Unless you've been living in a cave, you are undoubtedly aware of the war in which Israel and Hamas are currently engaged.  By nearly any measure, it's a tragedy, an immense tragedy, a trauma nearly beyond comprehension.  On all sides.

    Although nearly everyone who is taking an interest in the war has an opinion about what its outcome should be, I do not wish to advance mine in this blog.  I instead wish to state two things.  One, peace--of any kind--is complicated.  The Hebrew and Arabic words for peace, shalom and salam, respectively, describe peace as an inner wholeness, a completeness of being, a harmonious integration of mind, body, and heart.  It is this definition that I believe that we must try to fit into the resolution of this conflict.  But it will not be easy.

    Two, as we think about this war, its toll on civilians in particular, let us not forget the plight of civilians trapped in other wars around the world.  In this regard, I think of Ukraine and its struggle against a rapacious Russia.  That notwithstanding, I remember also the thousands of people who have died in the earthquake that recently struck western Afghanistan.  Let us not forget their survivors, either.

    Pray for the planet, pray for its people, pray for God.

     You may not be familiar with the Supremes, but if you are, you know that the three women who comprised the group made hit after hit in the Sixties, then faded away.  Diana Ross, the group's lead singer, however, went on to international fame.  On the other hand, her fellow members did not.  They have lived out the rest of their days in relative obscurity.

    Hence, when I noticed that one of these women, Cindy Birdsong, had been admitted into a conservatorship, her financial affairs now placed under the control of  one of her relatives, I could not help but feel sad.  Sixty years ago, Ms. Birdsong was a major star of the burgeoning world of pop music.  Today, however, all that is gone and largely forgotten.  All she has are memories and, judging from the news of this conservatorship, even those are fading, too.

    How grand is the human being, how remarkably creative are we!  Tragically, however, how brittle is our hold on ourselves and our lives:  we vanish so quickly.  Such dichotomy causes us to wonder:  what is the point?

    For that is the point.  Unless there is a meaning, a larger meaning to us and our lives, we really do labor in vain.

    Is there a God?

 

     It's Columbus Day in the U.S.  It's also a day that marks one of the most pivotal years in human history.  People of two hemispheres, neither of whom had been aware of the other, suddenly were, almost overnight, finding themselves confronting worlds that literally blew their collective minds.  No one would ever be the same.

    Sadly, however, although 1492 may have been a momentous and lucrative year for many Europeans, it was a terrible one for the natives of the Americas.  1492 marked the beginning of a lengthy pattern of European oppression and exploitation of the peoples of the Americas, a run of centuries of difficulty and pain, pain which, in some cases, continues to this day.

    The worse of it is that in too many instances this exploitation was justified in the name of the Christian God.  It was an awful stain on the love of God.

    Historian Erna Paris once observed that, "Attaching God to history is the most powerful nationalism of all."  Whenever we try to juxtapose God and the history we are trying to create, we blur a line we cannot possibly cross:  the boundary between what is here and what is not, the border between the visible speculations of finitude and the hidden certitudes of infinity.  We're thoroughly arrogant.

    Love Columbus or hate him; either way, use this Columbus Day (or Indigenous Peoples Day) to remind yourself of your so very limited view of what is real and true, to strive into a history we can all share.

 

    Do you listen to opera?  Not everybody does, and not everyone enjoys it.  Some operas, however, are worth listening to. 

    Consider Guiseppe Verdi, the famous Italian composer of the late Romantic Era. You may have heard of some of Verdi's most famous works, such as the "Rigoletto," "Il trovatore," and "La Traviata."

    Interestingly, Verdi's innovative operas struck a chord in the European musical imagination.  They opened up a broad range of new choral possibility.  For me, this speaks to the remarkable way in which humanity has become itself.  Creativity bequeaths creativity, newness births more newness, and what has been, as Ecclesiastes observes, is always becoming what is.  Like Arthur Lovejoy's Great Chain of Being, as life opens more and more in history and time, music opens too, ever speaking to us of future and possibility, steadfastly reminding us of the near inexhaustible character of humanity and the cosmos.

    Music makes us see that reason alone will not give us meaning.  We need the emotion, the emotionally moral force of music in our lives to tell us that life has hope and that life is more than mind.  For reason alone, as philosopher (and atheist) Kai Neilsen wisely points out, will not lead us to what is moral.  We need the transcendent, a realm to which Verdi's delightfully soaring arias point us, to know what is most valuable and true.

     Last night, my wife and I watched, again, the movie "The Big Short."  As some readers know, this movie describes the chain of events that led to the enormous debacle in the housing market in 2008 America and, given the international connections of economic activity, many parts of the world.  Millions of people lost their homes, and millions of people lost their savings.  It took years for markets to recover.

    Predictably, however, the ones ultimately responsible for the debacle, the chief executives of a number of major American banks, were never penalized or held to account for their actions and missteps.  These people never skipped a beat.  Even today, they continue to make unwarranted bets on the economic pulse of the country--and continue to earn enormous amounts of money.

    Justice is hard to find here.  At the same time, I hesitate to find comfort in suggesting that these individuals will one day be judged by powers greater than the  legal systems of the world.  On the other hand, I am grateful that for all of our human twists and convolutions, we are, in the end, beholden to a morality that we did not manufacture or make.

    Somehow, some way, we're all subject to whom we are not.

       Last week, Jews around the world concluded the most sacred time of their year:  the high holy days, the Days of Awe.  Beginning with Rosh Hashanah (the New Year), continuing with Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), and culminating in Sukkot (Festival of Booths) these days give every Jew opportunity to reflect on the past and prepare for the future.  They're marked by repentance and reflection, singing and gathering, and reading and mediation.  These are days of intense inwardness--always in community--regarding one's relationship with his/her fellow human beings and God.

     All of us can learn from the Days of Awe.  All of us can profit from taking time to think, to really think about what and how we are doing with our life, about where we have been, spiritually, vocationally, and personally and, come tomorrow, where we want to go.  In this fractured, media driven age, we all can benefit from setting ourselves apart to ponder deeper things, to contemplating the greater meaning and realities in which we move.

     In doing this, we affirm that we are born for transcendence, that we are made to look beyond the immediate and present.  In these Days of Awe, our Jewish brethren remind us that we are more than material concoctions, more than nexuses of chemical exchange.  They tell us that we are creatures of this earth, yes, but simultaneously, creatures of something far greater than we can imagine.
     Enjoy your pondering.

     Often called the best ex-president in history, Jimmy Carter turned ninety-nine on October 1.  His run has been amazing.  After nearly eight months in hospice care, Carter keeps going, focusing on enjoying whatever time he has left on the planet.  One wonders whether he'll reach one hundred.

    Carter's list of post-presidential accomplishments is lengthy.  He has won the Nobel Peace Prize.  He established the Carter Center, an organization devoted to alleviating disease and promoting peace across the world.  He devoted many years to volunteering in Habitat for Humanity, which seeks to build houses for the poor and disadvantaged throughout the globe.  And much more.  His is an enviable life, not because he has been a naval officer, successful business person, and president of the United States, but because he has consistently viewed his privileges not as occasions for self-congratulations and personal aggrandizement, but as opportunities to effect untold measures of good and goodness around the world.  Carter is a picture of living service to humanity.

    A life long Christian, Carter firmly believes that upon death he will see the God "whom," as he says, "I worship."  It's difficult to dispute the central role that Carter's faith has played in his life.  Everything he has done, he has stated, he has done because, put simply, this is "my calling as a Christian."

    About eight years, while attending a conference at the Carter Center, I was delighted to meet Jimmy Carter.  He did not disappoint.  As he appears to be, he is:  a human being profoundly committed to the improvement of the lives of other human beings.

    Yes, as president, Carter made some mistakes.  Don't we all?  Happily, however, God is much bigger than our mistakes.  Moreover, he is not as interested in how we start as he is how we end.

    We should all end as well as Jimmy Carter.