A few nights ago, my wife and I watched the new Netflix movie, "Chicago Seven."  It presents the story of the trial of that name which took place in Chicago in the fall of 1970.  On trial were seven of the leading protagonists of the various protest movements that dominated the American Sixties.  They had been charged with, supposedly, conspiring to cross state lines to cause a riot.

     That these gentlemen crossed state lines to come to the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago was not in question.  What the Seven's defense team found problematic was that none of the players in question ever intended to start a riot.  They simply decided, but separately and without consulting each other, to show up in Chicago.

     No matter.  The Nixon administration was looking for a scapegoat (other than the excessively heavy handed Chicago police response to the protestors) for the disturbances at the convention.  The ensuing riots had made international headlines.  As the leaders of the demonstrations had predicted, the whole world was indeed watching.

     Having lived through this time, I found the reenactment of the events fascinating.  I also found it sobering.  Many of these leaders are now dead, some at the proverbial ripe old age, others way too young.  How passionate they were for the cause, how dedicated they were to end the war in Vietnam and restore accountability to American democracy.  In many ways, they succeeded.  In other ways, they did not:  American democracy is less accountable today than it has ever been.

     I admire these people deeply.  I admire their courage, I applaud their convictions.  I'm sorry that some of them are no longer with us.  Very sorry.  I only hope that we all can learn from their lives, that we realize that our lives are as much a measure of the years we have them as the degree to which we invest in the transcendent meaningfulness that pervades them.

     Thanks, God, for humanness.