“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you agree.”

Such was the sage advice given to a recently graduated young man in the first days of his first adult job. The young man was me. The sage, my mentor and much-missed best friend, Anthony Turney.

At the time, Anthony was “the big boss” — Deputy Chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts. I was a lowly clerk typist (GS 750 or something...) working for — gasp! — the Republican “friend of Ronnie & Nancy”, Marvin Liebman.  Upon learning this — Yella’ Dog Democrat Son of the South that I was, and am — I indignantly announced to Anthony that “I need to quit!”

“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you agree.”

Anthony and I had become close quickly: he, perhaps the logical morphing of wise father and kindly big brother I so missed, and only sporadically ever had; me (perhaps) the son or parishioner that Anthony never had / would have decades later when he entered the Episcopal ministry.

Many a treasured time did Anthony and I have, along with his lovely, loving and oh-so-gentle partner Jimmy Brumbaugh: the gay binary star around which revolved what Anthony had dubbed “The Pansy Mafia” that coursed through (seemingly) every official artery of Washington, DC in the 1980s and still does. For our little cadre, the code word for closeted gay men, especially of the political ilk, was “Duck”: as in “if it walks like, and quacks like it must be a....” Sometimes traipsing through Dupont Circle our jolly little band could be heard with lavender laughter imitating swimming poultry as we spied and queried about some dishy youth waddling by, “quack quack, quack quack.” Our “Pansy Mafia” often sounded like a gay petting zoo.

“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you agree.”

When Anthony and Jimmy moved to San Francisco, I followed. When Jimmy died from AIDS, I became even closer to Anthony. When Anthony was ordained as a deacon at Grace Cathedral I bought him a boxing nun puppet. When Anthony became executive director of the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt, I coordinated the readers in the shadow of the Washington Monument: intoning in memory for those whose quilts spread forth in agonized rainbows across the Mall. It was a powerful and painful homecoming.

When Anthony died in the early hours of July 4th, 2014, I was holding his hand.

“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you agree.”

Of the many gifts received from my dear Anthony, none has impacted me more — or continues to — than “A Course In Miracles”. Lately, “ACIM” has been getting a lot of press, courtesy of one of its Oprah-approved biggest fans, Marianne Williamson. A lot of people have laughed off this most unlikely of presidential contenders (and for the record, she’s not my candidate). However, I’m glad she’s in the race, and so is Ross Douthat — the Republican editorialist for the New York Times: a writer I loathe to like.

“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you agree.”

However, today in flight, I read and appreciated Douthat’s column about Williamson, the “Course” and our current political divides. His point: people of faith are not just right, wrong, left or center: we are a constituency. The whole read reminded me of Anthony. His gift of “A Course in Miracles” as I set out on my year working my way around the world aboard ship in 1998 changed my life.

It is easy to make fun of the California “hippy dippy” vibe: easy to disregard that which is misunderstood, or un-read. I’ve read “A Course in Miracles” - twice - and its dense, confusing, but ultimate love-and-life affirming message continues to inspire and inform my life.

Once, after a mutual friend died, Anthony turned to me quietly and said “now, he knows.”

Now — wherever he is — Anthony “knows” what is next, or not, or never will be.  I don’t yet, and - frankly - am in no hurry to get there. However, I do know this: if I’m lucky enough to die with a loved one holding my hand, my last thoughts will not be of politics, or taxes, or tariffs or anything other than what Douthat talks about today: an aspiration for living and loving a better life while we’re here, now.

“You’ll learn more from people with whom you disagree than from those with whom you do.”

So, while I don’t think that a President Williamson would be an ideal choice, I am glad that her simple, often-snickered at message of gentleness and love is bringing balance to the farce that is our current political world. I’m glad that my least favorite columnist reminded me of it. I’m especially glad for the “Miracle” that was Anthony Turney.
(Below: Ross Douthat, New York Times, 9 July 2019)https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/09/opinion/marianne-williamson-meaning-democratic-primary.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage