Alright, so I decided when I started this blog that I would write at least 1 post a week. I'm a little behind my goal this week. To some extent, I feel like I'm back in college. As a student of 3 languages and literatures, I had lots of papers to write. However, even though I loved my classes and my subjects, and although I usually loved breaking down a piece of literature and expressing my observations about it, somehow I always found it much more fun to listen to Götterdämmerung or Sibelius until crunch time came--the night before the due date. This was also how I wrote my journal entries as an AP English student in high school. And now once again, I find it's so much fun to watch The Frisco Kid and Jane Eyre on TCM, and I'm having trouble keeping to my own writing goals and deadlines. Dear Abby, is there something wrong with me?!
I'm beginning to realize something: This preference I have for avoiding writing deadlines is really not conducive to a career where I would have to write long papers and articles frequently. Therefore, I should not become a literature professor! Or, any kind of a journalist. Actually, I first began to realize this years ago when I started taking a hard and serious look at grad schools. Analyzing literature is one thing. However, at the graduate level nowadays, it seems like classic works of literature are not really analyzed anymore. Rather, theories are broken down and discussed, particularly, it seems, social theories. Now, I'm not a sociologist. I'm not even a terribly social person. I certainly work and talk with people often, but at heart I am very much a hermit and thrive off my quiet time and my opera. It really seems to me, and to many of the older generation of professors, that the humanities, in taking this sociological trend, are becoming more like watered-down social sciences. Which means, no old school Dead Poets' Society love of great literature. No Mr. Darcy sparring words with Elizabeth Bennet. No Sidney Carton going to the guillotine with the solemn utterance, " 'Tis a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; 'tis a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." I don't think that this trend will win. A classic is a work that has withstood the test of time. Let's see an intro to sociology textbook beat out A Tale of Two Cities. I think it'll be a cold day in Satan's belly button before that happens.
Now, I can sort of see how it all began. Joseph Campbell analyzed mythology from a psychological standpoint some sixty to eighty years ago. To my knowledge, this was one of the first applications of one of the social sciences to an interpretation of literature, and it was done masterfully. The trend must have caught on from there. Certainly, by the 1960's, Pier Paolo Pasolini was writing poems and making films that were positively riddled with Marxist theory and criticisms of current values—he was an artist engaging in social theory and analysis in the form of creative works of literature. Already then in the 1960's, the lines between art and theory were blurring. However, not everyone is a Joseph Campbell or a tremendous cultural influence! Not everyone is a Pier Paolo Pasolini and an avant-garde artist! And nowadays, it seems the works of art are getting squeezed out of the graduate school classrooms. But to see a whole scene of gifted intellectuals blurring the lines between art and theory, and usually leaving out the art? I realize I am only a human being and I have my limitations, but to live in a world like that would twist my neck into knots. The reason that we have the humanities is precisely to contest the theories. The humanist artists, scientists, and literati made their mark on history because they refused to see man sacrificed to a set of ideas—something that went on quite literally in the days of the Inquisition. Likewise, we need to assert our own prevalence and dominance over ideas and theory. As Christ said, "The Sabbath was made to serve man, man was not made to serve the Sabbath," so also our ideas and theory are second to us and to the use to which we put them. We need art. We need literature. We also desperately need to understand ourselves. And analyzing works of art truly helps us to do that.
I realize that this fight is a good fight. And I don't know how to fight it if not in the trenches. But here comes another one of my preferences: for air missions rather than trench warfare. I've found out that I'm happier having a bird's eye view and less bumping of elbows. I don't really want a job where I have to debate with my peers and colleagues. I really want a job where I work with a few closely knit people and I'm very close to the top. I'm not really giving up a dream. I'm renouncing an illusion. I've always wanted the same few things out of life, and now I think I have a clearer picture of a few ways to get them—ways that are more practical for me and more natural. I still want to publish a book, but I don't really want to do it for a living. Maybe that's why I always procrastinated about writing.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Ah, Frankincense!... This is what life is made of!
Well, yesterday afternoon I had my second experience ever burning incense. The first was four years ago when I was staying with my grandmother in Italy. It was at the beginning of a weeklong festival of the Madonna della Misericordia (loosely translated Our Lady of Mercy). During this festival, a large statue of the Madonna is taken from the large mother church in the piazza and moved to a different chapel in town every evening, where she is welcomed with prayers and housed with reverence overnight before being carried to the next church the following evening. (Yes, in this small medieval town of about 1,300 people, there are about eight churches!) During the procession to each little church, the Madonna is carried on the shoulders of devotees along a path through the streets of the village. And on each side of the passage, sheets are hung from about two or three feet above eye level all the way to the ground, which, I was told, was the tradition used to greet a lady as she passes. (This may be from my subsequent reading of Joseph Campbell, but the wall of sheets also creates an effective barrier to separate the mundane world from the divine and thus to put the participant in a more spiritual frame of mind; in my case, it worked.) The passage from one church to another is also dotted with large bronze censers pouring forth a gentle perfume of incense, and since my grandmother was the custodian of the little church where the Madonna arrived on the first day, I got to help out.
She opened up the fireplace and burned a lot of wood until there was nothing left but ashes. She then shoveled the ashes into the large bronze censers, which we placed outside the church. I received a small plastic cup full of small, smelly yellow pellets, and was given the task of pouring them into the still-hot censers when the time came to make the incense. Well, when the time came, I had no idea how much smoke incense produces, so I dumped the whole kit 'n caboodle (maybe about an ounce worth) into the censer. Well, all of a sudden, a huge cloud of white smoke poured up into the street. We might have been in London or a bad episode of the old Adam West Batman, because this cloud of incense was more like a cloud of dry ice. Mind you, we were outdoors, and the smoke was thick enough to hide grown women and children from view. (Of course, they weren't very tall women). Through pockets of smoke, I have the distinct memory of what looked like disembodied heads turning to the side and hacking away. It was really embarrassing, but it smelled very nice, and the smoke died down to a moderate puff by the time the Madonna arrived. But I learned my lesson: USE INCENSE SPARINGLY!!
I don't know what gave me the urge to get my own incense. Maybe it was the lovely Wikipedia page with photographs (check it out while there still is a Wikipedia: http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankincense). Or maybe it's the fact that I was a very practicing Catholic in my childhood, and there are some things I am really beginning to miss. Or, maybe it was the fact that I did a number of Nativity readings at an Evening of Readings and Carols just before Christmas and so had frankincense and myrrh on the brain. But anyway, I did a lot of searching on Amazon, and last week I finally found a store that was even better than my favorite online shopping mall: an incense specialty store in Cape May, New Jersey! Forget the fact that this place has an A+ rating from the Better Business Bureau: I've been going to Cape May with my family a few times a year since infancy, so I KNOW their stores are all awesome. It's like a town law or something--whether it's antiques, teas, or homemade candies, Cape May is like the Portobello Road of the esoteric and dandy. So I ordered some Somalian Maydi frankincense, myrrh, spikenard root (yay, Biblical references), and Burgundy pitch, and it arrived this week.
By the way, in case you didn't know, frankincense and myrrh, like many other forms of incense, are resins that come from trees. When you cut through the bark and into the sapwood, some of the sap will begin to leak out. After two weeks, this sap, or resin, hardens, and it can be burned to release its distinctive fragrance. Frankincense is what the Catholic Church uses in a few of its rituals, and it may even have numerous health benefits. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8505251.stm) Of course, scientists are only just beginning to study these benefits, so for now, frankincense is no substitute for chemotherapy. Remember that, boys and girls! ;)
As for yesterday's incense burning, I wish I had some memorable Anthony Bourdain-ish comments as to the quality of the odors, but I find that gilding the lily just doesn't work when I try it. I'll just tell you what I did, and encourage YOU to go out and experience it for yourself!
I used an incense bowl filled with white rice ash (more of a Japanese technique, but hey, it works!). A piece of charcoal is lit, placed in the ash, and covered very lightly with ash. This is to reduce the heat that the charcoal gives off. The incense then goes on top of this layer of ash, or directly onto the charcoal. The heat melts or burns the resin, releasing its distinctive odor.
I burned the frankincense first, and I started off indoors. It gave off a sweet lemony scent and only a hint of smoke. It was just like being in church again. It brought back many pleasant memories, and I can still savor the scent of it right now. Apparently, however, my mother has very sensitive lungs. My mom has never smoked a day in her life, but she really started hacking when that trickle of incense smoke rose up, so I moved my incense burning outside. We opened the windows, and my mom felt better in a few minutes. I, however, still feel bad, so I'm not going to burn any incense indoors anymore, unless I'm in a huge church or reception hall. I have no idea what the neighbors will think I'm doing....
Outside, I next tried out the myrrh. Now, myrrh is okay, if you like the smell of cigarettes. It had a sort of deep, bitter scent vaguely like my grandfather's Marlboros had when I was a kid. I wasn't a big fan of this one. And yet, myrrh was one of the gifts the Wise Men gave to the baby Jesus? I guess people throughout history have liked the smell of tobacco. Kind of gives you a new perspective as to what people REALLY appreciated in Galilee and Arabia in Biblical times.
Spikenard root is another incense mentioned in the Bible (off the top of my head, I can't remember where). This one was really fun because it smelled like escargots in garlic butter sauce!! Now, I'm not much of a seafood person, but in the words of Matlock, "them's good eats." It makes my mouth water just to think about it.... I'm probably not going to use this incense very often, since it is very rare, but that's okay because all I really need to make this scent again is a good recipe for snails. And then I have the added bonus of getting to EAT them. Yum!
The Burgundy pitch (from French spruce trees) gave off a delicate pine scent. Not quite as strong as the pine smell in the local park, but still very nice.
My absolute favorites were the frankincense and the spikenard. They were totally worth the weeks of internet search and the price of incense burning equipment. Thank you, spikenard, I'm still thirsting for escargots. And as for frankincense, I think the Catholic Church might be able to win back another independent thinker if they used this more often. I don't know if you'd like it, but after a long day at work, the scent of frankincense and spikenard burning can really hit the spot. Maybe these ancients really knew what they were talking about.
She opened up the fireplace and burned a lot of wood until there was nothing left but ashes. She then shoveled the ashes into the large bronze censers, which we placed outside the church. I received a small plastic cup full of small, smelly yellow pellets, and was given the task of pouring them into the still-hot censers when the time came to make the incense. Well, when the time came, I had no idea how much smoke incense produces, so I dumped the whole kit 'n caboodle (maybe about an ounce worth) into the censer. Well, all of a sudden, a huge cloud of white smoke poured up into the street. We might have been in London or a bad episode of the old Adam West Batman, because this cloud of incense was more like a cloud of dry ice. Mind you, we were outdoors, and the smoke was thick enough to hide grown women and children from view. (Of course, they weren't very tall women). Through pockets of smoke, I have the distinct memory of what looked like disembodied heads turning to the side and hacking away. It was really embarrassing, but it smelled very nice, and the smoke died down to a moderate puff by the time the Madonna arrived. But I learned my lesson: USE INCENSE SPARINGLY!!
I don't know what gave me the urge to get my own incense. Maybe it was the lovely Wikipedia page with photographs (check it out while there still is a Wikipedia: http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankincense). Or maybe it's the fact that I was a very practicing Catholic in my childhood, and there are some things I am really beginning to miss. Or, maybe it was the fact that I did a number of Nativity readings at an Evening of Readings and Carols just before Christmas and so had frankincense and myrrh on the brain. But anyway, I did a lot of searching on Amazon, and last week I finally found a store that was even better than my favorite online shopping mall: an incense specialty store in Cape May, New Jersey! Forget the fact that this place has an A+ rating from the Better Business Bureau: I've been going to Cape May with my family a few times a year since infancy, so I KNOW their stores are all awesome. It's like a town law or something--whether it's antiques, teas, or homemade candies, Cape May is like the Portobello Road of the esoteric and dandy. So I ordered some Somalian Maydi frankincense, myrrh, spikenard root (yay, Biblical references), and Burgundy pitch, and it arrived this week.
By the way, in case you didn't know, frankincense and myrrh, like many other forms of incense, are resins that come from trees. When you cut through the bark and into the sapwood, some of the sap will begin to leak out. After two weeks, this sap, or resin, hardens, and it can be burned to release its distinctive fragrance. Frankincense is what the Catholic Church uses in a few of its rituals, and it may even have numerous health benefits. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8505251.stm) Of course, scientists are only just beginning to study these benefits, so for now, frankincense is no substitute for chemotherapy. Remember that, boys and girls! ;)
As for yesterday's incense burning, I wish I had some memorable Anthony Bourdain-ish comments as to the quality of the odors, but I find that gilding the lily just doesn't work when I try it. I'll just tell you what I did, and encourage YOU to go out and experience it for yourself!
I used an incense bowl filled with white rice ash (more of a Japanese technique, but hey, it works!). A piece of charcoal is lit, placed in the ash, and covered very lightly with ash. This is to reduce the heat that the charcoal gives off. The incense then goes on top of this layer of ash, or directly onto the charcoal. The heat melts or burns the resin, releasing its distinctive odor.
I burned the frankincense first, and I started off indoors. It gave off a sweet lemony scent and only a hint of smoke. It was just like being in church again. It brought back many pleasant memories, and I can still savor the scent of it right now. Apparently, however, my mother has very sensitive lungs. My mom has never smoked a day in her life, but she really started hacking when that trickle of incense smoke rose up, so I moved my incense burning outside. We opened the windows, and my mom felt better in a few minutes. I, however, still feel bad, so I'm not going to burn any incense indoors anymore, unless I'm in a huge church or reception hall. I have no idea what the neighbors will think I'm doing....
Outside, I next tried out the myrrh. Now, myrrh is okay, if you like the smell of cigarettes. It had a sort of deep, bitter scent vaguely like my grandfather's Marlboros had when I was a kid. I wasn't a big fan of this one. And yet, myrrh was one of the gifts the Wise Men gave to the baby Jesus? I guess people throughout history have liked the smell of tobacco. Kind of gives you a new perspective as to what people REALLY appreciated in Galilee and Arabia in Biblical times.
Spikenard root is another incense mentioned in the Bible (off the top of my head, I can't remember where). This one was really fun because it smelled like escargots in garlic butter sauce!! Now, I'm not much of a seafood person, but in the words of Matlock, "them's good eats." It makes my mouth water just to think about it.... I'm probably not going to use this incense very often, since it is very rare, but that's okay because all I really need to make this scent again is a good recipe for snails. And then I have the added bonus of getting to EAT them. Yum!
The Burgundy pitch (from French spruce trees) gave off a delicate pine scent. Not quite as strong as the pine smell in the local park, but still very nice.
My absolute favorites were the frankincense and the spikenard. They were totally worth the weeks of internet search and the price of incense burning equipment. Thank you, spikenard, I'm still thirsting for escargots. And as for frankincense, I think the Catholic Church might be able to win back another independent thinker if they used this more often. I don't know if you'd like it, but after a long day at work, the scent of frankincense and spikenard burning can really hit the spot. Maybe these ancients really knew what they were talking about.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
On the Recent Case of the US Marines in the News
I usually avoid politics, but I'm going to take this topic a little bit beyond politics, so please bear with me until I get there.
I have to confess that when I first read about this incident last week, I was absolutely outraged. A friend posted an article on Facebook with a caption expressing his passionate belief that this is why other countries do not respect us and why we have no business placing our military anywhere in the world. I can't say that I blame him. This incident is a terrible disaster for OUR image overseas. How we behave when we travel in other countries is a reflection on the rest of our country, and this is exponentially true for those of us who serve abroad. For reference, here is the article: http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/12/us/video-marines-urinating/index.html?hpt=hp_t1
Now, as to the actual conduct of the marines, there are a few things that I find wrong:
1) They desecrated a corpse. Call me old-fashioned on this one. But even if you don't have deep-seated feelings about respect for the deceased, you should at least think that the corpse can no longer hurt you, therefore hurting it should in theory be beneath you.
2) They mocked the deceased, and in doing so, they mocked death itself. It was clearly mockery because they laughed while they did it. Nor did they stop and think that the tables might easily have been turned; they did not show gratitude for their own life, which was lucky enough to be spared.
3) They flaunted their act by video-taping it and posting it to a website for everyone to see.
4) They embarrassed our whole country in front of the whole world, as described above.
I have some very strong feelings and beliefs against this conduct, and I don't think these feelings are likely to change very much.
However, after my initial shock, I had to realize that I was in immediate danger of hypocrisy. I had an uncle who was killed in the World Trade Center. And while I am normally very peaceful, I have to admit that I do not know how I would have acted, had I been in the shoes of these Marines. But I am sure there would have been a very grave temptation to act in some way as they did.
So I stopped and thought: maybe I can actually fathom the marines' desecration of a corpse. If they had an immediate and personal grudge against that person, if the deceased had maimed or permanently injured a close friend or relative of those marines, and if they were in a blind rage, then yes, I could understand why they did it. I don't know if that is the immediate case. Congressman Allen West (R-FL) is now bringing up the Blackwater incident of 2004 when Iraqi insurgents attacked four American civilians and hanged them from a bridge in Fallujah. Both incidents sadden me. However, war is double-sided, and all people are human and have the same potential for heroism or for infamy--regardless of the faction they belong to which they belong, and I am beginning to strongly doubt that all our enemies are wicked and that all our allies are innocent. There are good and bad eggs on both sides, which is a testament to humanity and not to any one political or religious or national affiliation. We are menschen first and part of an ethnicity only second.
I want to stress that desecration of an enemy corpse is not something new. The act found its way into the Iliad, when Achilles tied the slain body of his rival, Hector, to a chariot and dragged it around the city of Troy for twelve days. In fact, if corpse desecration found its way into a mythological work like the Iliad, then it must be a fairly common, and emotionally charged, human experience. However, Achilles also ransomed the body of Hector back to his family, and he also called a twelve day truce so they could give Hector the proper funeral rites. No, corpse desecration is not something new, nor is it something that only one side engages in. However, there is a right way to go about it and a wrong way to go about it.
After many long years, I reached a point when I wanted to see Osama bin Laden brought to justice: which meant captured or, more probably, killed. I was brought into conflict with my own instincts, which urge me to value life, and I was brought into conflict with the belief sI was taught as a child, "Thou shalt not kill." But in spite of that conflict, I am not gladdened by the death of Osama bin Laden. I will admit that I feel relieved to know that the bad guy does not always get away with murder. However, I repeat, I do not feel any joy at bin Laden's death. Why? Because his life was a sad waste of human potential. He had the money, the power, and the influence to lead a life of compassion and humanitarianism. He could have fed millions of starving widows and orphans in Somalia. He could have helped the UN free thousands of child soldiers around the world, but he did not. Instead, he chose to hurt and maim and cause fear and panic. This is a waste of the God-given potential within all of us. I am a lifelong fan of Michelangelo and the Italian Renaissance, and I believe with every fiber of my being that man was meant to be more than he is now. Osama bin Laden's acts are in stark opposition to this purpose. According to my view, he took his potential and squandered it. And I see that as a tragedy. My enemy was wrong. And if he could not see that, or if he ignored it, he is to be pitied. I do not resent him.
I also believe that all life is precious. What I am about to say may be something I gleaned from Buddhism's ideas of reincarnation, but out of all the myriad, unconscious, lifeless objects the atoms in our bodies could have been shaped into, in our lifetime they were shaped into human beings with a tremendous awareness, power, and capability. Life may not always be pleasant (in fact, I think much of the time it is not), but it IS something very rare, very fragile, and therefore precious. Life has an intrinsic value. I cannot rejoice in the death of a frog or the death of a bird or even the death of an ant. I certainly cannot rejoice in the death of another human being, even if he is an enemy. Call this a flaw or a virtue on my part, however you see it, but all death saddens me.
But what I've learned from my own experience is that my enemy is not that different from me to begin with. He has a family. He has a life and a culture and a country and a religion, and he loves them. And he has also had pain. Real pain. And when we look at ourselves in the mirror, we begin to realize that our enemy may actually have reasons for what he does, even if his actions are so grossly misguided. Just as we have reasons for what we do, and may become misguided ourselves. And as long as we do to our enemies the things that we hate to have done to ourselves, I suspect we will all have reasons for what we do or would want to do in retaliation.
I cannot condemn what those four marines did to that corpse, knowing full well in my heart that I might have acted very similarly in their shoes. "Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone," and I know I am guilty. However, I cannot condone HOW they desecrated that corpse--laughing and mocking as they did so. It shows a disrespect towards life and, just as importantly, towards death. Death is the great leveler--the thing that discriminates against no man and no thing. It comes swiftly, slowly, suddenly, or eventually, but it is always right there around the corner. As the parable says, "You know neither the day nor the hour." Death is something which should be treated with reverence--with fear and with awe--and not laughed at, for our turn will come one day, slowly and inexorably. It is something that should bind us together--the awareness our own mortality.
The purpose of war should be peace (I realize that this is not always the case). A war should therefore teach a man to look past his own colors and his enemy's colors and see another human being as a human being and not just as a Red or a White or a GI or a Charlie. This is what Achilles was getting at--he broke his enemy's body but still recognized and honored his enemy's humanity. If you are going to desecrate a corpse, do it the right way. Do it the ACHILLES way and LEARN something from it!
If you can realize this--through your thoughts or through your actions--then maybe you are on a path towards a greater sense of compassion and what it means to be truly human--and not just a member of a faction. Maybe the desecration of a corpse like that can ultimately be understood, if not condoned, if it is transformed into an eye-opening, revelatory act. But to laugh at the discomfiture of an enemy--that I cannot do. It should be an occasion to look down on my enemy and realize, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I can only hope that the marines from that video will learn something about themselves and their enemies from this experience, even if they did not start out with that knowledge.
I have to confess that when I first read about this incident last week, I was absolutely outraged. A friend posted an article on Facebook with a caption expressing his passionate belief that this is why other countries do not respect us and why we have no business placing our military anywhere in the world. I can't say that I blame him. This incident is a terrible disaster for OUR image overseas. How we behave when we travel in other countries is a reflection on the rest of our country, and this is exponentially true for those of us who serve abroad. For reference, here is the article: http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/12/us/video-marines-urinating/index.html?hpt=hp_t1
Now, as to the actual conduct of the marines, there are a few things that I find wrong:
1) They desecrated a corpse. Call me old-fashioned on this one. But even if you don't have deep-seated feelings about respect for the deceased, you should at least think that the corpse can no longer hurt you, therefore hurting it should in theory be beneath you.
2) They mocked the deceased, and in doing so, they mocked death itself. It was clearly mockery because they laughed while they did it. Nor did they stop and think that the tables might easily have been turned; they did not show gratitude for their own life, which was lucky enough to be spared.
3) They flaunted their act by video-taping it and posting it to a website for everyone to see.
4) They embarrassed our whole country in front of the whole world, as described above.
I have some very strong feelings and beliefs against this conduct, and I don't think these feelings are likely to change very much.
However, after my initial shock, I had to realize that I was in immediate danger of hypocrisy. I had an uncle who was killed in the World Trade Center. And while I am normally very peaceful, I have to admit that I do not know how I would have acted, had I been in the shoes of these Marines. But I am sure there would have been a very grave temptation to act in some way as they did.
So I stopped and thought: maybe I can actually fathom the marines' desecration of a corpse. If they had an immediate and personal grudge against that person, if the deceased had maimed or permanently injured a close friend or relative of those marines, and if they were in a blind rage, then yes, I could understand why they did it. I don't know if that is the immediate case. Congressman Allen West (R-FL) is now bringing up the Blackwater incident of 2004 when Iraqi insurgents attacked four American civilians and hanged them from a bridge in Fallujah. Both incidents sadden me. However, war is double-sided, and all people are human and have the same potential for heroism or for infamy--regardless of the faction they belong to which they belong, and I am beginning to strongly doubt that all our enemies are wicked and that all our allies are innocent. There are good and bad eggs on both sides, which is a testament to humanity and not to any one political or religious or national affiliation. We are menschen first and part of an ethnicity only second.
I think
perhaps it is precisely because war is hell that it should be avoided, except in times of great danger and emergency, and even then kept as short as possible. I think it is because war and the absence of law can potentially bring out the criminal in us all that it is a danger.
I want to stress that desecration of an enemy corpse is not something new. The act found its way into the Iliad, when Achilles tied the slain body of his rival, Hector, to a chariot and dragged it around the city of Troy for twelve days. In fact, if corpse desecration found its way into a mythological work like the Iliad, then it must be a fairly common, and emotionally charged, human experience. However, Achilles also ransomed the body of Hector back to his family, and he also called a twelve day truce so they could give Hector the proper funeral rites. No, corpse desecration is not something new, nor is it something that only one side engages in. However, there is a right way to go about it and a wrong way to go about it.
After many long years, I reached a point when I wanted to see Osama bin Laden brought to justice: which meant captured or, more probably, killed. I was brought into conflict with my own instincts, which urge me to value life, and I was brought into conflict with the belief sI was taught as a child, "Thou shalt not kill." But in spite of that conflict, I am not gladdened by the death of Osama bin Laden. I will admit that I feel relieved to know that the bad guy does not always get away with murder. However, I repeat, I do not feel any joy at bin Laden's death. Why? Because his life was a sad waste of human potential. He had the money, the power, and the influence to lead a life of compassion and humanitarianism. He could have fed millions of starving widows and orphans in Somalia. He could have helped the UN free thousands of child soldiers around the world, but he did not. Instead, he chose to hurt and maim and cause fear and panic. This is a waste of the God-given potential within all of us. I am a lifelong fan of Michelangelo and the Italian Renaissance, and I believe with every fiber of my being that man was meant to be more than he is now. Osama bin Laden's acts are in stark opposition to this purpose. According to my view, he took his potential and squandered it. And I see that as a tragedy. My enemy was wrong. And if he could not see that, or if he ignored it, he is to be pitied. I do not resent him.
I also believe that all life is precious. What I am about to say may be something I gleaned from Buddhism's ideas of reincarnation, but out of all the myriad, unconscious, lifeless objects the atoms in our bodies could have been shaped into, in our lifetime they were shaped into human beings with a tremendous awareness, power, and capability. Life may not always be pleasant (in fact, I think much of the time it is not), but it IS something very rare, very fragile, and therefore precious. Life has an intrinsic value. I cannot rejoice in the death of a frog or the death of a bird or even the death of an ant. I certainly cannot rejoice in the death of another human being, even if he is an enemy. Call this a flaw or a virtue on my part, however you see it, but all death saddens me.
But what I've learned from my own experience is that my enemy is not that different from me to begin with. He has a family. He has a life and a culture and a country and a religion, and he loves them. And he has also had pain. Real pain. And when we look at ourselves in the mirror, we begin to realize that our enemy may actually have reasons for what he does, even if his actions are so grossly misguided. Just as we have reasons for what we do, and may become misguided ourselves. And as long as we do to our enemies the things that we hate to have done to ourselves, I suspect we will all have reasons for what we do or would want to do in retaliation.
I cannot condemn what those four marines did to that corpse, knowing full well in my heart that I might have acted very similarly in their shoes. "Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone," and I know I am guilty. However, I cannot condone HOW they desecrated that corpse--laughing and mocking as they did so. It shows a disrespect towards life and, just as importantly, towards death. Death is the great leveler--the thing that discriminates against no man and no thing. It comes swiftly, slowly, suddenly, or eventually, but it is always right there around the corner. As the parable says, "You know neither the day nor the hour." Death is something which should be treated with reverence--with fear and with awe--and not laughed at, for our turn will come one day, slowly and inexorably. It is something that should bind us together--the awareness our own mortality.
Don't believe me about universal mortality?
Just ask the monk from The Seventh Seal.
If you can realize this--through your thoughts or through your actions--then maybe you are on a path towards a greater sense of compassion and what it means to be truly human--and not just a member of a faction. Maybe the desecration of a corpse like that can ultimately be understood, if not condoned, if it is transformed into an eye-opening, revelatory act. But to laugh at the discomfiture of an enemy--that I cannot do. It should be an occasion to look down on my enemy and realize, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I can only hope that the marines from that video will learn something about themselves and their enemies from this experience, even if they did not start out with that knowledge.
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