Many years ago I had a little dog, a Pekingese. My next-door neighbor did not like my dog, and one day she kicked it when she thought I wasn't looking. My first desire was to kick my next-door neighbor. But instead I picked up the little dog, brought her in, and shut the door.
During the next few days I did quite a bit of thinking. I realized that what had particularly angered me was that an innocent and defenseless small creature had been attacked by a large, aggressive human. My tenderheartedness and love for the one was shot through with hatred and contempt for the other.
I tried to think constructively about the situation. It was easy to love the little dog, but it was not a pure love if it was mixed up with hatred for the little dog's oppressor. I had to love both with enough Christly affection to see them as God made them—neither oppressed nor oppressor but, in their true selfhood, divine ideas of Mind in the kingdom of heaven, where only harmony reigns.
