Recently I wrote here about how I experienced a “Kingdom of uses” this past summer. Reflections on the kingdom of uses continues to evolve for me. 

In my late 20s, I worked for a program called “Amicus, Inc.” which served offenders and ex-offenders in the criminal justice system, offering them practical services and relationship and harm-healing. The goal was to fill in the often-gaping gaps of support and meaningful accountability for people who have numerous needs coming out of prison, and who are often tasked with re-building themselves into useful citizens by themselves with few resources or family help. I absolutely loved the work, and part of what I loved was working for my boss, the director of Amicus, whose name was Louise. Louise and Amicus were deeply intertwined over her decades of leadership there. Her vision and spirit were recognized and appreciated not only by offenders and their families but by judges, volunteers, mentors, law enforcement and probation officials, church leaders, and community members. I simultaneously worked for her and watched her: what is her magic? Why is it such a privilege to work for her? How is that those on the bottom (offenders) and those on the top (judges) seem to not only respect but love her? 

I came to see, or rather sense, a basic humility in which she walked. Subconsciously, she positioned herself below or behind others. Her job was to serve me, to empower me to do my very best. Because my job was a new one, and we were exploring together how to best accomplish it (restore or kindle necessary relationships for serious and chronic teenage girl offenders in Minnesota), she leaned heavily on my instincts, morals, and social skills. I became braver, more skilled, and more honest with her behind me. I learned to open my heart to parents who had terribly abused their children and then, the next day, to wealthy donors. 

Over time, I came to see Louise, in the “grand person referred to in the Wrigings,” as connective tissue. Her mind was always on the conversations that could lead to a good end. She not only saw the best in people—she strategized on how to bring that best out. Should she bring together the St. Paul police department with the head of public schools? Who in each department would be the best person to address the issues? What issues could best be addressed there? Her network of colleagues, partners, and well-wishers in even as large an area as the Twin Cities (population 2+ million) was so extensive that it was hard to go anywhere with her without being engaged by a “friend” somewhere. (Amicus, which also inspired the name of our sailboat, means “friend” in Latin). 

One of the lasting lessons she taught me was the importance of creating or finding a safe, respectful space for open-hearted, clear thinking conversation. As we grew in our Restorative Justice work (victim/offender/community dialogue), it seemed that the biggest barrier to success was simply “readiness.” One has to be “ready,” and waiting for or encouraging readiness (and believe me, patience is NOT my strong suit) was an area of continual challenge and growth.

Fast forward a quarter century. The need for safe, respectful places to share, brainstorm, challenge, and support, has never been greater. Currently, my work in media (I am a radio show host for a local radio station and a reporter for a local paper) brings to the forefront the constant question: who needs to talk to whom to bring about a good outcome? I am coming to see this as a network of uses. How can this person best serve his/her use? What are his/her skills to be tapped? 

Some of the most rewarding work I have done in the last twenty years was simply in having the conversation that needs to be had. On the radio, the question becomes “How can a public conversation better the situation?” Once there was a scare at the Two Harbors high school in the form of a social-media-driven rumor about a gun in the school. It began in the evening and by 5:00 a.m. the principal felt it would be impossible to open school as usual. So school opening was postponed, then canceled. Students arriving were told to go home. To say the rumor mill was flying is an understatement. Parents on Facebook were the worst of all; accusations and rumors became enshrined in comments with nothing but fear or malice behind them.

The investigation continued throughout the day and by the end of the day, the administration was able to say with full confidence that there was no danger and never had been and school would resume the next day. That was not enough for most parents or students and the rumor mill, including a frightening vitriol against the perceived offender, continued unabated on social media.

I contacted the principal, whom I had interviewed many times before, inviting him to share what he could on the radio the next morning. And he did—he laid out exactly what had happened, the actions they took, the results, and the plan. Word had gotten out about this interview, and everyone was listening. After that, the social media craze simply fizzled out. There was nothing left to say. With direct communication in real time, the issue had passed.

All of which is to say, it’s far more difficult to maintain our foreboding or fearful fantasies of each other when the connective tissue is in place. The connective tissue not only holds things together, but ensures that they can function. 

From the Swedenborg Foundation website:

The spiritual lesson of the Universal Human, then, is that we, like the various parts of our own body, should find ways to provide a useful function in human society. At the same time, we can appreciate the many and diverse ways in which other people are playing their role in helping us. When everyone works together in harmony, moved by divine love and guided by divine wisdom, there is an image of God—the Maximus Homo, or Universal Human.