like punching my soul in the face

My life is in a weird state these days. I don’t have a job, I’m exactly sure what I’m supposed to be doing on any given day, the future is very cloudy, and I’m just trying my best to hang on for the ride.

But this week, I got invited to not one but TWO teenagers’ birthday parties. TWO! Teenagers! Who want me at their parties! And I don’t know how you feel about teenagers, but that is a bigger compliment and ego boost than any job offer that could possibly come my way right now.

During the first party, a police officer rang the front doorbell. We’d parked on both sides of the street and a neighbor, instead of coming by and asking if we might change the arrangement of the cars, CALLED THE POLICE to grouse about it. “I wouldn’t have said anything,” the officer said, “but someone called to complain.” It was a tiny blip in an otherwise delightful evening, but I’ve been thinking about it all week. We moved the cars.

A couple of months ago, a college friend shared on social media that her whole family was awoken in the middle of the night - 3am! - by the police banging on their front door. Startled, scared and confused, they were even MORE confused when the officer told them that someone had called 911 because a door on the family’s minivan, parked in their driveway, had been left open.

My college friend, who is an artist, created a charming zine introducing the members of their family and sharing their phone number and distributed it to all her neighbors. “If you see something strange,” the zine said, “please just give us a call!”

I’ve been thinking about how absurd these things feel to me. Just go talk to your neighbors! Just ask a question! Just knock on the door or say hey when you’re in the yard. What in the world has led us to calling the police instead of practicing the very bare minimum of neighborliness?

This week, a clergy colleague who I’ve only met a handful of times sent me a note. She’d just gotten caught up on all that has gone down with my ordination over the last year, and wanted to reach out because she had accepted an invitation to speak at a CoB event. She’s a brilliant leader from another tradition and has just published a new book and accepted the invitation because she knew me and assumed good things about the Church of the Brethren. But when she read about my strained, abusive relationship with the church, she sent a note. “I didn’t realize,” she said, “all the terrible-ness. I’m so sorry.”

I’d guess that note took her only a moment to write, but it meant a lot to me. It acknowledged her association with a system that was hurting me. It told me she recognized that she was participating in - and profiting from - an institution that treated me badly. I’m glad she’ll be speaking, for the record, and don’t begrudge anybody the opportunity to earn a living and follow their call.

But that note put into stark relief the lack of such care and communication I’ve received from people who have been colleagues and even friends for decades. People who are now so wrapped up in their institutional roles that contacting me, person to person, human being to human being, colleague to colleague somehow became impossible. They’ve chosen their role over their relationship.

And, look: I’ve done that too, SO MANY TIMES. When I did it, I was afraid of being marred by association with someone branded as a troublemaker. I didn’t want to lose the trust of certain other factions of the church or be seen as “biased.” I thought if I just followed the rules and did my job then I’d get along okay. But every single time I chose a job or a role over a relationship, a process over a person, it was the equivalent of punching my soul in the face. And I’m really trying, here in this season of growth, to stop beating up my own soul.

Calling the cops instead of knocking on a neighbor’s door does soul-deep harm - very possibly to your neighbors; most definitely to yourself.

Here’s what I’ve learned: it takes nearly nothing to send a note, a text, an “I saw this was happening; how are you?” email. Nearly NOTHING. It is so simple to reach out to someone, so easy to refuse to believe gossip and talk directly to the person involved, instead. It is the most human thing to do to knock on your neighbor’s door instead of calling the police, to send a card of support instead of discussing someone’s situation for hours in a committee meeting. It’s so OBVIOUS, you know? People are more important than processes. There are no exceptions.