jeremyrsolomon

Protestors and My Assumptions of Them

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Protestors and My Assumptions of Them

Recently I explained why I didn’t go to a protest despite the abuses of ICE in Minneapolis. I gave my reasons, but there was a lie of omission; another reason I didn’t join the protestors—for the feelings I have toward them. I’ve been put off by protestors in recent years, or at least the coverage of them. They seem loud, violent, and judgmental with no interest seeing issues in shades of gray. But the incursions of ICE have forced me to reckon with my presumptions. Despite the actions of some, I resolve now to see the charity and good will from protestors who have carried the torch of a worthy cause in Minnesota.

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I Didn’t Go to the Protest Last Week. Now I Wish I Had.

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I Didn’t Go to the Protest Last Week. Now I Wish I Had.

Around 50,000 people protested in downtown Minneapolis on January 23, and I decided not to go. To date, I’ve never been to a protest; either I never agree with all their views or I take offense to their actions. In 2020, I couldn’t accept the chaos and burnings on Lake Street two miles north. Likewise, when right-wing groups protested Covid shutdowns, some of them reminded me too much of the tiki torch men that marched on Charlottesville in 2017. One thing or another has always held me back, and so it was that Friday. Even as I found myself now living in a police state under ICE, I didn’t stand against it, and I feel a shame for it today.

If I had gone to the protest, I would have stood for the constitutional principles that ICE is violating in my home. I cherish the Constitution; a set of ideas providing us a lifetime of restraints from government. Then ICE flooded Minneapolis, and all of the sudden, those freedoms vanished. With stops on civilians for having accents. With door-to-door knocks forcing residents to prove citizenship and call out their neighbors. With denials of access to attorneys and horrid conditions in detention. For agents following samaritans delivering groceries to people too afraid to go outside. For the invasions of schools, harassments against local police, and the constant presence of masked men with big guns. All of this and more is happening, and it’s too much to ignore as agents tear down everything I value of my country.

And as much as I am weary of some using the race card to explain events, it’s hard to ignore race as ICE’s sole cause for action. I speak now of living in a police state, but really, the state is only applicable to some. Minnesota is a state that now requires those with darker skin tones to carry ID, lest they face arrest and detainment. My wife is fearful of an encounter with ICE, but I haven’t flinch since she brought it up. Why? Because we’re not the targets, unless ICE plans to catch those who might look Canadian or European. We’ll be fine, and my neighborhood will probably be fine. But many others are not.

Ironically, these events made me obsessed with following right-wing media. I was hoping—praying and begging—for pundits like Ben Shapiro and Megan Kelly to sway my fears. I wanted to believe that life was normal. That the chaos from ICE was just smoke and mirrors from the Left. That Minnesota is still under the practices of the Constitution. That U.S. citizens and legal immigrants don’t have to fear federal stops or captures. But the conservatives failed me. Along with their cruel mockery of others, they either ignored these problems or excused them – e.g., the media always lies, the protestors are snowflakes, and the Democrats started it all anyway. I wanted to cling to their reasoning, but I came to terms with the state of life in Minnesota.

And in all of this, I haven’t even brought up the shootings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. I’ll refrain from commentary on the incidents. Everyone has seen the videos, and everyone has offered their opinions. I have neither insight of police work nor the skills to persuade if I did. Taking it all in, I’m just astonished at how everyone takes different conclusions from the exact same videos. Whether you see their deaths as murder, as tragic but avoidable, or as justified, the climate of fear from the muscle of ICE is a disgrace. A moral stain on our nation, not only for the loss of life, but the immediate judgments of the victims thereafter. The lies of the federal government. The erosion of public trust. And the lives people now live in the Twin Cities.

Still, despite everything, I decided not to go to the protest. In the end, I still held opinions that kept me from associating myself with the assembly. I’m still sympathetic for an ICE agent forced to decide in a flash how to handle a car in front of him with spinning wheels. I still see a need for agencies like ICE to kick out the worst of the worst. And I usually agree with conservative calls for personal accountability; in this case, interference with law enforcement. If I’m not in line with the protest’s views, why would I join them? It’s the same concern I’ve always had with such events, and it persuaded me to stay home.

And besides the politics, there were practical matters. The protest was on a work day. I have a family. I was concerned about transportation and the challenges of weaving through the crowds. And downtown Minneapolis is a place I’d avoid in the best of times let alone when it holds thousands of people with an axe to grind. The logistics felt extensive, and it was hard to justify the inconveniences just for one more soul to freeze in minus-10 weather. No one cares if I go, I told myself. Things will play out with or without me. Just stay home.

I made a measure of peace with the decision, only for the next morning to hear of ICE killing someone else. The world has played the same game with Alex Pretti as with Renee Good; arguing about his life and the details about his death. I hit a breaking point of horror, and words I’ve known since childhood came to mind. In Star Trek: The Next Generation, Captain Picard spoke against another state that was starting to persecute perceived enemies:

“With the first link, the chain is forged. With the first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably. … The first time any man’s freedom is trodden on, we’re all damaged.”

We are all damaged from the dominance of ICE. We all have a reckoning to face in the forsaking of freedoms for others. And while I don’t believe that silence is violence, doing nothing has stopped being an option for me.

So I wish I could now talk to myself before January 23. Problems getting there? You’ll figure it out. Worried about family? It’s just for a few hours. Don’t agree with everything they’re saying? Whatever. You know there are bad things out there that are worthy of protest—yours and theirs. Don’t think you’ll make a difference? Probably, but it will make a difference in your heart. You’ll be a part of something righteous. Something that links you to the demands of American generations before you. Something that aims for the ideals that speak the best about us. So go. Just go. It’ll be fine.

But since I can’t change my decision, I hope now to do better. Soon I will spend time at the vigil for Alex Pretti. (This is something else I’ve never done.) I will meditate in the freezing Minnesota air while praying for peace and justice. And I will think about how to speak against the federal intrusions of my home. To be sure, my activism will have limits. I won’t go against lawful orders, nor will I scream curses at ICE or anyone else. But I’ll go forward with words in my heart that were weaved into the first flags of our republic. Simple words that seem as fitting now as they did 250 years ago—Don’t Tread On Me.

Is Die Hard a Christmas Movie?

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Long ago, I listened to men on the radio argue over an odd question: Is Die Hard is a Christmas movie? It struck me as absurd. Of course it isn’t. It’s guns and explosions; it’s not Hallmark tales. Is this really a question? But here was the media taking an affirmative and negative, locked in fierce debate. They didn’t need to talk about politics or world leaders to raise our blood pressure. Die Hard would do just fine for their daily controversy. So I rolled my eyes on a twenty-minute commute as I couldn’t believe anyone in the world thought the action film was a holiday one. 

I forgot about the argument until years later when a new friend not only claimed Die Hard a Christmas movie, but aggressively teased me over it. We would argue about it for years, sending memes, articles, and quotes to counter the other’s foolishness. He’d send a screen shot of Amazon Prime showing that Die Hard was under Christmas movies. Meanwhile, I’d send clips like Bruce Willis setting the record straight while noting things like the fact that Die Hard‘s release was in July. No one in Hollywood thought it was a Christmas film, and the argument raged on from there.

Inspired by our debates, my friend, who would be a clever troll if he spent more time online, started an annual Die Hard Christmas party. While the gatherings were fun with good humor, the purpose was clear: To mock my opinion. In the first years of hosting, he would point out everything in the film that allegedly proved him right:

– “Look, there’s a Santa hat on the dead body.”

– “See? McClane’s using wrapping tape to hide his gun.”

– “They’re playing Let It Snow for crying out loud!”

On some level, I had already surrendered the argument by enjoying his parties. My holiday traditions came to include Hans Gruber falling off Nakatomi Tower, and Die Hard was now in the same realm as Miracle on 34th Street.

Still, I held my ground through the years with the argument that the theme of Die Hard doesn’t involve Christmas. The fact that a story takes place on the day can’t in itself warrant the label of a holiday film. The plot might happen during that time, but a movie needs to be about Christmas to count. For examples, let’s look at the themes of less controversial Christmas films:

A Christmas Story – A child celebrates the Christmas season with his middle-class family while hoping for a Red Ryder bee bee gun.

Ernest Saves Christmas – Ernest helps Santa Claus preserve his magic powers by transitioning the role to a successor.

Jingle All the Way – An inconsiderate father races across town to find the most popular Christmas gift for his son. 

By contrast, let’s look at Die Hard:

Die Hard – Foreign criminals hold a building hostage to steal bonds while an off- duty cop interferes with their plans.

Or, if you’d rather not take my word it, let’s review Amazon’s description instead: “A New York policeman outwits a group of foreign terrorists holding his wife and others hostage in a Los Angeles high-rise.”* Amazon threw Die Hard under the category of Christmas, but it failed to actually connect Christmas to the story. Because you can’t, I would argue. You may want to attach “on Christmas” at the end of the sentence, but Earth’s orbital location to the plot was irrelevant to me. If you have to shove a prepositional phrase at the end of the description to make the movie Christmas, then it didn’t qualify. Game, set, match—or so was my thinking.

Along with this, I stood my ground because it struck me that people like my friend weren’t acting in good faith. It always seemed like the people who proclaim Die Hard a Christmas film just want to stick it to anyone who might like Hallmark films—those awful holiday rom coms that grandparents make kids sit through.** Die Hard is antithetical—rebellious—to those viewers. There are explosions. Murder. Cocaine at office parties, and a rogue cop killing henchmen. So if Die Hard can be in the same genre as something like A Christmas Prince, then it’s a fun way to taunt those preferring the ladder. Declaring Die Hard as Christmas felt more like a trolling expedition than a genuine argument.

For these reasons, I pressed on in opposition, but I always knew there was a downside to my view. Other movies could be called into question with my thoughts about themes. Is Home Alone still a Christmas movie? Kevin McCallister fended for himself against burglars and the chores of domestic life, and Christmas was irrelevant to his journey. And what about It’s a Wonderful Life? After all, Christmas only happens in the last third of the film, and the holiday was inconsequential to George Bailey’s problems. If everyone held my opinion, then endless analysis might come of such classics. I was being a stick-in-the-mud about Die Hard, and this problem was always in the back of my mind.

So as the argument got old between me and my friend, I decided to turn around on the question. Fine. Die Hard is a Christmas movie. So be it. Separating a movie’s theme from its setting might technically be the right thing to do, but was I really going to tell people that certain movies weren’t Christmas? Was I going to stop playing Home Alone in the background while decorating the Christmas tree, as became a tradition? I was tired of being stringent and potentially raining on anyone’s parade. To each their own, I would conclude. So I became fine with calling Die Hard a Christmas movie, looking forward each year to watching bloody shootouts and degenerate behaviors with the holiday season.

Sadly, not long after making this turnaround, the holiday tradition of watching Die Hard would come to an end. My friend just moved out of state, making the final party last week as he sold his house. Sure, someone else could host, but it won’t be the same. Just as people start new families and float away from the traditions of youth, the joy and cheer from watching Die Hard with my friend will fade into memory. Still, I’ll want to do my best to continue on with Die Hard. Truly, as the meme says, “It’s not Christmas until I see Hans Gruber fall from Nakatomi Tower.”

*I’m actually not thrilled with this summary. As Hans Gruber quipped, “Who said we were terrorists?” And he was right. They weren’t looking for political change; they only wanted money. Still, the point here is that Amazon didn’t think to include Christmas as part of the theme of Die Hard. Point to me!

**Take a look through Netflix and it appears the streaming giant eclipsed Hallmark in bad holiday films. Some of the movie titles are hard to read let alone spending hours watching them.

So Who Receives SNAP?

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When the federal government closed for forty-three days, America talked a lot about the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Who receives the money? What are they like? Do they deserve our pity or scorn? Descriptions and stereotypes of their character inspired our arguments on the program. The media presented images of millions as being one kind of person or another. Black or white. Downtrodden or deplorable. As saints or squatters with no room for complexity. Our assumptions of the poor dictated whether we celebrated SNAP or condemned it as a societal failure.

One depiction of SNAP recipients were of innocents in need of help. Journalists and pundits told us of the plight of the homeless. The helpless. The powerless who demand our protections. The New York Times reported of some now searching garbage bins for food while the disabled lost their only source of income. Other media followed food banks and single-parent homes that scraped by in the best of times, only now to fear losing SNAP. The poor in America appeared on a precipice of descent into famine and anarchy. We might then ask, how could we allow the shut down of SNAP? Its halt would be to our shame as a nation.

Meanwhile, others offered a far different narrative. Instead of being helpless, people who take SNAP funds are lazy and selfish; leeches who have babies for higher checks or commit fraud for taxpayer money. Cynicism raged. SNAP was a crutch that leads people to a mindset of lethargy, clinging to free funds while having free reign to do nothing for themselves. One podcaster suggested the poor in America could now go on a prolonged diet. Others evidenced anecdotal Tik Tok posts of angry women screaming of entitlement to SNAP money. We might now ask, how can we reward bad behavior with taxpayer funds?* These are different conclusions with different opinions on such programs.

All of these characterizations reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend once about health care. As a nurse, he gave examples of patients receiving benefits at hospitals via the requirements of Obamacare. This increased health care costs, or so he claimed, as facilities are forced to comply with new regulations. But I noticed a pattern in his opinions:

Me: “You know, very example you’ve given, the patient is either stupid or greedy.”

Friend: “…I’m a conservative; that’s what I think of people.”

The comment hung in the air as a funny joke, but the insight was worth remembering. How we think of others can be the starting point of understanding our politics; to stand one way or another on SNAP and other issues. With our assumptions of our neighbors, our morals and politics will follow. 

One might hope for the Bible to give clarity on SNAP, but it seems that our biases might lead us to verses instead of the other way around. For those liberally minded, Matthew 25 stands out as the damning defense for welfare. “…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters, you did for me.” Meanwhile, conservatives point to passages suggesting not only a need for people to work but an expectation of meaningful work to be by design in Heaven.** Therefore, a government program providing streams of free money creates a lack of incentive for work, or so the thinking goes. In any case, this isn’t to disparage the Bible as irrelevant, but only to note our preconceptions. Holy scriptures can vindicate whatever views we’ve already brought to the table.

So what should we take from all of this? Are the poor selfish and greedy, or in dire need without recourse? To try to answer it, I visualize all SNAP recipients in one place. Forty-two million—a population five times the size of New York City. Imagine a group filling hundreds of football stadiums. It’s a breathtaking image showing me that the depths and complexities of our stories are endless. Childhood backgrounds. Genetics. Age. The health of their marriages. The malevolence of their bosses. Etc, etc. The factors bringing them to the present are immeasurable. We are complex creatures hard to label in the strive to vote for the right thing.

On one hand, cynicism for the poor isn’t without a basis of facts. Fraud does occur. Some do have babies for higher checks, and others do possess a selfish entitlement, stubbornly refusing to find productive paths in life. There is waste. There is greed. And all of this should give us pause if we want to have sound public policy. It’s not crazy for conservatives to point out the selfish things that people do. It’s observing human behavior. It’s an attempt to use wisdom to guide a prescription for how governments should handle such problems.

Yet for all of this, we shouldn’t portray the desires of a public safety net as foolish. An array of circumstances will crash on us in life; powerful forces reigning out of our control. Layoffs. Disability. Inflation. Housing. Health care. Natural disasters. The list goes on for the heartaches we face. It is therefore in the interest of the public to offer relief, not only from a sense of charity but for the aim of government policies to bring greater order. These ideas aren’t insane. The need for stability is real. Programs like SNAP can offer a societal solution without demonizations.

But as much as we like simplicity, there is no one way for the world to classify everyone. Are SNAP recipients lazy, or are they innocent? The shades of grey are abundant, and I don’t have a grand answer on public policy. So as we enter the holiday season, let’s recognize our personal ability to help others. The media stopped talking about the forty-two million, as they tend to do with societal problems when an event resolves. SNAP recipients again have their lifelines—or their welfare, however you look at it. But their stories are far from over. So let’s move forward as a nation on the lookout for each of us to serve the least of these. Perhaps this would be the best opinions of all.

 

*As a fiscal hawk, I’m compelled to point out that America is $37 trillion in debt and climbing. So programs like SNAP aren’t funded by taxpayer money. They’re funded by China and other nations buying our debt. So it’s personally hard for me to accept America as being charitable when the funds are coming from other countries. Just a thought.

**See Genesis 1, Isaiah 65, and 2 Thessalonians 3. As much as conservatives like to beat us over the head with the last of these, it’s there for our reckoning.

***I would highly recommend the book Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City, by Matthew Desmond. It’s a deep dive into the constant struggles and heartaches of the poor.

Ted Lasso Overcoming Evil with Good

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Ted Lasso Overcoming Evil with Good

Ted Lasso has been all the rage in the 2020s. It’s won awards, public affection, and it serves as a model story of leadership and character. I streamed Apple TV for the sole purpose of watching it, and it didn’t disappoint. The plot was appealing to me as a sports fan, but the characters were also enjoyable, and I was happy to read Lead It Like Lasso afterward. Later, I watched the show again with my wife, who despite no interest in sports, cheered for the A.F.C. Richmond football club as any of us. The show paid dividends to me again as we could share in the story together.

Watching the show gave me humor and good cheer, but a certain episode gave me something I didn’t anticipate: A conviction of guilt. It came from my reaction to a storyline, with shame and sadness that I hadn’t seen a certain predicament as Coach Lasso did. My response didn’t match his benevolent approach to the situation, and I had an odd moment of reflecting on my beliefs. The best approach to life was now being exemplified from a fictional football coach from Kansas, and it was a unique moment while binge watching a TV show.

*Spoiler alerts from here, though I only talk about one subplot of the entire show. So take that as you will.*

Ted Lasso has an assistant coach named Nate. At first a custodian, bullied by players and shy as can be, Ted treated him from the start as any peer. He recognized Nate’s talents in soccer strategy, encouraging him to speak up for the betterment of the team. He became an asset to their success, but in time, the bullied became the bully. Nate came to swell with pride, disparaging staff for mistakes while obsessing over social media posts about himself. He quit A.F.C. Richmond with rage, claiming Ted had stopped paying attention to him, but revealing his jealousy of Ted’s popularity. Nate was the real hero of the team, and the world should know it.

Nate’s treatment of Ted was staggering, bringing viewers like me to disgust. He became a head coach elsewhere, mocking Ted and his former team in a press conference. This brought Ted under pressure from his boss and other staff to fight back. To attack Nate in the media, regaining respect for himself and the team. No one deserved Nate’s insults, let alone Ted, who only wanted to improve the lives and character of his players. But Nate now lived a life of prestige while Ted stood on the edge of a professional knife, ready to fall if he didn’t match Nate blow for blow. 

As I was watching, I passionately agreed with everyone telling Ted to fight back. That little pissant, I thought of Nate. Ted gave him so much. No respect or gratefulness. Ted has to do something. But while the show brought the audience to feel this way, Ted went the opposite way. In a public response, he complimented Nate on his quick wit for the jokes, and he wished Nate the best on his new team. The press room went silent as Ted then doubled down, agreeing with Nate’s insults, taunting himself facetiously. The press didn’t know how to react, but they came to praise Ted as a class act. By the end, everyone loathed Nate, who doesn’t take it well. Scrolling through Facebook posts** that condemned him as an awful person, Ted stood above him again in the eyes of the world.

At the end of the episode, I felt guilty for how I reacted to the story. I wanted Ted to insult Nate as everyone did, and the show was remarkable in hooking us with the injustice. But I’d forgotten that the better response to any such person is charity with humility. The Bible says as much: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.”*** For Ted, to do what everyone wanted was counter to what was right. Even if it meant scorn from his boss and the public, his was an admirable response of grace.

Adding to my bit of shame was the fact that it was a fictional show that was teaching me how far I fell short of good character. Hadn’t I read the Bible enough to understand that Ted’s response was the best? Shouldn’t it have occurred to me that the right way to approach Nate was Ted’s? A Hollywood comedy was reminding me of the best way to live life – a way I had understood, but wasn’t taking to heart. I felt like I had been lured into a moral trap, and it should have been obvious to see how Ted ought to handle the situation. But my anger for Nate had overtaken everything else and for a moment, the show was no longer entertainment, but an experience. An opportunity to see how my thoughts were short of what was good.

Reflecting later on the episode, I saw a Catch 22 in the story.**** Everyone wanted Ted to have revenge by insulting Nate, hurting him as he had done to Ted. Instead, Ted replies with absolute grace and respect. The result? Nate is humiliated, revealing himself as a boorish ass while Ted gains in stature. It’s the story of Cain and Able, with Nate now suffering more than any insult could have done. His anger shot through the roof, and it was Ted’s grace that led him to feel that way. As it turns out, grace became the ultimate form of vengeance.

Ted’s response was a model example of an instruction from the Apostle Paul, also showing a bit of the Catch 22:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12:20-21

Whether or not the creators of Ted Lasso had Biblical teachings in mind, this is what I’ll take away from their show. Many will see Ted’s response to Nate as weakness, but it’s easy now to see it as coming from a source of strength. Ted stood resolute with grace and forgiveness. It was a calling of faith, and ironically, the path may have served as the biggest blow to his offender. Ted dumped metaphorical coals on Nate’s head, and his ego couldn’t take the bad press. May that be said of all our situations, where the bullies of our lives come to either repentance or derangement. Let us hope to overcome evil with good, as Coach Lasso did.

*It turns out, season three will not be the last one as number four is in progress. It seems like the creators should have quit while they were ahead, but all we can do is hope in their skills for another good season. And besides, if four stinks, we’ll just forget it existed, and remember the beauty and resolution of one through three.

**I have to say, it was so strange to see all computers in the world of Ted Lasso as Apple. Everyone’s phones, the office desks, hotel lobbies, etc., all were iPhones and iMacs. I understand Apple wouldn’t want to promote any other computer company, but this made the show feel like an alternate reality. In the real world, only a small percentage of hardware is Apple, only for it now to appear as as 100%. It was hard to get use to this world.

***Matthew 5:38-40.

****Maybe I shouldn’t claim something is a Catch 22 if I can’t quite explain what one is. Just look it up, and hopefully you see what I mean here.