|Clooney talks to reporters |
while marching up Mass Ave., DC
This is the second time I've had this feeling since Amy died. The first time was about a year ago or so when a holocaust survivor spoke at our church. His story was one of terror and anguish, hatred and evil, and then eventual redemption as he described returning to Germany, as an adult, to meet childhood friends who had first teased, then ostracized and bullied him, as the classroom's only Jew. I was confounded by the juxtaposition of soulless evil with loving forgiveness. I became aware in a different way of the tragedy of humanity. The eternal suffering we experience through randomness and through the deliberateness of others. Somehow my own most profound pain of loss, so deep and overwhelming, seemed but one small drop is a vast sea of suffering. And the community of love that held me up after the death of my wife, is but a single flame of the universal fire of love. It was comforting. And confusing. And sad.
Today, again, a variant of those complicated, commingled feelings surfaced. Beyond the appeal of George Clooney, whom I deeply respect, I was struck by Martin Luther King III. He spoke about the horror in Sudan and invoked his father: injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere. But I looked at him and realized, here is a man, now 54, who was just a boy of 8, when his father was assassinated. No stranger he to personal tragedy. And I thought for a moment of my boys who also will grow up with one parent taken away. And then I thought of the countless children in Sudan who will never know a parent. Then others spoke: The brutality of al-Bashir, the lack of action by the rest of the world, this tragedy keeps going on, and on, and half a million may soon starve if we continue looking the other way.
|Martin Luther King III speaks out against |
the Sudanese government.
And I thought again about that vast sea of suffering. What is it about us? What is it we, as humans, are so afraid of that we must resort to such atrocities, again and again? I wish these were not rhetorical questions but I'm afraid, at least for now, they remain just that. Maybe some day the fire of love can illuminate and provide an answer.
Anyway, that's what I did today.