My students can tell you the danger of answering a question I ask in class. I am known for trick questions, such as, “Tell me about a wedding in the Torah,” or “Where is a conversion ceremony in Tanach?”

The answer in both cases is that there isn’t one.

And an abortion in the Torah? There isn’t one.

This week, though, we read about a physical altercation that ends in unintentional assault of a pregnant person. That assault is a crime. If a miscarriage results, the offense is more severe. What comes next, though, makes the essential point: If the pregnant person were killed in that fight, the penalty would be infinitely harsher. Killing a fetus is not homicide. 

When our sages began to codify Jewish law in the Mishnah, published around 200 C.E., they taught that, if carrying the fetus endangers the pregnant person’s life, the fetus must be destroyed, right up to the moment of birth.

Arkansas lawmakers are apparently less concerned than the sages were about pregnant people’s welfare.

Yes, Arkansas law permits abortion to save the pregnant person’s life, but only in a medical emergency. Arkansas law puts pregnant people at risk.

The matter is not theoretical. For example, a person with cancer can become pregnant, and a pregnant person can be diagnosed with cancer. Many forms of cancer treatment endanger the welfare of a fetus. Physicians will not prescribe those treatments to pregnant patients, which would be malpractice. The patient’s life is in danger, which would be exacerbated by delaying treatment.

In a state with compassionate abortion laws, the pregnant person could choose: Endanger their health to sustain the fetus or terminate the pregnancy to pursue prompt cancer treatment. Absent a medical emergency, though, Arkansas law does not permit the pregnancy to be terminated. A doctor who performs that procedure could be imprisoned. A Jewish doctor who declined to perform the abortion—you know, to stay out of prison—would be violating the Jewish law that requires terminating a pregnancy that threatens the pregnant person’s life. 

In 2023, in the first session of the Arkansas General Assembly after the Supreme Court’s Dobbs ruling, overthrowing Roe v. Wade and permitting states to limit or prohibit abortion in ways they could not for a half-century, Arkansas lawmakers had an opportunity to consider exceptions to the state’s near-total abortion ban. However, they rejected a proposal that would have permitted terminating a pregnancy conceived through incest and another that would have empowered parents to end a pregnancy after the diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly. These concerns, too, are not merely theoretical. 

USA Today reports that, before Dobbs, approximately one percent of American abortions were for pregnancies conceived through rape, whereas one-half of one percent were to terminate pregnancies conceived through incest. Those are small percentages but they represent significant human suffering. The same newspaper reported the findings of a highly esteemed medical journal that “there may have been more than 64,500 pregnancies resulting from rape in the 14 states that have enacted near-total abortion bans since Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022.” 

Meanwhile, a study published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology indicated that diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly is accurate more than ninety-nine percent of the time and that some two-thirds of people pregnant with these fetuses chose to terminate their pregnancies, mindful that the fetus was destined to die in utero or within the first four weeks after birth.

Different rabbinic authorities, studying the same sources, have come to different conclusions about the conditions under which Jewish law permits abortion. All agree, though, that the welfare of the pregnant person is the determining factor. A person who has been sexually abused should not be forced to carry their abuser’s crime with them for a lifetime. After receiving the diagnosis that a lovingly planned pregnancy has resulted in a fatal fetal anomaly, Arkansas law would compel the pregnant person to carry the pregnancy to term and then watch the baby die days later. Many would call that torture.

To be clear, pregnant people in a wide variety of circumstances—not all of them as horrifying as rape, incest, or a fatal fetal anomaly—need abortion care. Even though Jewish law permits only some abortions, American Jews do not expect that our religious requirements should be codified as laws of the United States or any state. With the First Amendment, we also oppose the imposition of abortion bans driven by other religious traditions, as is indisputably the case in Arkansas. Abortion bans are, quite literally, against our religion.

Now, Arkansans have the opportunity to sign petitions to place the Arkansas Abortion Amendment on the November ballot. That amendment would not reimpose Roe v. Wade on Arkansas in its purest form. It would “only” forbid the General Assembly from enacting any restriction on abortion in the first eighteen weeks of pregnancy and would require the state to permit later abortions in cases of threat to the pregnant person’s life, even absent an emergency, and also in cases of threat their physical health or subsequent to the diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly.

Arkansans for Limited Government, which has organized this effort, points to polling indicating that fifty-one percent of Arkansans support this return of limited abortion rights in Arkansas. The campaign will be hard-fought. Polling also indicated that an attempt to do even more would have little chance at success.

The Trustees of Congregation B’nai Israel have endorsed the Arkansas Abortion Amendment. Our congregation will be supporting this effort with petition drives and get-out-the-vote efforts.

We will not be alone. In my decades of advocacy for reproductive healthcare, I have learned that clergy and congregations can change the conversation from one in which religious groups uniformly oppose abortion to one that more accurately demonstrates that religious people are divided on the issue. To that end, I have invited local clergy to begin organizing a faith effort in support of the ballot initiative. The response is almost overwhelming, so many Presbyterian, Episcopal, Methodist, Lutheran, and Unitarian ministers are eager to be included. 

The Arkansas Abortion Amendment would legalize some ninety-nine percent of the abortions that were taking place in Arkansas before the Dobbs ruling. Moreover, the amendment would expand abortion access for people in parts of all six states that border Arkansas. Some say that it’s not enough. We will have to make a lot of compromises in this campaign. 

And, we must acknowledge, we will engage in this sacred endeavor to save lives and protect people’s dignity with the full knowledge that we may not win.

Our rabbis teach: Lo alecha ham’lacha ligmor. We cannot be required to complete the task, v’lo atah l’hibateil mimeina, but that is no excuse to desist from it.

We must not be lazy. God is knocking at our doors, urging us to act, for the welfare of every pregnant person who desperately needs abortion care in Arkansas.

Amen. 

The post Abortion in Torah and in Arkansas appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Come to Arkansas and find seemingly contradictory values represented: hospitality and rugged individualism, grit and obedience, candor and a hefty dose of minding your own business. We are a beautiful collection of perspectives, wouldn’t you agree?

Arkansans are also stubbornly proud, especially in their mistrust of government. Rural Southerners have an especially unique skepticism of government intervention, which is as ingrained in us as the right to bear arms and looking out for your neighbors.  

But despite our diverse opinions and our indignation with nosy government, we have a problem standing up to overreach with one specific issue. Why? Well, it’s simply impolite to talk about certain things.

Chief among the “impolite” topics is the issue of reproductive freedom. In other words: abortion. Or women’s healthcare. Or murdering babies. Or the right to choose… depending on who you’re asking. 

Earlier this week, I read that the Arkansas Abortion Amendment was certified by the Attorney General. According to Arkansans for Limited Government, the group behind the Amendment’s effort to restore some abortion access in the state, politicians make for bad doctors. Regardless of how one feels about abortion, the group argues, we don’t need politicians regulating reproductive decisions. We don’t need government in the exam room, so to speak, regulating things as personal as pregnancy.

I cannot help but agree.

Regulating people’s healthcare, especially a woman’s organs, is not only a divergence from our cherished values of personal freedom and individual liberty but a stark example of burdensome—even deadly—government overreach. 

The notion of limited government has been etched into our consciousness and our traditions, but the regulation of reproductive healthcare challenges this ethos. It forces us to question whether a government that we already view with suspicion should extend its reach into the most private corners of our lives. 

Personal independence is not just a value, but a way of life in Arkansas, and interference should be seen as an affront to the principles that make us who we are—people in control of our own lives. Personal liberty means we alone decide our destiny. And we alone know what is best for ourselves and our families. 

The regulation of abortion is a logical paradox, even outside of a morality paradigm, because of its relevance to government overreach. And I’d like you to bear with me for a minute. I know it’s a polarizing issue; I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind about how they morally feel about abortion. What I’m aiming to do is reinvigorate a healthy skepticism of government.

I would never presume to know what is best for another person’s health or for the choices their family must make.

Now extend this to the Arkansas state government, which has proven that it  cannot be trusted on matters of the collective or individual good. When the government regulates our healthcare and steps into our doctors’ offices, the government undermines our trust, implying that the entity of the state knows better than we do when it comes to decisions about our own lives. This is antithetical to what it means to be an Arkansan—a self-reliant, responsible individual.

And speaking of responsibility: government overreach, well-intentioned as it may be, often brings about its own unintended consequences. In Arkansas, regulations disproportionately affect our rural communities. It is our duty to ensure that any policy reflects a commitment to fairness and justice for our rural communities rather than perpetuating already awful health disparities between urban dwellers and rural folk.

I’m not here to change minds on how people feel about abortion. Your judgment of the issue is yours, and yours alone. You are entitled to your opinion, and oftentimes, those opinions are rooted in compelling and valid experiences. 

No, this is not about changing minds. But it’s about keeping the government out of our homes and hospital rooms, out of conversations with our families and our doctors.

It’s not my business, or the government’s, to know the myriad of factors going into a person’s decision regarding the trajectory of their life. I don’t know if a person was raped. I don’t know if a person suffered a miscarriage. I don’t know if a family got a terrible diagnosis. 

The point is, I don’t know what’s best for you. 

The government doesn’t know either and it sure as hell doesn’t have any business telling people what’s good or right. That’s between them, their doctor, and the Good Lord above. 

Let’s get back to our Arkansas roots and keep government where it should be: out of our doctor’s office and back in the business of governing policy, not people’s lives. 

The post Mind your Biscuits: The Case Against Government Overreach in Arkansas appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Ever since the reversal of Roe v. Wade, I have just felt a sinking in my soul. This has perplexed me because I am pro-life: I do believe that life begins at conception, and I have also volunteered at a crisis pregnancy ministry in their care center. I think that God has given me the burden of so many women who are terrified, indignant, or just angry at the ruling. I know also that this is a pivotal time for the church in the way Christians proceed from this place, and I fear and see that in many ways the response has not been Christ-like and may turn people away from Jesus.

The purpose of this writing is not to argue my position on Roe but to lay out a path for Christians in the light of Roe. The right to an abortion will now be decided by individual states. But the support and care of women in these situations is firmly in the hands of the church…or at least it needs to be.

In church recently, I was blessed to hear the testimonial from a young woman who at age 19 found herself with an unexpected pregnancy. Raised in a church and youth group, she knew that the last place that she could turn was her church as there would be no grace for her there. By the grace of God, she kept the baby with her life forever altered for the better. She cast a vision for how the church in the future could care for mothers in similar situations: Mentorship, grace, and community. Unfortunately, many churches offer none of these and instead focus on the shame. It is not difficult to figure out how Jesus would have responded to an unwed mother in crisis.

I have some first-hand experience with mentorship, grace and community. For 3 years, I volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center in Fayetteville, which is an amazing place, which seeks to support women who make the choice to have their baby. During the pregnancy, women would come to our clinic to watch videos about the birthing process. After pregnancy for 8 months, they would continue to come to learn more about child rearing. As a care counselor, I listened, prayed with our clients, formed relationships with them, and just loved them. Clients earned “mommy bucks” for coming, towards which they could use to purchase diapers and other child-related items that were donated to the cute store on site. Each and every week, we were all witnesses to the transformation of these women through the love of Christ.

There was one client who I was blessed to befriend. She was not married and definitely did not expect her pregnancy. She made the hard decision to keep the baby, separated from a huge group of unhealthy people, and began the process of making her life condusive and healthy to raising a child. After she graduated from our program, we continued to stay in touch. I would receive regular texts from her with questions about her then 1 year old. Sometimes she asked my advice about financial matters. Sometimes she had questions about God. Without question, God used this child to grow this woman up: To clean up her life, help her make better choices, buy a house, and begin down a road of faith. Her parents deceased, she regularly tells me that I am the one person she can count on in this life. It is an honor. She really doesn’t have anyone else pouring into her life except me. I feel like this is what I am called to do as a Christian: Not to lecture and not to shame but to support, love, and encourage.

My church is a financial sponsor of this pregnancy center, and some people choose to volunteer there. But their program often reaches capacity, and the timing on the classes doesn’t always fit people’s schedules. In this post-Roe world, I can imagine that these types of clinics are going to be busier than every. So instead of moping in my post-Roe funk, I have taken some positive steps within my own church to have a conversation about reaching out to women in crisis the way Jesus would. What if my church was where women with unplanned pregnancies came first? What if we could pair women with a mentor for support and to walk along-side them? Could we help women in crisis to find community that would truly transform their lives? Are we qualified or trained? Heavens no. Have we raised our own kids and have a heart for others? Absolutely. And are we willing to shower women with the same grace that we have received in our own lives? The possibilities are limitless.

To me, this is the correct definition of pro-life: Valuing the life of a fetus as we walk along-side and love the new mother and child. Are there other systemic issues that need to be addressed. Absolutely. The list is long from paid maternity leave, affordable child-care, and quality and available childcare. None of these should be political issues, and I call upon Congress as well as the General Assembly to tackle each and every one if them in single-issue bills without other amendments attached. I would venture to say that any politician that opposes abortion but is not willing to make the systemic changes is a hypocrite and does not deserve to have a voice on this issue.

I know that there are many other thorny issues related to abortion such as the life of the mother, rape, and incest. Legislators who have made policy without accurate medical information or considered the social/emotional/financial concerns of new mothers have not made good laws: They have simply imposed their views on others without taking care of women and children the way Christ would have. Furthermore, the dogmatic approach that does not address these issues is generating anger and resentment towards the church and Christians.

In closing, my heart is a little less heavy now that I know what I can do to help. I know that I am called to serve and to love. It is a good place to be. The storm is undoubtedly going to continue to rage around this issue. I am going to do what God has shown me to do, and I would be honored if you would create a movement where you live to support women and children in Arkansas. Arkansans, we are likely to have a bunch more babies in the coming year! Who will be Jesus in the flesh and walk alongside these neighbors. The answer is not someone else’s mirror: It is in your own.

The post Possibilites appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Part of it is certainly personal. As I have written elsewhere, Syd and I decided to end a pregnancy after it was found that our baby had anencephaly. He had and would have no brain. We were offered options and chose the option to induce labor. It was heart-wrenching and right for us. If we were in that situation today, we would have no options other than to wait until the baby was born, and if born able to breathe, wait for him to die. Those who don’t know us and exhibit little to no compassion for us would have made the decision for us. 

I think, too, of a teenage girl I once met as a social worker. She was not able to speak and had limited movement due to significant developmental impairments. It eventually became clear physically that she was the victim of significant sexual abuse. I remember thinking to myself that if I did nothing else in my professional life, being a part of the effort that helped protect her from further abuse would justify my career. She thankfully was not pregnant, but a girl in her situation today in Arkansas who was pregnant because of sexual abuse and assault would have to go through pregnancy and have a baby. Where is the justice and mercy for such a girl in that?

But it’s more than personal experience that fuels my distress, although that would be enough. I think it’s also connected to how I think about the world. The assumptions I make, conscious or not, and the beliefs I have about people that are challenged. 

Here’s one assumption: I was born in 1962, and in my lifetime there has been uneven but persistent progress in equality and justice in areas of race, gender, sexual orientation, and gender identity. Historically, the pace and quality of progress has been breathtaking. It has not been simple or easy, and we are far from a place to rest and be satisfied, but it has been significant, life-affirming, and life-saving. It has also contributed to a backlash as hard-earned rights and benefits are now being taken away. This abortion decision is the most recent and perhaps audacious example but it fits in spirit with recent efforts to take away medical care from trans youth. Purposely causing harm and human suffering in service to another value or principle which undermines the full humanity of those harmed. Separating immigrant children from their parents is another recent example. 

To be honest, I expected and expect resistance to progress in areas of social justice. However, the amount of dismay I am experiencing lets me know that deep inside I didn’t expect that we would so consciously and aggressively go backwards. I don’t want to live in a place of cynicism and expect nothing but the worst from others, but the assumption of progress that my lifetime had led me to expect is changing, must change. How much remains to be seen as I search for a reformed narrative. 

I realize, at least to some degree, that a factor in my distress is my privilege. I have not lived in the world as a victim of trauma or violence. And I am a middle-age, white, straight, Christian man and not part of a historically marginalized or mistreated group in this country. I have benefitted from the benefit of the doubt from others more often than not. This has certainly impacted how I make sense of the world. My life experience has suggested that it was reasonable to expect better from people and the government than this. For so many others, that is not the lesson in their life experiences. 

I have tried to live giving others the benefit of the doubt regarding their intentions—trying to assume good intention until proven otherwise. This has been a helpful stance most of the time. In my experience, most people most of the time are trying to figure out the “right” thing to do, to do “good.” How we define “right” and “good” is very subjective, of course, and often self-serving, and no one I know is above self-interest bias in this area. 

In a world where elected and appointed leaders appear increasingly more blatantly interested in power and control, willing to rationalize immoral behavior and devise rationales to safe-guard self-righteousness on a grand scale despite the human costs, how much of this “assumption of good intentions” approach can I maintain? It need not be an all-or-nothing, either/or approach. The Good Book says to be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I’m feeling the need for some re-calibrating, but like most people with their assumptions and beliefs, I would rather not. 

Even if I believe in someone’s good intentions, what happens when their judgment is not good? What does it mean to lose faith in the good intentions of leaders, institutions, and courts—all fallible human endeavors? And what does it mean to grant that someone or some group may honestly want and seek “the good” but that “good” is a human disaster for others? And little to no compassion is expressed or demonstrated for those harmed?  Extreme but contemporary example: the Taliban’s treatment of women and those who disagree in Afghanistan. What does it mean and matter if they are sincere in their beliefs that they are doing the right thing when what is done causes so much harm? 

Growing up, I was taught that the United States was the best country in the world with more freedoms than any other. We were founded on ideals of liberty and equality and defended ourselves throughout history as freedom isn’t free. The country and religious tradition in which I was born and grew up were not in need of major reforms. Perhaps some tinkering around the edges. The big concern was that others did not agree with us and needed to be converted to our way of thinking and living. Individually we were flawed but that was because we didn’t live up to the requirements of our faith and country.  

My adult experience has been a continual adjustment to those worldviews. American history is much more complex and morally complicated as is my religious faith tradition. Both my country and my faith tradition have caused great harm to others with acts of self-serving rationalizations and self-righteousness. Both have also served the greater good and the greater community. There are strengths on which to build and areas of needed repentance. What it means to be a good American and a good person of faith continues to evolve. 

Which brings me back to the present, to today. For most of my life there has been an increased grappling with how we as a people—American people and people of faith—have fallen short and what is needed to make things better if not make things right. But today feels different. It feels like those who have resisted past reforms are saying, “Enough! We know better and we will use all the levers at our disposal to ensure that our version of morality—which serves the historic status quo and hierarchy of whose votes count most, which is mostly us—prevails. We will make the rules that all must follow even if we are in the minority. We will exploit the natural unfairness in our political system and change the rules, if needed, for our benefit. We will tell ourselves that we are saving our culture and country, and because the stakes are so high, we will be justified in whatever means are necessary to achieve those ends.”

Is this a proper and fair reading of the situation? Would those with whom I disagree feel justified in using the same or similar language to criticize my stances? And if so, what does or should that mean?

Seven years ago, the Supreme Court ruled that same-sex marriage is legal and “my side” rejoiced. It was amazing and inspiring. With this decision, what else might be possible for the cause of justice? Nevertheless, for others this was a moral disaster and a harbinger that the country was on a downward spiral.  

Today the script is flipped. For those agreeing with the Supreme Court’s decision on abortion, there is reason to rejoice. It is amazing and inspiring. With this decision, what else might be possible for the cause of justice? Nevertheless, for others (on my side), this is a moral disaster and a harbinger that the country is on a downward spiral. 

The similarities in responses suggest we share a common humanity and not that the decisions were morally equivalent. Humans from different perspectives seek purpose to give their lives meaning and direction. Opposing sides want to “take back our country” but what this language means for each side is very different. 

So, in a search for a new narrative and amidst all the grief and questioning, here is what I believe today, open to be revised tomorrow:

• The present situation is heartbreaking, distressing, and enraging. These emotions come from feelings of loss, disorientation, and fear of losing more. All are real and appropriate to the situation.
• Some assumptions, beliefs, and perspectives will need to change. But not all. Time is needed to sort through in a thoughtful way. 
• The story is not over, even when it feels that way. The story can change and will change. I and we can be part of that change. 
• Change often, usually, takes a long time. “Tipping point” changes are the culmination of a long process. 
• This sucks.
• People can be enormously creative and persistent when they have meaning and purpose. The vision of a more compassionate and just world provides more than adequate meaning and purpose.
• We are called to be faithful, not victorious. We have reaped the harvest of the faithfulness of those who have come before, and we can plant seeds for generations to come. 
• No one gets to choose how and what I think, what I value, and how I find meaning and purpose. And this is true for you, too.
• Those of us who feel dismayed are not alone. In many ways, we are the majority. We are not without assets and support. 
• “Grace bats last.” Thank you, Anne Lamott.  

The post In Search of a Narrative appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I know almost nothing about my biological mother’s life when I was conceived, born, or since. It seems clear that she did not want and/or was not ready to be a parent, but beyond that I have no idea what she went through while she carried me. I have absolutely no idea what was going through her mind the last moment she ever saw me – presumably minutes or hours after I was born. Was she loved and supported? Was she shunned and shamed?

When I was conceived, was she a carefree teenager that made a casual or(along with the man) reckless decision? Was she lied to by a deceitful and/or cowardly boyfriend that just wanted sex? Was…she the victim of rape? 

Was her decision to allow me life and give me up to others an obvious decision that she never debated or was it a source of agony in her life? Is it still? Did she feel doubt about her decision once she saw me… or later? Was it made out of love or fear or pragmatism…or some incomprehensible human combination? 

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I probably never will. 

I think about all this….and in total honesty I’m selfishly just so glad that I’m here. I’m so, so, so indescribably thankful that my son is here. Given that, it is so easy and so tempting to extend that to all situations that seem just like mine – to argue that we should always give a new life a chance regardless of the situation – no conditions, no nuance. That logic and the powerful emotions that come with it pull at me right this very second as I type these words. 

Some of you may seize on my story – and particularly the shining light of my incredible son that lights up your news feed now and again – and say, “That’s it. Why would we ever stop THAT from happening?” It’s an understandable question on the surface. If I knew, or even though it remotely likely that every story or even most would be like mine – or anything even close to it – that might be it for me. Yet all I do know for sure is that we CANNOT know – much less manage – the countless situations that lead to the consideration of abortion or the lives – of mother and child – that follow. 

I wish more than anything that we lived in a world where this discussion started and ended with the humanity, honesty and love. Sadly, that’s not the world we are living in, and not the tactics that lead to political gain for too many people that make our laws or sell us stories on TV. This profound issue has become slogans and memes in our public discussion – and it will continue to be treated as such by most in power. Yet, it is still the way in which we can each choose to engage each other, and how we can support the women in our lives that have faced – and will face in the future – this decision. Make no mistake, whatever laws are enacted or repealed, abortion will occur in this country – the question is whether it will be accessible to all who need it or just those who have the power, resources and/or luck to quietly acquire it….

My own opinion…the world I hope and work for is this: 

I want a world where abortion is rarely necessary or sought. I’ve made a few of my progressive friends angry when I’ve said that publicly (most of them agree with me though). And I make my many of my conservative friends angry or at least disappointed when I say that I believe we must trust women to make this decision for themselves – free from any scorn or stigma – alongside any loved and trusted humans that they choose to involve. I don’t believe in or want casual abortion but I do believe that our best path in this world is to surround women with the best knowledge, resources and truly accessible options and then trust them to make the best decisions they can given their personal situation. A legislature in Little Rock, Washington or anywhere else should not make that call for them.

If we want to come together in a way that we rarely seem to do today as a country, there are immediate ways to do it that will prevent more abortions than any law could ever hope to stop – without violating any woman’s dignity or control over her body and future. 

Let’s ensure all our children know about the realities of sex, and that when they engage in it they have the knowledge and the resources to do so safely -protected from disease or premature parenthood. If you believe it is important for your children to attempt to wait until marriage, more power to you – but I believe the most loving parents hope for and nurture what they believe to be the best ideals in their children while preparing them to navigate less ideal situations in life when the ideal isn’t met. 

Let’s make adoption a loving, easy, safe and respected path for those that chose it (birth parents and adoptive parents). 

And when the worst of life’s events happen – a rape, incest, a life-threatening condition in a pregnancy, or the all too often shunned, afraid, pregnant child or teenager, or the abused and isolated girlfriend or wife – let’s make sure that those involved have easy access – no matter their zip code or income level – to compassionate, competent people that can provide her options and the support she ultimately chooses. 

That’s where I wish we were, what I hope we can work towards.

_{Jared Henderson is a husband and father who once ran for governor of Arkansas. He went to Harvard, worked for NASA, and came home to invest his life and raise his family. He is from Springdale, and now lives in Little Rock.}

The post Where I Wish We Were appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Debate in the United Methodist Church

The United Methodist Church (UMC) is known for being one of the more progressive protestant denominations in the United States and will be voting on whether to recognize same-sex marriage and LGBTQ clergy next year in the upcoming General Conference. The result of this decision is expected to split the church in two, as this has become a hedge issue among conservative and progressive Methodists that just won’t result in a verdict that leaves everyone happy. For some conservatives, it’s been a factor that encouraged them to leave the UMC entirely. For progressives, we see it as an overdue and necessary step towards the formal inclusion of queer people into the body of Christ.

These kinds of debates aren’t necessarily “special” to the UMC, but it is ground zero for a new divide in American Christianity: An increasing split between self-described “Conservative” and “Progressive” Christians who view the scriptures from different lenses. Conservatives tend to be more literal and fundamentalist, while Progressives are less literal and are becoming more affiliated with a movement known as “Deconstructionism,” referring to the practice of revisiting and rethinking long-held beliefs of the Faith. Many in the Deconstruction movement are adherents of “Liberation Theology,” emphasizing the liberation of the oppressed from social, economic, and political power structures; with the movement having roots in Latin American Catholicism. Pope Francis is a notable Progressive, specifically on economics. As stated above, I’m in the “Progressive” camp, just so you’re aware of my bias (If the title didn’t give it away). It’s also important to note that being a “Progressive Christian” does not necessarily correlate to being a political progressive, and vice versa.

The UMC is not just limited to being relatively liberal on gay rights. The church recognizes women as pastors, has spoken in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, and the necessity of the eradication of global poverty. As a kid, I saw so many amazing people in my church get involved with the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) or other service projects in the U.S. and globally. During the pandemic, the UMC has spoken forcefully in favor of church members receiving vaccinations and listening to health experts, while also advocating for government leaders to be responsive in getting vaccines to rural, impoverished, and non-white communities. While no denomination or church is perfect, the UMC has done an amazing job of recognizing something I don’t really see from most other churches: social justice and faith in action are both essential to and intertwined with the Gospel.

Progressive voices of the faith

In my life, I’ve cast 3 votes for President: Hillary Clinton, Elizabeth Warren, and Joe Biden. What do these three flawed politicians have in common, aside from the obvious? Yes, they are Democrats, but they are also highly religious. I can hear the rage comments now… “Killary isn’t a Christian/they believe in abortion/they’re with the devil…”

While mainstream American Christianity is dominated by the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, which at this point are as firmly rooted in the Republican Party as low taxes and AR-15’s, the idea of Democratic politicians being religious is a foreign concept to lots of voters on both sides. Separation of Church and State is engrained in the minds of progressives, and most conservative Christians tend to think that supporting policies like reproductive choice or same-sex marriage means you’re not actually a Christian. (Or at least you’re going to have an uncomfortable conversation with the big guy after death). Many Catholic Bishops openly criticized President Biden’s right to communion because of his pro-choice politics, despite him being a devout Catholic and a regular attendee to mass. Clinton and Warren are both UMC members, with Warren invoking the Gospel of Matthew’s Parable of the Sheep & Goats as the basis for her politics; and Clinton speaking candidly about her daily devotional during the 2016 election, titled “Strong for a Moment Like This,” written by Rev. Dr. Bill Shillady.

As I mentioned earlier, the mainstream American church is dominated by the influences of the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, firmly planting the politics of the Church on the right of the political spectrum. While Jesus belongs to no party or ideology, I cannot begin to describe both the short- and long-term harms this is doing to the Church. The obvious is Donald Trump, and the relative indifference of the Church to his egregious assaults on political norms and democratic institutions. However, it goes so much deeper than the behavior of the former President. Senator Ted Cruz, the poster-boy of Evangelical Conservatism, lead an effort to invalidate the 2020 Electoral College votes. In Arkansas, GOP State Senator, and candidate for Lt. Governor-Jason Rapert-is renowned for his inflammatory statements on twitter, while professing a fervent and zealous devotion to Christ. Should I even mention Jim Bob Duggar? Republican politicians and ideologues have been prone to problematic behavior and policies, including the demonization of immigrants, mocking movements for racial justice, and labeling any social welfare spending “socialist,” all while invoking Christianity in the same breath.

Woe to those using the Church for hate

I know people who have left the faith entirely, because of the sheer disgust they have felt watching the Church not only be silent, but often engrained in, the politics of the right. Let me make clear that there are millions of good people who find themselves on the conservative side of the fence, and their politics & faith are just as valid as mine. The issue is that not nearly enough of these people have spoken out against the increasingly cruel politics and the cult of personality surrounding Donald Trump. This is only accelerating the decline of Christianity in the United States, with irreligion on track to be the majority religious consensus as early as 2035. While there are certainly problems on the left, the political marriage of mainstream Christianity to the Republican Party will continue to push away from the faith those who cannot accept Donald Trump as the face of the party of supposed Christian values.

Progressives are also hesitant to talk about faith in the pursuit of the policies and justice we seek for society. We are warry of sounding “churchy” or alienating voters from our message who don’t profess Jesus. After all, Progressives are much more religiously diverse than Conservatives, and many Progressives don’t subscribe to religion at all.

But at the core of Progressivism is representing the interests of ordinary people. From collective bargaining and tackling gross inequality to addressing the impacts of systematic racism and the necessity of environmental preservation, there are massive overlaps in values between Progressives and people of faith (in particular, the Christian kind). However, only about a quarter of Americans identify as liberal or progressive. What gives? Well, you’d be surprised how few Christians know about the overlap in values. The Christian-Right has done a phenomenal job of turning so many Christians into one issue voters: the issue of abortion.

When bringing up abortion, it’s important to make two points crystal clear: (1) There are valid views by people on both sides of this issue, and (2) most Americans fall into the category of “Pro-Choice with conditions,” i.e. favoring the legality of abortion while also supporting limitations that restrict later stage procedures, such as late term abortions. A slim majority of Christians classify themselves as “Pro-Life.” What the Right won’t tell you is how Pro-Life we Progressives really are. We support policies that mandate sexual education based on science instead of abstinence, and easier access to birth control, so that teens are knowledgeable about sex and can prevent unwanted pregnancies. We advocate for economic policies such as higher minimum wages, access to affordable healthcare, and educational opportunities via college or trade school that give young adults economic mobility; allowing them to start a family, without falling into deep financial distress.

Too often, the issue of abortion is only seen as a moral issue instead of an economic one. There are thousands of young women who simply do not see a viable financial path to having a child, and the tragic realities of the Foster Care system too often do not leave adoption as an alternative either. While Conservatives are prone to stop the conversation at birth, Progressives should talk more about how we actually have the solutions to making abortion unnecessary, without taking away a woman’s right to bodily autonomy. And that message should be directed towards Christians, who for too long have been written off by Progressives as simply being closed-minded or religious bigots.

Progressives: get out of your bubbles

The elitism of the Progressive movement is also a major problem to its success and is a reason why Democrats are prone to only win elections when the opposition is just insanely bad. (Remember “basket of deplorables?”) Progressives tend to be city-dwellers, stuck in their blue bubbles and sipping their chardonnay, worried about issues like global warming (albeit, a valid concern), while people in the middle of the country are living paycheck to paycheck and seeing the talented youth of their towns meander to big cities for job opportunities and like-minded values. You just can’t really worry about global warming when you’re not sure how to pay for the necessities. While there are still plenty of poor Democrats and affluent Republicans, new trends show that Democratic congressional districts are becoming more urban, wealthier, and formally educated. Republican congressional districts are becoming more rural, poorer, and less formally educated. There also happen to be more districts that lean GOP than DEM in their Cook Partisan Voting Index (PVI). So how can Democrats (Progressives) fight this elitism and win elections? Head to the Church.

In Christianity, we are taught that we are all made in the image of God. There is value in every single person. And though the Church has done plenty of horrible things while it has been a power structure (Crusades, Inquisition, persecution, hanging out with fascists, etc.), the Church’s roots are those of humble origins. Jesus, a brown refugee, and working-class man, stood in defiance of the religious and political elite of his day; He began a movement of mostly women and slaves that would turn into the world’s most dominant religion, built on a foundation of radical love. This shared recognition of the value of human life, and our commitment to seeing through social and economic justice, means that Progressives not only have a home in the Church, but the Church needs Progressives to be a political voice of the faith. If not, Progressives will continue to be a minority in this country for the foreseeable future, and the Church will continue to only be associated with the problematic political right. For Christianity and Progressivism to survive for the long-term, it’s time for the Left to go to church.

Sources

• How America Lost Its Religion – The Atlantic

• “Pro-Choice” or “Pro-Life,” 2018-2021 Demographic Tables (gallup.com)

• The Age of Deconstruction and Future of the Church – RELEVANT (relevantmagazine.com)

• What is liberation theology? – U.S. Catholic (uscatholic.org)

• Hillary Clinton Thinks About Preaching, Bill Shillady Publishes a Book of Devotionals – The Atlantic

• Democrats and Republicans Live in Different Worlds – WSJ

* United Methodist conservatives detail breakaway plans over gay inclusion (nbcnews.com)

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I was inspired by your article today to write a note to you. I don’t usually do this sort of thing; I try to ignore politics since I hate it so much!  However, I find myself wanting to let you know how much I agree with you.  I’m neither conservative nor liberal – I’m pretty much in the middle, but I seldom find anyone else in that position.  There’s always another way to look at things, I believe, and we should always consider the other side (which doesn’t seem to be a common practice in this time). For instance, I am a devout Catholic who firmly believes that abortion is sinful.  I would never consider it myself and hope my children are the same. (I’ve had eight pregnancies and 9 children with my husband of 60 years who died in 2013.)

However, an experience I had as an assistant principal at Pine Bluff High School in the 60’s caused me to consider the other side.  My office had a sweet, smart, young girl as our monitor – 15 years old and a sophomore.  One afternoon as she was walking home from school, she was accosted by a man in the alley as she passed and was raped.  Humiliated and ashamed, she told no one, not even her mother.  Later on, she missed her period and told her math teacher in tears.  I drove her to the lab where her pregnancy was confirmed.

When we got back to the high school, I called her mother who promptly picked her up and took her for an abortion.  I hate to say it, but I was immensely relieved, because her life as she expected it was not ruined by this criminal experience.  Ever since then, I have hoped for another way to address this situation for others, and even though Catholic, I cannot protest for the complete end to abortion. 

I have been retired from education for 18 years and so grateful! Thank you for reading this email!

I so appreciate her perspective. It’s remarkable to me for many reasons. This person—a moderate, or centrist—feels like she is alone in the middle of the political spectrum. She’s elderly, married 60 years in 2013. A mother of 9. Devout Catholic. Highly educated; her signature included a doctorate. Retired educator. She witnessed this tragic thing in the 60s, before abortion would have been legal in Arkansas. Roe v Wade was decided in 1973.

I can relate to feeling lonely in the middle, although I believe there are many more of us than anyone realizes. I can relate to being married a long time, though not 60 years yet, and having a lot of children, though a lot for me is four. I can also relate to having spiritual reasons for hating abortion and believing I could not emotionally survive it myself.

As a fellow educator I understand seeing things, bearing witness at times to intimate details of people’s lives. My students have taught me a great deal about worlds as foreign to me, personally, as another planet: the worlds of poverty, abuse, and crime; worlds with very little agency or access or options. It is in my role as a teacher that I am constantly confronted with the heartbreaking nuances of things that might otherwise, from my limited experience, seem black or white.

We need this woman’s story. We need people like her at the table in Arkansas, weighing in on how we make policies that affect our citizens. We need the wisdom of her age and experience as an individual, mother, and school administrator.

The vision of Arkansas Strong is to amplify voices like hers. May this be the place all voices in Arkansas are heard. May this be the place this reader is not alone, but brings her unique strengths and finds others who strengthen her. May we be the table set for everyone to gather, together, and make Arkansas Strong.

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This is long and personal and about abortion—the termination of a pregnancy. Just so you know.

On a recent weekend in Arkansas and across the US, there were “Marches for Life” against abortion. It was also the 26th anniversary of one of the saddest and most painful times in the lives of Syd and me, as we held a memorial service for the baby we lost in mid-pregnancy. We lost the baby at that time because we chose to induce labor and birth before 20 weeks of pregnancy, before viability. We chose this because our baby’s life was not viable. He had anencephaly, which meant he developed without a brain. No brain, no viability, no survival, no life.

We were given the legal and medical options about how to respond to this situation, and for physical and mental health reasons, we chose the option to induce labor and birth. Legislators and the governor in Arkansas, seemingly a majority of the US Supreme Court, and those “marching for life” that weekend would all take away the choice that we made, the choice that was right for us and our family. These issues are personal for us.

I remember the first time I really confronted the issue of abortion. I was working as a medical social worker with a young couple whose baby was slowing dying from the consequences a fatal genetic condition. It was heartbreaking. In the midst of this experience over weeks and months, they discovered they were pregnant with a significant risk of this next baby having the same fatal genetic condition. I remember thinking that, if asked, there was no way that I or anyone else could tell them what the right thing to do was for them in their situation. This choice was appropriately theirs to make.

Over time, I’ve done much more thinking about the complexities of the choices surrounding abortion, and I could never join those “marching for life.” I do join them in wanting there to be fewer abortions, as I think most people from across the spectrum of opinions do. Most, if not all, abortions are human tragedies on some scale, and we should want to minimize human tragedies when we can. The question is how.

We actually know how to significantly reduce the number of abortions—provide more support for protected sex. This is where the most common anti-abortion stance breaks down for me. In it, all abortion or terminations of pregnancy are considered the killing of innocent life and the prevention of such killing should supersede all other considerations, often including the life and health of the one pregnant and whether or not the girl or woman was a victim of rape or incest. Strikingly, however, this concern for preventing the perceived killing of innocent life does not supersede the concern that more people will have protected sex. If protecting the killing of innocent life supersedes all concerns, then we should use every tool at our disposal to reduce abortions, which would mean more comprehensive sex education and accessible contraception, proven methods for avoiding pregnancy and reducing abortions. More sex education and accessible contraception are not, however, being advocated by most of those “marching for life,” and in fact, they are often vigorously resisted. As noted by many other observers, this stance suggests that opposition to abortion is twisted up in a sometimes greater opposition to people, especially women, having protected sex. Not an ethical approach that I can support.

I do wonder what that weekend’s marchers and speakers would say to Syd and me about our own human tragedy, the choices we made 26 years ago, and the choices they hope to take away for parents like us in the future. Part of me, frankly, feels indignation. How dare they take away our options for what would be best for our family. What good really would come from such restrictions for parents and families like us? For society? I don’t expect that people like us are much in the minds of the weekend’s marchers. Perhaps we just don’t fit the black and white, either/or thinking that will be proposed and cheered. Syd confronted an anti-abortion street protester with our story a few years ago. He wouldn’t believe that she was telling a true story. It didn’t fit his narrative. But our story was and is tragically true. And it was and is so sad. And it was right for us. If this right, at all levels, is taken away, it will be a huge preventable tragedy for so many families.

Part II to follow

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In 37 or so simple stories and a few sermons, Jesus paints a picture of the kingdom of God. We can call this picture The Gospel Story. His parables and sermons hold together. They have the ring of truth. They have a power that’s nowhere else. Jesus had what Simon Peter called “the words of eternal life.”

I grew up knowing the parables of Jesus before I knew much else. That’s because my father was a pastor. He preached every Sunday—and twice on most Sundays because we had Sunday night worship. Every time my father preached, I was there. Dad had a great love for Jesus’s parables. Well over half of his sermons were on the words of Jesus. I heard them over and over. I don’t remember getting tired of them because they opened to me a world that I loved—and I still love it.

Being a follower of Jesus is all about being a good neighbor.
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One of Dad’s favorites was the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story that demonstrated the meaning of being a good neighbor. This theme of neighborliness ran all thru Jesus’s teachings. It was in the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus…. the parable of the Great Judgment in Matt. 25…. the parable of the Rich Young Ruler… and the never-changing Golden Rule. These teachings and many others say that being a follower of Jesus is all about being a good neighbor.

Ears to Hear

In 1998 I attended a seminar that George Barna (a religious researcher) led at a church in Tulsa. Barna said two things that have stuck with me. First, his research has determined that fewer than 10% of Christians have a biblical world view. Think about that! Every week millions of professing Christians attend worship, sit thru Sunday school lessons, and engage in other religious observances, yet the vast majority of them have never really heard the Gospel Story. It has not taken root as a guiding force in their lives.

Second, Barna’s investigations into the ethical behavior of American Christians have revealed that conservative evangelicals (the group with which Barna himself identifies) are no more moral than the rest of society. That is, evangelicals are guilty of marital infidelity, substance abuse, domestic violence, and an array of other misdeeds at about the same rate as everyone else. In fact, in categories such as divorce their behavior is worse than average.

Barna’s findings seem to go together. A huge number of evangelicals, despite their loudly proclaimed religious allegiances, have never really heard the Gospel Story. It certainly isn’t the guiding force in their lives.

Good and Godly Neighbors

A good measure of any religion should be: What kind of neighbors does it create? Sadly, Christians have all too often not been good neighbors. In fact, there is much to suggest that way too many of today’s church people are very bad neighbors.

We can see this by looking at many of the state legislators in our nation who are passing measures that hurt people. The vast majority of these legislators are self-proclaimed Christians who claim to be doing God’s will. The test of this should be in how their actions affect others.

In about half of our states one of the biggest activities at present is gerrymandering. Its aim in almost all cases is very clear. It’s to minimize the voting strength of minorities and maximize the strength of the legislators and their political party. It’s to gain unfair political advantage. When such forces of racism and partisanship appear in society, it’s a sure sign that very bad neighbors are hard at work.

The banning of abortion is the really feel good issue among our legislators. They beam with satisfaction that they are “pro-life,” and they try to outdo each other in being the most pro-life. What they are doing in a great many cases is victimizing some of the most vulnerable people in our society. They show no sign of understanding the highly complicated physiology of pregnancy and childbirth. Some girls are pre-teen when they become pregnant. There are reports of pregnancy as early as age 9, and of course this is always under very undesirable circumstances. In many cases legislators don’t want to allow for any circumstances of pregnancies. They want to saddle women with 100% of the burden of every pregnancy. The men, who are equal partners in conception, often disappear into the night and never shoulder any responsibility. Many legislators want to enact the harshest penalties against pregnant women and their caregivers if they don’t obey their draconian laws. They want to strip women of any say in their healthcare and become dictators to medical professionals. Yes, we actually have neighbors who want to treat us this way.

The legislators about whom we’re talking (church people, remember), have more ambitions. They want to intrude into the lives of LGBTQ people. Once again, they act out of a combination of ignorance and mean spiritedness and with the smug assurance that they possess all truth and are on God’s side. They seek to block trans youth from receiving the medical care they so desperately need, and they want to discriminate against people on account of sexual orientation. Sadly, they have an insufficient knowledge of sexual orientation and of the Bible. They frequently quote the 6 or so passages in the Bible that appear to deal with same-gender sexual behavior. This matter is not as clear cut as they think. These passages present difficulties of interpretation that many Bible scholars have lifted up.

All Who Are Weary

One such scholar is David P. Gushee, who grew up among conservative evangelicals and became a Southern Baptist pastor. Gushee embarked on a long academic career and earned a Ph.D. in ethics. For many years he was not sympathetic to LGBTQ causes, but over time his views shifted due to his deepening knowledge of the Bible and the many personal relationships he formed. In 2014 he published Changing Our Mind, in which he broke with his earlier views and argued for full acceptance of LGBTQ Christians in the church. Gushee became convinced that these 6 passages in the Bible have been widely misinterpreted, and he deals with them point by point in his book. Gushee’s thought is readily accessible on YouTube. If you enter a search for his name, up will pop lots of lectures, sermons, and interviews that he has given over the years. Of special interest is his 11 minute talk, “You’re Hurting Me With Your Bible.” He details the journey has made on LGBTQ issues in the 34 minute lecture he gave at Elon University 6 years ago.

LGBTQ issues have been highly divisive among Christians. In recent years four of the larger mainline denominations have decided to fully accept LGBTQ people. It was a rocky journey in which these churches lost lots of members over the issue. The vast majority of churches in America continue to stigmatize and marginalize LGBTQ people in a variety of ways. Religiously affiliated people are significantly less accepting of LGBTQ people than are the rest of the population. This nonacceptance is highly concentrated in the more conservative religious groups.

Good Neighbors Show Grace

LGBTQ people share predictable struggles. They react to disapproval like we all do. They sometimes try to change. They ride a roller coaster of emotions as they try to come to terms with who they are (this was not a choice, remember) while knowing that they can never become what others wish them to be. They suffer from depression and thoughts of suicide. They dread the time of coming-out and being rejected. At the time of their greatest vulnerability, when they need good neighbors the most, they often don’t find them in their church or in their legislators or even in their families.

We could cover other controversial issues that involve similar dynamics. That’s because far too few people who occupy the pews in our churches have really heard the Gospel Story. Jesus’s message of extravagant love, acceptance, and grace is not the force that drives them. Their behavior is no more moral or commendable than the behavior of religiously non-affiliated people. In fact, it’s often worse. They are not good neighbors. They hurt other people, especially the most vulnerable. The most astounding thing of all is that they do what they do in the name of God.

Sandy Wylie is a retired United Methodist pastor living in Bella Vista.

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Not everybody in Arkansas is a “Redneck,” and not everybody drinks sweet tea. I’m not saying people who are and do are bad. These are simply things I’ve learned by growing up and living in Arkansas. I’ve also learned that certain things, like racism and ignorance, loom around in the state’s corners more than in other places. The safety of this state’s embracing arms—that hold me—seems to be at the cost of others.

This is an ongoing, unsolved, internal conflict that I have. When I was a kid, I thought as a kid might think about Arkansas. “Nobody cares about it” or “Nothing ever big ever happens here” were sometimes my complaints about where I lived. I didn’t truly hate my home as a kid. No, I thought maybe once or twice about minor details and fussed about them, but it wasn’t anything serious. I don’t think I realized as a kid how much I should have appreciated the good attributes of Arkansas, such as the abundance of beautiful nature around homes and towns compared to other states, especially since I enjoyed them so much. If I were to remove from my life all of the times I went outside to play in the afternoons in my yard after school or went to eat at a picnic table at the park by the river surrounded by massive, protective pine trees, or looked out my house’s windows during a powerful storm to see the grass being forcefully stroked by the wind that rocked the trees and dispersed the rain to beat at the window – if I removed all of those moments from my life, I would lose a part of me and need something else to replace it. 

 

 

I hope that one day we can realize that it’s not all about us, and that we’re not always right.

An attribute that I enjoyed was one that I must’ve not seen, or at least, I didn’t realize it until I started getting older. This attribute however, is double sided. It hugs then it stings, and I didn’t realize that until more recently. Arkansas is a very closed state. We have an old and strong barrier that seems to keep us apart from the rest of the world, or at least from those who aren’t like us. I took shelter in that barrier. As a kid I might’ve not noticed I was hiding behind it, but now I do. As I grew up, I noticed that almost everyone believed in the same things. Almost everyone went to church. Many teachers had religious frames or objects in their classrooms, and many people flew or wore Confederate flags. I didn’t think much of this as a kid. I guess it seemed normal to me at a younger age. Today, I can tell that it is not so normal at all. I’ve realized what things Arkansas holds on to that many others don’t. I’ve seen that we tend to be ignorant of the things going on around the world. We think everything is already settled and shouldn’t change. Some of us might think that racism doesn’t exist anymore, and any claim that it’s taking place is simply for attention. We are heavily reluctant to accepting something new, whether it be laws or people. 

 

 

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Not everybody in Arkansas is a “Redneck," and not everybody drinks sweet tea.
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I debate within myself, because I think that this way of living, of staying true to customs and what we have learned from those before us, is maybe what we should do. I think about how many of the changes taking place in the rest of the world, that are slow to take place or don’t take place at all in Arkansas, are wrong according to my faith. The barrier that I took shelter in as a kid—I still indulge in it to this day, and enjoy it, because it allows me to more comfortably live out what I believe in. I felt safe seeing those religious frames or pictures in my teacher’s classroom. I felt safe when a prayer was said before football games. I feel safe when my teacher plays Christian music in her room. I feel safe when my class and teacher have the same opinion on extremely heavy topics like abortion.

 

My home embraces me and tells me I can comfortably live out standing up for what I believe in. The thing is, that I am not precisely standing up. I am rather standing with. Standing with a crowd, a large crowd, which makes it much easier, but devastatingly harder when the crowd isn’t there.

I live in a small town that seems to be an Arkansas within an Arkansas. There is more diversity within the state than within my town, but when I see the news, or go online and see how we respond to nationwide issues, I know our barrier is there. I don’t know if Arkansas is supposed to be a safe haven for people who are wanting to live in a tradition-friendly, religious, peaceful atmosphere that respects and still practices southern values. I grew fond of this place. I do not hate Arkansas, and I do not hate its values. In fact I share many of them.

 

 

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But as I lie in safety behind the barrier, some from the outside are stuck inside, surrounded by those trying to avoid them. My safety can cost them theirs.
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Our reluctance to accept members from the LGBT+ community might make me feel like our state isn’t steering too far from my beliefs, but it can lead to members of our own state “family” being disrespected and attacked.

I sit here in Arkansas, appreciating the small town feel you get almost everywhere you go, and the quietness of everyday, but I continue seeing a stain in it. What I wish is that we wouldn’t jump to conclusions based on what we have always known and done. I wish that we would research issues to really understand them instead of listening to people who have the same initial opinion that we have and building on that to the point where we won’t listen to anybody else, even if they actually understand the issue. I feel ashamed and sometimes afraid of how some Arkansans think, but I know that there’s many out there who don’t think the same way. I hope that one day we can realize that it’s not all about us, and that we’re not always right. Perhaps I, along with all of those others who don’t think like that can help make that happen. 

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