Giving liberals the third degree

The heroes of my childhood and teen-age years spanned the centuries: Jesus Christ, Spartacus, King Arthur, Robin Hood, El Cid, Don Quixote, Joan of Arc, the American revolutionaries (Thomas Jefferson, Tom Paine, George Washington, John Paul Jones), the leaders of the French Revolution, David Crockett, the leaders of the initial Russian Revolution which overthrew the czar, Lawrence of Arabia, Sgt. Alvin York, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Mahatma Gandhi,  John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy.

Some of your heroes may be on that list and I’m sure you have others you own.

Of course, I have personal heroes, too: my dad, my mom, several uncles and neighbors and several coaches and teachers.

But the real and legendary heroes of history were the subjects of books, movies, and song. They seemed bigger than life, especially when portrayed in movies by the likes of Errol Flynn, John Wayne, and Charleton Heston.

On the surface, these heroes had in common bravery, conviction, and perseverance. They were not afraid to speak their minds and to act on their high ideals. These heroes were able to lead great masses of people to fight for freedom and overthrow tyranny. They listened to their inner voices. They listened to voices from on high. Whether they lived with reckless derring-do like Robin Hood or deeply passionate faith like Joan of Arc — those around them were drawn to their strength and their calls to action.

Generally, these heroes fought for equality and justice. They spoke up for those who had no voice in the direction of their daily lives. They spoke up for the downtrodden.

If one is to believe most historical accounts, some of these heroes were selfless and modest. Others were bombastic and egotistical. A couple, during their lifetimes, were considered to be quite crazy. Such is the range of personalities we find in the pages of history. Most of them were killed as a result of their actions or beliefs. Thus is the fate of most heroes. What, then, becomes the fate of those who look up to these heroes?

Many, like myself, become liberals. Oh, sure, some of these heroes would present real problems if they were to run for election as president. I can hear Rush Limbaugh’s questioning now…

Rush to King Arthur: You want to construct a large, round table in order to promote “equality” among the nights. One questions: Who’s going to pay for this table?

Rush to Gandhi: Hey, pal, here’s a coupon to the beef and Bologna Bungalow. And get yourself a new tailor.

Rush to Robin Hood: Rob the rich and give to the poor? At knifepoint? With an economic plan like that, you won’t get four years in the White House. You’ll get seven to twelve years in the slammer.

Rush to Joan of Arc: Hey, Joan, have your voices ever told you to get a man? Go weave a tapestry or milk a cow, will ya?

Rush to Jesus Christ: Turn the other cheek? Turn the other cheek?! You call that a defense policy?

Rust to Martin Luther King: You gotta be “dreamin’…”

Yes, indeed, these liberals would have a hard time getting their programs past the scrutiny of ol’ Rush and his fellow Conservatives. Granted, sometimes heroes need great historic conflicts to rise to the occasion. Repressive regimes like Imperial Rome and Nazi Germany inspire the best in some people.

But nearly ever day can be an opportunity for us to stand tall for the little guy, for us to speak out against an injustice, for us to give to those less fortunate instead of taking for ourselves.

These are the lessons I learned from those I admire.

Almost anyone of them would get my vote. I regret to say that most of them would still be crucified or burned at the stake today — at least figuratively, if not literally.

Dancing on the Wall

Originally published : November 11, 1989

They are dancing on the Berlin wall.

Germans can no embrace long-lost family members, long-lost friends, and, for the East Germans, long-lost freedoms. They are dancing on the Berlin Wall.

They are chipping away at it with small hammers, with picks and axes. They are chipping away at it with almost 30 years of pent-up frustration and pent-up hope.

They are smiling, and singing, and hugging, and crying, and yes, drinking heavily. They are dancing on the Berlin Wall.

In front of the cameras beaming picutres around the world, in front of the guards, in front of the guns and in front of the stunned world, they are dancing.

“The Wall” was for so many years a symbol of a world divided, forso many years a reminder of the horror of World War II and how we traded one enemy for another enemy — one horror for the greater horror of atomic death.

“The Wall” was for so many years a concrete tomb for the minds and souls of millions of East Germans, millions of Eastern Europeans.

But today they are dancing on the Berlin Wall.

President Kennedy was right: as long as The Wall stood, we were all Berliners.

President Ronal Reagan was right: if people wanted to understand the difference between the East and the West, they need only visit Berlin and look at The Wall.

He pointedly asked the Soviets to tear down The Wall.

Yes. Now is the time: Tear down The Wall.

Tear down all the walls.

Tear down the Great Dogmatic Wall of China. Tear down the immoral wall of apartheid in South Africa. Tear down the barrier walls in Labanon. Tear down the rotting walls of the South Bronx. Tear down the walls of the Protestant churches an Catholic churches in Belfast, Ireland, and let us all celebrate under the open sky. Tear down the walls of the missile silos and the munition factories.

Tear down all the walls, brother and sisters.

As we have watched the Berliners celebrate, let them watch us observe Veterans Day. The cost of freedom is buried in the ground of France, England, Germany, and Italy. It is buried in the ground of Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and every nation where anyone stood for and died for freedom.

The cost of freedom is not cheap, for life is the most precious thing on Earth.

And to live, the spirit must be able to expand, to breath without restrain, to fly, to sing, to dance. So dance, comrades, dance.

And then tear down The Wall. Tear down all the walls.

A World Without Poetry. A World Filled with Hate.

Without poetry , there would be no prayers to say over the dead.

Without poetry there would be no love to coax lonely souls to union,

no passion to wrestle life from Nothingness;

no mother to protect the helpless seeds of Humanity,

no children to teach us mercy, and no soul to yearn.

Without poetry, soldiers and sailors would have no home to return to,

no markers for their graves.

Hate.

Hate is simple: it is a parent who eats its young.

Hate takes many forms and war is the grandest of all.

But war isn’t always hateful. Sometimes it is as naturally inevitable as a thunderstorm.

When war comes, meet it with humility and shame, if you must meet it at all.

And win.

But remember this: Protesting against a war is the only way humanity can save itself from killing istelf.

What would the world be like if no one protested against war, if no one questioned the “right” or “need” to kill another human being (regardless of how crazed that other human may be)?

The anti-war protestor is man’s best part struggling against the worst in himself. The pacifist is the mirrored image of the warrior. Without the warrior, humankind would be unable to protect itself. Without the pacifist, humankind would be unable to stop itself.

The protest against hate, war, and death is the kernel of conscience we have that will save us from extinction.

Without protest against war, there will never be any reason to stop war. We would all die from the hate that lurks just beneath this thin-skinned facade we call civilization were it not for the pacifist.

If we must fight wars, make sure they are fought against the worst in ourselves.

Without protest, the flower buried beneath the rock would never find the poetry of the sun; the seed of hope would forever be crushed under the heel of Hate’s eternally marching boots.