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Right on the Left
To quote one of history’s most conflicted figures, let me be perfectly clear:
I am no fan of Bill Maher. And that is precisely the point.
No doubt he would deny it to the death, but the toxic talk show host has much in common with his own favorite target of righteous condemnation, Donald Trump.
Mr. Maher is arrogant, opinionated, abrasive, belittling, ill-informed about positions he opposes, and indifferent to nuance. He subscribes to a black-and-white worldview that disdains and denigrates anyone with whom he disagrees. For him, there are only two ways to look at the world: his way and the way of morons.
If the online quotes attributed to him are accurate, Bill Maher defines faith as the purposeful suspension of critical thinking – implying that there is no such thing as reasoned belief and that only the religious suffer from self-delusion.
He:
• Equates the 9/11 terrorists with churchgoers
• Calls religion a neurological disorder
• Fails to recognize that political dogma on both sides of the aisle can be as virulent as the most zealous religious dogma.
So what is my point? Simply this: however much I may despise the man and virtually everything he believes, it’s only fair to acknowledge when he’s right.
St. Patrick’s Day — Searching for the way out of exile
Every year on St. Patrick’s Day I revisit these thoughts from 1999. Things have gotten better in Ireland, where both sides have finally recognized that peace requires sacrifice and compromise. Not much has improved in Israel, where leaders on one side continue to oppress their people, holding them hostage as political pawns so they can keep their own hold on power.
At first glance, the soggy, green downs of Ulster bear little resemblance to the parched and craggy hills of Israel. But a gentle tugging at the cultural fabric of either place unravels an unmistakable common thread: two peoples, impossibly close geographically, impossibly distant ideologically, with more than enough fuel for hatred between them to burn until the coming of the Messiah. Tromping over hills and through city streets, however, first in one place and then in the other, I discovered a more compelling similarity: the bitter struggle of humanity in exile.
“Which are the bad parts of town, the ones I should avoid?” I asked the owner of the bed-and-breakfast where I passed my first night in Belfast.
She dutifully pointed out the Shankhill neighborhood on my map, cautioning me to steer clear of it. I thanked her and, with sophomoric self-confidence, proceeded there directly.
It was the summer of 1984, in the midst of “the Troubles,” and central Belfast exuded all the charm of a city under martial law.
Incivility: the new gold standard
“Are you still beating your wife, Mr. Secretary?”
That was about the only question not leveled at White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer by the ill-mannered woman who accosted him in an Apple store over the weekend.
“I wanted to speak truth to power,” Mr. Spicer’s assailant explained, after her Periscope video went viral and made international headlines.
Indeed, here was a rare moment of opportunity, a chance to catch a high-ranking official in an unguarded moment and engage him free from the filters of the national press corps and the censors of the nightly news.
So how did our heroic citizen capitalize on her unexpected access to Mr. Trump’s confidant as she streamed it live from her cellphone? What were the penetrating questions she posed to solicit a candid discussion with a representative the president’s inner circle? Here they are:
The Limits of Imagination
Yesterday, Jews around the world celebrated the Festival of Purim. In Jerusalem, the same celebration takes place today. So I’m taking the opportunity to revisit these thoughts from 2009.
According to a survey — before the recent economic downturn — about 20 percent of Americans believe themselves to be among the wealthiest one percent of the nation. Another 20 percent anticipate that they will one day claim membership among the wealthiest one percent. In other words, two out of every five Americans believe that they are or will possess enough wealth to be in the top one out of a hundred.
One might describe this kind of rosy optimism as wishful thinking. One might better describe it as delusional.
The potency of imagination powers the engine of human achievement. Whether we aspire to fight for civil rights, to seek a cure for cancer, to write the great American novel, or to win the New York marathon, we never take the first step until we envision our own success, no matter how certain or improbable our chances of success may be. But as the line between reality and fantasy grows increasingly blurry in Western society, imagination does not spur us on toward success but prods us blindly toward the precipice of self-destruction.
Such was the myopia of the Jewish people under Persian rule 2,365 years ago when King Ahasuerus and his viceroy, the wicked Haman, conspired to annihilate the Jewish people. The Jews had thought to appease the king by attending his party, a banquet conceived to celebrate their failure to return to Israel after 70 years of exile. They thought to appease Haman by bowing down to him and the idolatrous image he wore upon a chain hanging from his neck. They thought appeasement and compromise and contrition would preserve the comfortable life they had grown used to in exile, far from their half-forgotten homeland.
Despite all their efforts, the axe fell. But the executioner’s blow never landed, checked in mid-swing by the divine hand, which concealed itself within a long series of improbable coincidences.
In the world of superficial cause-and-effect, the Jews appeared to owe their salvation to the random workings of fate. But it was no coincidence that their reversal of fortunes hinged upon the very moment when the invocations of Mordechai and Esther rallied their people to cast off the yoke of assimilation, no matter how imprudent such an act of defiance may have seemed.
It wasn’t wishful thinking that turned the hearts of the Jews back toward their Creator; it was the clarity that remained after all their schemes had failed and they were left staring into the cold, harsh light of reality.
Today, however, the light of reality shines neither cold nor harsh enough to make us open our eyes. Millions rally for an illusory peace to be won by appeasement before an expanding international culture of terrorism. Voices cry out against the leaders of democracy and in support of the enemies of mankind, urging us to walk the path of peace by laying down our arms before our enemies. Their anthem, it seems, echoes from a generation built on dreams and surviving on pure fantasy:
Imagine there’s no countries,
It isn’t hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…
Like Marxism and countless other utopian visions, it’s a lovely notion. Like its title, however, it is a dream existing only in imagination. Like its author, it is nothing but fantasy destined for tragedy.
Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…You may say I’m a dreamer,
But I’m not the only one,
I hope some day you’ll join us,
And the world will live as one.
The world will indeed live as one, but not by wishing or imagining utopia into existence. Simple answers to complex problems rarely yield lasting solutions.
The holiday of Purim teaches us that peace comes only with the triumph of good over evil, a triumph that must be bought and paid for by standing up, speaking out and, when necessary, taking action against evil.
Both sides now, and then
In the beginning, the questions came with surprising consistency:
What do you mean, you’re not Australian? I thought you were from England. You sound like a Scot.
It’s noteworthy that I didn’t fool anyone into thinking I was one of them. The Aussies knew I wasn’t Australian and the Brits knew I wasn’t English. Oddly enough, the Americans believed I wasn’t American. But few were able to successfully place me or my accent.
I hadn’t planned it that way, although my newfound cultural ambiguity did give me a certain amount of pleasure. There was something romantic, adventurous, and egalitarian about being a Citizen of the World. There was also something reassuring about being an anonymous everyman, without the baggage of preconception and the insult of stereotype.
The explanation wasn’t complicated.
Telling evil from evil
My home town of St. Louis made headlines across the country last week. Some of it was bad news; some of it was good news.
And some of it might have been fake news.
The bad news was the travesty of desecration: vandals toppled of 154 headstones in a Jewish cemetery during the night of 21 February. The Jewish community has far too much history of indignity and intimidation over decades and centuries to not react with horror, anger, and fear.
The good news was the community response. Citizens of St. Louis from across the religious and political divide came together in an inspiring show of support. Hundreds showed up last Wednesday to participate in a collective cleanup effort, including Missouri Governor Eric Greitens and Vice President Mike Pence. A crowd-funding campaign initiated by the Muslim community raised $75,000. People responded to a profane act of hate with solidarity, compassion, and brotherhood.
But what if they were missing the point?
Yonason Goldson 