Slow Learners
"Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Gone to young maids, everyone . . .
When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn?
Many times over the course of the past several decades, the words of this song that I first heard as a child in the 60's have come back to me. The question is still as urgent and poignant today as it was then. Sadly, it is also as easily dismissed. The question of course, however it might be expressed in words, is much older, with roots reaching back at least as far as to the first century and the hillsides of Galilee and Judea.
This last week provided an occasion for raising it once again, reflecting on our history, our hearts, and perhaps remembering once again what it is that we are called towards, and away from. In the words of Elie Wiesel, a survivor of the holocaust, at the conclusion of his tour of the concentration camp where he was once held prisoner, there is much to listen carefully to and to consider.
Click Here to see a transcript of Elie Wiesel's remarks.
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Within a week of this post, a white supremesist walked into the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. and took the life of a guard and wounded others who were standing near by. Political leaders have stood before crowds of like minded others and declared emphatically that they are not citizens of the world, and that one of the key political leaders who would work to help us realize what Elie Wiesel still dreams for, is a false prophet. A former vice president proudly defends what he would hotly condemn if it were to be done by any country other than our own, and seeks glory is what is only a cause for shame. Radio talk show voices trumpet a double standard, fearing to apply the same standards of decency and justice to others that they would insist on for themselves. And even my Facebook pages are littered with comments that flow from presuppositions for which they would only feel shame if they were to utter them in the presence of their Creator. And so I continue to ponder Wisel's questions, wondering how many are really listening, and wondering if nausea is a problem for God . . .
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