Preachin’ to the choir, politically
You’ve probably heard the idiom, “preachin’ to the choir” before. My father was a Presbyterian minister, and that’s probably where I first heard it, though I have to admit, when I was a youngster, I wasn’t sure what it meant. Generally speaking, in the churches in which I grew up, the choir sat in a loft or off to the side, and the minister rarely looked their way. (Why do you think I sang in the choir?)
The phrase actually originated in England in the 1800s but really took off during the 1900s in the American South. It was suggestive of the redundancy of a preacher, espousing a dogma or doctrine to those (the choir) who were already true believers.
I hadn’t thought about or heard the expression for a long time, but a recent comment from a reader triggered me to consider its implications. The reader wrote, “How come you don’t write about politics? Isn’t that what editorialists are supposed to do?”
My reader might be right, but for the life of me, I’m having a hard time summoning up the energy to engage in political discourse — written, verbal or otherwise. It’s not that I don’t care, and it’s not that I don’t have strong opinions about the political landscape in which we’re all living.
The problem for me is that I don’t think writing about politics does any lasting good. I’ve been a columnist now for 17 years and during that time have churned out over 500 columns. I’ve written about family issues and parenting; I’ve discussed racism, sexism, special events, holidays, hailstorms and floods, fall’s beauty and aging, and yes, in the past I’ve written a number of political pieces.
But here’s the thing. In all that time, I’ve never had someone write to me or catch me on the street and say, “Wow Tom, your latest piece on the decline of bipartisanship and the incessant noise of political extremism really knocked my socks off. I think I need to reexamine my belief system and see if I can’t tone down my rhetoric and increase my tolerance for those with whom I have political differences.”
I’m not saying that I haven’t received lots of feedback on my political columns. Far from it. I’ve received hate mail (and in one case a death threat) predicated upon something I wrote from folks who took umbrage with my words. And I’ve had readers who happen to agree with me, write and thank me for sharing my opinion (and essentially supporting theirs), but at this point in my journey, that leaves me with a “so what” sort of feeling. Truth be told, most people (all people?) are so entrenched in their political beliefs that it would take far more than the very truest words ever written to sway their opinions, or to even give them a moment’s pause in order to consider another point of view.
On the other hand, when I write about kindness, or when I talk about family, the feedback I receive suggests that my words have resonated within the hearts of some readers. I recently wrote a column about losing a friend with whom I’d sort of lost touch over the past several years, and the response from readers (on both sides of the political aisle) was universally positive. One wrote, “Thanks for the reminder. I am inspired to reconnect with people in my life before it’s too late.”
It occurs to me that most political writing is less “instructive” and more “here’s what I’m mad about today,” and that may be fine for some writers, but I need more. I need to know that I’m not just (proverbially speaking) flapping my gums (or exercising my fingers).
I have a goal for every column that I write. Sometimes, I’m hopeful that I will make you smile and remind you of our shared humanness and help you realize that there’s no point in making tragedies of trifles. Sometimes, I want to offer insights into what makes for healthy families by offering ideas on different “tools” that we can all employ. Sometimes I want to remind us all that life is about the choices that we make on a daily basis, because I suspicion that sometimes we go on “autopilot,” and forget that how things are isn’t necessarily how they have to stay!
As I’ve aged, I’ve tried to stay relevant by sharing my wit and wisdom (half-wit, half-wisdom, and yes, I know that there are those that think only the first “half” is applicable) with those in my sphere of influence through my teaching and writing. I’ve finally come to the conclusion that to continue to write about political things is akin to “preachin’ to the choir.” I just don’t think it matters.
As I move forward, I will try to stick with that realization and hopefully my homilies will make you laugh, or think, or care. Or all three.