Hail to the Chief

Hail To The Chief

I stand with my husband in our heavy coats. We mingle easily, shoulder-to-shoulder in this sea of people. Barack’s sonorous voice breaks through on nearby speakers as he repeats the sacred words committing him to the care of the country. A deafening cheer sounds. At the final “so help me God” my explosion of tears surprise me. I am not alone: countless mittened hands around me soak up countless tears. Yes, freed at last. Freed from years of dismal crookery, from this free-fall into chronic me-ism. We are renewed, pledged to one another. Or as President Obama put it, “to work alongside you to make your farms flourish, let clean waters flow, to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds.”

Who could have dreamed of such a possibility! An old teary-eyed African-American nearby loudly sums it up: “I have lived to see the day!”

At last we have a leader prepared to really lead. President Barack Hussein Obama gives me back the America my immigrant father believed in, a country of limitless possibility, without torture, without spying, without fear. Constitutionally guaranteed values are about to lead once more. Who could’ve guessed they’d ever be in peril.

I stand on the threshold of an America about to remake itself - yet again. America’s “patchwork of culture and religion” will be all the stronger now. Black and white, Jew, Muslim, Christian, Hindu, nonbeliever: E Pluribus Unum. We are one again, as on stage renowned Jewish-American violinist, Itzhak Perlman joins with celebrated Chinese-American cellist, Yo-Yo Ma to revive the deep call of the Quaker hymn, “Simple Gifts.” The celebration turns mythic.

The energizing myth extended itself into instant enthusiastic communities of citizens. Riding the crowded Metro to the inauguration, I struck up a conversation with a young Jewish mother standing alongside her African-American spouse and their striking 14 year old, curly-headed “Obama” child. When my feet began turning to ice, we bonded even more as Stephanie Weisman bent over to help place tiny warmers inside my shoes. Behind, diamond in her ear, a smiling Indian woman held tight the hand of a young daughter with huge doe-eyes. To our left, a savvy young council member and champion pumpkin chunker from Teaneck New Jersey entertained us with nonstop hilarity. Suddenly he uttered something that propelled me beyond his easy humor: “My life” he said, “has been guided by kind forces.”

Having set out without a chance for tickets, on our flight, we were surprised at meeting Member of Congress John Mica. Before we landed, the legislator graciously arranged for an aide to meet us at the Sam Rayburn Building and hand us tickets. It seemed our new friend’s “kind forces” had us in mind as well.

As the inaugural poem, recited by Poet Elizabeth Alexander echoed over the loudspeaker, we began our trek home. Hoards of street walkers knotted together at a choke point around the metro station, suddenly making it impossible to move in any direction. For the first time in that crowd my husband and I became suddenly aware: if a mob incident were ever to happen, here were all the right conditions. Clinging to Jim, tempted but unwilling to panic, I edged on. The spirit of the man who had just called us to community prevailed and calm remained with us all. Jim and I found our way out. Later, I could well appreciate the press report that not a single person had been arrested, not a single one injured in that record-setting melee.

We’re home now, still digesting the momentous happening. A line I once read came to mind: “A rising tide lifts all boats, and each of us empties his or her own cup into the ocean of spirit.” We know that Obama’s promise cannot be kept without our own work. From where I write, here in Sanford, I aim to pay attention, to learn and do what I can.

Gaza

When Bill Clinton was President, I worked for Mideast peace alongside Jews, Muslims and Christians in Central Florida. We labored together in the Foundation for Mideast Communication. We gathered people of ethnic diversities around tables where we could safely talk, create dialogue and understanding, destroy old myths and hatreds. Arabs heard a Jewish woman share how back in the forties, her family had saved pennies, clothing, anything to welcome the new state of Israel for Holocaust victims. A Palestinian man who had lost his home on that land, now a successful American business man, was moved to understand better what the creation of Israel meant to Jews. Within the gathering, the dialogue continued. This was but one example of how dialogue helps create understanding. Ours was a community of safety releasing enormous pent up feelings.

In those workshops, old attitudes fell away, friendships formed and remained, some even to this day. Dialogue was key. Peace was possible. The Christian Bible, the Koran, and Hebrew Scriptures all led us to dutifully embrace one another, different or not. Joyfully, our work bore fruit.

I am an offshoot of that fruit. As an Arab American, I now have Jewish and Muslim friends. We had met at those tables. We shared beliefs. We grew in the process.

It is hard to know what to write about in this recent Mideast brutality. Words like “Tragic” or “massacre” don’t even come close. American F-16 and Apache helicopters with Israeli markings have dropped over 100 tons of bombs on dozens of locations in the Israeli-occupied Gaza Strip killing over 300 civilians. I want to shout: Stop! Just stop! I can’t look at the computer image of a father weeping desperately over the body of his dead son. It hurts too much.

In his book, The Road to Joy, Thomas Merton, dismayed at our involvement in the Vietnam war, wrote aptly for this current crisis in Gaza:

“In our technological world we have wonderful methods for keeping people alive and wonderful methods for killing them off, and they both go together. We rush in and save lives from tropical diseases, then we come along with napalm and burn up the people we have saved. The net result is more murder, more suffering, more inhumanity. This I know is a caricature, but is it that far from the truth?”

This is no caricature, In the Mideast, at the same time Israeli trucks were bringing in humanitarian supplies for hungry and medically denied Palestinian, their planes were bombing these civilians. Isn’t this a kind of insanity? Is this Merton’s truth repeated? We have wonderful “methods for keeping people alive and wonderful methods for killing them off?’

I am a Jewish ally. I dialogued to honor and uphold the state of Israel. I am torn that the Hamas government has yet to recognize the state of Israel. Yet, Israeli occupation of Palestinians will not encourage the duly elected leadership to recognize Israel while Gaza Palestinians sit easily angered, unable to feed families no matter how hard they work. As long as this continues, neither side will e safe. Have both forgotten the dream for a peaceful homeland?

That Jewish woman mentioned above has started a dialogue right here in Central Florida between Jewish, Muslim and Christian school children. Her project is called the Multi-faith Education Project, HYPERLINK "http://www.multifaitheducationproject.org" www.multifaitheducationproject.org. That’s the constructive kind of peacemaking for which the world cries out.

Remember Jimmy Carter was successful in bringing peace between Egypt and Israel through months of dialogue. He cared. I believe in dialogue. Rather than sending bombs and money to Israel, I encourage America to send peacemakers, young people, a kind of Mideast Peace Corp, to dialogue. We can show the world that we care, that we are so much more than simply a Department of Defense. How about a Department of Peace? It’s not a new idea.

So what can you do? No idle question. Surely there is always something whether it’s letter writing, making a phone call, or simply dialoguing with God about these unfortunate suffering civilians.