The idea that Americans are afraid may seem far-fetched to citizens of other countries. But fear is harming my country - and, I realized, manipulating me to live less fully.
Not long ago, a serial-killer was on the loose in the Washington, DC, area where I live. Every few days another person was shot in the back while in the midst of ordinary activities—filling their car, shopping, waiting at a bus stop. The victims were of various races and ages; few survived. The advanced machinery of our homeland security fumbled for the catch. But there was no pattern and no protection.
Anyone could be a victim… or a killer.
Though I have not been afraid to take some unwise risks in my life, I began to hedge my bets against stray bullets. I avoided places where shootings had occurred, left town when I could, kept out of open spaces when possible, and looked with suspicion at every unmarked vehicle on the road. I rationalized it by saying that I was just being cautious.
I knew that being shot should statistically have been one of the least of my fears. But fear was everywhere. I heard national news reporters describe how afraid the Washington region was. At first I was skeptical, but soon I began to believe them. There was a growing tension in my mind and body.
During this time, a friend remarked how much fear there was in America today and suggested it was harming our society. Fear of guns, fear of terrorism, fear of SARS, fear of unemployment, fear of immigrants, fear of the demise of life as we know it. My friend reminded me that we do not have to be manipulated by fear. She encouraged, instead, the nurturing of a “panic-proof faith.” This got me thinking.
Why were Americans afraid? Why was I afraid? I took a look around myself (a habit I’d picked up while looking for the shooter). Yes, I was afraid. And, yes, fear was manipulating me to live less fully. This realization was something of a breakthrough for me.
Noted theologian and psychologist Henri Nouwen, who spent many years teaching in and traveling around America, wrote:
'If there is anything that has struck me while traveling throughout [America], it is that we are a fearful people. We dread physical need or discomfort. We fear for our safety and our jobs. We even grow fearfully suspicious of others and hoard our belongings. On the level of international relations, [we] build walls around our wealth so that no stranger can take it away from us. We build bombs to protect what we become convinced we must defend.”
The idea that Americans are afraid may seem far-fetched to citizens of other countries who see the impact of our unequalled military power and economic prosperity. But in fact the embalming myth of material permanence may actually be fed by our wealth and sheltered by our weapons. We are encouraged to pursue happiness at any cost.
So we buy more weapons, buy bigger cars, buy the lie that people who are different are dangerous. We build fearful fortresses around our possessions, politics, relationships, and thinking. Our fears drive us to lash out at others in ways we would never excuse under “normal circumstances”.
Sadly, we Americans are not the only ones. I have seen fear in the eyes of other nations as well, fear of America and fear of each other.
Nouwen continues, “In a great irony, we become captives of our own fears. Those who make us afraid have power over us. Those who make us live in the house of fear ultimately take our freedom away.” Fear is a natural, life-preserving instinct, but living in fear is an acquired, life-denying addiction.
We are most vulnerable to this addiction when we don’t know what to do…when we can find no pattern to make sense of the threat and no protection from the effects. We are powerless to prevent the worst from happening.
For many people in the shadow of fear, times of quiet reflection have inspired a first step for them to take. I believe that, in these times, the Creator sometimes leads our thoughts to creative action. This may involve having honest conversations with people of races or religions we distrust; studying and personally engaging a threatening issue in the news; sharing the possessions we are most afraid of losing; or simply praying for our enemies.
Then we must continue seeking the next step and taking it.
The myth of material permanence will end for each of us, no matter how great our defenses or our wealth. We will die—not only we as individuals, but we as nations and contemporary cultures. Permanence is a mirage. We have no choice in this.
Freed from the burden of perpetual preservation, we can choose how we will live. We can choose to question our fears, to challenge their demands, to take the first step of a panic-proof faith.
NOTE: Individuals of many cultures, nationalities, religions, and beliefs are actively involved with Initiatives of Change. These commentaries represent the views of the writer and not necessarily those of Initiatives of Change as a whole.
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