A few weeks ago, I talked about the beauty of being wrong, about what opens up when we leave room for the possibility that we don’t see the whole picture.
But what happens when that space for being wrong doesn’t exist at all?
I’ve been watching decisions that impact the lives of millions of people being made with a certainty that doesn’t seem to allow for the possibility of being wrong.
And decisions even encased in the language of righteousness, divine purpose. Even a prayer for victory in what was described as a “holy war,” which for me is a contradiction of terms.
I keep coming back to the same question: If there’s no room to be wrong…who pays the price?
I think this is what’s been unsettling me:
When certainty becomes sacred and is backed by power, it becomes dangerous, especially when the cost of being wrong is measured in human lives.
In those moments, humility isn’t a virtue; it’s a responsibility. Being open to the possibility we could be wrong isn’t weakness; it’s what keeps us rooted in love, even when those making the decisions aren’t doing the same.
When certainty is sanctified, that belief is no longer something we just hold, it becomes something we protect, often at all costs.
Not something we question, because questioning it can feel like a kind of betrayal. A betrayal of our most sincerely held religious beliefs, even a betrayal of God.
Once something reaches that level, it doesn’t have to answer to anything else.
Not even to the harm it may cause.
It makes me think of a piece I talked about just a few weeks ago, one that imprinted on my psyche when I was a teenager: Mark Twain’s The War Prayer. (1)
There’s a moment where the prayer everyone is saying out loud is interrupted by the part no one is saying. The part that names what their victory would actually require.
Who would suffer.
What would be destroyed.
And it’s unsettling, not because it’s unfamiliar, but because it reveals what was always there. Unspoken.
This isn’t only about leaders or moments like the one we’re in now.
The same instinct exists in all of us: to believe we’re right and to make something so important that we stop questioning it altogether.
I’ve done that. I suspect we all have.
And when I feel that tightening in my body – the pull toward certainty, or fear, or helplessness -- I find myself returning to something much simpler.
A prayer I use when I don’t know what else to say. Not to fix anything or to try to control what happens next, but to stay grounded in who I want to be within this chaos and uncertainty.
It’s the Ho’oponopono Prayer, (2) repeating four phrases over and over:
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.
This is a reminder that I don’t see the whole picture, that I’m not separate from the world I’m reacting to. That humility isn’t weakness. It’s our responsibility, especially when our actions impact others.
We aren’t the ones making these consequential decisions, and we don’t have much control over what happens next.
But we are not powerless.
Because the moment we ground ourselves – back into love, back into humility, back in the awareness that we don’t see the whole picture – something begins to shift.
We can see more clearly. Not necessarily everything, but enough.
Enough to notice where we might be closing off.
Enough to question what we’re tempted to make sacred.
Enough to stay open to the possibility that we might be wrong.
And sometimes… enough to see a next step. Not a grand solution, but a small action. One that comes from love instead of fear, one that reduces harm instead of adding to it.
Maybe that’s where our responsibility lives. We can’t control the outcome, but we can stay grounded enough to see clearly and to choose our next step with care.
And then we can return … again and again … to love.
Joni Miller, Ph.D., is a writer, researcher, spiritual coach, and speaker who uses her knowledge, education, and love of all things spiritual to help spiritual wanderers find a place they can call home, navigating by the light of Love. www.SpiritualGeography.net
Photo by Johannes Plenio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/withered-tree-under-nimbus-clouds-2606658/
(1) Read the full piece:
https://warprayer.org/
(2) Find out more here: https://hooponoponopower.com/blog/ho-oponopono-prayer-guide/
