In the Hebrew tradition,
burial of the dead takes place as quickly as possible after death, often within
the next day. In the week that follows, a ritual unfolds in the home of the
deceased where mourners are cared for by relatives and friends. Mourners refrain
from work of any kind and sit as low to the earth as possible to indicate
reverence for the dead.
It serves as a sign of humility,
a word that in English shares the same root as the word for earth. In Hebrew, it
is the word for humanity, adam, that
shares the same root as the word for earth.
Finitude and humility are essential
to the very meaning of being human.
This funereal practice is
called “sitting Shiva” (the Hebrew word for seven) and is dutifully observed
for a week after the death of the loved one. Thereafter, mourners are able to
return to some daily life activities including work but for Shloshim, (Hebrew
for 30) the first full month after the death of the loved one, they refrain
from socializing.
Death of a People on a Chilling
Anniversary
This series of essays began to
be written at the end of observance of a month of Shloshim. It was my
experience - and based on the comments of many others, hardly mine alone - that the morning of November 9, 2016
represented a death of sorts for our beloved homeland.
We were a nation that dared to
call itself the United States of
America despite great differences in size, ways of living and demographics
among the states that had been there from the very beginning. Despite our
differences, we chose to be a single people, venerating sweeping ideals that required us to
see all of those states and their residents as fellow Americans who merited our
respect and our loyalty. We expressed that respect in many ways beginning with recognition
of their civil and political rights.
It was always an imperfect
expression, a work in progress with many chapters of abject failure. But a more
perfect union was always our stated goal. And many of us, perhaps most
Americans, took that goal very seriously.
The death of that America did
not occur suddenly or, in hindsight, unexpectedly. For the last couple of years
those understandings had been chronically ill. In the run-up to the election we
watched the functions of government grind to a halt and endured a growing hurricane of negative propaganda as politicians achieved personal and political gain by
driving wedges between us.
On the morning of November 9 it
all proved more than the poor old Lady Liberty could take. In the end, both the
United States of America and the people who had called themselves Americans
would succumb to self-inflicted wounds to the head, the heart and the soul.
Time of death, 2:40 AM
Wednesday, November 9, 2016.
The America I knew and loved would
die on the 77th anniversary of the rise of fascism in Germany, a
violent night of broken windows in storefronts and synagogues that would come
to be called Kristallnacht. And like that ill-fated Third Reich, with the death
of America, a mean-spirited, bellicose country led by a demagogue would rise in
its place. Its name, for lack of any better, was simply Trumpland.
The lines drawn between the factions
of the electorate in the process of Trumpland’s ascension have required us to drop
any lingering pretenses that we continue to be a single people. Our warring
factions now huddle in mutual fear and loathing. An electoral minority
exercises power from the broad rural and suburban red sea of predominately
angry white residents forming the core of Trumpland. That sea laps at the
shores of mostly urban blue islands where widely diverse populations of
cultural creatives – the actual winners of the popular vote in the election - now
live essentially as resident legal aliens.
It is critical to recognize
that this was not a mere election with a winner and a loser and only the most
superficial of readings could see it as such. Rather, this was a day which
marked the death of a way of being a people and a nation-state and the rise of
a new country with two peoples who largely see each other as anathema. The
vaulted ideals of the Framers born in the heart of a Philadelphia which even
then was highly diverse and cosmopolitan would die in the fear and loathing of its
white suburbs, its ravaged industrial wastelands and the increasingly deserted
ranch and farm lands beyond them that election night.
Working Through Grief
For a person as deeply devoted
to the ideals of my homeland, ideals that I have spent a lifetime expressing in
the form of selfless service, the death of America has shattered my very soul.
I had grown up loving an America I always knew was deeply flawed but whose
ideals always held its citizens accountable for those flaws, however imperfectly
and inconsistently.
I had spent a lifetime serving
my country in roles that ranged from the Cub Scouts (On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country)
to the halls of power in Washington as a Congressional intern to a Fulbright
scholar representing our nation and our people in Brasil for a summer. And I had grown up serving the people I always
believed were my fellow Americans as their teacher, attorney and priest.
I was a true believer when it
came to the ideals of my homeland and the value of its people.
But the election results reported
November 9, 2016 did not reflect that America. It embodied its absolute
antithesis. And, given the grip on power that solidified that night in the
hands of angry straight, white male power holders whose behaviors had just driven a stake through the heart of that America,
sitting Shiva for a week and observing the month long Shloshim period of
withdrawal from the outside world seemed an appropriate response.
I am indebted to Judaism for this structured means of processing my grief.
Prompting People to Think
On a more personal level, it
is always my way of dealing with losses to withdraw from the social world to
work through my heart break. In the wake of life tragedies I have always chosen
to spend time alone. Like Voltaire’s
Candide, I retreat to my sanctuary to tend my garden, quite literally. I
read a lot and conduct research on a wide range of subjects seeking insights
that might help me come to grips with my grief and find a way to move forward.
When I come up for air once
again, I process that grief through writing.
The following essays are
attempts on my part to come to grips with what I see as the death of my beloved
homeland and the rise of Trumpland. I write these essays in part for the sake
of my own mental health but also to offer whatever insights might have arisen
from my processing of these events for others to consider as they see fit.
I am very clear that my
observations here are premature at best. The leader of Trumpland will not be
officially crowned for another couple of weeks.
While the run-up to that coronation is already taking on a very ominous
appearance with the building of a corporatist, racist and fundamentalist
Cabinet, I am a strong believer in the rabbinical wisdom that if you want to
make G-d laugh, tell G-d your plans.
That includes self-serving
demagogues like Trump. It includes those who would presume to invoke G-d’s name
in creating an authoritarian society like his vice-president. And it includes
people like me who would presume to look into the future and discuss its
possibilities with any degree of certitude.
What I offer here is not
revealed wisdom, it is merely my best understanding of what I see as our
self-inflicted injuries to the body politic and what I envision as possible results
of that enormous error in judgment on election day. If there is anything I am
not it is a determinist of any sort. These observations are inscribed in Jello,
not Quick-Crete.
But as a history major who has
seen patterns like these before, it’s hard to watch an advancing tsunami and not
feel the need to sound an alarm. And, yes, I am more than aware of the
occupational hazards that attend following in the footsteps of the Cassandras
and Jeremiahs of our world.
My goal here is NOT to incite
anger, fear or hostility even as I realize some may well be offended by what I have
to say. Truth be told, this election required the people of the late America to
endure far more of that fare than is healthy for any human being or culture. Many
of us already bore the scars of that war upon our souls long before the election.
The last thing I want to do is cause any more harm to those already suffering.
My goal is also not to
demonize people even as their attitudes and behaviors are fair game for
criticism. I do not confuse the humanity of any given individual with whatever
understandings they espouse. None of us are reducible to our thoughts, words or
even deeds. At the end of the day, even the people with whom I disagree most
vehemently still bear the image of G-d the same as I do and I will do all within
my power to respect that image.
So, if you find something in
this series of blog entries to consider further, great. That is my goal. If you
think I’m wrong, it would hardly be the first time or the last. My students
will tell you I am prone to remark “But I could be wrong.”
Please do not feel compelled to set me straight. I am
simply offering my thoughts here for consideration, NOT confrontation. Bear in
mind, you could be wrong, too.
If you think I’m right on,
bless you. But remember: Most Anglican preachers do not require an Amen to
preach whatever they observe to be worthy of others’ consideration. I need no
one’s permission or validation to offer my views as I see them.
Most of all, please DO
NOT for one second view this set of essays in which I dare to think out
loud, baring my soul in working through my sorrow, as an invitation to engage
in any mean-spirited, poorly informed or ill-considered political diatribes. My
soul is only now recovering from the septic typhoon that was the past election.
I am unwilling to deal with
personal attacks, shallow sound bites, talking points or the poorly reasoned ideological blindsides that passed for discourse during the
election cycle. I will not allow my blogsite or facebook accounts to be sites
for nasty bickering or ad hominem attacks. If you are unable to honor my desires, I will simply
not publish them on my blogsite and delete them from Facebook.
A Labor of Love, not a Polemics of
Politics
As always, my goal in writing
these blog entries and engaging the social media in which they are published is to prompt people to
think, not to tell them what to
think. I presume people can think for themselves even as they often demonstrate
to me and to others that they are not willing to do so, the past election being
a textbook example.
I do not anticipate that
everyone will read all of these entries and I am fine with that. I can be
long-winded. But I see these as important issues which merit the time and
attention to develop them fully. Consider what you will, ignore what you
choose. I am honored when you take the time to read and think about any of the
points I raise here.
One last thought in this
opening, a word that reflects the mind, heart and spirit of its offeror. Please
know that these words are not offered in any kind of hasty, thoughtless or – to
the degree I can be conscious of it – ideologically driven manner. I serve no
agenda here. My thoughts are my own and these have been very deliberately considered, articulated and revised multiple times before appearing here.
They reflect an unusual life of
now 63 years duration which has been intentionally developed through ongoing education
on four different continents among a wide range of cultures and “all sorts and
conditions of men (and women),” as the Book of Common Prayer puts it. My words reflect
both the sometimes impatient observations of the head as well as the impassioned utterings of
a compassionate heart. Above all, they reflect a deep life of Spirit
prayerfully engaged every single day.
In the end, this is a labor of
love, not a polemic of politics. I only ask that you consider what I offer here
in that sense. And now, to the first installment.
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Harry Scott Coverston
Orlando, Florida
frharry@cfl.rr.com
harry.coverston@knights.ucf.edu
If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.
Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.
For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d? (Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures)
© Harry Coverston, 2016
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