Grieving for what we’ve lost

 

On the day of Jimmy Carter’s state funeral, I had my weekly lunch date with a group of guys my age, so I left off watching the service just after President Biden had spoken. As I sat down, it was clear to my friends that something was wrong.

Of course, I had known something was wrong, and I knew what it was. I thought I had been able to regain my composure before going out in public, but I had failed. No sense covering it up.

“What’s wrong?” one asked.

After hesitating, I shakily admitted, “I am grieving for what we’ve lost.”

“Such as…?” he asked.

Again I hesitated. “Our decency, our humanity, our compassion,” I stammered, and waved my hands to head off more questions.

This group keeps its conversations confined to things like sports, doctor visits, what’s wrong with our community’s administration, family, and the like.

Not much politics—or religion, now that religion has become dangerously politicized.

I was clear in my mind that the grief I was experiencing from watching Carter’s funeral was in fact grief over the death of decency, humanity, and compassion in our social and political discourse.

“I will never lie to you” has been supplanted by, “I will tell you whatever I can dream up to keep you on my side.” Truth is victim to expediency and to the hunger for power and prestige. Commercial advertising’s most deceptive weapons are employed in the fight for votes and money. Candidates who refuse to use those weapons are disparaged and defeated. Long-trusted news sources are replaced by crass opinions cleverly disguised as real information.

Donald Trump is not to blame for all of this (though he might like to take credit for it). The wholesale attack on what’s kept us together as a nation has been building for decades, and no extreme is wholly without responsibility for it. What Mr. Trump has done is to elevate it to the highest office in our land, giving it a legitimacy that would have shamed nearly everyone just a few years ago.

I grieve for what we have lost; lost not to the Republicans or to the Democrats or to the left or to the right, but lost to ourselves. We have given up something essential (“character,” if you will) to get us to where some want us to be, and now that we are there, the landscape around us looks like death itself.

So, I grieve.

Update on my previous post: the American flag has been taken down and replaced by the "FJB" banner!

MAGA to the hilt

 

A home in a nearby neighborhood has been adorned with MAGA and Trump signs almost without interruption since we moved here four years ago.

During the 2024 election, a Trump/Vance banner hung from the railing. After the election, the "Love not hate makes America great" sign was posted and I felt a little hopeful. Perhaps a change of heart? Then, the campaign banner was replaced with a very large "Merry Christmas" message. Very good! But last week, the FJB banner replaced the Merry Christmas one. "Love not hate," ironically, remains under it.

At the very least, it's going to be a confusing four years.

(The flag is at half-staff, at least for now.)

January 20, 2025

 

On January 20, 2025—Martin Luther King, Jr. Day—Maxine and I are meeting with a few friends to remember and reflect upon Dr. King’s work and vision for our country. We will gather from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. or so.

At noon that same day, Donald Trump and J.D. Vance will be inaugurated as President and Vice President of the United States. We will not be watching the inauguration.

Some may think that it’s sour grapes, or disrespect, or something worse that are leading us to do this; after all, our candidates lost the election.

They would be wrong.

Nor are we coming together to pout, or to lick our wounds, or even to develop some grand strategy of resistance.

We are gathering on that day at that time to remember a man who looked at the United States of America and saw in our future a nation of equals before the law. Ours would be a nation whose government was committed to assuring that none of us could deny others of us our basic human dignity, nor our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as sibling citizens of one country.

Not, perhaps, a nation in which we’d all love one another; that’s too much to hope for. But it’s not too much to dream of a nation in which no-one gets away with trampling upon anyone else, and in which no collective power can treat anyone with impunity.

We will gather to own again Lincoln’s conviction that government of, by, and for the people—of, by, and for all the people—shall not perish from the earth.

We will not be a large group, by intention. So, if you like our plan for January 20, perhaps you would consider inviting some folks to join you in doing something similar. Think of it as a bright, sunny high noon of our collective spirit.

Pray for peace

 

Tomorrow when you go to church--or if you don't go to church, wherever you go to think about the world beyond your front door--pray for true and lasting peace. This weary world needs it. This wounded planet weeps for it. And pray for peacemakers, in short supply when and where most needed. Thank you.

A Thanksgiving Prayer

 

A General Thanksgiving, from The Book of Common Prayer

Let us give thanks to God our Father for all his gifts so freely bestowed upon us.

For the beauty and wonder of your creation, in earth and sky and sea.
We thank you, Lord.

For all that is gracious in the lives of men and women,
revealing the image of Christ,
We thank you, Lord.

For our daily food and drink, our homes and families, and
our friends,
We thank you, Lord.

For minds to think, and hearts to love, and hands to serve,
We thank you, Lord.

For health and strength to work, and leisure to rest and play,
We thank you, Lord.

For the brave and courageous, who are patient in suffering
and faithful in adversity,
We thank you, Lord.

For all valiant seekers after truth, liberty, and justice,
We thank you, Lord.

For the communion of saints, in all times and places,
We thank you, Lord.

Above all, we give you thanks for the great mercies and
promises given to us in Christ Jesus our Lord;
To him be praise and glory, with you, O Father, and the
Holy Spirit, now and for ever. Amen.

Light that never fades

 

O Light that never fades, as the light of day now streams through these windows and floods this room, so let me open to Thee the windows of my heart, that all my life may be filled by the radiance of Thy presence. Let no corner of my being be unillumined by the light of Thy countenance. Let there be nothing within me to darken the brightness of the day. Let the Spirit of Him whose life was the light of all rule within my heart till eventide. Amen.

(John Baillie)

Truth shared

Sy Safransky is the founder and editor emeritus of The Sun, which publishes essays, stories, poems, etc., by current writers. The October, 2024 issue carries an essay he wrote in 1986, “Enemies of Freedom.” In it, Safransky recalls an incident from years earlier when the “liberal arts college dedicated to the habits of freedom” he attended banned a Communist from speaking on campus. Here us a paragraph in which he reflects not he meaning of freedom. I especially like the John Adams quote with which he concludes.

“I began to consider more keenly the perils of limiting dissent in a democracy, of skimping on freedom as if there where only so much to go around. The real patriots, it seemed to me, weren’t those who insisted that truth, their truth, had to be defended at any cost—or who suggested, with a wink at history, that our rights would best be protected by stripping us of a few. Democracy asks for a sturdier faith, asks us to trust that in the free discussion of ideas, truth will more often than not win out. What a dangerous notion, to those who pride above all else security and a predictable tomorrow. It is, after all, as risky as love! Yet, miraculously, among people of different backgrounds and temperaments, different races and religions—people as different as you and I—the spirit of truth somehow prevails. Not my truth or your truth, but something shared, an understanding among equals, at once mystical and practical, that allows us to live together. Like a friendship or a marriage, democracy depends on communication and trust; yes, we know the risks. ‘Virtue,’ as John Adams observed, ‘is not always amiable.’ If we’re free to love, we’re free to hate—free to be Communists and Nazis and Democrats and Republicans and every kind of fool. Adams also wisely advised, ‘There’s a danger from all men. The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with the power to endanger the public liberty.’”