Fall Foliage is Ablaze with Color … and the World is on Fire!

At my age, waking up in the morning is cause for gratitude. But right now, especially, it seems like waking up here rather than in Israel, Gaza, Ukraine or Afghanistan, should be, by comparison, cause for jubilation, even in the midst of our government’s dysfunctional and ridiculously childish behavior that is about to take us down a serious peg or two.

None of my family or friends are among the murdered or the missing, none of my great-grandkids have been kidnapped or riddled with bullets, or stabbed to death on American soil because of their faith. I am not breathing in smoke or tear gas, I have more than enough food and water … and for this, yes, I am grateful. But I am far from jubilant.

I feel weighted down by horror and grief, weary to my bones, like Paul Simon’s American Tune. This morning I found myself hunting up his 1977 concert, the one where he said “I’d like to dedicate this to Jimmy Carter in hopes that perhaps in time righteousness and dignity may happen upon us.” 43 years later, Jimmy Carter (bless his heart) is still with us and sadly, righteousness (in the true sense of the word) and dignity still seem to be in short supply.

I’ve recently discovered and become a subscriber of Jessica Craven’s “Chop Wood, Carry Water” blog. What first attracted me were these words: Ultimately it is love—of our fellow Americans, of democracy, of humanity, and of the planet—that can and must save us. Love is the only bedrock upon which a purposeful and satisfying life—or country—can be built. And build the latter we must.

Then the Middle East Massacre happened and the usual ‘eye for an eye’ strategy began, promising to bring even more blindness to a wounded world where history clearly shows that, in the words of the late poet William Stafford, Every War Has Two Losers. And in the words of the late music icon Tina Turner, “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” What’s love got to do with it? Really?? Only Everything!!

Again, from Jessica … Anyone who can read the news (or listen to today’s Daily Podcast) without weeping is made of stronger stuff than I am. The suffering is acute, it’s widespread, and it feels so relentless that it’s hard not to submit to despair.

Yet submit we can’t. Oh, we can grieve, and, in fact, must if we want to retain our humanity. (emphasis mine) But to despair is to decide that there is no future worth fighting for. That there are no conceivable answers. That the cynics and the nihilists are right. I wholeheartedly reject all of that, and I hope you will as well.

Thank you Jess, and yes, I would like to count myself among the rejectors, relentless in our determination, even in the face of horror, to not look away. I’d like to stand with those like Gretchen Haley, who in her poem “The Bright Thread of Hope” declares, there is too much beauty in the world to give up on it yet, and it is always too soon to surrender to cynicism. 

So I continue to follow that thread; the thread that sometimes feels like it’s been coaxed through the eye of the needle in the haystack … but finding myself in good company. Here are words plucked from Connie Schultz’s recent “Hopefully Yours” post titled “The Universal Language of Grief.” I have no words to comfort all my Jewish friends. At such moments, I feel small and useless, but the words of one speaker at last night’s service keep me trying. He said we cannot retreat to the convenience of being overwhelmed. When you don’t know how to help someone who is hurting, you show up anyway, my mother used to say. You don’t have to say a word. Bear witness to their pain and let them know they are not alone.

Such good advice. Show Up. Bear Witness. Stand With.

For years I have subscribed to Truthout; writing I respect and support. These next words are taken from an article by the Palestinian American writer Sa’Ed Atashan, titled “I Wish Americans Could See the Humanity of Palestinians as They Do With Israelis. As I worry about my own loved ones back home and try to keep up with the staggering statistics on the decimation of Palestinian lives and livelihoods, I also am grieving for Israeli civilians as they process the unprecedented scale of killing they experienced this past weekend. I know Palestinians and Israelis who have been killed, maimed and displaced, and who are missing, and my heart is broken in a million pieces.

Warning: If you choose to read the whole story, you may find your heart breaking open in a million pieces as well.

And speaking of ‘good company’, how about these words from America’s ‘Farmer Poet’?

Before We Kill
The times are disgusting enough,
surely, for those who long for peace
and truth…

Before we kill another child
for righteousness' sake, to serve
some blissful killer's sacred cause,
some bloody patriot's anthem
and his flag, let us leave forever
our ancestral lands, our holy books,
our god thoughtified to the mean
of our smallest selves. Let us go
to the graveyard and lie down
forever among the speechless stones.

You can find this passage in Wendell Berry’s brilliant little book of poems — Sabbaths

And last, but not least, three quotes from three remarkable women.

Every time I thought of anger, or fear or revenge, I breathed it out.
I tried to think of what I was grateful for—the bush that hid me so
well that even birds landed on it, the birds that were still singing,
the sky that was so blue.
—Maya Alper, survivor of Hamas’ attack on the Tribe of Nova music festival

The key word for our times is really practice. It isn't more light we 
need, it's putting into practice what light we already have.
–Peace Pilgrim

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can 
change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.
–Margaret Mead

Let’s take another breath and another step forward together.  Let’s keep smiling at strangers and sing another song … maybe Leonard Cohen’s “Anthem”.  His opening words at the London concert in 2008 could have been written last night.  Until next time …  Carpe Every Diem!