January 16, 2014
Funny thing happened the other day. A Facebook friend blocked me because I suggested that we all have to consider the consequences of what we say. I guess I found out the consequences of saying that!
But, seriously, freedom of speech is no laughing matter. And, in fact, it is probably one of the things I am most proud of about this country—that we can challenge our government without fear of losing life or limb.
I grew up in a time and place in which it was not uncommon to have neighbors or fellow church members from Central America—refugees whose family members had “disappeared” because they spoke out against their country’s dictators. I also remember childhood stories about other countries from which my friends had fled or where our church’s missionaries served—countries where neighbors might report their neighbors for challenging their government or for speaking freely about their religion.
I prefer not to dilute the idea of freedom of speech.
My point in the above-referenced Facebook conversation was that there’s a difference between violations of freedom and speech and facing consequences for what we say. And we all have to be ready to (wo)man up to what we say. I shared that throughout my career I’ve had to weigh how much to say. I have often worked as an advocate, pronouncing challenges to the system that might keep me from ever having certain types of cushy corporate jobs or might make me the enemy of a particular political administration. It affects my career options. But I make those decisions intentionally based on my values and what I understand my life calling to be. And I don’t cry about the consequences.
Of course, this debate was prompted by the whole Duck Dynasty thing.
Now, I don’t have cable. And I’m not a big reality show fan. So I’ve never seen Duck Dynasty. And I didn’t read the entire article which caused the furor nor have I seen more than just snippets of interviews or commentaries about it on the air. But I am convinced that anyone who has a TV show and derives their income based on the public’s loyalty or public opinion has got to know that what they say may have an impact on their livelihood. A family member might be kicked off the show. A sports celebrity might lose an endorsement. A politician might lose an election. There are consequences to what we say.
But the government did not come and censor Duck Dynasty for what was said nor confiscate their property. No one was thrown in jail or forced into exile. No one “disappeared.”
If we’re going to complain about infringement upon our freedom of speech, let’s complain about things like this:
Back in the early-mid 2000s when I was running a non-profit housing advocacy organization, we participated in a coalition that developed a “report card” evaluating the mayor’s performance on a number of issues. Our committee focused on the state of affordable housing in Chicago. We held a press conference to annouce the D+ grade we gave the mayor.
Lucky for me, I was unable to play a leading role in the press conference. I told my colleagues I would arrive late because of a previous commitment, so I couldn’t speak to the media. I actually got there so late that I missed it altogether. The crowd was dispersing when I arrived.
The next day, our coalition’s action got prominent coverage in the local newspaper, with a big picture accompanying the article. My colleagues who had spoken in the press conference were featured in the photo.
And the very next day, every single person who appeared in the picture in the paper had City building inspectors show up at their personal home looking for possible building code violations. I would have been less surprised if the inspectors showed up at the non-profits that dared to criticize the mayor. But harassing the individuals at their private residences? I was shocked and dismayed. Well, maybe not shocked. I do live in Chicago. But I certainly was dismayed.
Then there was that Chic-Fil-A thing last year.
I happen to know the Chicago city councilman who stirred things up by saying that he would oppose the location of a new Chic-Fil-A in his district because of the chain’s anti-homosexual stance. The ward in which this became an issue is right next door to my long-time neighborhood. So this hit quite close to home for me.
In this case, I side with Chic-Fil-A.
I need to go meet with this alderman one of these days soon to get some advice. So I’m taking a chance here by even mentioning it. (Yes, there can be consequences to what we say.) But, I’m going to count on there being room for healthy debate about positions as part of an on-going effort to always be moving our democracy toward a better place.
You see, I’m convinced that freedom of speech means that the government can’t deny a company the right to do business just because of their political or religious or any other kinds of opinions or statements. I would, however, come down really hard on Chic-Fil-A if they were found to be illegally discriminating against homosexuals in their employment practices or otherwise. That’s illegal. But speaking out against homosexuality or gay marriage is not. It just might lose you a bunch of business. Or gain you some.
As for me, there are a number of business I personally boycott because of the stances their owners take in loud, public ways. That’s an appropriate response. I don’t shop at Walmart. I don’t consume Oberweiss products. I don’t eat at Jimmy John’s. If you can’t imagine why, I’ll let you do the research—or keep reading my blog over the coming weeks and months. Oh, and, actually, I think I’ve only twice ever eaten at Chic-Fil-A.
As for the subject of freedom of speech sometimes being funny, I did think there was a lot that was laughable about the whole Duck Dynasty thing. Not the least of which is the fact that some of the same people (or types of people) who were so upset that Phil Robertson may face monetary consequences for what he said were more than happy to financially punish the Dixie Chicks when they publicly aired their negative opinions about President George Bush.
But, hey, that’s a discussion for another day.
January 7, 2014
I started my blog this time last year with a post called “Hell Froze Over.” The premise was that I—a self-described political junkie—had moved out of the Humboldt Park/Logan Square neighborhood where I had long been active politically and had taken a sabbatical from politics. No one could believe it. Hell had frozen over.
My plan was to reflect in writing all year long about what I had learned/was learning through it all.
A year later, I haven’t kept up with my blog. But my personal break from politics has largely continued until lately. Meanwhile, Chicago, Illinois, and national politics go on as usual.
In the midst of below zero high temps, the current hot topic is whether—in the aftermath of back-to-back snowstorms followed by record-breaking cold—the just-back-from-vacation mayor has ensured adequate City response to streets that still need to be plowed. And whether and how much the power of the Chicago Teachers Union caused the Chicago Public Schools officials to flip-flop on their initial decision to keep schools open during this deep freeze.
Others who made an about-face on similar decisions these days include my friends in Humboldt Park who put on the annual Three Kings Day Winter Festival and Parade. Yesterday was to be the 20th anniversary of the event. But after first modifying the parade plans to make it more of a caravan, the hosts eventually relented altogether and decided it was safer for everyone to just stay home.
So that left me with too little to do.
You see, my family has made it tradition to attend the annual parade on Division Street, fondly known as Paseo Boricua. We meet up at Café Colao for coffee and hot chocolate and wait for the parade to make its way down the street. And then we usually gather at my home to cut the traditional Rosca de Reyes and open presents.
But the winter weather messed up all of our plans. My dad’s health doesn’t let him go out in this cold, even if he wanted to. My mom and I were tempted to go hang out at that favorite coffee house and watch the parade/caravan despite the cold—hard core Chicagoans and Dia de los Reyes celebrants that we are. But then that was canceled. (Good thing, ‘cause my Puerto Rico-raised hubby thought we were nuts to even consider it.) To top it off, my brother and nephew were scheduled to come back from a trip to Florida just in time for our family gathering, but their flight was cancelled and rescheduled for two days later (lucky them.)
So, as I sat in my living room yesterday, hunkered-down for the second day in a row like much of Chicago to avoid the snow and -40 wind chills, I had more time on my hands than originally planned.
What is a girl to do? (Why, write a blog post, of course.)
You see, I’m not good at being unscheduled for too long. At relaxing. And reflecting. I like to keep busy. It is my normal mode.
That’s a big part of what has been reinforced for me during my sabbatical and since. You see, it doesn’t take me being involved in politics for me to get very busy. Over-busy.
Which is why I discontinued writing the blog last spring. But a number of people have brought it up recently, saying they missed my pithy posts. One person asked whether I stopped writing about swearing off politics because I was no longer swearing off politics. That’s not it, actually. I’ve continued to keep my head pretty low when it comes to politics, at least until the last couple of months.
I just got overwhelmed with other things and knew I had to fight to maintain some balance. The blog was one thing I knew I could let go as I picked up more and more responsibility at work. I’ve been trying not to fill every moment with obligations so I could have some free time for other things. Family time. Friend time. But I have mostly lost the battle. My professional life took over.
The weight of my work got so heavy that I had to quit. Well, that’s a major over-simplification of why I pursued a new job opportunity. But I do remember thinking that I seem to have to make a major change to stop the momentum from continuing to build.
Why can’t I just get a hold of the pace and intensity? I guess it’s fine that my normal mode is go-go-go. I’m just wired that way. But why does the pendulum often swing too far in that direction? How can I keep it closer to resting at equilibrium? Cutting back on things I don’t absolutely have to do—like writing my blog—was part of my pursuit of discipline. The discipline required for my life to at least approximate equilibrium.
As I start a new year, I’m starting a new job. And hitting the refresh button on the struggle to keep things in balance. In this midst of the polar vortex, today I took on a new challenge as Statewide Housing Coordinator for Long-Term Care Reform in the Illinois Governor’s Office.
That being the case, I don’t think I can promise to stay out of politics going forward. Though my professional role is not related to the campaign, my new boss is up for re-election this year. Besides, I went to political fundraiser for a candidate for state representative before the holidays. And I have a few more campaign donations for local races that I plan to make. I can’t imagine there won’t be any politics in my near future.
But I do intend to pick up where I left off the blog last spring—trying to maintain some balance while reflecting out loud about my experiences with and opinions about politics. I was poised to speak into some of the hot political topics our society seems obsessed with.
Maybe that will heat things up around here.
April 25, 2013
My parents each have a different take on where I got my smart mouth. But I have one, nonetheless.
So over the last week or so, I decided that in order to be smart, I would not use my mouth. No blog posts. The bombing in Boston seemed to merit silence rather than political commentary. Reverence and respect for the dead and wounded. Quiet reflection and remembrance. Prayerfulness.
I have some opinions, believe me, about the event itself, the media coverage, and our different reactions as residents of this nation. And despite the awfulness of terrorism, I have concerns about the treatment of the living suspect.
But I also have good friends in and fond memories of Boston due to my time in grad school there. I also know some folks who were there for the marathon. It has seemed more important to grieve with them, worry for them, listen to them, process with them, than to spew analysis about this or any other political issue at the moment. Coincidentally, one of my Boston friends was just here a couple of days before the bombing. And another was in Chicago this week for a conference, giving me the opportunity to visit with her and hear her perspectives about the city in the aftermath, the lockdown, etc. I have felt fairly closely to the situation.
My sense of connectedness to the tragedy is further complicated by my own processing of my mixed-heritage personal story. I have family connections and roots in the Boston area. I have cousins that were raised in the suburbs on one side of my family, and on the other side my dad’s cousin who provided me a home-away-from-home while I was in school. Then there’s the fact that my mom’s side of the family landed as pilgrims on Plymouth Rock via the all-so-famous (and controversial) Mayflower. I was reminded of my rootedness to the space that is the Boston area by a Facebook post of a fellow Kennedy school grad and descendant of those early settlers. That helped me realize that the horror that I shared with all who were touched by the bombing came with lots of mixed emotions for many reasons.
(I always thought it would be fun to be a Puerto Rican activist member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.)
Better not talk about it much more than that. I need to process.
The thing is, I was already planning some smart mouthed posts, having announced the week before that I would be speaking my piece/peace. Well, being smart mouthed isn’t my intention, but I know much of what I have to say will rub somebody the wrong way. For example, I had already outlined for the next month some posts that included discourse about guns and bombs and was still fretting about whether it was wise to fully air out my premises. Now I’m sure that it’s not quite the time.
Meanwhile, I was going to start with what I thought was some oh-so-smart stuff about tax policy for my usual Tuesday blog post scheduled for the day after the tax deadline. Interesting that our attention was turned that day to the site of the Boston Tea Party that was a rebellion against taxation without representation. What an interesting moment to talk about democracy.
But that Patriots’ Day it didn’t quite seem appropriate to talk politics or policy or throw challenges in anyone’s face. It was and maybe continues to be a time to listen. To pray. To speak encouraging words. To value our loved ones. We need that right now more than my smart mouth.
April 9, 2013
A quick internet search reveals that the right way to say it is “to speak one’s piece.” It comes from a time when people would recite verse or a famous speech. Often it might be a patriotic poem.
Apparently, some of us confuse that famous phrase with another: “to hold one’s peace.” This one refers to saying nothing. To me, the (apparently confused) idea of speaking my peace would refer to my need to say what I have to say in order for me to have peace. So I like it both ways.
And here it goes…
As I have considered going into politics for myself, I’ve had to practice keeping my mouth shut. I’ve still been a bit brash in some contexts, and probably have rubbed some people the wrong way. Clearly, I don’t always keep my mouth shut when I should. But it’s been more than five years now that I’ve been trying to hold at least some of my cards close to my chest when it comes to certain political positions.
While in graduate school, I participated in a concurrent “From Harvard Square to the Oval Office” training program for women who wanted to run political campaigns or run for office themselves. The trainer told me not to talk publicly about a particular action I had taken—though thoroughly consistent with my values—because it might be controversial in the public square. I assured her that the majority of my base in my neighborhood would be totally down with it. She told me to keep it quiet, nevertheless.
I’ve decided that I’m done with that. It’s time for me to stop shying away from using the voice God has given me. I’m going to speak into the issues I’m supposed to avoid.
Sabbatical helped me move toward a place where I’m not living my life every moment in anticipation of being involved in politics. To be honest, I still struggle with that, especially when others inevitably ask me when I’m going to run. But I need to free myself of that burden and allow myself to live freely to pursue God’s purpose in my life, whether that ultimately includes politics or not.
When a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound if no one hears it? Regardless of whether anyone is listening right now, these words are going down into posterity on the internet. I have to put these issues out there. For me, talking about these things is part of my obedience, spiritual discipline, following my calling. That’s more important to me than a future in politics.
In the coming weeks, watch for posts on immigration, abortion, guns, and gay rights, to name a few, not necessarily in that order. Maybe even a piece about international relations.
Here goes nothing…
April 2, 2013
We nearly ran out of gas as we drove down the highway. It was the half-way point of my year-long sabbatical from politics, and my husband and I were passionately discussing my purpose and my future. It was our first big first road trip together. A bonding experience.
I had re-read Rick Warren’s best-selling book, The Purpose Driven Life, during an emotionally tumultuous period of my life a handful of years before. My first husband had left me just as I was taking on the challenging task of turning around a small, struggling non-profit organization. As I tried to figure out a fragile life that had been turned upside down, I was reminded of a concept I was already quite committed to: Warren’s book argues that we can only find fulfillment and meaning when we understand and implement whatever God put us on earth to do.
A few years later, having left my non-profit job for a graduate school stint at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government where I would prepare myself to run for political office, I thought I knew what my purpose was. But then, the summer after graduation, I met the man who would be my second husband.
He had known what he was getting into when he married me. But now he would prefer that I not run for office. At least not any time soon. Why had God brought him into my life if he wasn’t going to support my dream of running for office?
Maybe God knew that I needed someone to help me have more balance. To remind me that there is more to life. To give me a different focus. Even though my husband and I are not on the same spiritual path right now, he can still serve God’s purpose in helping me to be on the right personal and professional paths.
Despite our different perspectives—or maybe partly because of them—my husband and I agree that I have a bit of a unique voice that could be used to speak into both secular and religious realms around issues of politics and popular culture. I have bases among both liberal, grass-roots, community organizing types and the conservative evangelical community I grew up in. I have a relatively small number of friends and colleagues who cross both those spaces as I do, but most of those people keep at least some of their opinions muted for fear of alienating one side or the other. I’ve long been torn as to which of those worlds I’m supposed to be spending more of my time in as I try to live out a faithful Christian witness. Maybe it’s time I take the risk of walking boldly in both.
Establishing a firm foundation and a safe space to ground and hold me is vitally important if I’m going to take such a risk. That requires an adequate investment in my marriage that might not have happened had I jumped into tempting political opportunities that have come my way during the early years of my new marriage. For both pragmatic and philosophical reasons, my household needs to be my first ministry.
I always said that I would never become a work-a-holic (or service-a-holic) such that I neglected my family. Growing up in a tough neighborhood with friends raised in tough circumstances, I didn’t want my future kids to be part of the problem as I was working to craft solutions. As I envisioned from an early age a career in politics, I always said that I would not be one of those politicians whose children resented them because they were never around. And I always believed that, after God, I would put my husband at the top of my priority list.
So, it was during the road trip that my husband and I agreed that my main politics-related focus for a while would be this blog. I would use it to say some things that might actually threaten my future viability as a politician. Meanwhile, I would invest in self-care, in my marriage, and other important relationships. It took me six months longer than planned to launch the blog while I’ve focused on some of the other items on the list. But I’m finally poised to speak into issues I’m theoretically supposed to avoid.
As we celebrate our April Fools Day anniversary (that’s another fun story), we’ve just come back from enjoying some more bonding time together on the road. We are reflecting on our five years together as husband and wife. We are celebrating that I’m finally resting in my calling. And living into my purpose.
Am I taking a detour? Even as I declare that I’m not, I still wrestle with myself and with God. But I’m comforted by the words of one of my wealthy political donor friends with whom I check in once in a while. He doesn’t share my faith or my political philosophy. But he believes in me. And though he has already written a check to help me get my political career off the ground, he told me from the beginning that I should be true to myself. And that if I have a second chance at love, I should take it, even if that slows or changes my anticipated political course.
Politics will always be there. Or not.
Regardless, I’m trying to let God drive my purpose.
March 26, 2013
I recently had a big fight with a family member. It broke my heart that this loved one was so intent on shoving her policy and political positions down others’ throats. The attitude that was coming across just didn’t seem to convey the Biblical commands to love your neighbor and your enemy.
I literally asked whether it was more important for her to win or for people to be drawn to Jesus? She preferred “Winning!”
This reminded of a quote from Shane Claiborne that I read recently on the Red Letter Christians website: “The more I have read the Bible and studied the life of Jesus, the more I have become convinced that Christianity spreads best not through force but through fascination.”
That left me thinking that during this Holy Week it might be good to do some (albeit unusual) power analysis. Let’s ask the question: When should we take on the gospel of death, sacrifice, and humility? And when should we take on the gospel of resurrection power?
It was during my sabbatical from politics that I found the above, helpful questions and new language to articulate some of the stirrings of my soul. The resource that illuminated my thinking was Eric H.F. Law’s book, The Wolf Shall Dwell With the Lamb: A Spirituality for Leadership in a Multicultural Community.
Reading and reflecting on that book came about as a result of joining a “Life Group” at my church, partly in pursuit of some of my sabbatical goals. (Remember my piece about R&R?) A diverse group of new friends embarked on a study about how we as church folks might approach our ministries and relationships differently in cross-cultural settings than we tend to in monocultural settings. As we examined Law’s concepts from our various perspectives informed by each’s unique racial/cultural, gender, age, sexual orientation, etc. lens, we were challenged to think a lot about power.
The author suggests that those from the dominant culture need to be aware of our position on the power continuum, especially as we relate to people from minority populations. (I’ll put myself in the power group for a moment, as a light-skinned, 1/2 Anglo, 1/2 Latina.) Similarly, men of any racial/ethnic group should be cognizant of the power they have over women in most societies. And Western Christians need to understand their power. Especially in America.
The point is that we need to take on an attitude of humility—consistent with the cross—when we’re the ones in power. And we need to know when our spot on the power continuum has shifted based on who else is in the room. But, as Law points out, sometimes those who are actually in power self-identify as oppressed and spend a lot of energy putting on power—as conveyed in the resurrection. That skews things.
Law’s analysis helped some things finally come into full view for me. Upon moving to Chicago from Puerto Rico in 2007, my husband had commented about how there seemed to be churches on every block in our neighborhood. Christians seemed to be in charge of everything. And Religious Right rhetoric was getting a lot of play.
While I agreed with his perspective on conservative Christian political discourse, I had a hard time relating to his view of Christians as the dominators. I was raised in an Evangelical environment in which we construed ourselves as the underdog.
My husband also would go on and on about the domination and oppression that the Catholic Church had effectuated across the world and over the centuries. That I was able to see. But I didn’t relate to it personally as my sense of identity did not include much of a connection with Catholicism. (Weird for a Latina, yes, I know.) But he kept insisting that we are the same Church and are all accountable for Christian cruelty toward others over the centuries.
Yikes. I think he’s right. I’m finally getting it.
Christianity doesn’t have a very good reputation, largely because of the way we use power. And whether we internalize it or not, we have a lot of it. Despite the separation of church and state, the U.S. utilizes quite a bit of language and customs that reflect a Christianity-informed heritage.
And in recent decades, Christians have been particularly loud and proud in pushing very hard for policies that reflect a certain sense of morality. When the Religious Right doesn’t win, family dinners, the airwaves, and many-a-Facebook feed are replete with language that reflects fear that Christians (or white people, or straight people) are losing control of America.
Is fighting for power really what the Church should be about?
I would argue NOT, at least not when we’re starting from a real or perceived position of dominance. That was not the posture of the Messiah who rode into town on a baby donkey, as Pastor reminded us this Palm Sunday. Or, if we’re going to fight for power, may we do it on behalf of the powerless, the poor, and the oppressed. Law’s book says that those are the people who need to experience the gospel of resurrection power.
Speaking of advocating on behalf of the poor, I am captivated by the new pope. It seems that many—non-Catholics, like me, and Catholics alike—are attracted by his relative simplicity of lifestyle and his humility. And his prayer that the Church would be a poor Church. Sure, he leads a huge, historic institution that has often taken up the gospel of power while calling its subjects to a gospel of the cross. It’s an imperfect scenario, to say the least. But maybe, just maybe, this Pope Francis guy knows a little something about this Jesus who draws people not by force but by fascination.
As for me, I must admit that I’m still working on this stuff—knowing when and how to genuinely identify with the cross and when to identify with the power of the resurrection.
Will you join me as the Lenten season ends and Easter beckons? May we learn how to appropriately take up a whole gospel, putting on in the right moments the gospel of the cross and sharing with those who need it the gospel of resurrection power.
March 19, 2013
A couple of days after St. Patrick’s Day, I am remembering the infamous St. Patrick’s Day political breakfast in Boston. I had the (good or bad?) luck of attending it while I was away at graduate school.
The Boston political scene reminded me quite a bit of Chicago’s. Lots of Irish politicians, Italians, and other ethnics (including a Puerto Rican city councilman I got to meet). Democrats all. A great many who were full of hot air. (Did you know that that’s how Chicago got its nick name, “Windy City,” by the way? It was born from a journalist’s reference to the boastful, big mouths of the city’s boosters and politicians, not the actual wind.)
Another big mouth I got to experience at the Boston St. Patrick’s Day Breakfast was that of then-Senator Joe Biden. It was 2007, early in the presidential race, and Biden was one of the candidates making his rounds on the speaking circuit. He treated that space as if it were an intimate audience of close friends. I whinced as he said a number of things that I thought one shouldn’t say in public—or probably ever. That whole breakfast was characterized by “good natured” political ribbing and ethnic slurs and other jokes that would be considered inappropriate by many, mind you. Nonetheless, it was my up-close view of the Joe Biden who is known for speaking before he thinks.
On that note, let me offer this personal confession and a collective challenge. Sometimes I have that problem, too. It’s probably one that many of us need to work on in one way or another.
I remember a few occasions that are telling. (Interestingly, these examples of what not to do are NOT from the year when I was on sabbatical from politics. Maybe my tongue was a little more tame when I was under less stress?)
Just a few weeks ago at work, I shared an incident with a colleague. It was a true story. It exemplified a challenge we were facing as we tackled a project meant to improve our systems in our workplace. Maybe I thought it would be useful. But in hindsight I realized that I probably shouldn’t have shared that much detail. I should have kept my frustration to myself.
A few years ago at a speaking engagement, in a graduate school sociology class on gentrification, the professor of the class called me the “Queen of Tell it Like it Is.” She meant that in a good way. But I’ve had to reflect on that and consider whether I’d like the consequences if some of what I shared got back to certain people.
In another case, the pastor had nudged me to say something pastoral as I concluded a presentation to my then-fellow congregants about the history and politics of our church’s neighborhood. I said something prophetic instead of pastoral. ‘Cause that’s what God seems to have given me—a prophetic voice. I challenged the congregation to think about—in light of the information I had just shared with them—whether we were really being relevant to the target population our church literature suggested we were aiming for. Were we really carrying out social justice through community development in our neighborhood? Or just paying it lip service? I pissed some people off.
Like many of our personal traits, the same characteristic can be both a strength and a weakness, depending on how we apply it.
Despite my own failings in this arena, I’m a true believer in the idea that not everything that comes to one’s mind is something one should say. We all need to do some filtering. Or consider our approach. Some prophetic challenges might merit being offered, but when, where, and how we do it might make a difference whether one’s words truly can be heard and acted on appropriately.
(And, too often, we Christians misuse teachings about speaking the truth in love. Telling the truth becomes an excuse to spew judgment or hate or gossip. But more on that later.)
For now, let me leave us all with some ancient words of wisdom about taming our tongues:
“A knife-wound heals, but a tongue wound festers.” ~ Turkish Proverb
- The tongue is, at the same time, the best part of man and his worst; with good government, none is more useful, and without it, none is more mischievous. ~ Anacharsis, a Scythian philosopher
- Give your tongue more holiday than your hands or eyes. ~ Rabbi Ben Azai, a compiler of the Talmud
- The tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright: but the mouth of fools poureth out foolishness. ~ The Bible, Proverbs 15:2
- The tongue should not be suffered to outrun the mind. ~ Chilo of Sparta, Greek politician, one of the Seven Sages
Words to live by.