing out in Orlando have ended. But, now, the hard work of burying the dead begins.

Perhaps, you have heard the story. The grandmother of one of the victims, Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, began the slow, painful pilgrimage of traveling to Orlando for her grandson’s funeral, alone. The flight attendants on her plane heard about what brought her to Florida and chose to sit with her by the gate and, once they boarded, provided her with everything she needed for comfort – a blanket, a pillow, tissues, some water.

Inspired, one of the flight attendants found a blank piece of paper and began circulating it as a card, quietly inviting the woman’s fellow passengers to sign their name to a note of condolence. But there was a problem though; it was a short flight and the passengers were writing paragraphs. More paper was needed. Eventually the attendants handed Omar’s grandmother many pages of messages of compassion, peace and support, along with some spontaneous cash donations. As the plane landed, at the request of some of the passengers, they had a moment of silence in Omar’s memory.

The attendant recalls that “As we deplaned, EVERY SINGLE PERSON STOPPED TO OFFER HER THEIR CONDOLENCES. Some just said they were sorry, some touched her hand, some hugged her, some cried with her. But every single person stopped to speak to her, and not a single person was impatient at the slower deplaning process.” She concludes, “In spite of a few hateful, broken human beings in this world who can all too easily legally get their hands on mass assault weapons – people ARE kind.”[5]

I don’t know how Omar’s grandmother experienced her flight but I would like to think that if her faith in humanity suffered through her grandson’s senseless murder than it was, if only in the tiniest way, renewed, reconstituted through the simple acts of strangers. For we cannot develop and sustain faith in life on our own, utterly dependent as we are on one another for survival.

Thinking back to this past week, “so much has been destroyed.” And so much of the world has been “reconstituted,” one blood bag, one water bottle, one pinwheel, one peace placard, one handwritten note at a time. In the aftermath of so much death, life still prevails. And, as ignorance grows, so must grow love as the force of resistance and transformation that it is.

May we rejoice in the privilege of serving life’s demands on us as we draw from its wells and drink deep.

Topics: Simplicity