Monsters, then and now...

The Cleveland Museum of Art currently has special exhibition called, "Medieval Monsters: Terrors, Aliens, Wonders." It's a fascinating look into how depictions of fantastical monsters were used in medieval Europe to bolster claims of political and religious power, to define adversaries, and more. The description below at the entrance to the section on Aliens stuck me as being very relevant to our times. Made-up images (and words) still shape our perception of others, filling in the many blank spaces of what we do not know. What if we just tried to learn about others, instead of "monsterizing" them?

I highly recommend the exhibition. And if you feel that you need a break after you see it, pull yourself back together in the "African gathering place" in the Atrium. You will be glad you did...and it's all free!  

Truth is what I say it is

I am pretty sure that when Pontius Pilate responded to Jesus’s assertions about “truth” by asking “What is truth?” he was not at all interested in anyone’s answer to that question other than his own.

Pilate the politician was only invested in “truth” as he saw it, framed it, pictured it, promoted it. Truth was his “truth.” It was the world as he saw it, life as he lived it, reality as he wanted to try to shape it.

What is truth? Truth is me, because truth is what I say it is.

The what is truth? question has never been more important, nor more in contention, than it is today. Truth-discovery has never been easy, but the rise of the internet has made the process many times more difficult than ever before. Everyone’s opinion seems to have equal weight with everyone else’s opinion because that opinion, no matter how bizarre, can be shared instantly with everyone else. It’s all out there to see and to read and to share again, and the more it’s shared the more like truth that opinion seems to be. We have all participated in this practice. And numbed by the constant flow of information through commercially-driven sources of “news,” the less likely it is that the receivers of information will feel they have the ability or the responsibility to discern truth from falsehood.

I write the above in reaction to President Trump’s re-tweeting of a tweet by a known conspiracy-enabler claiming that Hillary Clinton had something to do with Jeffery Epstein’s death. Apparently there is not a shred of evidence for this charge. But that didn’t stop the President of the United States from sending it out “over his signature” to the world, but particularly to his loyal followers who will no doubt take it as true because it comes from him (truth is me, because truth is what I say it is) and send it on to others.

Donald Trump rocketed to political prominence by trying to convince the world that President Barack Obama was not born in the United States. (Not true, as he later half-heartedly admitted.) As a candidate for President he cast doubt on the integrity of our elections before he was elected (ironic, yes?). Almost daily he gnaws away at the credibility of our news sources when he doesn’t like what they say about him (even Fox has not escaped his ire), at the credibility of science when its conclusions are not convenient for him, at the credibility of our courts when they don’t side with him, at the credibility of our constitutional checks and balances when they stand in his way, at the credibility of our allies when they want to do things differently than he wants to, even at the credibility of his own advisors when they have ideas other than his own. No truth but his “truth” matters because he himself is all that matters.

What is truth? Truth is me, because truth is what I say it is.

Conspiracies? You like conspiraracies? Here's one for you: A small group of highly-placed people is working together to undermine our republic by challenging the credibility of our most basic institutions. They know, as sure as they know the sun will rise tomorrow, that if they are successful the day will come when in the public’s mind there will only be one source of truth: the Tweets of Trump.

Frightening.

If I were the President of the United States, and had to spend a day in Air Force One traveling to Ohio and then to Texas in order to visit the victims of two mass shootings, I wonder what I’d be feeling and thinking as I flew 30,000 feet plus over this blessed land, home to 325,000,000 human beings…

I like to think I’d be feeling deepest sorrow as I reflected on each life forever changed by bone-shattering bullets.

I like to think I’d get outside of myself long enough to demonstrate genuine compassion for and understanding of others.

I like to think I’d be asking what more I could do, in my position, to keep these atrocities from happening, and that I’d be reviewing all of my assumptions about what works and what doesn’t work so I could re-examine them in the days to come.

I like to think I’d be asking my advisors to come up with creative and doable ideas–ideas that a majority of Americans would likely support–to limit gun violence.

I like to think I would set wheels in motion to again allow the Centers for Disease Control to track and study gun violence so action and legislation can be based on real information.

I like to think I’d reflect on the epidemic of violence of all kinds in our society, and determine at least to use my voice to speak against it.

I like to think I’d ask myself what I could say and do to lower tensions between Americans so we can have reasonable and respectful debates about how to reduce the likelihood that we will kill one another.

I like to think I’d listen respectfully to those who respectfully speak their differences with me, and let those who seem to me to be doing nothing more than shouting in order to get attention to carry on…at least for today. Tomorrow, I like to think I’d think, will be soon enough for me (and for my staff) to shout back at them.

I like to think that because I genuinely want to focus on those who are suffering, I’d let reports of my visit stand on their own. I like to think I do not have to constantly write my own reviews, that I can let who I am speak for itself.

I like to think I’d be quiet and sit in silence for long periods of time as we flew from here to there, maybe staring out my window upon the land we all love. Maybe I’d pray–I like to think that I would–for victims, families, first responders, communities, the USA…and for myself.

That’s at least the start of what I like to think I’d think and feel in my time in the air–above it all, yet immersed in it all.