Something for My Daughters

One of the things that I inherited from my family from the moment of my birth was a great love of and appreciation for both my family's own history and the importance of overall world history. Now that I have two daughters of my own, I want to be able to pass something on to them when they're grown that's representative of my personal interests, the period in history into which they were born, and the men and women who were important in the development of that history.

As a part of that, and reflective of my recent reading of Wiesel, I recently wrote him a letter and, among other things, asked for something from him that I could give to MB and E as a remembrance of that part of history which he has passed through and which he has worked tirelessly to keep people from forgetting. As I said in my letter, "As the father of two small daughters ... I am very much looking forward to the day where I can share these books with them and explain that, even in the midst of the tragedy and fear that often grip the modern world, there are men and women of great dignity and honor who continually work to bring about peaceful and positive change."

Today, I received back some bookplates personalized for each of them (pictured here, minus their names). I was very grateful for this small gesture on his part, and it will undoubtedly make the copies of his books that I give them when they're grown that much more special. I can say that Wiesel's responsiveness to my letter overwhelms me; here's someone who mingles and associates with political and religious leaders from around the world, and he answers a letter from some unknown guy in Northern Virginia. Two of the people for whom I have a great deal of admiration: Elie Wiesel and Desmond Tutu, and both took the time to write me back. I think the fact that they not only listen to what the average person says, but take the time to respond and seem to genuinely value and appreciate those words, says just as much about the quality of their character as anything else they've done in their lives.

The Discomfort -- and Necessity -- of Legal Documents

There's something very sobering when you realize you've come to a point in life where you must make preparations for when you're no longer here. A and I have been talking for several years about the need to prepare our wills, take care of guardianship issues relating to E and MB, and (for me) prepare a living will. We kept talking, and we kept talking, and we kept talking -- and nothing was ever done.

Last night, we decided that that would be priority one for us this morning, and so we sat down together and finished everything. A had had to prepare a living will just prior to her heart surgery a few years ago, but it was something I had never done before -- and it took me a long time to finish it, despite the fact that it's a very short form. There's no right or wrong answer for these sorts of things, but I knew what I needed to do; it was simply a matter of being overwhelmed by the enormity of what I was doing.

Yet when it was finished, there was a tremendous sense of relief -- it's done, and we no longer have to worry about these sorts of things. For me, there's no longer this nagging worry in the back of my mind about how the girls will be taken care of in the event something happens. Surprisingly, we could also prepare for care for our cats; seems like there's nothing that a lawyer can't help you prepare for these days!

So Where are You?

All anyone has to do is scroll down through several of my recent posts to find that I'm going through a big Elie Wiesel phase. One of the wonderful things about his writing is not so much the powerful message he conveys or the stories he tells, but the beauty with which he writes and the way he makes me think. Today's post is an excerpt from And the Sea is Never Full, one that really made me think and ask myself the question, "Where am I?" After reading it, I hope you'll consider the same question.
_________________________

A Chronicle has it that the celebrated Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Lyady was locked up in a St. Petersburg prison after being denounced by a foe of the Hasidic movement as an agitator against the Czar.

One day the warden came to see him in his solitary cell, and this is what he said:

"I am told that you are a rabbi, a Master. So explain to me a passage I fail to understand in the Bible. It says in the Book of Genesis that, after having bitten into the forbidden fruit, Adam fled, so that the Lord had to ask him: 'Ayekha, where are you?' Is it possible, even conceivable, that the Creator of the world did not know where Adam was hiding?

Whereupon the rabbi smiled and answered: "The Lord, blessed-be-His-name, knew; it was Adam who didn't know."

And Rabbi Shneur Zalman went on: "Do you believe the Bible to be a sacred book?"

"Yes."

"And that it speaks to all mankind, of all times, therefore also to ours?"

"Yes, I believe that."

"In that case, I shall explain to you the real meaning of the question God asked of Adam. Ayekha signifies: Where do you stand in this world? What is your place in history? What have you done with your life, Adam? These are fundamental questions that every human being must confront sooner or later.

"For every one of us, the book of life goes back to Adam. It is he who embodies the mystery of the beginning. But it is to each of us that God speaks when He says Ayekha."

Paul Potts

Who is Paul Potts, you might be saying? Well, Paul is a cell phone salesman from Cardiff, England, who recently participated in the UK version of "America's Got Talent" (actually, the UK version is the original version). Watch the expressions on the faces of the judges when he first walks out and announces what he will be performing, and watch how their expressions are completely transformed by the end of the performance.



(Oh, by the way, Paul went on to win the entire competition. This is a great story of the underdog being underestimated.)

What Has Changed in 60 Years?

How we can we -- not as individuals or as a nation, but as a people -- ever forget what we have done to each other in years past, and what we continue to do to each other to this day? How can those few on the fringe, with so much overwhelming proof to the contrary, deny those very things that we have done to one another?

A. and I watched a documentary this afternoon as a continuation of my reading and learning about Elie Wiesel, Elie Wiesel Goes Home, a film which covers his return home to Sighet (in what is now Hungary) and a visit to Auschwitz with a fellow survivor and close friend -- both of which occurred in mid-1996. The main portion of the documentary is sandwiched between footage from the 1993 opening of the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington and from his acceptance speech at the 1986 Nobel Peace Prize ceremony. It was extremely interesting, but what made it so incredibly powerful and emotional for me was the footage from the 1940s that was played along with some lovely traditional music from Eastern Europe and William Hurt reading excerpts from Wiesel's works. Some of the images may have been familiar, but the combination of sight and sound was overwhelming; I got particularly emotional during a sequence of photographs of small children at Auschwitz, accompanied by Hurt reading this passage from Night -- a passage which I had read several days ago but which has now taken on a whole new meaning for me after having heard it and seen those children:

An SS came toward us wielding a club. He commanded:

"Men to the left! Women to the right!"

Eight words spoken quietly, indifferently, without emotion. Eight simple, short words. Yet that was the moment when I left my mother. There was no time to think, and I already felt my father's hand press against mine: we were alone. In a fraction of a second I could see my mother, my sisters, move to the right. Tzipora was holding Mother's hand. I saw them walking farther and farther away; Mother was stroking my sister's blond hair, as if to protect her. And I walked on with my father, with the men. I didn't know that this was the moment in time and the place where I was leaving my mother and Tzipora forever. I kept walking, my father holding my hand.

Watching this segment, I thought of my daughters. And then I thought of the sons and daughters, grandchildren, sisters and brothers -- all of the children who were the age my daughters are now and who never had the opportunity to grow up. If people knew then what was going on, why wasn't more done? Wiesel has written (combination of quotes here): "The free world, including Jewish leaders in America and Palestine, had known [about the Final Solution] since 1942, but we knew nothing. Why didn't they warn us? ... If other Christians had acted like her [a neighbor who had tried to offer refuge to some of the Jews in Sighet], the trains rolling to the unknown would have been less crowded. If priests and pastors had raised their voices, if the Vatican had broken its silence, the enemy's hands would not have been so free."

The two questions with which I started this post are the questions that were running through my mind at the end of the film. I've been raised with the phrase "never forget" buried in my mind somewhere, a phrase that applies to so many things. But I can't help but wonder how the world turned a blind eye to the Holocaust when it was happening, and how there are so many things to which we're turning that same blind eye today? I've always thought that the most important things in our lives are the things which we experience and which impact us directly, but with the world growing smaller each day, won't nearly everything impact us directly one day? Because of 24-hour, instant news, the problems in places like Darfur and Rwanda aren't as far away as they used to be. More voices are being raised about these problems now than were six decades ago -- but we can do more, should do more, and (I hope) will do more.

Watch this documentary. Even if you think you've heard it all, seen it all, or read it all, watch this documentary. The combination of sounds and images will make you consider the past -- and our present -- in a whole new way.

Wondering About the Theology of Children

Following my recent post about five things I "dig" about Jesus, Sandie posted her own list of five on her blog. All were good, but of the five the last one jumped out at me the most: "The way Jesus called the children to him. I think he knew they would understand before the adults did." This really got me to thinking a bit about a child's awareness of God in his/her life, and some random things came to mind.

As we go through life, many of us often try and find where God is active in/influencing the course of our lives. I've talked about it several times, but during the past several months I've had multiple opportunities to discover that I'm really not in charge of things (despite my best efforts to the contrary); I've also had the chance to see some wonderful things with my daughters during this time as well -- things that I wouldn't have been able to experience with them had I been sitting behind a desk. The further along I go, the more I see God at work in my life.

But after reading Sandie's post, I started wondering about how children -- especially my daughters, even at their very young ages -- see God/Jesus in their lives; do they understand on some level the amazing things that are going on? MB is at an age where she can go to Sunday school and come home with stories of Jesus, but I really don't think that she has a strong comprehension at this age of what she's being taught from the Bible. But does she in fact have a rudimentary understanding of how God works in her life through the things she experiences every day? When she sees a butterfly or lightning bug flying through our backyard and expresses joy at that, I wonder if she realizes at some level that she is expressing joy at God? When she runs up to her mother and me for a hug at the end of her day at preschool, does she recognize somehow that the Jesus she talks about on Sundays is also around to give her hugs? When her sister coos and giggles at the funny faces and sounds we make to entertain her, is there a part of her somewhere that knows she is cooing and giggling with God?

Out of everything, though, I think there is one thing that children do better than anyone else on Earth: they love unconditionally. Isn't that unconditional love at the very heart of everything we've read, studied, and learned about God, Jesus, and the Bible? For me, the answer after typing this is yes -- and, as Sandie said in her post, perhaps Jesus called the children because he knew that they do understand earlier than adults, and the hugs, coos, giggles, and laughter they are sharing with us are signs of their knowing.

"The World We Create is the World We Live In"

The title of this post is a line taken from what I think is a truly remarkable film. Some of the best movies I've ever seen were brought to my attention either as a result of flipping through the channels on television, or simply turning the t.v. on and finding something already running. Today was one of those days, and I found a real gem: Gideon, a 1999 film starring Christopher Lambert (yes, the guy from the Highlander films) and a tremendous supporting cast which includes Charlton Heston, Mike Connors, Shirley Jones, Carroll O'Connor, and several others.

Trying to summarize the plot of a film is not my strong suit (particularly given my tendency to be as wordy and flowery about things as possible), but I did find this very good comment posted by an anonymous user at IMDB.com:

Gideon Dobbs is a man with the mind of a child. Raised in rural South Carolina, his Aunt can no longer keep him when she re-marries. Gideon is placed in the closest institution that can look after him: A retirement home for the elderly. It is the story of a simple, innocent man who comes among a group of elderly people who have lost their lust for life and are merely waiting out the remaining years of their lives. Through the innocent eyes of Gideon, they learn to live again and see that each and every day is a precious gift.

Watching this film, I was struck by some of the strong plot similarities to the Cocoon movies -- senior citizens who have come to the point where they've pretty much given up on life and adopt the idea that theirs are almost over, and who, through the influence of a wonderful new presence, discover they've only just started to live. However, I enjoyed this one much more than those films, and I think it's due in large part to the fact that Lambert is playing way against type in this role, which I think is his best one yet. Heston is great, as always (I could watch a video of Heston reading the sports page to me and I would think it was equally great), O'Connor was really funny (my wife said, "Don't you think this is like watching Archie Bunker all over again?"), Jones was just as classy as ever -- in short, everyone was great. I think it's hard sometimes to watch a movie with a big ensemble cast, but this one was pulled off really well.

Sadly, I see that it was never released on DVD, and thus it isn't available through folks like Netflix. However, with some searching, you can find it on VHS, and perhaps your library or movie store has it in stock. I definitely think it's worth the search, and even more worth the viewing.

Tagged: Five Things About Jesus

Dan tagged me to come up with a list of five things that I "dig" about Jesus. This was an interesting challenge, particularly when there are so many things that I could put here. Let's give it a shot:

1. Jesus picked imperfect people as his disciples, knowing full well they would never be perfect. I often think about how, in today's world, executives who are looking to hire the very best personnel for their companies take the cream of the crop -- folks with outstanding and relevant experience, a proven track record of success, and near-Type A personalities. That certainly wasn't the case with Jesus: the disciples were tax collectors and fishermen, among other professions -- certainly not ones you would pick to help bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth; the tax collectors and fishermen that were picked were either unpopular with their fellow townspeople (Matthew) or not very good at what they did (Peter coming back with empty nets time and again); and they certainly weren't Type As -- if they were, they certainly wouldn't have fallen asleep in Gethsemane.

2. Jesus didn't give up on the people he selected and demonstrated strong loyalty and patience with them until the very end, no matter how ridiculous they acted. He truly had what we refer to as the patience of a saint; if Jesus were to change out his staff every time one of them said or did something that came out of left field, his entire ministry would have been spent filling personnel vacancies.

3. Jesus was a deep thinker who carefully considered his responses to every situation, and he often said more in his short responses than most folks do in long, eloquent speeches. There was no rush to judgement, and he never gave an answer that didn't challenge people on many, many levels. A perfect example to me is the near-stoning of the woman caught in the act of adultery; he sat quietly and wrote in the sand while the crowd questioned him on how the woman should be punished, and then gave one of the most powerful answers in the New Testament -- all in just 12 words: "Let he among you who is without sin cast the first stone."

4. Jesus was a man who made friends easily, and who never forgot them. You only need to look at his obvious devotion to Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha to see the strong devotion he had to his friends.

5. Jesus has inspired billions of people over the centuries, and did it all despite a ministry that lasted (by many estimates) barely three years. I can't think of anyone else who, in such a short period of time, made such a positive, powerful, and eternal impact on the world. Many have tried -- none have succeeded.

I'm going to break the rule and not tag anyone specific on this one, but I would love to see your "lists of five."

Still Here -- Just Not Much to Say

The silence here over the past week is pretty indicative of the fact that there just hasn't been much to write about. I will say that there are some potentially exciting new opportunities on the horizon with regard to employment, so I'm looking forward to seeing where these new roads lead. I've also been dealing with a combination of not being able to sleep at night and being exhausted all day; I'm hopeful this, too, will pass [soon].

I'm well into the first volume Wiesel's autobiography and have found it to be an amazing and powerful read. I've been amazed with the amount of regret and anguish he still feels over several events from his life (particularly from his childhood), and he does such an incredible job of writing vividly that it's been very easy for me to feel the pain he still feels: not really knowing his father until after they were taken to Auschwitz; wishing that he had taken advantage of those extra times to play with his little sister when she asked instead of sitting under a tree reading his books, and how that all came back so painfully at the instant she, along with his mother and grandmother, were taken straight off the transport and to their deaths; and many others along those lines. He also talks at some length about the struggles he experienced -- still experiences -- with his faith in God, his anger with God, his disappointment in what he perceived as God's inaction at times of crisis, and his overwhelming anger and sorrow that the people who knew what was happening to the Jews in Europe (the pope, world leaders, even other Jews) didn't do more to bring attention to that horror. I still have 2/3 of the book left to read, but I would already give this book a 5 out of 5 for its emotion, its sincerity, and the powerful, overwhelming story it tells.

Reading Selections Change Course - Again

It's a good thing that I don't have to be as decisive about my reading as I do a lot of other things in my life, and as such I didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt when I headed to the library today to pick up a few things. I'm sure these quick changes are representative of how quickly my mind jumps around, but I will say that I've gotten better in recent months about starting a book and actually finishing it (as evidenced by my recent reading of The Road).

Half of today's read was the result of a guest op-ed in today's Washington Post about the recent honors accorded Salman Rushdie ("Knighthood for a Literary Lion"). Despite all the coverage of Rushdie in the past twenty years, I had never taken the time to try and read any of his books. After reading the piece in today's Post today, however, I decided to give Satanic Verses and Midnight's Children a shot; after a cursory flip-through of each book, it appears they're going to be challenging, but I'm looking forward to that.

The second half of today's new read was more the result of being compelled to head to the biography section. I intended to see if there was anything available on Orson Welles, whose career has interested me since my recent viewing of the movie RKO 281, the story of the creation of Citizen Kane and the interplay between Welles, William Randolph Hearst, and Hollywood executives (highly recommended, by the way). Instead, Elie Wiesel's All Rivers Run to the Sea -- the first volume of his memoirs -- jumped out at me.

Wiesel is someone who has fascinated me for quite some time, but I have never taken the time to read any of his work. I'm not sure why; perhaps it's because I tend to get so emotionally involved in what I read that I wasn't sure I would be prepared enough for the level of grief, pain and sadness I would be exposed to in his writing. Perhaps it was because that period of history didn't hold any interest for me until now. Or perhaps, I wasn't ready for it then, but I've been led to it now - and the timing means there's a reason I'm supposed to be reading this (and everything else before me right now).

As I move through the book, I'll probably post random thoughts; I'm sure it would engender some great discussion.