Crusade: (n) any vigorous, aggressive movement for the defense or advancement of an idea or cause
During one December vacation from traveling on the road, I focused in on a seven-word slogan which I planned to use for the following year’s touring.
“No one is better than anyone else.”
I was so excited I could barely contain myself.
I couldn’t think of a better crusade to embark upon, to bring people together, point out our similarities and to hearken one and all to the commonality of humankind.
When it came time to go and do the production, to emphasize this beautiful seven-word crusade for human peace, I met resistance.
People didn’t like it as much as I thought they would.
To some, it seemed to be definitive and absent the possibility for discussion. (Yes—it is absolutely true. There are people on this Earth who feel the concept of love requires a debate.)
I was offended. I was defensive.
I found myself hoping that someone would question the beauty and integrity of “no one is better than anyone else,” so that I could argue with them—knowing, of course, that my stance was pure and holy and theirs most certainly had to be riddled with prejudice.
So rather than becoming a “repairer of the breach,” I succeeded in just making a more intelligent and merciful breach.
It upset people—to be common with others.
I was ready to do battle, like the knights of old—to climb onto my stallion and go into the Holy of Holies and establish the dominance of my particular edict.
Finally, one night I just sat down and came to two conclusions:
If you find yourself fighting, you’re not loving.
And whatever is written will eventually have to be rewritten.