CLERGY IS THE KEY TO RENEWED CIVILITY

Perhaps it’s the deterioration of my short-term memory that clears more space for crystal-clear recollection of 50-year-old brain fluff . . . and sometimes matters of greater gravitas.

Take, for example, the sermon that the rabbi delivered on the subzero Sabbath of my Bar Mitzvah in 1962. That day, he preached on the “Coat of Many Colors” episode that nearly culminated in Joseph’s murder at the hands of his own brothers. He underscored that hatred is self-perpetuating and that it so often begins – and ends – with the inability to speak to each other with “civility,” a word he introduced to my vocabulary that day.

Maybe it’s because, as a kid, I was the bullied one. Maybe it’s because my Jewish friends and I were routinely beaten up by the kids at St. Margaret Mary’s on our way to Hebrew school, to the jeers of “Kike!” and “Christ Killer!” Maybe it’s being a child of the ‘60s. Maybe it’s because of images of civil rights demonstrators being fire-hosed, bloodied, and murdered. Maybe it’s because we bore witness to the image of the vital JFK, the symbol of our own nascent vitality, with a bullet to his brain. Whatever the reasons, the lessons of incivility and its results have always occupied an important space in my conscience, especially when I myself have acted uncivilly.

Where and when did our newest wave of incivility start? Rush? Sarah? Bill Maher, Michael Moore? No, incivility is a society-wide breakdown in which altruism is considered naïve and foolish, and basic kindness retreats in the face of xenophobia and me-first-ism.

How do we return society to the civility of more honorable times?

The fact that a preacher, a person of God, brought the lesson home to me deserves special regard. As one who has also worn the mantle of clergy, I daresay that we of the cloth bear more than our share of blame for not stemming the insidious tide of incivility. Deny it or not, no one on earth is more charged to be a role model of civility than clergy. We, after all, are responding to a “calling,” not a “job option.” We are the ones schooled in sacred texts, encountering the Golden Rule and great exhortations to “do justly, love mercy, walk humbly.” We are groomed to interpret those words and virtues through our preaching and teaching. We must acknowledge the power of motivating our constituents through sermon, prayer, pedagogy, and most certainly by example.

To the extent that they renege on that calling, they have become part of the problem. To the extent that they accept the calling, they can become a pivotal force for returning civility to the various paths of daily life.

So, what are you, preacher, preaching about civility from your pulpit, to a congregation that would cherish words that elevate, inform, comfort, stimulate? Even something so simple as remembering to say “please” and “thank you,” can present a profound sermon-worthy message. Are your words carefully measured and delivered with a civil voice and vocabulary? Or, are they mean-spirited and tainted with ill-will?

What sort of model of civility are you, preacher? Are you the moral exemplar your flock and community crave? Do you live out the calling through ways of pleasantness and paths of peace?

What sort of expectations do you have, preacher, of the civility of your flock? Will you tolerate contentiousness from those who conduct the comings-and-goings of your community? Will you require that religious education be punctuated by lessons of civility?

What are your demands of civility in public discourse, preacher, particularly in the arena of politics? Are you benignly acquiescent, to hate speech and xenophobia? Or can you speak out in civil, but holy, indignation when politicians and commentators become ugly and exploitive?

In a word, preacher, how will you make your influence felt to return us to times of civility? Dare I go so far as to propose a coalition of “Clergy for Civility,” to draw on the shared strength of our calling to discuss and implement ways that our communities will be home for all who want to be fair and kind?

Amazing, isn’t it, how some things stick in your head even five decades later. I will forever bear a debt of gratitude to my Rabbi for dedicating my Bar Mitzvah Sabbath to the mandate for civility. Would that our pulpits and preachers all be so wise and blessed . . . and civil.