Author: Sharron Burnett

There is anger in our land. It is loud and upsetting. Many are frightened by those that they do not know. They want to cast them out from their midst. It is difficult for them to trust people whose ways of speaking or living or believing seem so different from their own. They wonder if they or their loved ones will be safe around them. They ask why they should sacrifice for people who seem to be so strange. 

They have chosen someone to rid the land of those who do not seem to belong. He is an angry spiteful man who lies to them, but he echoes their fears so surely he will do the work that they dread. He will cast out the unfamiliar souls that they do not care to get to know. They think that he will be their protector even as they can see that he may be only protecting and enriching himself. 

They balk at being called xenophobic. They are not even sure what that word means. It sounds like something a haughty person who does not understand them might say. They are not aware that xenia is from an ancient Greek word that means friendship with a guest who is a stranger. It expresses the idea that each of us has an obligation to offer kindness even to those that we do not know. It is the foundation of the message of Jesus who was born in a manger in a strange land. It offers the idea that the person that we do not know among us may be Ulysses returning home changed and alien after twenty years of wandering. It may be a baby who has been sent by God to be our savior. Xenia tells us that we would do well to welcome the refugee, the trans woman, the poor and homeless, the people who are looking for refuge in our midst.

But we call the angry people xenophobic because instead of attempting to befriend those who are different from them they want to cast them out, to shame them and accuse them of being evil before even knowing them. Phobia is also from a Greek word that means fear or dislike of people or things or ideas that appear to be different or strange . It is the opposite of the idea of xenia. 

From the beginning of time humans have been taunted by power seekers playing on their fears. Even the ancient Greeks new of such tendencies. They wrote about it and fought over it. We are not unlike the ancestors from long ago. That baby in the manger came to be known as Jesus and his one and only commandment was filled with compassion and xenia. His words were direct and should be easy to understand, we must love one another even as we love ourselves. He listed no exceptions, named no group or person that we should spurn or hate and yet we become fearful and turn on our fellow humans again and again making excuses for our unwillingness to always be loving and welcoming even to strangers. 

The angry man who has been elected to soothe our fears is wrong. He is not sent from God to save us. He wants to do bad things. He wants vengeance, He wants us to turn on each other. We must not let him tear us apart. We must understand that it is in our natures to be fearful but it is also in our natures to learn and change and share our love and our good fortune. We can be our best together if only we try. We must stop the hateful man from ruining what is best about us. 

I went to a poetry reading. A gifted writer named Ryan Wilson offered the following words for us. These words spoke to me. They relate to our present condition. They suggest the struggles that we have to embrace xenia but show us what we must do. Think of what xenia means as you read this. Find the beautiful message. Be inspired. Then challenge yourself to do the right thing.

Xenia

One day a silent man arrives

At your door in an outdated suit,

Threadbare and black, like a lost mourner

Or a Bible salesman who’s been robbed.

Penniless, he needs a place to stay.

And you, magnanimous you, soon find

This stranger reading in your chair,

Eating your cereal, drinking your tea,

Or standing in your clothes at the window

Awash in afternoon’s alien light.

You tire of his constant company.

Your floorboards creak with his shuffling footfalls,

Haunting dark rooms deep in the night.

You lie awake in blackness, listening,

Cursing the charity or pride

That opened up the door for him

And wonder how to explain yourself.He smells like durian and smoke

But it’s mostly his presence, irksome, fogging

The mind up like breath on a mirror . . .

You practice cruelty in a mirror,

Then practice sympathetic faces.

You ghoul.

Your cunning can’t deceive you.

You are afraid to call your friends

For help, knowing what they would say.

It’s just you two.

You throw a fit when

He sneaks water into the whisky bottle,

Then make amends.

You have no choice

Except to learn humility,

To love this stranger as yourself,

Who won’t love you, or ever leave.

——Ryan Wilson

When I was in my second year of teaching I learned the meaning of unintended consequences in a most unfortunate way. I had undergone training regarding the district rules for both teachers and students which were said to be hard and fast. One of them insisted that any student found with smoking paraphernalia while on campus was to be reported and punished with time in the Alternative Learning Center. While the rule seemed to be a case of overkill to me I thought little more about it until a number of students came to me one day reporting that they had seen a pack of cigarettes inside a girl’s purse. 

Bear in mind that the girl that they told me about was perhaps the most outstanding person in my class. She was polite, followed the rules and made excellent grades. She was a model of what we want our young to be and yet I was faced with a conundrum because all of my students had read and signed the Student Handbook which specifically told then what would happen to anyone bringing cigarettes to school. I had to seek consul with the principal hoping that there would be some leniency in dealing with the situation. In fact, the girl told me while in tears that her teenage brother had put the cigarettes in her purse over the weekend when he did not want his parents to see the evidence that he was smoking. Sadly the two of them forgot to get the offending items out of the purse. It was only once the girl was at school looking for a pen to work on a lesson that she and those around her saw the offending items. 

The principal was as concerned about the situation for the young lady as I was so she called the Administration Office to get an official reading of what to do. Much to the disappointment of both of us, the powers that be held firm to the rule, telling us there could be no exceptions for any reason. The sweet child was sent to the Alternative Learning Center of four weeks where she sat in the midst of some of the most hardcore troublemakers in the district. I was terrified for her but also realized that what was supposed to be a rule to protect her and others had actually turned into an unfair nightmare. 

Thus it is with many of the plans that Donald Trump insists he will put into place almost immediately. I have outlined the difficulties for so many of his ideas but I will start with only a few of them beginning with mass deportations. 

The cost of such a huge endeavor has already been mentioned but I don’t think anyone really has a proportional sense of how truly expensive it will be to hire additional employees for Border Patrol, to send officers on hunts for the illegals, to provide a place to hold the people pending transportation out of the country, to pay for that transportation, to inform the countries where they will be sent to expect their arrival. For that matter there is a big question as to whether or not the various nations will even accept the return of so many people. It will not be nearly as simple as just proclaiming that it will happen. 

Another important economic blowback that few have considered is what will happen when the immigrants quit doing jobs that are quite important to each of us. Who will do their work? How much will it cost to hire employees who are not so desperate that they will work for peanuts? What happens when these people leave the homes and apartments that they have been renting? Will the landlords suddenly find themselves with empty properties and a much lowered income flow? How will we make up for the sales taxes that these people have been paying. Where will the additional funding come from? What programs will suffer? What kind of realignment in schools will force districts to lay off teachers, suspend funding for books and supplies?

Then there is Trump’s promise to shut down the Department of Education. Most citizens have little idea how many important programs in schools are funded by the federal government. Many recent strides made in serving our disabled students will be taken away. Programs for autistic children will be on the chopping block. Tutoring and afterschool programs may have to go. Extra money for science labs, classroom books and magazines will be gone. Few understand the extent of extra help our schools get from the Department of Education. 

A big push for school choice through vouchers that Trump and other Republicans find attractive is also filled with problems that few consider. The average amount of state funding per student in Texas is about ten thousand dollars. It is probable that vouchers will provide no more than that amount and possibly even less. The cost of most good private schools in Texas begins at $20,000 per year and increases as the quality and reputation of the school goes up. In addition most of those schools require entrance exams and admissions are based on standards that limit who will be invited to attend. Sadly far too may voters think that a voucher program will allow them to send their children to private schools without cost and the truth is that they will find themselves paying tens of thousands of dollars if their children can even meet the admissions standards. 

I bring these things up because I hear people talking enthusiastically about the many things that Donald Trump is boasting that he will do that will indeed have many unintended consequences that those who voted for him may or may not have considered. The massive changes that he is espousing will each have their share of impacts that will not be what everyone expected. It’s wise to think things through before jumping off a cliff. I learned that with teaching and I fear that the public will soon learn it with the plans that Trump is vowing to set in motion very soon. My warning is, “Buyer beware!”

The photos on my phone were littered with bad shots, silly pictures, junk that seemed meaningful at the time but now just steals away memory space. I spent a couple of hours cleaning up the photographic house. In the process I took a walk down memory lane and it was quite lovely and nostalgic. Then I reached the pictures from 2020 to the present and things began to change. 

There were fewer and fewer images of other people and the ones of me and my husband often featured the two of us wearing masks. I was reminded of the clever trips that we took using our trailer so that we would not have to interact with other folks who might make us sick. I marveled out our ingenuity in keeping ourselves sane during the horrible pandemic time but I also began to recall how lonely and isolated we had all felt. We kept ourselves virus free but we also lost friends and acquaintances both to Covid and because of our political differences. Death and sorrow seemed to hover over the time like a shadow that not even our forced optimism was able to overcome.

As I scrolled closer and closer to the present day I encountered photos of loved ones who have died in the last couple of years. The photos seemed to serve as evidence of just how much our lives have changed. The ranks of our friends and family members are thinner now. Even those who remain are less inclined to invite us to meet with them or come to their homes. Gone are the celebrations of life that jumped from the smiling faces before 2020. Our isolation lingers not so much because we are still afraid of bringing illness into our home but because so many seemed have lost interest in entertaining. Even our trailer has sat unused for two full years. 

I have to admit that I found myself wishing that I had never embarked on the attempt to make more sense of my photo library. The most recent years have left me feeling as though very important people are missing in my life for one reason or another. Some have died and I admit to missing them terribly and wishing to have just a few more minutes with them. Some decided after years of friendship that they no longer felt comfortable with my political views. Others became incredibly busy trying to reconstruct life after the pandemic. Now I mostly stay in touch through phone calls and text messages but rarely see them in person. Even my attempts to create reasons to get together have all too often fallen apart. 

I sense that the worldwide pandemic left a kind of worldwide mental breakdown in its wake. We humans are having a difficult time adjusting to the massive losses and interruptions in our lives. We seem to be trying to act normal but somehow it isn’t working as well as we had hoped. The sadness and anger that arose during that time has left a residual goo that resulted in less trust in so many of the societal bulwarks that once made us feel so secure. It is as though there was also a kind of worldwide earthquake that created vast shifts and chasms that we have yet to overcome. 

I wish that I knew what to do. I know that it is impossible to go back and have a redo based on the knowledge of hindsight. We just have to deal with the realities of the situation but so many of us feel a bit helpless in knowing how to begin. Nonetheless the photos or lack of them gave me some important clues. 

If we start with the youngest among us we should see that they have not experienced important milestones in their development that we all need. Their schooling was interrupted. They lost opportunities to to grow together. They watched their elders fighting with each other rather than working together in a spirit of cooperation that might have inspired them. Their faith in so many of our societal structures have been sorely tested and they find themselves questioning what it is all supposed to be about while their elders often poke fun at their ideas. 

If we jump to the oldest among us we also see a loss of precious time that they will never get back. They were among the biggest losers of people that they loved. Life changed so dramatically for them and they mostly faced the pain and sorrow alone. The world moved on from them too early and they grew older faster because of the loneliness. 

The bulk of the responsibility fell on the young men and women of working age. Many of them began to work from home. They married with small intimate weddings. They had their first children without the usual fanfare. They found themselves operating in a world for which they had never planned. They had to balance so many responsibilities that they barely had time for sleep. They had to wait for everything to be normal again and somehow the same normality they had once known never really returned. In some parts of the world they even had to deal with wars, famines, earthquakes, and other disasters on top of the upheaval from the virus. They did their best to remain steadfast in their resolve to keep things moving forward but nothing around them seemed to be the same. There was a worldwide seismic shift, a once in a generation challenge that is still reverberating across the globe. 

I cleaned up my messy photo library but left that task feeling quite pensive and determined to do my part to understand and help those who have lost the most through no fault of their own or anybody else for that matter. We were engaged in a world war on a virus. As with any war damage was done. Now it is time to make peace with one another and do whatever it takes to rebuild with a happy future in mind. That will take dedication on our part. We each have jobs to do. Perhaps the place to begin is outside of ourselves. We owe it to those we love to repair the world and make it even better than it was when the virus invaded it. It’s time to work together because we all need each other. Let the future photos demonstrate that what we are going to do becomes an effort that brings us back together. 

Everyone has a secret to share. Mine is that I majored in English hoping to teach that subject one day. Because I took a number of mathematics classes that were not as demanding as all of that reading and writing was, I ended up teaching math in my first job as an educator. The rest became my history. I nonetheless often imagine myself reading the tracts of famous authors with my students and showing them how to interpret the metaphors and many figures of speech that enlighten the literary experience. I see irony and hyperbole in everyday life, but most especially in the work of a great writer or filmmaker. When a story or movie is elevated to more than just a rendering of a factual story i get quite excited. Such was my reaction upon seeing the highly praised movie, The Conclave based on the book of the same title.

I am a Catholic who spent twelve years under the tutelage of nuns and priests. Religion classes, were a daily affair in my upbringing as were prayers and masses. I was a dutiful and diligent student of my faith so much so that the sisters who taught me once attempted to recruit me for a life as a nun. While I read every book in the library detailing the stories of saints I never saw myself being devoted enough to spend my life in a convent. 

I love my church but understand all too well its imperfections. For that reason I viewed The Conclave the way I believe it was meant to be seen, as a fictional work of art, not a critique of issues that the Catholic Church has encountered over the decades. We all know what they are: the subservient role of women, the hiding of pedophiles, the common sins that all humans commit, the resistance to meaningful change. These are all aspects of the Catholic religion that have garnered controversy so showing any of them in a movie is not an insult, but rather a nod to the realities that we know must be continually addressed. 

With that said, I watched The Conclave knowing that its purpose was to weave a fictional tail with a touch of mystery. I assessed it the way my high school English teacher, Father Shane, taught me to review any work of art. He urged us not to simply retell the story but rather to strive to see the main point that the writer or director was attempting to convey. Thus I saw that The Conclave was a sumptuous delve into the human characteristics that define each of us. It studies our relationships with religious beliefs and with each other. It looks at both our strengths and our weaknesses against the backdrop of the election of a new Pope, process steeped in unwavering tradition.

If we were indeed perfect there would have been no need for Jesus to die on the cross to save us. If we never fell prey to sins of jealousy or lust for power the ten commandments would have been moot. Instead we know that even the apostles showed weaknesses in times of distress. Thus movie reveals that the Cardinals gathered to elect a new Pope came with their own preconceived notions, doubts and flaws. The story is one that poses many questions including thoughts about the changing roles of women in a modern world. 

The film is lush with color and views of the Vatican. The acting is worthy of the finest Shakespearean play. I am quite certain that Father Shane would have enjoyed it as much as I did. The questions posed are current. The traditions transcend the centuries. It is fascinating and sure to garner many kudos in the coming awards season. 

When I was a young girl I remember that movies were rated by the Catholic church and sometimes ranked with an X which meant that it was seriously wrong to even think of watching them. The old movie Peyton Place was such a film. I never had any desire to see it, but when I was well into my fifties I grew curious to know what had been so horrific about it that it earned one of those X ratings. I can’t even begin to describe my surprise when I watched it and found it to be rather silly and somewhat sad. I wanted to think that we had come a long way from being judgmental about people who think or believe differently from ourselves. Somehow I just can’t see Jesus condemning anyone without looking deeply into his or her heart. After all, he was all about forgiveness. It was his reason for dying on the cross. He knew that we would sometimes falter and even fall. He was all about giving us chances to redeem ourselves. 

The Conclave is more than just a story about the election of a Pope. it is a philosophical and psychological peek into the good, the bad and the ugly of our human natures. It is a brilliant masterpiece that asks us to think about possibilities before we judge.   

I have a friend who has experienced an incredibly tough life. He parents were demanding alcoholics but she somehow overcame the consequences of their addictions. She loved them in spite of their flaws and became a teetotaling coffee drinker who has never let alcohol pass through her lips. She is a strong woman who has made her way through all of the ups and downs of her life.

She was happily married until she learned that her husband was having an affair with her best friend. It tore her heart apart but she just kept on trucking and supporting herself even when she developed a blood disease that required regular transfusions. All the while she was one of those people who really cared about the well being of her friends. I count myself lucky that I was one of them. 

She and I always have fun together and she is never a fair weather friend. Whenever I have troubles she is the first to check on me and allow me to vent about my woes. We really want the best for each other so I was thrilled when she found love and married again. Tragically her joy was not to last. Over time her new husband had multiple strokes that left him bedridden with her reaching deeply inside her soul to find the strength and the wherewithal to care for him. 

For many years she was his nurse, never complaining about the constant vigilance that isolated her from much of the world. I saw her as a loving angel and marveled at her devotion even knowing that I should not have been surprised. After all, she has always been that kind of special person with those she loves, including me. 

After a very prolonged illness her husband died and she was quite lonely. She did not know exactly what to do with herself since the role she had played for so long was over. it took time for her to find her resolve once again. Along the way she met a wonderful man. They had both taken care of sick spouses for many years. They bonded over the mutual understanding of what each of them had experienced and before long they decided to get married. 

She has had a wonderful time with her new life which she so deserves. She has continued to be an incredibly faithful friend as well. No matter what else in going on in her life she always checks on me and boosts my ego. I am happy for her and hope that her trials are mostly over even as she and I both age and face the uncertainties of growing older. 

I have been blessed by this woman’s presence in my life. We have grown up together, had children together, laughed and cried together. I can totally be myself with her. It does not matter what her mood or my mood may be. We celebrate each other’s happiness and support each other when things are not going well. Nothing is out of bounds. We can literally feel the love encircling our relationship.

Such remarkable friendships are treasures. They only happen when two souls come together without any preconditions. Two people see each other, hear each other, care about each other. I have had others that were just as strong but for one reason or another they have dwindled over time. Two of my dearest friends died and others became overwhelmed with other responsibilities that made it difficult for them to find the energy needed to keep our friendships blossoming. They were fabulous in a certain time and place but not meant to be for a lifetime. 

My mother-in-law used to ply me with her wisdom. She pointed out that people come and go in our lives as we need them. Only a select few stay through the decades. She pointed out that when Jesus was dying on the cross his mother, Mary Magdalene and the apostle John were the only ones who were there in spite of what had seemed like his growing popularity and the fact that he had twelve apostles. She maintained that most of us will have only one or two people who stick with us through fire and ice. 

I have been blessed with wonderful people who have been beside me in the different stages of my life. They have shared my worries and my joys. They have been the right people at the right time and I have loved them. I feel so privileged to enjoy the longevity of my dear friend who might have had so many viable excuses for leaving my side. Like a loving sister she has been as steadfast as I have needed her to be. What a wonderful gift she is! I would like to think that everyone finds such a person.