In this stirring monologue, "I Expect Better From My Neighbor," we are confronted with the harsh realities of societal apathy and indifference. Drawing on the author's disgust at our society's race to the bottom, the despair at the inaction of so many, and the horror of fear driven social paralysis; the monologue delves into the heart-wrenching disappointment, rage, and despair felt towards those who turn a blind eye to injustice. It is a powerful call to action, a plea for empathy, and a damning indictment of our collective cowardice and failure to uphold the values of fairness, justice, and compassion.
In the shadowed valley of our collective conscience, a silence rings louder than the clamor of indifference. It is the silence of the bystander, the silence of the neighbor who, in the face of injustice, chooses to look away. It is the silence that echoes through the hollow chambers of our society, reverberating with the chilling refrain, "It's not my problem."
Like a river that has lost its course, we have strayed from the path of compassion, wandered away from the shores of empathy. We have become like stones in a barren field, unmoved by the winds of change, unyielding to the cries of our fellow man. We have become spectators in the theater of life, content to watch as the drama of injustice unfolds before our eyes.
We have become like the fig tree in the parable, bearing no fruit, offering no shelter, serving no purpose. We have become like the barren desert, offering no sustenance, providing no relief, harboring no life. We have become like the moon, reflecting the light of others, but possessing no warmth of our own.
And in this desert of apathy, we have sown the seeds of our own destruction. For when the winds of injustice blow in our direction, who will stand with us? When the storm of oppression descends upon us, who will offer us shelter? When the flood of tyranny threatens to drown us, who will extend a helping hand?
We have become like the man in the parable who built his house upon the sand. When the rains came, and the floods rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, it fell. And great was its fall. For we have built our society upon the shifting sands of indifference, and great will be our fall.
We have become like the Pharisee in the temple, thanking God that we are not like other men, while ignoring the suffering of our brothers and sisters. We have become like the rich man who passed by Lazarus at his gate, oblivious to his suffering, indifferent to his pain.
But I say unto you, my friends, that this is not the way. This is not the path that leads to the promised land. This is not the road that leads to the kingdom of God. This is the path of despair, the road of hopelessness, the way of apathy.
And so, I stand before you today, not as a prophet of doom, but as a herald of hope. I stand before you not to condemn, but to call upon the better angels of our nature. I stand before you not to cast stones, but to sow seeds of compassion, of empathy, of love.
For it is not enough to simply say, "I am not my brother's keeper." We must become our brother's keeper. We must become our sister's keeper. We must become the keepers of justice, the guardians of righteousness, the champions of truth.
We must become like the Good Samaritan, who, when he saw a man beaten and left for dead, did not pass by on the other side. He did not say, "It's not my problem." He did not say, "I don't want to get involved." He stopped. He cared. He acted.
And so, I say unto you, my friends, let us not be like the fig tree, barren and fruitless. Let us be like the mustard seed, small but mighty, capable of growing into a great tree that provides shelter for all. Let us not be like the moon, cold and distant. Let us be like the sun, warm and nurturing, a source of light in the darkness.
Let us not be like the stones in the field, unmoved and unyielding. Let us be like the river, ever flowing, ever changing, carving a path through the hardest rock. Let us not be like the desert, barren and lifeless. Let us be like the oasis, a source of life in the midst of desolation.
For in the end, we will not be remembered for our silence in the face of injustice. We will not be remembered for our indifference in the face of suffering. We will not be remembered for our apathy in the face of tyranny. We will be remembered for our courage in the face of adversity, our compassion in the face of suffering, our love in the face of hatred.
And so, I say unto you, my friends, let us not be silent. Let us not be indifferent. Let us not be apathetic. Let us stand up. Let us speak out. Let us act. For in the end, it is not the words of our enemies that we will remember, but the silence of our friends.
Shame on us, shame, if we do not rise to the call of justice. Shame on us, shame, if we do not answer the cry of the oppressed. Shame on us, shame, if we do not stand up for what is right, for what is just, for what is true.
For in the end, we are not just neighbors. We are not just friends. We are not just citizens. We are brothers and sisters, bound by a common destiny, united by a common purpose, driven by a common hope. And in that hope, in that purpose, in that destiny, we find our strength. We find our courage. We find our voice.
And so, I say unto you, my friends, let us expect better from our neighbors. Let us expect better from ourselves. Let us expect better from our world. For in the end, it is not the darkness of the night that we fear, but the absence of the light. And it is not the absence of the light that we fear, but our refusal to shine. So let us shine, my friends. Let us shine.
Some developmental notes:
In my crafting the preceding monologue, I took notes during my research (which I normally discard when I'm done). This time, I felt that some of it should be memorialized and shared. What follows are those things I felt was scaffolding that might be helpful for others.
"We have become like the fig tree in the parable, bearing no fruit, offering no shelter, serving no purpose."
This is a reference to a parable from the New Testament of the Bible, specifically from the Gospel of Mark (11:12-14) and Matthew (21:18-22). In this parable, Jesus curses a barren fig tree for not bearing fruit, and the tree withers and dies.
In the context of the parable, the fig tree is symbolic. It represents those who appear to be faithful on the outside but are not genuinely fruitful in their faith. The fig tree had leaves (an outward sign of life) but did not have any figs (the fruit). This was a metaphor for people who appear righteous but do not live righteously, thus not producing the "fruit" of good deeds and a virtuous life.
So, with "We have become like the fig tree in the parable, bearing no fruit, offering no shelter, serving no purpose," I am suggesting that, like the barren fig tree, society not living up to its potential or fulfilling its responsibilities. False members of society appear to be productive or virtuous on the surface, but in reality, they are not producing anything of value or serving a meaningful purpose. This is my critique of hypocrisy, complacency, or unfulfilled potential.
"We have become like the man in the parable who built his house upon the sand."
This refers to a parable from the New Testament of the Bible, specifically from the Gospel of Matthew (7:24-27) and Luke (6:46-49). In this parable, Jesus tells the story of two men: one who built his house on rock and another who built his house on sand. When the rains came, the house on the rock stood firm, but the house on the sand collapsed.
In the context of the parable, the house represents one's life or the foundation of one's beliefs and actions. The rock and the sand represent the wisdom and folly, respectively, of the choices one makes. Building a house on rock is a metaphor for establishing one's life on solid, enduring, and unchanging principles, such as the teachings of Jesus. In contrast, building a house on sand symbolizes basing one's life on shifting, unreliable principles or foundations.
So, with, "We have become like the man in the parable who built his house upon the sand," I am suggesting that society is basing its actions, beliefs, or systems on unstable, unreliable, or transient foundations. This is my critique of short-sightedness, lack of foresight, or the absence of a solid moral or ethical foundation. The implication is that, like the house built on sand, society is at risk of collapse when faced with more formidable challenges or adversities.
"We have become like the Pharisee in the temple, thanking God that we are not like other men, while ignoring the suffering of our brothers and sisters."
This refers to a parable from the New Testament of the Bible, specifically from the Gospel of Luke (18:9-14). In this parable, Jesus tells the story of two men who went to the temple to pray: one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.' But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
In the context of the parable, the Pharisee represents self-righteousness, pride, and hypocrisy. He believes himself to be superior to others due to his religious practices and moral behavior. However, his prayer is more about praising himself than connecting with God. On the other hand, the tax collector, despite his societal status as a sinner, shows humility and genuine repentance, which makes him more righteous in the eyes of God.
So, with, "We have become like the Pharisee in the temple, thanking God that we are not like other men, while ignoring the suffering of our brothers and sisters," I am suggesting that society is acting in a self-righteous, prideful, or hypocritical manner. It's leaders and their sheeple are focusing on their own perceived moral superiority while neglecting compassion, empathy, and assistance for others who are suffering. My critique implies a lack of genuine humility and a failure to recognize and address the needs and struggles of others.
"We have become like the rich man who passed by Lazarus at his gate, oblivious to his suffering, indifferent to his pain."
This refers to a parable from the New Testament of the Bible, specifically from the Gospel of Luke (16:19-31). In this parable, Jesus tells the story of a rich man, often referred to as Dives, and a poor man named Lazarus. Lazarus is a beggar who sits at the gate of the rich man's house, longing to eat the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. Both men die, and Lazarus is carried by the angels to Abraham's bosom (a representation of paradise), while the rich man ends up in Hades, where he suffers torment in the afterlife.
The rich man, in his lifetime, ignored Lazarus, showing no compassion or assistance despite his wealth and the abundance of resources at his disposal. He was indifferent to Lazarus's suffering and did nothing to alleviate it.
So, with, "We have become like the rich man who passed by Lazarus at his gate, oblivious to his suffering, indifferent to his pain," I am suggesting that society, it's leaders and the sheeple that support them are acting in a manner that is indifferent to the suffering of others, despite having the means to help. This critique implies a lack of empathy, compassion, and social responsibility, and it calls for a change in behavior towards greater awareness and action to alleviate the suffering of others.
"Let us be like the mustard seed, small but mighty, capable of growing into a great tree that provides shelter for all."
This is a reference to a parable from the New Testament of the Bible, specifically found in the Gospels of Matthew (13:31-32), Mark (4:30-32), and Luke (13:18-19). In this parable, Jesus uses the mustard seed as a metaphor for the kingdom of God.
The mustard seed is one of the smallest seeds, yet when it grows, it becomes a large tree, providing shelter for birds of the air. This growth from something tiny to something grand is used to illustrate the potential of faith and the expansive and inclusive nature of God's kingdom.
So with, "Let us be like the mustard seed, small but mighty, capable of growing into a great tree that provides shelter for all," I am encouraging an attitude of humility, potential, growth, and inclusivity. Despite starting small (like the mustard seed), with faith, perseverance, and growth, one can have a significant impact, providing shelter (or support, comfort, resources) for many. This phrase emphasizes the potential within each person to make a positive difference in the world, no matter how small their beginnings -- and this for me is a great challenge.
Don't be confused:
- I am not a Christian.
- I practice no Abrahamic derivative.
- I do not believe that Jesus died for our sins.
- I do not believe in an anthropomorphic entity (or entities) in some sky realm (or down below) that will reward or punish me for my actions during my lifetime.
And yet, somehow I can find and follow a moral compass that is uplifting, compassionate, and offers a better future society and culture than what we have now.
I can and want to, do unto others as I would have them do unto me.
Why is the golden rule so difficult for others?
Every day I face the Sisyphean task of bearing witness to the pandemic virus of baffling sociopathy that seems to be wildly contagious among the willfully ignorant, the determined incurious, and the deliberately hateful (who cloak themselves in righteousness). I do respect that others believe differently, but their right to believe ends where my right to not believe begins (and the math works both ways, i.e. the reverse is true too). The distinction is in who is willing to put the other before themself(selves). I'd rather race to the top and be the best of our nature instead of race to the bottom revealing our worst selves.
R.W.
Postscript: This monologue (above) and it's developmental context may make it seem that I am idealistic and I've been told I'm not being realistic. Perhaps such accusations are accurate, but I harbor sinister truth and great hopelessness. To make it twenty-four hours without the specter insurmountable depression overwhelming me, I need to believe that a better physical world is possible. I need to believe there are others with more experience, strength, and hope than I.
With whom can I stand and add my support? At present, it seems, it requires the courage of the damned to step out, to speak out, to lead.
My spirituality guides me (intellectually) toward detachment, my recovery guides me (intellectually) toward tolerance and acceptance but the empathy I feel for this ocean of human suffering is overwhelming and while I may want and be able to be a drop of difference in a sea of woe, I don't have the courage, strength, or hope necessary to tilt at those windmills alone. And as an introvert and misanthrope, finding more Don Quixotes and fewer Sancho Panzas with whom I can adventure is not easy.
Are the causes worth the fight? I don't feel I am alone. Yet, the rage against the machine that I perceive is ignorant, misdirected rage. It is the voices of malice, deception, vice, and hatred that rage the loudest; they drown out reason and steal the oxygen from the room of civil discourse. And so, I'm now come full circle, where is the righteous indignation to stand for truth, justice, or even common decency?
I debated if the above monologue (or post) should in my blog or as "spoken word" among my poetry. I honestly could not decide, so I flipped a coin and then decided against the coin. 8^0
