KILV Blog

I am only a few days away from travel, and I am getting more and more nervous and excited. I am of course nervous about safety and flight arrangements and the like, and I am excited about the ways in which travel opens one's world. But, I am also nervous about bringing the fullness of myself and my moral compass to the task of listening.

• Can I remain quiet long enough to learn more than what is encompassed by the edifice of my current knowing?

• Will I be able to let myself feel the discomfort of holding judgement, holding my tongue, and thinking deeply about fearful truths?

Why should this make me nervous? 

It makes me nervous, because I feel called to this trip as a mission. That is, I see it as a spiritual duty. It is my duty to generously and with a full heart bring all I am to bear on the questions this terrible war and the occupation present. Like many of us, I have seen and learned much already on these questions.  And, yet, this journey presents potential chances to look anew at old ideas. I need to refrain from relaxing into the comfort of the known. I need to abandon the warm embrace of my certainties. Failure to step into unfamiliar perspectives will limit my ability to lead effectively in this historical moment.

I was listening the other day to an NPR piece about how Israelis are experiencing this war.  One of the guests was Pnina Pfeuffer, founder of the New Haredim and a leader within the ultra-Orthodox community in Israel. She shared an insight that resonates with me:
 "[The current situation is] very confusing. I think that's the best definition I have of what it feels like right now, because I used to have very clear opinions. I still have very clear values, but the reality has shifted.. . . So applying those values to a reality that has shifted is confusing. I don't know what I think about every single thing anymore" (Roundtable: What do ordinary Israelis want from their leaders? | On Point (wbur.org).

This is wisdom. Not knowing makes us feel vulnerable--and we Americans (amongst other contemporary folk) HATE that. We are all so much more comfortable and comforted by certainty--perhaps even more so than we were twenty or thirty years ago. The silo-ing of culture and morality that are part of a social-media driven world of echo chambers makes this work of open listening even harder; even more uncomfortable.

It's like getting on an eleven-hour flight and sitting in a middle seat in coach: It will, in fact, be uncomfortable for quite a while. But, if I put up with the discomfort long enough, the hope is that I will (safely?) reach a new and distant destination.