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what’s most important

Marquese Goodwin has known much success in his 26 years.

He was born in Lubbuck, Texas and attended Rowlett High School. There he had the second fastest 100-meter time in the Lone Star State, was the state champion in the triple jump and long jump, and was a member of the state title-winning 4×100-meter relay team. He won seven team track and field championships.

Goodwin’s success did not stop there.

On scholarship at the University of Texas, Goodwin continued to succeed. In track and field, he was a two-time NCAA champion in the long jump and a four-time All-American in track and field. He won five Big 12 Conference championships and made the All-Big 12 team seven times. His collegiate success then propelled him to the 2012 Summer Olympics, finishing tenth in the long jump.

But Goodwin simultaneously played collegiate football, starting as a receiver and returner, including in the 2010 BCS National Championship Game. He has played in the NFL since 2013; he is currently a wide receiver for the San Francisco 49ers.

This past Sunday, the Niners played the Giants. In the second quarter, Goodwin was on the receiving end of a huge play, scoring an 83-yard touchdown, his best play of the year.

As soon as he reached the end zone, Goodwin blew a kiss to the sky, fell to his knees, and made the sign of the cross. He then gently laid his head upon the end zone turf, as several players came and appropriately, gently knelt beside him.

Just hours earlier, his wife, former Longhorn hurdler champion Morgan Goodwin-Snow, had to deliver their first child prematurely due to complications within the pregnancy. The baby boy did not survive.

Said later in an Instagram update by Marquese:

“I just wanna thank those who’ve genuinely prayed for @morganakamomo & myself through out this pregnancy. Unfortunately we lost our baby boy due to some complications, and had to prematurely deliver him early this morning around 4am. Although we are hurt, I am grateful for the experience and grateful that God blessed me with a wife as courageous and resilient as Morgan. The pain (physically, mentally, & emotionally) that she has endured is unbelievable. Please Pray for the Goodwin family.”

I can only imagine the depth of the pain the Goodwin’s feel at this time… and to still go to work. Gut-wrenching.

And while my heart aches for this family, I find myself simultaneously struck by Goodwin’s apparent realization of what’s most important.

When Goodwin crossed the goal line, there was no celebration. There was no dancing. No drama. None of the current clever, often whimsical festivities.

Goodwin did his job, was honest in his emotion, and in his grief, still later was able to acknowledge the great big God of the universe.

My sense is that sometimes we get lost in the game. We get lost in any perceived competition — be it sports, politics, you-name-it. Sometimes we get distracted and derailed. We start to major on the minors, no longer able to recognize what is minor.

My prayer is that we always instead realize what is most important.

God be with the Goodwin family. Pray for them, Marquese humbly requests.

It’s important.

Respectfully…
AR

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a social experiment

Every now and then I really like a line on this blog so much, I think it and say it over and over; sometimes it’s more than a line. I keep thinking today of how each of us contributes — knowingly or unknowingly — to the division in this country. As stated Thursday, “Our national divide will never get better if we keep contributing to the fire. We’re adding fuel to the fire with our sideways comments… our angry posts, our cutting comments on social media… the rolling of our eyes when people are sharing their stories.” Yes, we are part of the problem.

I have a good friend with whom I have long bantered over all sorts of stuff… from music and kids to healthcare and home life. We’ve long been able to talk about all. We don’t always agree, but we both recognize that agreement is not necessary for unity; respectful dialogue is always more important. We are both sharpened via such.

In recent months, my friend found herself tempted to be more of the problem, contributing to that division. It’s easy, folks. Sometimes we don’t even recognize our involvement. We feel strongly… react strongly… sometimes even baiting another by posting something provocative… maybe they’ll say something disrespectful or outlandish back… then everyone will see that they are the problem.

Unfortunately, we are part of the problem.

Recognizing such, my friend decided to conduct a small but significant social experiment. With her permission, I share such with you now…

What exactly was your experiment?

I wanted to see if I could change the quality of my Facebook feed and take control of the algorithms. I unfollowed anything political in nature — all news and current event pages — and I unfollowed friends who only post provocative political posts. I also marked all like ads as irrelevant — and I replaced them with pages that promoted peace, joy, kindness, etc. I began liking posts like crazy that were similarly peaceful and positive and then hiding posts that triggered anger, sadness, or hopelessness.

What motivated your experiment?

My feed had become 90% news and politics. Funny thing is that before the 2016 election, I hid many abrasive conservative friends. After the election, I had to hide my abrasive liberal friends, too — who were doing the exact same thing, just from the other side. I don’t care for Pres. Trump, but I didn’t need to hear the sky was falling every time I opened my feed. My gut then told me the steady diet of political opinion was unhealthy and responsible for my emotional funk. I had to change the diet or continue feeling badly.

What have you learned?

I’ve learned that I feel better when I stay clear of the political backbiting. I was taking every snipe personally, feeling defensive and hopelessly unable to control the mess in our country. I’ve become better at observing others without my heart getting so personally involved. I’ve learned it’s pretty easy to change your social media feed.

What has surprised you?

I was surprised how easy it was to change. By limiting my exposure to the bad stuff and focusing on what unites us, I began to feel better immediately.

Do you feel like you know any less than you used to?

No. I can tell if something major happens by other people’s posts. I’m then forced to go to actual, factual news sites, avoiding the provocative spin of social media.

Will you keep it up?

Yes. No second guessing. I want my involvement in social media to promote peace and loving kindness — to all. I don’t want to be drawn into any mudslinging.

What else?

I think it’s important that we take charge of the angry rhetoric being thrown around — rhetoric that only divides us. We need to realize how easy it is to become part of the problem.

My friend also added that she wishes to help build that path to unity — to positively influence those around her — to intentionally build positive relationships.

Building positive relationships… dare I say, so much wiser than any fueling of the fire.

Respectfully…
AR

 

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can you feel the tension?

It’s a prudent practice to heed the wisdom in others — recognizing none of us are anywhere close to cornering the market on wisdom. I thus spent some time listening to a wise friend this week. I couldn’t scribble fast enough. Here are my notes… his comments, with a few of my a-ha’s etched in…

The country is divided. Can you feel the tension?

But know what’s true?

We all believe what we believe because we believe it’s best.

But what happens when what I believe is best is different than what you believe is best?

We believe what we believe with passion. We believe it’s best. We also believe unity is best. So what is the path to unity?

Is unity that you agree with me all the time?

Is unity that we all see eye-to-eye on every single thing?

Let’s be clear: unity is not uniformity.

“Unity is oneness of purpose — not sameness of persons.” (as said by Dr. Tony Evans)

There are people who don’t think like us, act like us, look like us, talk like us. So let’s remember that the name of the game is not trying to get you to believe what I believe; the name of the game is not trying to get you to think, act, look, or talk like me either.

True unity can only be found when we minimize our personal preferences. But many of us rubber stamp our preferences and put them above all else… above other people, above divine inspiration and instruction.

What if true unity can only be experienced to the degree that we have accepted undeserved grace?

It’s all about grace. It’s all about grace. It’s all about grace. (Did I mention it’s all about grace?)

But the reality is that undeserved and unlimited grace only comes from God. From everyone else it is limited in some capacity — some way, somehow. From everyone else it only goes so far. Unlimited grace… unearned grace… undeserved. It only comes from One who is bigger and wiser than we. And there’s only one of him.

If you’re a woman, pay attention. If you’re a minority, pay attention. If you’re a woman or a minority, it was Jesus who spoke of your value before any of the movements today.

So want to be part of the solution to the division in this country? Want to be on the path to unity, which most people agree is best? Remember it’s not beating down others so they agree with you; it’s not squelching the voice of varied opinion; it’s not even getting back at them in the next election.

Unity comes only from the awareness of how hugely much God loves each of us. When we recognize how much God loves us and all he’s done for us — and all he’s done for the person next to me, regardless of social status, income, or ethnicity — we learn to treat that person next to us better. We learn to treat him or her with love. All the time.

Hence, learn how to respond with love.

… to those people you can’t stand… to those colleagues at work you just wish would be transferred… away, far away… Respond in love.

Our national divide will never get better if we keep contributing to the fire. We’re adding fuel to the fire with our sideways comments… our angry posts, our cutting comments on social media… the rolling of our eyes when people are sharing their stories…

That’s contributing to the division. That’s participating in the work of someone or something other than God.

Someone mentioned that we are fighting the wrong enemy. So true.

So let’s be part of the solution. Let’s be the leader of humility, kindness, and grace… knowing that available, unlimited grace. It’s something that black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Democrats and Republicans, we all have in common.

Be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.

[FYI: Time with my friend was well spent.]

Respectfully…
AR

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sutherland springs

Sunday mornings are a reprieve for me. I walk in, typically greeting a few friends along the way — some greetings shorter than others, recognizing we each pushed the time to the max hoping not to be late. But I sit, relax, and intentionally attempt to throw off all the thoughts, troubles, and to-do lists on my brain and submit them to someone bigger than me. I try to center myself and be still, preparing for the rest of the week.

That’s really the bottom line for me. Going to church — and not like there’s any rule somewhere that we all have to go to the same church every Sunday at 9:30 or whatever a.m. — but going to church and intentionally resting and refocusing is the recognition that there actually is someone bigger than me. I don’t always get it. I don’t understand everything there is to know. But recognizing the reality of God is the start to wisdom and growth. I need that. Without that recognition — or, in other words, with the ulterior assumption that any of us could possibly be on par with God’s wisdom, omniscience, or goodness — what’s right and moral in this world becomes ambiguous; what’s right and moral evolves based on individual experience.

While I’ve never been a “rule follower” (yes, just ask my parents), there is no “rule” that says we have to be in church on Sunday mornings. I go not because I follow a rule; I go because it centers me. It helps me refocus. It helps me not put “me” in the center of my world and thinking.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to go attempt to refocus — and then have the epitome of evil show up.

On Sunday, a man armed most with evil walked into a church building that held about 50 people in a Texas town of only a few hundred. Most churchgoers were injured; 26 died. One survivor, gut-wrenchingly, lost his pregnant wife, three of his children, and his parents, with two more of his children in critical condition at the time of this writing.

At this time it’s too early to know all the details. In fact, with the shooter’s death, we may never know all… what was in the head of the gunman? … how long was this planned? … why here? … why now? … what set him off? … was he ill? All are questions we will attempt to find an answer to in the days ahead; all are also questions we may never answer with certainty.

But I can’t get past that here in a weekend gathering, a setting that occurs in all-sized towns across the country in which people come to rest and refocus — where the people recognize that “we” are not all there is — that someone would come blow up the deep sincerity and serenity of that moment. In essence, evil pierced the peace.

That grieves me.

Regardless of the unknown answers, regardless of the shooter’s potential mental illness, this killing of the innocent is the manifestation of some form of evil. I don’t say that angrily. I say it soberly… with tears in my eyes and a pit in my stomach. Murder is evil. That grieves me.

This is a moment, friends, in which we could come together. We could each bow down, refocus, and recognize that there must be something or someone bigger than us.

We are heartbroken about the evil. We are heartbroken about the gruesome deaths. We gasp at the pics of the children whose lives were tragically ended. “Why?! Why did this happen??”

And in those heart-wrenching questions, we have the potential to together submit ourselves to the only one or thing that has the answers — because friends, the reality is that sometimes life on this planet simply doesn’t make sense.

What do we do when it doesn’t make sense? For me, it serves as an intentional return to submitting to someone wiser than me. When we fail to recognize that we have often mixed up the positioning — meaning we put any of us on par with the wisdom and righteousness of God — conflict ensues.

And then — as if on some sort of enemy’s cue — we fight.

We fight. We don’t solve. We don’t grieve. We don’t seek to understand. We don’t say, “Lord, help me. Help us all. Help those so hurt by this horrific tragedy.” We instead fight.

And with all due respect to each of us — as sometimes we are part of the problem — myself included — that fighting grieves me even more.

God be with the victims and families in Sutherland Springs, Texas. Be in small town America. Be in our big towns. Be with each of us, too.

Respectfully…
AR

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is Facebook good?

There aren’t too many times in life when I knowingly continue on in something that isn’t a good idea. Ok, granted, there are a few fast food drive-throughs in which I would be better served to suppress an every-now-and-then craving; routinely, however, I find myself re-examining a habit: is it good? … is it healthy? … or do I need to change some aspect of my behavior?

For years, I’ve enjoyed the contact and communication that comes via social media. I’ve been able to catch up and keep in touch with friends in a fairly fast and convenient way — from my school day besties, peers in Russia and Thailand, to old friends far and new friends near.

Facebook’s “friendaversaries” prompt thanksgiving for our enduring connections. Twitter’s tweets keep us current on the high school sports teams back home. And Snapchat and Instagram each make us smile, offering a real-time glimpse in what’s going on in the life of another. Some even add some rather unique and unusual facial features.

Yet I find myself again examining a somewhat simple idea: is social media good?

Is it good?

Assuming we have reasonable boundaries and the outlet becomes not a time-waster, keeping us from tending to all else that needs to get done in our day, are these websites and apps healthy for us to participate in?

The pictures of peonies and pups certainly brighten my day. The sports team shout outs also make me smile. Truthfully, I even find the daily deluge of pickle posts quite encouraging; while never a fan of the tiny, briny, and (in my semi-humble opinion) still slimy cucumber, at least my friends are thinking of me!

But the question of goodness arises beyond the pickles and puppies. It’s when we substitute a thread or a post for authentic conversation — especially when we’re talking about serious stuff. As one who was exposed to significant conflict growing up, it’s not that I love conflict; it’s more that I believe strongly in handling it well. If we could learn to communicate more respectfully and listen more selflessly in the existence of conflict, I believe we could damper the intensity and avoid much of the relational, collateral damage.

The challenge is that Facebook and Twitter do not do the above; stereotypical participation does not promote respectful communication nor selfless listening. When I utilize my 140 character allowance to opine, for example, that is not dialogue; that is not authentic conversation. It is simply instead a rephrasing of “I just have to say”… “let me tell you how I feel”… or “this is how I think.” How I feel or think does not require me to respect the feeling or thinking of any other. If there is no need to respect the feeling or thinking of another, it seems a foolish trap that even the intelligent fall into.

Remember the wise words an articulate guest writer shared here two and a half years ago, a friend who decided to make a behavioral change on social media:

“… So without even knowing it, I learned that I didn’t have to attend every argument I was invited to. I stopped posting political pieces. Stopped commenting for the sake of starting up a fight. I weighed in here and there but I chose my words carefully and bracketed it with things like ‘respectfully’ and ‘we don’t all have to agree.’ I became mindful that, for most of my Facebook friends, what I posted was the only definition they would have of me. I don’t speak to many of them face to face. They don’t know how I live my life, that there is more to me than my posts and replies. And I didn’t want that to be their truth about me. I am more than just my political beliefs or my religion or my alma mater (though that one I still have a hard time not defending). I am a sum of all of those things and more…”

Authentic conversation helps us know one another deeply and more. And yes, there is more to each of us than our opinions, “sides,” and alma maters (Boiler up). But when we omit the respectful give-and-take and selfless listening vital to authentic communication, we aren’t getting to know another any more than we already do. We are only hearing ourselves think. That doesn’t seem wise.

So is social media good?

Maybe. Those pickle pics make me laugh.

But my sense is, for most of us, it’s more our behavior that may need to change.

Respectfully…
AR

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new(s)

So over the weekend, after months of planning and putting multiple things in place, the Intramuralist & Co. moved into a new home. In other words if you could see me now and take note of my current, domestic surroundings, you would see a box to my left, a box to my right, and a creative selection of odds and ends all in between. Things are a bit more messy at the moment. There’s a ton to untangle and much to unpack, but… all things are “new.”

What is it about “all things new” that attracts us?

A fresh start?
Clean backdrop?
New relationships?
A do over?

An opportunity to change things up?
Do them better?
Learn from past mistakes?

An opportunity, for instance, not to plaster that one last pic or divisive opinion on social media?

There is simply something within the “all things new” idea that is empowering and attractive… that opportunity to start anew.

I’m wondering if we sometimes get into behavioral and ideological ruts — like “this is what I do” or “this is how I think” — and therefore because, “this is how I think, I’m always going to think this way”… as if it what we do and think could never be new.

The challenge, it seems is when we cast those ruts onto another — when we put another into a so-called, stereotypical box. For example… “This is what they do, so they’re always going to do it that way”… “this is how they think”… and the ultimate, “this is who they are.”

In other words, we judge them.
(Granted… it’s pretty easy and convenient to judge…)

But what if our assessment of “them” isn’t accurate?

What if we’re (God forbid) wrong in what we think of them?

What if they’ve grown? … they’ve changed? … and they have found the freedom and freshness of “all things new”?

Hence (in today’s zillion dollar question), what if we could see “them” differently?

My sense is that judgment is clouding our assessment. It’s impeding us from seeing the growth and the good in another. It’s blocking us from fording another the same opportunity we crave — to “do and think” differently — to make “all things new.”

And if it’s blocking us from seeing the good in another, it’s blocking, also, the wisdom in us.

As said by the Chernoffs in “1,000+ Little Things Happy, Successful People Do Differently,” “When you choose to see the good in others, you end up finding the good in yourself.”

It seems like we’re missing a lot of good…

… in ourselves.

Respectfully…
AR

 

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who I am for

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to discern that current social media conversations are frequently too harsh and uninviting of actual, respectful dialogue. I’ve actually been somewhat perplexed as to why way too many of even the typically are so willing to forgo respectful dialogue.

I’ve also had to raggle and wrestle with my own role — my contributions to the current state of less than encouraging vitriol. I wish to be part of the solution — not fueling the fire of a hot-tempered state.

Recently, a wise friend hit the nail on the head for me. He made a comment that highlighted my sense of what’s happening in social media. That is…

Too many times we are known most for what we are against.

In other words, we are so busy shouting and pointing fingers at what we’re against, that who we are actually for is completely drowned out. People can no longer hear who and what we are for.

I want to be known for who I am for — not for what I am against.

Let me repeat that…

I want to be known for who I am for — not for what I am against.

Let that sit in for a moment.

What you are for?

Can people tell?

Or…

Have you yelled so loudly that we only know what you are against?

Shouting about what we are against rarely invites increased dialogue. It also typically is not marked by any broad, consistent respect.

I want to be known for who I am for…

… for my family… friends…
… for the least of these…
… for all…

I want to be known for who I am for…

Notably, this may be my shortest post ever.

But when we speak of what we are for, it removes the ranting and raving, and leads to clearer, more concise, respectful conversation.

Respectfully…
AR

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they are dumb

Rarely do we simply post another’s editorial, but the truth is we learn from each other — never solely from one and never wisely, solely from the likeminded. Hear the wise words of New York City writer, Sean Blanda, written well over a year and a half ago, in a piece entitled “The ‘Other Side’ Is Not Dumb”… [Note: all emphasis is mine.]

“There’s a fun game I like to play in a group of trusted friends called ‘Controversial Opinion.’ The rules are simple: Don’t talk about what was shared during Controversial Opinion afterward and you aren’t allowed to ‘argue’  —  only to ask questions about why that person feels that way. Opinions can range from ‘I think James Bond movies are overrated’ to ‘I think Donald Trump would make a excellent president.’

Usually, someone responds to an opinion with, ‘Oh my god! I had no idea you were one of those people!’ Which is really another way of saying ‘I thought you were on my team!’
In psychology, the idea that everyone is like us is called the ‘false-consensus bias.’ This bias often manifests itself when we see TV ratings… or in politics… or polls…

Online it means we can be blindsided by the opinions of our friends or, more broadly, America. Over time, this morphs into a subconscious belief that we and our friends are the sane ones and that there’s a crazy ‘Other Side’ that must be laughed at  —  an Other Side that just doesn’t ‘get it,’ and is clearly not as intelligent as ‘us.’ But this holier-than-thou social media behavior is counterproductive, it’s self-aggrandizement at the cost of actual nuanced discourse and if we want to consider online discourse productive, we need to move past this.

What is emerging is the worst kind of echo chamber, one where those inside are increasingly convinced that everyone shares their world view, that their ranks are growing when they aren’t. It’s like clockwork: an event happens and then your social media circle is shocked when a non-social media peer group public reacts to news in an unexpected way. They then mock the Other Side for being ‘out of touch’ or ‘dumb’…

When someone communicates that they are not ‘on our side’ our first reaction is to run away or dismiss them as stupid. To be sure, there are hateful, racist, people not worthy of the small amount of electricity it takes just one of your synapses to fire. I’m instead referencing those who actually believe in an opposing viewpoint of a complicated issue, and do so for genuine, considered reasons. Or at least, for reasons just as good as yours.

This is not a ‘political correctness’ issue. It’s a fundamental rejection of the possibility to consider that the people who don’t feel the same way you do might be right. It’s a preference to see the Other Side as a cardboard cut out, and not the complicated individual human beings that they actually are.

What happens instead of genuine intellectual curiosity is the sharing of Slate or Daily Kos or Fox News or Red State links. Sites that exist almost solely to produce content to be shared so friends can pat each other on the back and mock the Other Side. Look at the Other Side! So dumb and unable to see this the way I do!

Sharing links that mock a caricature of the Other Side isn’t signaling that we’re somehow more informed. It signals that we’d rather be smug a$$holes than consider alternative views. It signals that we’d much rather show our friends that we’re like them, than try to understand those who are not.

It’s impossible to consider yourself a curious person and participate in social media in this way. We cannot consider ourselves ‘empathetic’ only to turn around and belittle those who don’t agree with us.
On Twitter and Facebook this means we prioritize by sharing stuff that will garner approval of our peers over stuff that’s actually, you know, true. We share stuff that ignores wider realities, selectively shares information, or is just an outright falsehood. The misinformation is so rampant that the Washington Post stopped publishing its internet fact-checking column because people didn’t seem to care if stuff was true…

Institutional distrust is so high right now, and cognitive bias so strong always, that the people who fall for hoax news stories are frequently only interested in consuming information that conforms with their views  —  even when it’s demonstrably fake.
The solution, as [author Fredrik] deBoer says, ‘You have to be willing to sacrifice your carefully curated social performance and be willing to work with people who are not like you.’ In other words you have to recognize that the Other Side is made of actual people.

But I’d like to go a step further. We should all enter every issue with the very real possibility that we might be wrong this time.

Isn’t it possible that you… like me, suffer from this from time to time? Isn’t it possible that we’re not right about everything? That those who live in places not where you live, watch shows that you don’t watch, and read books that you don’t read, have opinions and belief systems just as valid as yours? That maybe you don’t see the entire picture?

Think political correctness has gotten out of control? Follow the many great social activists on Twitter. Think America’s stance on guns is puzzling? Read the stories of the 31% of Americans that own a firearm. This is not to say the Other Side is ‘right’ but that they likely have real reasons to feel that way. And only after understanding those reasons can a real discussion take place.

As any debate club veteran knows, if you can’t make your opponent’s point for them, you don’t truly grasp the issue. We can bemoan political gridlock and a divisive media all we want. But we won’t truly progress as individuals until we make an honest effort to understand those that are not like us. And you won’t convince anyone to feel the way you do if you don’t respect their position and opinions.

A dare for the next time you’re in discussion with someone you disagree with: Don’t try to ‘win.’ Don’t try to ‘convince’ anyone of your viewpoint. Don’t score points by mocking them to your peers. Instead try to ‘lose.’ Hear them out. Ask them to convince you and mean it. No one is going to tell your environmentalist friends that you merely asked follow up questions after your brother made his pro-fracking case.

Or, the next time you feel compelled to share a link on social media about current events, ask yourself why you are doing it. Is it because that link brings to light information you hadn’t considered? Or does it confirm your world view, reminding your circle of intellectual teammates that you’re not on the Other Side?

I implore you to seek out your opposite. When you hear someone cite ‘facts’ that don’t support your viewpoint don’t think ‘that can’t be true!’ Instead consider, ‘Hm, maybe that person is right? I should look into this.’

Because refusing to truly understand those who disagree with you is intellectual laziness and worse, is usually worse than what you’re accusing the Other Side of doing.”

Respectfully… of all sides…
AR

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the mysterious effect

It’s been referenced in multiple publications… The New York Times, Huffington Post, People Magazine, “Next Door as It Is in Heaven”…

It’s been called an “effect” — even a “mystery.” It’s been talked about, written about, and studied for decades.

“It” is Roseto… Roseto, Pennsylvania… a small borough in eastern Pennsylvania, not far from the Jersey state line. It is named for the village of Roseto Valfortore in Italy, as the small town was largely settled by German, Dutch and Italian Americans. The mysterious effect of what happened in Roseto fits right within a current theme discussed here. This, my friends, is fascinating. Something within is good and right and true.

As said by authors Brad Brisco and Lance Ford…

“In the early 1960s a happenstance conversation over beers one evening between two doctors was the precursor to what has come to be know as ‘the Roseto effect.’ A local physician casually mentioned to the head of medicine at the University of Oklahoma that it seemed as if heart disease was rarer in his town of Roseto, a small village nestled in the hills of eastern Pennsylvania named for the Italian city that are the roots of its founders, in comparison to nearby cities. Researchers began an extensive study of Roseto, discovering a near-zero cardiac mortality rate for men aged fifty-five to sixty-four. For men above sixty-five, the local death rate was half the national average.

Why did this diminutive Italian-immigrant settlement boast such extraordinary heart health? Researchers assumed the answer lay in diet, exercise, and labor habits. But the investigators were stunned to discover this was not the case at all. The citizens drank plenty of wine and subsisted on classic Italian foods rich with cholesterol-laden pastas and sausages deep-fried in animal fat. Smoking was a daily habit for the men, who worked in back-breaking and toxic conditions in the local quarry.

None of this made sense to the researchers. The medical field was stumped. Microscopes would not be able to solve the mystery. So they brought in clipboard-carrying sociologists, who visited with town officials and went door to door to interview the Roseto citizens. Several unusual elements caught the eye of the researchers. For starters, the crime rate was zero, and there were no applications for public assistance. Yes, you read that right: no crime and no social services requested. Nada. Zilch. A rich community-wide social life was practiced, not divided along economic or educational lines. The haves and have-nots played, partied, and prayed together. The wealthy did not flaunt there affluence and seemed to make a conscious effort to avoid doing so. Local businesses received virtually all patronage of the townsfolk, despite larger stores nearby in surrounding towns. And though families were close-knit and took special care of their own, researchers discovered a spirit of assistance, friendly concern, and a tangible regard for neighbors and non-family as well.

It seemed to the examiners that no one was alone. The elderly were not placed into institutions and were actually ‘installed as informal judges and arbitrators in everyday life and commerce.’

The medical community was left to conclude that the secret of such astonishingly high cardiac health in individuals in Roseto was because of the community heart that beat for one another. The people in the community had healthy hearts because the community had a heart for one another.

Sadly, the Roseto effect would not last. In 1963 researchers keenly predicted that ‘as Rosetans became more Americanized (meaning less close, less modest and less interdependent), they would also become less healthy.’ The American Journal of Public Health revisited Roseto in 1992 and found Rosetans suffering the same statistical rate of heart disease as neighboring cities. What happened? Single-family homes had become the new norm, fences appeared, and churches moved to the outskirts of town. Community fabric wore thin, and with it the sheltering warmth it had provided.

The lessons from Roseto are remarkable. Roseto had been a competent community. While its inhabitants were no wealthier than the average American town, their quality of life was improved by their interconnectedness. Abundant communities have the capacity to take care of one another. They are convinced the basic everyday needs, along with many unexpected bumps in the road of life, can be met by the collective talent, skill, wisdom, and durable goods already present in the home and garages in their neighborhood.”

In other words, the secret to health wasn’t wealth, social status, or the size of their homes. It was not about diet or exercise, nor was there anything forced upon these residents. They simply chose to do life together. They chose to live in and promote community.

Respectfully…
AR

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a special community

A friend pegged me recently, noticing a theme in recent posts… “Start small… Let’s get back to the basics of community!” Exactly. Community is vital to ongoing peace and healthy living. Hence, let’s define it once more.

Multiple definitions are easily found… “a group of people living in the same place”… “having a particular characteristic in common”… “a feeling of fellowship with others”…

All valid and good.

But after a sweet few months of very poignant learning and application, I’ve been wrestling with my own definition. Allow me a humble stab…

Community… a group of people doing life together… a genuine connectivity marked by contagious, unlimited empathy and grace. No judgment. It’s a bunch of small moments strung together, noticing the people around you. Self is always secondary. Community is practical, authentic, and good.

One of the things I have been incredibly thankful for is the blessing of experiencing community. Having moved from a community that was beautifully thriving, one logically questions what will be next. Will we experience this again? Can we experience this again?

The answer is “yes” — especially if we recognize our own role. Thus allow an example from this past weekend…

Our youngest is involved in Special Olympics. Special Olympics are the world’s largest sports organization for children and adults with special needs, offering year-round training and competitions to 5.7 million athletes in 172 countries each year. This organization ministers to many in a unique, affirming way.

For us, this past Saturday was the district bowling competition. Our son and his high school team qualified after a strong score in last month’s county competition. But Saturday was initially pretty tiring.

It came on the heels of Friday night, an evening which saw Josh’s high school best their arch rival on the gridiron, capturing the district football championship. Josh was at that game, on the side lines, a student manager for the team. With all the fanfare, celebration, and overflowing adrenaline, it was a late night for all, especially the coaches and players.

Needing to be at the bowling competition by 8:30 a.m., it was a little tougher to roll out of bed. But once there, we would compete against some 350 plus other Special Olympians — a sweet, beautiful sight!

Allow me a brief tangent, as the camaraderie was incredibly contagious… all shapes, sizes, disabilities, and ethnicities… persons in competition with one another, sincerely rooting one another on — celebrating one another.

Osvaldo may have been my favorite. He would approach each roll the same way… sauntering up to line, deliberately dropping his ball, slowly, very slowly. And then he would wait. He would stand at the foul line waiting for that really, really slow-moving ball to make its way to the pins. Most often he watched it roll into the gutter, but any gutter caused no dismay. He would turn around smiling, such joy in his step, thankful for the opportunity to bowl.

The sweetest moment occurred after Osvaldo had thrown multiple, consecutive gutter balls. On the second roll of a final frame, he rolled a one. Yes, one; he hit one pin. Osvaldo turned around, jumping up and down, high-fiving everyone in the adjacent vicinity! He was thrilled with his accomplishment.

Additionally thrilling for us — and back to the point of today’s post — was the manifestation of community…

First, Josh’s Special Olympics coach arrived. He is also the head coach of the football team.

And second, three young men strolled up to Josh as he was about to roll. Each played in last night’s football game. Two of the three, in fact, are highly sought after Division I athletes. Yet each came up to Josh, high-fived him, hugged him, and wished him well. They hung around, letting him know “we are in this together” (… whatever “this” is).

Community, my friends, is sincere. It’s sincere, empowering, and contagious. It’s genuine connectivity — from star to special athletes. There is unlimited empathy and grace, which is powerful indeed. There is no judgment. There is celebration simply in doing life together, whatever that is.

Respectfully…
AR