By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
Love is one of the most oft-repeated and enduring messages from the Bible. The Twenty Third Psalm poetically illustrates God’s love for us as a cup that runneth over. The Gospels admonish us to love our neighbors as ourselves. St. Paul reminds the Corinthians, and the rest of us, that the greatest virtue is love. Yet, love often is the first casualty on those occasions when we discuss politics with each other. Guilty of this offense myself, I am trying to repent.
Several years ago I was bright, confident, brash, and certain that I knew the answers to the world’s problems. Beer in hand, I entered into a discussion about politics with my brother-in-law, who was equally bright, confident, and brash. He had a beer too. However, his answers to the world’s problems were very different from mine. The discussion grew animated, energetic, loud, insulting, and then angry, in that order.
We called each other names and our vocabulary turned from the profound to the profane. Just after I had called him something along the lines of a “militaristic bastard,” I turned and saw my sister, his wife, standing in the kitchen. She had been eavesdropping. She had tears in her eyes. I adore my sister, as does my brother-in-law. I had managed to let the conversation about politics become uncivil and unkind, and as a result, I had hurt someone I care about quite deeply. It was not worth it.
As the years have passed, I often have thought about that day. There was something missing from that conversation with my brother-in-law. It was not intelligence or passion or rhetorical eloquence or knowledge or pride or even beer. It was love. I could have shown more love in so many ways that day: by speaking in a more kind or civil or controlled manner, by respecting a different viewpoint and agreeing to disagree, by not letting the verbal skirmish escalate out of control, or maybe by not even having that conversation at all at that time or on that topic.
I care about what happens in my country, and I have my own strong beliefs about how we can continue to be a great and compassionate nation. However, I care just as much or more about the people with whom I share our country, people like my sister and her husband. When I discuss politics now, I imagine that someone who cares deeply about my partner-in-conversation is listening in too, from the kitchen. I do not ever want to say anything that would make a beloved eavesdropper cry again. Love is more important than politics.
