Some favorite inaugural moments

I'm not thinking of favorite moments in the inaugural ceremonies I've seen--though I might be able to dredge up some interesting memories if I made the effort--but rather favorite passages in some of my favorite inaugural addresses.

I'm thinking of ones I've been somewhat familiar with for much of my life (for instance, John F. Kennedy's and Lincoln's second), ones I've become more familiar with recently (such as Lincoln's first), and one I just looked at today (Jefferson's first--though I have heard one sentence from it before).

Let's proceed in chronological order, starting with Jefferson's first inaugural address (see http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Thomas_Jefferson%27s_First_Inaugural_Address for a transcript).  Here, commenting on the very rough political campaign through which the nation had suffered, is a passage that has quickly become one of my favorites, especially the part I've highlighted:

During the contest of opinion through which we have passed the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression. Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. . . . [E]very difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists. 

I had heard this last sentence before, but not with what leads up to it.

Lincoln's first inaugural address is remarkable, responding temperately and even affectionately to the storm of anger and suspicion his election had provoked.  (See http://avalon.law.yale.edu/19th_century/lincoln1.asp and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln's_first_inaugural_address.)  Here are some selections:

Why should there not be a patient confidence in the ultimate justice of the people? Is there any better or equal hope in the world? In our present differences, is either party without faith of being in the right? If the Almighty Ruler of Nations, with His eternal truth and justice, be on your side of the North, or on yours of the South, that truth and that justice will surely prevail by the judgment of this great tribunal of the American people.  . . . 

In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend it." 

I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature. 

And of course, Lincoln's second inaugural address is justly famous, one of history's most moving and eloquent expressions of humility and compassion (see http://avalon.law.yale.edu/19th_century/lincoln2.asp and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln%27s_second_inaugural_address):

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. . . .  Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came.

. . . Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

John F. Kennedy's inaugural address fall short of this last one of Lincoln's, yet is one of the most memorable of the 57 or so that have been delivered over the past two hundred plus years.  (See http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/kennedy.asp and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_F._Kennedy%27s_Inaugural_Address --and listen at http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/jfkinaugural.htm.)  Some of my favorite passages:

Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans. . . .  Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.
. . .
So let us begin anew--remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.

Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us.
. . .
Let both sides unite to heed in all corners of the earth the command of Isaiah--to "undo the heavy burdens ... and to let the oppressed go free."
. . .
Now the trumpet summons us again--not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are--but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation"--a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.
...
And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.

All of these passages take on much of their meaning from the times in which they were first spoken.  But they also take on meaning from the character of those who spoke them and from the connection we feel over time with the speakers and their audiences and the generous desires that moved them to speak and listen.

Attending to the poor and suffering: should it always be purely voluntary?

In one of my other blogs ("Welcoming the Other"), I recently published a post about our obligation to attend to those who are poor or suffering.  Because I feel strongly about this topic, because I managed to sum up my thoughts in a way that I think makes sense, and because all of us need reminders and encouragement as we seek to live responsible and meaningful lives, I've decided to post a link here:
http://welcomingtheother.blogspot.com/2013/01/attending-to-poor-and-suffering-should.html

Can we still be friends . . . even if one of us votes for Romney and the other for Obama?

A couple of days ago I saw some photos of the presidential candidates and their families and wondered, "What does an Obama supporter think when looking at a photo of Mitt Romney playing with his grandchildren or of Ann Romney serving in a soup kitchen? What does a Romney supporter think when looking at a photo of Michelle Obama playing with a child or of Barack Obama embracing a serviceman?"  I suspect that many have a hard time restraining their hateful feelings, even when the photos are apparently candid and politically neutral.  And even if the feelings are not hateful, the response may be cynical, more concerned about how the photos are functioning as pieces in a political chess game than about appreciating them as images of real human beings living their lives.

Well, it may be too much to hope that people can have positive or even respectful feelings toward both of the major candidates--by which I mean the Republican and Democratic ones.  (My apologies to the Green or Libertarian party supporters who would like me to give their candidates equal time.)  But perhaps it's within the realm of possibility to hope that friends who support different candidates can still be friends after the elections are over.

What leaves me a bit uncertain even as I begin is that there are those who think the election of one or the other of the candidates will be a disaster of virtually cosmic proportions--that the election of Romney or Obama will mean the triumph of evil over good and will threaten the very existence of our nation and of any kind of world worth living in.  I admire the passion of such people, but sincerely believe they are not fully in touch with reality.  My own best thinking, coupled with the attitudes of people whose wisdom and inspiration I trust, leads me to believe we can look forward to the future with confidence and hope no matter which candidate is elected.  The sort of fearful and heated imagination that links the election of a particular candidate to an imminent disaster on a massive scale betrays a distorted sense of the true nature of things and incapacitates a person for the real work of engagement with others in finding solutions to problems.  (I have tried to avoid actually using the word "crazy.")

For the rest of you, I want to make my argument for why you can still respect and even continue to like and enjoy your friends who favor the other candidate.  My purpose here is not to argue that one candidate is better than the other.  (I make my case for my own view on that matter elsewhere.)  Here I just want to argue that a reasonable person of goodwill can end up favoring either of the major candidates.

I have had some personal association with one of the candidates and have followed both closely for a number of years, trying to assess both their personal characters and their political positions.  In my considered opinion, both Mitt Romney and Barack Obama are decent, reasonable, intelligent men of goodwill.  They are both good fathers and faithful husbands (and we've had passable presidents who have been neither).  Both have leadership skills, energy, commitment, and a desire to accomplish positive things.  Both, of course, have significant flaws, but not flaws greater than we can reasonably expect in candidates for president.  And honestly, I think we could have done far worse--there are others who have shown interest in the presidency who are far less capable and admirable than the two most of us will be choosing between.

Obama's and Romney's positions and proposals are at different points on the political spectrum, but neither is truly extreme, and I'm relatively confident that in the real life workings of national life, their proposals will moderate further as they seek the enlist the support of the American people.  In addition, anything they do will be influenced not only by public opinion but by the competing authority of the legislative and judicial branches.  Assuming that some degree of cooperation can be established between the president and Congress, any legislation that comes into being will need to be acceptable to both.

To be more specific: Both candidates know that the federal debt is a pressing problem, and both think they have a plan for dealing with it.  Both support the view that the nation must be militarily strong, though they differ on some details of how that strength can be best maintained.  Both want to protect American interests abroad and encourage the positive aspirations of people around the world.  Both want to encourage prosperity at home.  Both favor individual responsibility and creativity, while also acknowledging the need for some kind of safety net for those truly in need.  Neither is proposing radical changes to our economic or political systems.  Though the differences in their approaches are certainly significant, these differences are relatively minor when viewed from a broad perspective of historical and global understanding.  And reasonable arguments can be made for both candidates' approaches.

So I guess what I'm proposing is that we try to lower the temperature, get in a frame of mind where we can actually consider the candidates' positions fairly and intelligently, and do our best to assess for ourselves who we think has the best approach and will do the best job.  We can share our views and make our arguments and perhaps even listen, with a desire for understanding, to the views and arguments of others.  But we don't need to descend into a frenzied state of contention and vilification or into a hardened state of cynicism and contempt.

We can respect the decisions of our friends, even when they differ from our own.  And we can remain friends not only after the election is over, but even during the season leading up to it.

An addendum: One factor that makes this sort of peaceable approach difficult for some is that some ultimate values are at stake, the sort often tied to religious beliefs and commitments.  For those who share my religious affiliation, I'll be creating an additional post explaining how I believe we can differ politically, even when we share--or are pretty sure we share--the same faith and moral values.  Stay tuned . . .

Of Patriots and Patriotism

Today is July 4; hence my thoughts on patriotism.  A “patriot” is someone who loves his or her country, making patriotism a worthy virtue and even a natural one, something like loving one’s family.  But love of family and of country comes in many varieties and can be used and abused in many ways.  Here I want to ponder a few of those uses and abuses.

First, one of my least favorite abuses: turning “patriotism” into a political issue.  The politicizing of patriotism, of which we’ve seen plenty, especially over the past decade, seems to me one of the most unpatriotic things one can do.  Arguing over who is most patriotic, who is most truly “American,” and using claims and counterclaims of patriotism and lack of patriotism as a tool for partisan gain—these are a lot like Christians arguing and fighting each other over the question of who are the truest followers of Christ.  “For verily, verily, I”—meaning Christ himself—“say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another” (3 Nephi 11:29).

In a similar way, to turn love of country into an issue that divides citizens against each other is deeply ironic—and unfortunately, it damages the very country one claims to love.  Obviously, this is not a sensible way for people to show their love for their country.   A country consists of many things, including a shared history, traditions, institutions, and values—as well as a geographical location.  But above all a country consists of the relationships among its citizens, what Lincoln called “our bonds of affection.”  True patriotism seeks to nurture and strengthen those bonds, not strain or break them.

Another abuse of patriotism—or to put it more kindly, misunderstanding of it—is to confuse patriotism with self-centered, competitive pride.  The partisan conflict over patriotism is pretty much a way of claiming, “I’m more patriotic than you are.”  And as with all self-exaltation, the result is really self-diminishment: among other things, those who exalt themselves are abased by the way they make themselves mean-spirited and dim-sighted.  And as many have pointed out, Pride is the "Great Sin" because it puts human beings into competition and even enmity against each other, as well as against God.  True patriotism requires humility (realizing one’s dependence on things much greater than oneself), generosity (toward one’s fellow citizens), and gratitude (for all the blessings that come with the place, people, and history that constitute one’s nation).  Pride, of the sort I've just described, is incompatible with all of these virtues.

But that doesn't mean patriotism is simply acquiesence in the current conditions and actions of one's nation.  I believe that true patriotism not only allows but requires raising questions about problems and evils within the nation—as long as the questions are raised in a spirit of civility, respect, and cooperation (along with those virtues of humility, generosity, and gratitude already mentioned).  The point of raising the questions is to help bring about constructive change, to work with others to find solutions, not just to criticize.  One reason for civility and humility in this enterprise is that, first, I can’t be sure I have a perfect understanding of either the problems or the solutions, and, second, even if I did, I couldn’t solve the problems myself.  I have to work with others.  That’s the essence of what it means to be part of a community.  And a community doesn’t work very well when one segment has complete power while disenfranchising the rest or when “compromise” becomes such a dirty word that politics becomes nothing more than a perpetual civil war.

“Pride” sometimes means something more benign than the “great sin” I’ve described.  It may (to quote the Oxford English Dictionary) refer to feeling “gratified, pleased, glad”—or (as I believe C. S. Lewis put it) feeling warm-hearted affection because of the good things one sees and experiences, including the good in others.  To be “proud” of one’s family can mean to be grateful for belonging to it and to enjoy the affection and other blessings that come with it.  It also means to feel and act on responsibility to serve the others in one's family.  The problem comes when family pride becomes a matter of competition and enmity, when one family pits itself against others (à la Romeo and Juliet).

I believe the same thing is true of patriotism.  We should be glad to belong to our nation; we should feel warm-hearted affection for our fellow citizens; and we should seek to serve our fellow citizens.  But if national pride becomes a matter of pitting one nation against another, such pride partakes of the evils of “the great sin.”  We are members of humankind, citizens of the world, as well as citizens of our own country.  We should ask God to bless the people of all nations, not just our own.  We should seek the good of all, not just ourselves.  Not to do that is to endanger our nation even as we seek to exalt it.  Because we are all members of one another, to demean the rest of humankind as we seek to exalt ourselves will end up damaging us.  And I believe it will also diminish the effectiveness of God’s protective care because, with the wrong kind of pride, we put ourselves into a wrong relationship with Him.  Perhaps that is one reason an ancient prophet said of a proud people: “the pride of this nation . . . hath proven their destruction except they should repent” (Moroni 8:27).  He was referring to the Nephites, in reference to whom it was said later: “beware of pride, lest ye become as the Nephites of old” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:39).

One of my favorite sayings of Joseph Smith is one reminding us of God’s generous and universal love: “while one portion of the human race is judging and condemning the other without mercy, the Great Parent of the universe looks upon the whole of the human family with a fatherly care and paternal regard; He views them as His offspring, and without any of those contracted feelings that influence the children of men.”  The implication is that, while we have a special responsibility for our own family and our own nation, because they are closest to us, at the same time we should seek the good of all humankind and see all as our brothers and sisters.  We all, in fact, belong to the most expansive of families, the family of God. 

I also love both of Lincoln’s inaugural addresses.  I’m especially fond of the second one (the one that includes "with malice toward none" and other remarkable expressions of charity and humility).  Only in recent years (partly because our nation’s current president loves to quote from it) have I become familiar with Lincoln’s first inaugural address and have begun to have similar feelings about it.  Lincoln spoke knowing that his election had provoked negative feelings among many of his fellow citizens, especially in the South.  He hoped to avoid the civil conflict that ended up taking place.  It is remarkable that, in the situation he faced, he sought to “speak the truth with love.”  Among other things, he said: “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

I am happy to say I count Lincoln as a great patriot, one of the greatest who has lived in the nation I am blessed to belong to.  I am also grateful for many other true patriots, including our nation’s founders.  I’ve enjoyed reading about them, even reading many of their words.  They were imperfect human beings, yet great ones and ones who acted with courage and inspiration.  I feel very confident in saying they would not recognize themselves (at least not much) in some of those who claim to be their successors—I’m thinking of so-called “Tea Party patriots,” among others, many of whom don’t seem to know much about the founders or about the details of the Constitution they claim to be defending.  I’m grateful for the Constitution, including the many remarkable elements that have made it of enduring value to the nation, including the capacity built into the Constitution for the document to be amended and interpreted and improved.

Other patriots include, of course, those who risk their lives for the common good, through military service and in many other ways.  But all of us should be patriots.  Some of the greatest patriots, I believe, are parents who seek to nurture their children; teachers and others who seek to encourage the blossoming of all that is good in those they work with; and those who use their means and skills, whether in the "private" or the "public" sector, in service of the common good.  Many are acting for the good of others simply because that is who they are.  Maybe the truest patriots are those who don’t call themselves patriots, who are not even aware of the splendor and depth of their patriotism.

Godly character, change of heart, and forgiveness of sins

Well, you can't say I don't try to take on big topics.  I was prompted to consider this subject--godly character, change of heart, and forgiveness of sins--when I read an article on Patheos by Francis J. Beckwith titled "Better to be an adulterer than a Mormon?: Evangelicals, Gingrich, and Romney"  (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/returntorome/2012/01/better-to-be-an-adulterer-than-a-mormon-evangelicals-gingrich-and-romney/#comment-57152).  Beckwith reflects on a visit to Utah including discussions with faculty at BYU and with the LDS Public Affairs office in Salt Lake.  Beckwith is sympathetic with the idea that moral character may count for more in a president than correct theology or even the status (according to a given theology) of being "forgiven."

One reader, Michael Bauman, left a comment questioning Beckwith's stance and suggesting that, if God forgives and regenerates a sinner, then past sins should not disqualify someone from being president--a position I pretty much agree with.  Otherwise, what would all the parables about the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son mean--not to mention Christ's statement, "Neither do I condemn thee; go thy way and sin no more"?  But Bauman thinks either that Catholic forgiveness is superior to other kinds of forgiveness or that--even if people are equally forgiven in God's eyes--being a Catholic and having an understanding of Catholic theology would make someone a better president.  As he puts it, "All other things being equal, it's better to be a forgiven Catholic . . . than a forgiven Mormon . . ."

Reading the article and the comment prompted me to add a comment of my own--a rather long one, which I reproduce here:

Obviously the questions raised in this article are complicated. For instance, what factors make for the best president?  The truest and most nuanced theological understanding?  The best moral character?  Will the best president be the person theoretically (according to one's theology) most likely justified in God's eyes, despite serious character flaws?  And then there are factors less tied to theology, like leadership skills, knowledge of domestic and international issues, experience, etc.

The story about an Evangelical Protestant preferring an adulterer or a murderer over a Mormon likely includes the proviso, "As long as the adulterer or murderer has confessed Christ as his Savior."  In the view of many Evangelicals, such a confession--either before or after the adultery or murder--would guarantee justification and salvation, on the grounds of "once saved, always saved" (also known as "the perseverance of the saints").

I'm not Roman Catholic, but it appears from the comment made by Michael Bauman that a murderer or adulterer who has been absolved by priestly authority would, in the Catholic view, be better off than a non-Catholic who had never committed those sins or who had committed them and repented but lacked absolution.

Here's my problem with both the Evangelical and the Catholic response: does notional and even emotional reliance on Christ (as expressed in the Evangelical acceptance of Christ as Savior) guarantee a change of heart?  does going through the actions of confession and penance and receiving official absolution guarantee a change of heart?  And is God interested in such a change of heart, perhaps even more than simple freedom from sin?  Could it be that the means either Evangelicals or Catholics propose for obtaining forgiveness are valuable in God's eyes primarily as a way of starting someone on the path toward that change of heart?  And--back to politics--is a regenerate heart more important in a president than correct theology or even than officially "absolved" or "saved" status?

I'm sure many Evangelicals would agree that merely assenting to Christ's role as your Savior doesn't finish the process God intends.  And I assume absolution is not, in the view of thoughtful Roman Catholics, merely a magical action that changes a person without any serious engagement on their part.  If the state of a person's heart is what ultimately matters, then none of us really knows to what extent any of the candidates have obtained divine forgiveness or how far along they are in the process of becoming what God would like them to be.

A few final questions. Do Evangelicals and Catholics believe that non-Evangelicals and non-Catholics--perhaps even Mormons--can experience peace with God, forgiveness of sin, and improvement of character, even without what they consider a correct theological understanding or (in the Catholic view) without priestly absolution? 

If such absolution is required, then no non-Catholic can claim to be forgiven of past sins.  Michael Bauman suggests, though, that there might be such a being as "a forgiven Mormon."  If that means someone forgiven according to the Mormon view, then that would be someone who has faith in Christ, has sincerely repented (meaning changed in outlook and behavior), and is seeking to be obedient to God's commandments--all of this accomplished with God's enabling grace, leading to forgiveness of sins and change of heart through God's redeeming grace.  This process is nicely summed up in the Mormon belief that Christ will save people FROM their sins, not IN their sins [see Alma 11:37; Helaman 5:10].  Is such an understanding theologically correct--or close enough--from an Evangelical or Catholic point of view?  And how does its correctness or lack of correctness translate into reality?  In other words, do Evangelicals and Catholics believe that Mormons who engage in the process I've described can really be forgiven? 

For political purposes, the point of these questions is this: Can we know--without knowing the hearts of the candidates--who among them, Protestant, Catholic, or Mormon, is really forgiven in God's eyes and, beyond simply having been absolved of past sins, which of them has the godliest character?

Much to blog about

So much to blog about, so little time! I've wanted to say a bit about the death of Osama ben Laden, about the delightful experience of getting to know Doctor Who, about my wife's trip to Atlanta and St. George, and about preparing for my own trip to England and the Czech Republic, and about many other things--and I will at some point spend some time with some of those things, if only to remember some of the rich and challenging parts of life I've been living.

But for now, I'll point to blogging I've done elsewhere.  Since last reporting on "Secret Memo" (a blog on which I put some of my opinions, political and other), I've posted about six items there, notably including "A Letter to Jon McNaughton" (http://secret-memo.blogspot.com/2011/05/letter-to-jon-mcnaughton.html) and "Respecting the President / Political Bullying" (http://secret-memo.blogspot.com/2009/09/respecting-president-political-bullying.html).

I've also created another blog: "Welcoming the Other". Entries have included "A little bit about this blog" (http://welcomingtheother.blogspot.com/2010/09/little-bit-about-this-blog.html) and "King Benjamin on helping the poor (http://welcomingtheother.blogspot.com/2010/12/king-benjamin-on-helping-poor.html).  Though I haven't done much with this blog, I think it may be worth copying one of the entries here.

A little bit about this blog (from "Welcoming the Other": http://welcomingtheother.blogspot.com/2010/09/little-bit-about-this-blog.html [Sept. 25, 2010])

I've just created this blog as a place to put things that don't seem to fit in my other ones. My original blog, "The Face of the Other," has philosophical (and non-philosophical) musings and reports on personal and family events. It is also fed to my author page on amazon.com.

I have a couple of explicitly political blogs, started in the election season of 2008.

And I have a blog called "Secret Memo" where I discuss odd or controversial matters, or just things I don't want to put in the other blogs.

So I have plenty of spots to put things. But I felt a need to start this new blog for two reasons. One was that I wanted a generic space that didn't have the suspicious-sounding title or sometimes odd content of "Secret Memo," but also that wasn't being fed to my author page (as "The Face of the Other" is). Also, I like to be careful about what appears at the top of "The Face of the Other," given that it is my prime and original blog.

The second reason is that it occurred to me I needed a space for more pragmatic concerns. "The Face of the Other" is more contemplative--even though (as its subtitle suggests) contemplation ought to lead to action, given that my encounter with others makes me aware of my responsibility ("In front of the face, I always demand more of myself").

But I need to go beyond knowing that I am responsible to act responsibly. And so I've titled the new blog "Welcoming the Other." The subtitle of the current blog comes from an interview with Emmanuel Levinas ("Dialogue with Emmanuel Levinas," Face to Face with Levinas, ed. Richard A. Cohen, somewhere on page 26 or 27). The full passage includes the following:

I am defined as subjectivity, as a singular person, as an "I," precisely because I am exposed to the other. It is my inescapable and incontrovertible answerability to the other that makes me an individual "I." So that I become a responsible or ethical "I" to the extent that I agree to depose or dethrone myself--to abdicate my position of centrality--in favor of the vulnerable other. As the Bible says: "He who loses his soul gains it." . . . It is not that I wish to preserve . . . the idea of a subject who would be a substantial or mastering center of meaning, an idealist, self-sufficient cogito. . . . Ethical subjectivity dispenses with the idealizing subjectivity of ontology, which reduces everything to itself. The ethical "I" is subjectivity precisely insofar as it kneels before the other.

Another passage (this one from Levinas's book Totality and Infinity) illuminates what's involved in welcoming another person:

To approach the Other in conversation is to welcome his expression, in which at each instant he overflows the idea a thought would carry away from it. It is therefore to receive from the Other beyond the capacity of the I, which means exactly: to have the idea of infinity. But this also means: to be taught. The relation with the Other, or Conversation, is a non-allergic relation, an ethical relation; but inasmuch as it is welcomed this conversation is a teaching. Teaching . . . comes from the exterior and brings me more than I contain. (51)

And here's another one, harder to figure out if you don't already know something of Levinas's thought: "The relationship between the same and the other, my welcoming of the other, is the ultimate fact, and in it the things figure not as what one builds but as what one gives" (Totality and Infinity 77).

And another: "[Though the Other calls the I into being, this call] leaves room for a process of being that is deduced from itself, that is, remains separated and capable of shutting itself up against the very appeal that has aroused it, but also capable of welcoming this face of infinity with all the resources of its egoism. . . ." (216).

And a particularly wild one--but crystal clear, pretty much, once you start to get a feel for Levinas:

It is only in approaching the Other that I attend to myself. This does not mean that my existence is constituted in the thought of the others. An existence called objective, such as is reflected in the thought of the others, and by which I count in universality, in the State, in history, in the totality, does not express me, but precisely dissimulates me. The face I welcome makes me pass from phenomenon [i.e., "a reality that lacks reality, still infinitely removed from its being"] to being in another sense: in discourse I expose myself to the questioning of the Other, and this urgency of the response—acuteness of the present—engenders me for responsibility; as responsible I am brought to my final reality. This extreme attention does not actualize what was in potency, for it is not conceivable without the other. Being attentive . . . presupposes the call of the other. To be attentive is to recognize the mastery of the other, to receive his command, or, more exactly, to receive from him the command to command. When I seek my final reality, I find that my existence as a "thing in itself" begins with the presence in me of the idea of Infinity. But this relation already consists in serving the Other. . . .
. . . This [the face to face] is not a play of mirrors but my responsibility, that is, an existence already obligated. It places the center of gravitation of a being outside of that being. The surpassing of phenomenal or inward existence does not consist in receiving the recognition of the Other, but in offering him one's being. To be in oneself is to express oneself, that is, already to serve the Other. The ground of expression is goodness. To be kath'auto ["in or according to oneself," i.e., having reality in onself] is to be good. (178-79, 183)

Well, that's enough Levinas for now, and certainly more than enough of an explanation of why I've started this blog.

Two speeches

Over the past 24 hours, I've heard two good speeches.  One was from Condoleezza Rice, the other from President Obama.  I would give Dr. Rice's speech an A or A-; I would give the president's an A+ or an A++.

Condoleezza Rice, former Secretary of State, spoke at a forum assembly at BYU.  The Marriott Center was packed--and she did a good job.  She spoke about the American ideal that anyone can become what they want to become, about the need to improve our educational system, about the importance of both faith and intellect, about the importance of family, about the value of optimism ("things that seemed impossible at the time may, as we look back, seem inevitable").  She spoke about the value of traveling to other countries and learning other languages and about our responsibility as a nation to help others throughout the world. 

There were a couple of things I resisted: I don't believe reducing regulations on business is an unadulterated blessing--we all depend on reasonable regulations that protect our health and safety and the integrity and fairness of the system.  But I agree that excessive regulation can hamper creativity as well as efficiency.  On another point, though I agree with what she said about the value of democracy, I believe there are significant problems associated with trying to export our version of democracy to the rest of the world, especially when it involves overthrowing other governments by violence.  (I'm happy to say that, in this speech, she didn't endorse the method I've just mentioned.)  On the other hand, she spoke about America as a nation of immigrants and about the vital importance of welcoming immigrants that suggested a liberal or at least moderate outlook on that issue--an outlook I share.  In fact, as I thought about it, I realized that some extreme conservatives may dislike her for being too moderate.

Overall, her speech was not partisan.  (Of course, given the hosting institution, it was not supposed to be.)  I was happy to be there in person, to be (as she entered) only a few feet away from her, to stand to honor her, and to applaud her sensible and inspiring words.  I have long admired her.  Despite her participation as National Security Advisor and Secretary of State in some decisions I disagreed with, I understand she played a moderating role at that time.  She is a woman of wisdom, intelligence, faith, and goodwill.

The other speech I listened to was last night--President Obama's speech in Tucson in response to the attack on a peaceful assembly in that city that led to the death of six people and the wounding of others.  It is one of the great speeches of which I am aware, powerful, eloquent, consoling, inspiring.  How I wish for a softening of the hearts of any who, out of partisan bias, are inclined to resist the goodness and truth of the words that were spoken and the spirit in which they were spoken.

I won't try to summarize the speech here.  You can watch it here-- http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/41048443 -- or read a transcript here-- http://news.blogs.cnn.com/2011/01/12/president-obama-speaks-at-memorial-honoring-victims-of-arizona-shooting/.

I'll just give a few excerpts.  As I noted on my Facebook status earlier today: "It's easy for all of us to pick sides and try to keep track of who's winning and who's losing. It is the measure of a truly great leader that he or she can lift us above this way of thinking and help us see each other as fellow members of a community, even as brothers and sisters, members of the human family, sharing in each other's sorrows, joys, and hopes."  That is what President Obama did last night, at least for those willing to listen and feel.

The excerpts:

. . . at a time when our discourse has become so sharply polarized – at a time when we are far too eager to lay the blame for all that ails the world at the feet of those who happen to think differently than we do – it’s important for us to pause for a moment and make sure that we're talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds.

Scripture tells us that there is evil in the world, and that terrible things happen for reasons that defy human understanding. . . .

Yes, we must examine all the facts behind this tragedy. We cannot and will not be passive in the face of such violence. We should be willing to challenge old assumptions in order to lessen the prospects of violence in the future.

But what we can’t do is use this tragedy as one more occasion to turn on each other. That we cannot do. As we discuss these issues, let each of us do so with a good dose of humility. Rather than pointing fingers or assigning blame, let's use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other more carefully, to sharpen our instincts for empathy, and remind ourselves of all the ways that our hopes and dreams are bound together.
. . .
. . . we are reminded that in our fleeting time on earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame -– but rather, how well we have loved, and what small part we have played in making the lives of other people better.

That process of reflection, of making sure we align our values with our actions – that, I believe, is what a tragedy like this requires. . . .
. . .
The loss of these wonderful people should make every one of us strive to be better – to be better in our private lives, to be better friends and neighbors, co-workers and parents. And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let us remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy, it did not, but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to the challenges of our nation in a way that would make them proud.

We should be civil because we want to live up to the example of public servants like John Roll and Gabby Giffords, who knew first and foremost that we are all Americans, and that we can question each other’s ideas without questioning each other’s love of country, and that our task, working together, is to constantly widen the circle of our concern so that we bequeath the American dream to future generations.

They believe and I believe we can be better. Those who died here, those who saved lives here – they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another, that's entirely up to us. And I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.

That’s what I believe, in part because that’s what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. . . . She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism, vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.

I want to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as Christina imagined it. I want America to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.
. . .
May God bless and keep those we’ve lost in restful and eternal peace. May He love and watch over the survivors. And may He bless the United States of America.

Introducing . . . the Beatles!

I thought I'd take advantage of the "life-changing" announcement that the Beatles are now on iTunes to reveal at least a little of the role they have played in my life. It turns out that Margaret and I experienced a Beatles related event today: we attended an academic lecture--a remarkably good and illuminating one--titled "American through the Beatles." It was given by Trent Hickman, one of my colleagues in the English Department at BYU, born (pretty much as I had guessed) in 1970, the year the Fab Four broke up. (I wonder if calling them "the Fab Four" is as hokey as calling Shakespeare "the Bard." I'll have to think about that one.)

I first heard "I Want to Hold Your Hand" about 47 years ago, and though I didn't know initially who was performing, I was very taken by this fresh and exciting new sound. But then during most of 1964 I resisted the Beatles, partly because they were so popular, partly (as a 13-14 year old) because I prided myself on my rationality. But then in September of 1965, I heard "Ticket to Ride" on a bowling-alley jukebox in Payson, Utah, and was captured by the song's marvelous fusion of lyricism and anguish. Then came the movie Help!, with its zany fun and appealing music. And then in short order came "Yesterday" (how could I resist!) and Rubber Soul (still possibly my favorite album). I became not only a Beatles fan but a Beatles "expert" (i.e., I was so obsessed I soaked in everything I could about them), and my life became intertwined with their music for the next four years. In February 1970 I started a mission* (arriving in Paris in April), and so I took a break from the Beatles just about the time they broke up. But I could swear I heard "Let It Be" before I left home. (Much later, in 1996, I heard it sung by a street singer in Paris, near St. Germain des Pres.)

After returning to the US in 1972, I followed Paul McCartney somewhat (solo and then as a member of Wings) for a few years. As I remember it, I started re-collecting some Beatles music on cassette tape during the 1980s. Then came CDs (and I gradually got a complete collection); then the Beatles Anthology CDs (and TV specials) in the 1990s. Somewhere along the way I also collected a complete set of remastered vinyl records. More recently I've kept up on some of the reissuing of the Beatles' oeuvre and have continued to follow Paul's career in particular, though with some attention to the others. Of course, I remember learning of John Lennon's death in 1980: I was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, at the time.

Now for (possibly) the most unusual event in my life related to the Beatles. Sometimes during the summer of 1997, our stake* held a picnic in a park near our home. I had recently been called as a counselor in the stake presidency and was going to introduce myself to the stake by taking part in a little presentation on the stage that was set up in the park. My son Rob was 10 at the time (and precocious, as he still is). He interviewed me, asking a series of predetermined questions, I answered entirely (or almost entirely) with lines from Beatles songs.

I'm going to reproduce the entire interview here. But first--just so everyone knows--I will acknowledge that, as with all (earthly) passions, my passion for the Beatles has the potential to be an unhealthy obsession. I try to keep enough detachment to remember the relative unimportance of all this and to remember that the Beatles' influence was a mix of good and bad.

But musically, they were marvels. Apart from a handful of their music that I don't like, they produced a large body of high-quality work, and the best of their work ranks with some of the best music the world has seen (and I'm including what is commonly called "classical music"). As people, as a cultural phenomenon, and as a source of music, the Beatles somehow conveyed an energy, vitality, freshness, and sense of passion and joy rarely seen.

By the way, for those who wonder what the heck a "mission" and "stake" are, I'll provide answers at the end.

THE INTERVIEW (R=Robert Young; B=Bruce Young):

R: Hello, my name is Robert Young. I'm about to do a live interview of the newest member of the Stake Presidency, Bruce Young.

I need to give you a little background first. He's a member of Pioneer 4th ward. But he's spent most of the past year out of town and just got back in May. For 6 months of that time he was helping direct a BYU program in England.

Some people think it is his interest in Shakespeare that qualified him for this work, but the truth seems to be that he was chosen because he is one of Utah Valley's foremost experts on the Beatles. For that reason we've asked him to answer all questions with quotations from their songs.

Is that true, President Young?

B: Yes it is, it's true.

R: Speaking of England, what did you think of the Queen?

B: Her majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say.

R: President Young, could you explain why you left Provo last year?

B: You know if you break my heart I'll go, but I'll be back again.

R: I understand you were in Massachusetts for the first part of this year. How did you feel when you got back?

B: It's been a long time, now I'm coming back home. I've been away now, oh how, I've been alone.

R: I understand there was a fire in your home last year. Did that affect where you lived for a while?

B: We all live(d) in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine.

R: So it wasn't long after your return that President Billings called you up to talk to you. What was the first thing he said?

B: When I call you up, your line's engaged. I have had enough, so act your age.

R: So what was your response the night you found out about your call to the stake presidency?

B: Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as if there here to stay, oh I believe in yesterday.

R: What did you feel after you had some time to think about it?

B: Help! I need somebody. Help! not just anybody. Help! you know I need someone. Help!

R: So how are things going now?

B: It's getting better all the time. (better better better)

R: What helped make the difference?

B: Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.

R: I understand you sometimes come home fairly late on nights when you have stake meetings. How do you feel when you come home?

B: It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog.  It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log.

R: Do you have any idea how long you will serve in this position or when you might be released?

B: When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now.

R: Well, sir, it looks like you've lost your hair already.

B: Look! what your doing!

R: Let me ask you a few questions about your life and your family.

How did you feel about yourself before you met Margaret?

B: I'm a loser, I'm a loser, and I'm not what I appear to be.

R: So how do you feel now?

B: I'm in love with her and I feel fine.

R: How many children do you have?

B: Your mother should know (whoo-oo), your mother should know.

R: Do you have anything to say to Margaret?

B: You know how much I love you, you know I always will.

R: I understand your oldest daughter is old enough to date now. And I understand you have a policy that she shouldn't date the same boy twice in a row. What do you say if she asks for an exception?

B: You know I told you before, no, you can't do that.

R: She hasn't go her license yet. When she does, do you have something to tell her?

B: Baby you can drive my car.

R: I understand you have a 10-year-old red headed son who is pretty smart. How do you feel about him?

B: A bad little kid moved into the neighborhood (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-oo-doo-doo) He don't do nothin' right just sit there, 'n' look so good. (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-oo-doo-doo)

R: What is your 8 year old daughter's name?

B: Julia, Julia.

R: She likes to jog with you, but has a hard time keeping up. Is there anything you say to encourage her?

B: You better run for your life if you can little girl.

R: Do you have anything to say about your 5-year-old son Michael?

B: Slow down, your movin' way too fast. You gotta give me little lovin', give me little lovin', whoooo, if you want our love to last.

R: Do you have any final things to say?

B: I don't want to spoil the party so I'll go. I would hate my disappointment to show. There nothing for me here, so I will disappear.

R: Do you think we could have another live interview with you next year?

B: Don't bother me, leave me alone, don't bother me.

R: Well, maybe we'll check with you later and see if we can get you to change your tune.

B: We can work it out, we can work it out.

[The end]

*mission: i.e., a two-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; I served in the France Paris Mission, which included (at that time) most of western France.

*stake: an organization in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints encompassing several wards (congregations), corresponding more or less to a diocese in Catholic church government. The stake presidency consists of three men, a president and a first and second counselor. I ended up serving for three years as second counselor to Lewis Billings and then another seven years as first counselor to Brian Wolsey.

Thoughts on September 11

September 11 brings me memories and mixed feelings. I find myself pondering good and evil, life and death, love and hate, suffering and heroism, tragedy and redemption. I also find myself distressed by the anti-Muslim feelings that rise among many on this day—feelings that are unfortunate and unfair in so many ways and that I believe are especially out of place on 9/11. Why?

(1) Muslims as a whole did not perpetrate the terrorist acts that took place on this day.

(2) Most Muslims condemn such terrorist acts.

(3) Muslims were among those killed on 9/11.

(4) Islam is one of the great religious traditions and has helped inspire much goodness and some of the world’s greatest cultural achievements. It is the foundation of the lives of millions of good people.

(5) While Christians naturally disagree with Muslims on many issues (as they also disagree with Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and others, as well as with many of their fellow Christians), true Christianity—in my view—requires respect for others, including respect for the freedom of others to believe and live differently. We can discuss our differences, but should do so with civility, charity, and humility.

(6) Latter-day Saints in particular should extend respect and understanding toward Muslims because we have been misunderstood and persecuted in much the same way they have. Furthermore, leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have worked to build good relationships with Muslims and have stated that there is much that is good, true, even inspired in their religion.

(7) Above all, to make 9/11 an occasion for antagonism and hatred toward Muslims is to partake, in some degree, of the same spirit that motivated the terrorists on that day.

The Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas dedicated one of his books (Otherwise than Being) to those he was closest to among the victims of the Nazi terror—but also to “the millions on millions of all confessions and all nations, victims of the same hatred of the other man, the same anti-semitism.”  (Emphasis added.) Any hatred of others is evil in essentially the same way, whoever the others are that we choose to hate and whatever excuse we make for ourselves. Hatred has always tried to justify itself.

But any hatred of others damages the very foundation of our spiritual and moral existence: hatred refuses to heed the call to goodness—and service and respect and responsibility—that issues from the face of every other human being. As Jesus put it, “Inasmuch as you have done it unto one”—which clearly means any one—“of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.”

When two of Jesus’ disciples wanted him to call fire down on a village that had rejected them, he responded: “You know not what spirit you are of. For the Son of Man has come not to destroy men’s lives but to save them” (Luke 9:54). Would he say the same to Christians who want to burn Qurans or whose hearts in any other way are bent on destruction or disrespect?

Every major religion and ethnic group has had members guilty of horrific acts; none of us wants to be, or should be, judged by acts committed by our co-religionists that we object to. And none of us wants to be told there is something wrong with our religion (supposedly revealed by such acts) when our own understanding of our religion in no way justifies the acts. That is exactly the situation in which most Muslims find themselves.

My own experience—and the experience of others I trust—confirms that most Muslims are good people and that their religion is part of their goodness.

Latter-day Saint attitudes toward Muslims and their religion

As noted above, leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have called for respect and understanding among those of various religions, including Islam.

Within the past few days the Church released a statement in response to the threat made by some Americans to burn the Koran on September 11: “A key tenet of our faith is to accord everyone the freedom to worship as they choose. It is regrettable that anyone would regard the burning of any scriptural text as a legitimate form of protest or disagreement.” (Source: http://www.blogger.com/“http://lds.org/ldsnewsroom/eng/news-releases-stories/church-statement-on-the-burning-of-the-koran”.)

The same attitude is expressed in earlier statements. The First Presidency of the Church made a statement on February 15, 1978, "regarding God's Love for All Mankind," that includes, among other things, the following:

"The great religious leaders of the world such as Mohammed, Confucius, and the Reformers, as well as philosophers including Socrates, Plato, and others, received a portion of God's light. Moral truths were given to them by God to enlighten whole nations and to bring a higher level of understanding to individuals.

"We believe that God has given and will give to all peoples sufficient knowledge to help them on their way to eternal salvation."(quoted by James E. Faust, "Communion with the Holy Spirit," Ensign, May 1980, 12)

As mayor of Nauvoo, Joseph Smith—first prophet and president of the Church—issued the following statement:

“Be it ordained by the city council [of] Nauvoo that the Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Latter-day Saints, Quakers, Episcopalians, Universalists, Unitarians, Mohammedans, and all other religious sects and denominations, whatever, shall have free toleration and equal privileges in this city.”

Joseph Smith taught that God’s love for his children is universal:

“The Mussulman [Muslim] condemns the heathen, the Jew, and the Christian, and the whole world of mankind that reject his Koran, as infidels, and consigns the whole of them to perdition. The Jew believes that the whole world that rejects his faith and are not circumcised, are Gentile dogs, and will be damned. The heathen is equally as tenacious about his principles, and the Christian consigns all to perdition who cannot bow to his creed, and submit to his ipse dixit.

“But while one portion of the human race is judging and condemning the other without mercy, the Great Parent of the universe looks upon the whole of the human family with a fatherly care and paternal regard; He views them as His offspring, and without any of those contracted feelings that influence the children of men, causes ‘His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.’ He holds the reins of judgment in His hands; He is a wise Lawgiver, and will judge all men, not according to the narrow, contracted notions of men, but, ‘according to the deeds done in the body whether they be good or evil,’ or whether these deeds were done in England, America, Spain, Turkey, or India. He will judge them, "not according to what they have not, but according to what they have," those who have lived without law, will be judged without law, and those who have a law, will be judged by that law. We need not doubt the wisdom and intelligence of the Great Jehovah; He will award judgment or mercy to all nations according to their several deserts, their means of obtaining intelligence, the laws by which they are governed, the facilities afforded them of obtaining correct information, and His inscrutable designs in relation to the human family; and when the designs of God shall be made manifest, and the curtain of futurity be withdrawn, we shall all of us eventually have to confess that the Judge of all the earth has done right.” (From Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith pages 217-18.)

Recent Church members and leaders have worked to establish positive relationships with people of other faiths, including Jews and Muslims. The Church has partnered with Muslims to provide disaster relief and to engage in scholarly work. [See the comment below with links to an article about some of this work.]

Another example: President Boyd K. Packer has become friends with Dr. Alwi Shihab, a Muslim and an important figure in the government of Indonesia. Invited by President Packer, Dr. Shihab gave an address at Brigham Young University on October 10, 2006.

You can read the introduction by Pres. Packer and the address by Dr. Shihab at the following site: http://www.blogger.com/“http://speeches.byu.edu/reader/reader.php?id=11324&x=54&y=4

You can hear the introduction and the address by going to http://www.blogger.com/“http://speeches.byu.edu/?act=viewitem&id=1643&tid=7” and choosing one of the options there.

Here are some excerpts from Pres. Packer's introduction:

Ahead of us, indeed already all around us, is the world of Islam. Christianity and Islam will clasp hands in cooperation and understanding or clench fists in confrontation and prejudice.

. . . We have witnessed two watershed events: September 11, 2001, the World Trade Center terrorist attack brought Christians and Muslims into confrontation. The December 27, 2004, tsunami opened opportunity for Christians and Muslims to cooperate. The first was a wake-up call; the other pushed us out of bed.

. . . The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints expresses ‘special love and concern for the eternal welfare of all men and women, regardless of religious belief, race, or nationality, knowing that we are truly brothers and sisters because we are sons and daughters of the same Eternal Father.’

. . . Knit together by world history and by Old Testament history and doctrine, the Church and the Islamic world can see each other as People of the Book, indeed Family of the Book.

Church members and Muslims share similar high standards of decency, temperance, and morality. We have so much in common. As societal morality and behavior decline in an increasingly permissive world, the Church and many within Islam increasingly share natural affinities.

Muslim scholars point out that the Quran does not restrict Paradise to Muslims. The Quran rewards all those of faith who perform righteousness and believe in the after-life. The Book calls Jesus Christ Messiah, Son of Mary, and by the names Messenger, Prophet, Servant, Word, and Spirit of God.

It is important that we in the West understand there is a battle for the heart, soul, and direction of Islam and that not all Islam espouses violent jihad, as some Western media portray.

It is as well important that friends in the Islamic world understand there is a battle for the heart, soul, and direction of the Western world and that not all the West is morally decadent, as some Islamic media portray.

. . . Alwi, a devout Muslim of Arabic ancestry, and I, a Christian and devout Mormon, have agreed to symbolically walk arm in arm into the future. Together we hope to build a bridge. Except what that symbolizes is accomplished, all of us face a very dark and very dangerous future.

Now I introduce Dr. Alwi Shihab with a title which I borrow from another venerable Islamic leader and cleric (whom we both know and love), Abdurrahman Wahid, former president of Indonesia—Gus Dur. I apply that title to you, Alwi. You know that by interpretation it means ‘Dear Friend.’

Some closing thoughts

Now to add a few more words about my own experience: For several years, I have taught excerpts from the Quran (or Koran) in courses at Brigham Young University. I’ve found much in it that is inspired and good. In my view, it might be described in much the same way the Apocrypha is described in section 91 of the Doctrine and Covenants: “There are many things contained therein that are true, . . .; There are many things contained therein that are not true, which are interpolations by the hands of men. . . . Therefore, whoso readeth it, let him understand, for the Spirit manifesteth truth; And whoso is enlightened by the Spirit shall obtain benefit therefrom; And whoso receiveth not by the Spirit, cannot be benefited” (verses 1-6).

Even more significant is the goodness I have found in the individual Muslims I have met. Whatever our differences in outlook and custom, we are brothers and sisters, children of a common Father. September 11 is a day to reaffirm that bond and pledge ourselves to work against hatred and in favor of respect, compassion, and goodwill. It is the wrong day (as if any days were right for this!) to promote fear, anger, and contention.

For more on Islam from a Latter-day Saint point of view, I recommend the following:

http://www.byui.edu/perspective/v4n1pdf/v4n1_peck.pdf.

James A. Toronto, “A Latter-day Saint Perspective on Muhammad,” Ensign, Aug 2000, 51

James B. Mayfield, “Ishmael, Our Brother,” Ensign, Jun 1979, 24

Orin D. Parker, “A Life among Muslims,” Ensign, Mar 2002, 50

Joseph B. Platt, “Our Oasis of Faith,” Ensign, Apr 1988, 39

The relative worth of Troilus and Cressida--and of art and literature in general

Artists, writers, and lovers of art and literature sometimes find themselves depressed or irritated by what they consider the simplistic and narrow-minded judgments of those who object to some of what they love.

A discussion of this issue recently took place on a website called "Dawning of a Brighter Day" sponsored by the Association for Mormon Letters. I'm adding here two comments I made. (See http://blog.mormonletters.org/post/2010/09/03/Brother-can-you-paradigm.aspx.)

The first comment has to do with a switch that was made on the BYU theater schedule from Troilus and Cressida to Romeo and Juliet. The second comment is more general.

(1)
. . . [F]irst, on Troilus and Cressida: When I learned it was going to be performed at BYU, I was surprised, but I added a requirement in my Shakespeare syllabus for my students to see it. (Now I'm requiring them to see Romeo and Juliet--mainly I want them to experience live Shakespeare.)

I was surprised because I had a hard time imagining the large audiences drawn from students and the community for a main stage production being ready to have a good experience with one of Shakespeare's oddest and most astringent plays. I thought it might work better on a smaller stage for a more self-selecting audience. But (I thought) I guess it depends mainly on how it's done. The play can be done in any number of ways, from something approaching a romantic combination of sweetness and pathos (with plenty of dark undertones, to be sure) to something unredeemably harsh and cynical. For myself, I'd prefer something somewhere in the middle.

I saw a powerful production of the play in England some years ago, one that may have been a bit harsh for BYU but that otherwise came close to the right balance for me--except that there were moments so overwhelmingly erotic that I don't believe I could experience such moments very often without real danger and damage. Anyone who could handle them better than I could must be a lot stronger than I am, or else self-deceived or far gone into desensitization. Though the production has found a place firmly in my memory, I seem to have survived intact. Am I a better person for having seen the play? I don't know. "Better" can mean so many things, from wisdom to sensitivity to compassion to strength.

I already knew the play pretty well. Professionally I need to know it: it has a significant and peculiar place in the Shakespearean canon. Seeing the production added a few nuances to my Shakespearean expertise. Like most of what Shakespeare wrote, the play is a masterpiece in its particular niche, though not as moving or profound or enlightening (by a long shot) as plays like Macbeth or King Lear or The Winter's Tale--or Measure for Measure, to take a play with closer affinities to Troilus and Cressida. T&C helps shatter naive idealism about love and war, but apart from that, I find it harder to make a case for its value than for most of Shakespeare's plays.

Even kept intact, I can imagine it performed at BYU in a way that might work, though some of Pandarus's lines might cause some squirming, and it would be hard to imagine audiences knowing quite how to handle Thersites, with his constant stream of invective and vulgarity.

I don't know much about how it was decided not to do the play at BYU, but from the little I know, I doubt it was done (entirely) in a simplistic way depending on "Platonic" binaries. The play really is problematic.

Of course, so is Romeo and Juliet, though not in the same way or to the same degree as T&C. Plus it has a place in the cultural consciousness that T&C lacks. It will be interesting to see what's done with R&J. I can imagine anything from a sensationalist soap-opera style production to a profoundly sympathetic and illuminating rendition of the play. That's one of the perils and gifts of live theater: the moral value depends in great measure on the particularities of the production and unfolds (often surprisingly, unpredictably) in the very moment the performance takes place.

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General thoughts: I agree with much in Eric’s post and in the comments. But I also find much said that, even while objecting to oversimplification, tends to simplify the issues and to characterize alternative views as naive, erroneous, and simplistic when there are in fact intelligent versions of them worth attending to.

In practice, I sometimes find myself on one side or another. I have recommended a film I consider wonderfully moral but which is then objected to by at least a few viewers, who of course I imagine to be narrow minded and judgmental. (Mostly, I just feel sad that they don’t see what I see in the film.) On the other hand, I find myself depressed and sickened by language, images, and assumptions in films that I want to, and to some extent do, enjoy. I have a son who objects to any editing of films, presumably including editing for airlines and for television. But as for myself, I am deeply grateful for effective editing that spares me being assaulted by things that deaden my sensitivities and make my inner life harsh, dissonant, confused, and ugly. My wife and I find deeply disturbing the thought of certain music going through our younger son’s mind. On the other hand, I love and teach works of literature that are challenging and, in their own way, disturbing (I would say redemptively disturbing) as well as inspiring and edifying.

How much damage do we need to risk as part of the process of learning and growth? As some have noted, our whole mortal experience is based on the assumption that some risk is required. But I see people who have acquired a taste for destruction—for the tang of chaos, violence, and lust—minus any discernible progress toward light and goodness.

C. S. Lewis, who loved literature and music with a passion, who was eclectic in his tastes and exceptionally intelligent and learned, nevertheless placed literary and artistic values much lower than ultimate ones. “If we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell.” Of course, a souvenir is not the same as awareness. A souvenir is something we cling to, or that clings to us—like the lizard on the oily man’s shoulder in The Great Divorce. When it comes right down to it, Lewis argues, “the salvation of a single soul is more important than the production or preservation of all the epics and tragedies in the world.” Happily, we don’t normally have to choose one or the other—and in fact, remembering how infinitely less important the entire world of arts and letters is than any one person allows that world to reveal itself at its most delightful, illuminating, and enlivening; whereas clinging to music, art, and literature as if they were our salvation (like idols of a sort) kills them.

Heaven and Hell

The following are thoughts about heaven and hell originally posted on Times and Seasons: http://timesandseasons.org/index.php/2009/07/what-death-can-teach-us-about-heaven-and-hell/.

In this post, I draw on insights from C. S. Lewis as well as scripture and other sources.

C. S. Lewis has many intriguing things to say about this topic--or rather this cluster of interrelated topics: why there's a hell, whether it's eternal, whether redemption from hell is possible, what essentially life in heaven and hell might mean, whether heaven includes or allows for association with friends and family, how different heaven might be from life as we know it here, etc. My comment can only scratch the surface of what he has to say (which of course I look at with the coloring and emphasis provided by my Latter-day Saint point of view). I'll give here just a few tidbits.

On family in the afterlife: Besides questioning and deflecting hope of family reunions in the afterlife, Lewis also apparently longed for such a possibility. He wrote in The Four Loves: “We may hope that the resurrection of the body means also the resurrection of what may be called our ‘greater body’; the general fabric of our earthly life with its affections and relationships. But only on a condition . . . : nothing can enter there which cannot become heavenly.” (In LDS terms, a truly celestial marriage could only be a marriage that had become truly celestial.)

On our “small-minded expectations”: “We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us. . . . We are far too easily pleased” (“The Weight of Glory”).

How different heaven might be from life as we know it here: By what Lewis calls “transposition,” all (perhaps) that is familiar to us might continue but be transformed and lifted to transcendence. We may “be hardly more surprised by hitherto unimagined differences than by hitherto unsuspected similarities. . . . When I know as I am known I . . . shall see how the transcendent reality either excludes and repels [the categories/concepts/realities I’m familiar with], or how unimaginably it assimilates and loads [them] with significance. Had we not better wait?”--i.e., wait and see. (All this is from “Modern Theology and Biblical Criticism”; see also “Transposition” and much of Miracles.)

On the same question from LDS sources, I just read a verse the other day that blew me away, though I’ve read it many times before: “For since the beginning of the world have not men heard nor perceived by the ear, neither hath any eye seen, O God, besides thee, how great things thou hast prepared for him that waiteth for thee” (D&C 133:45). So we hope for something far beyond our present capacity to imagine. Yet Joseph Smith also noted the similarities: “that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy” (D&C 130:2).

On “second chances” with implications for friends and family (this is me now, though Lewis has things to say on this as well): If God is love and if that love is essentially and supremely an absolutely unqualified concern for the welfare of others, then desiring the salvation of all (“not willing that any should perish” [2 Peter 3:9]) is part of what it means to be godly. (By the way, one of my favorite definitions of hell is from The Brothers Karamazov: “the torment of no longer being able to love.”)

Given God’s power and love, I believe that all will eventually have as many blessings as they can possibly (which among other things means “willingly”) receive. Any sort of permanent hell would thus require a person’s firm, knowing, and irrevocable choice (I believe this view is supported both by the scriptures and, as it happens, by Lewis). Or perhaps a permanent hell might also result as a person, through a series of choices, undergoes such a change of nature as to be unable any longer (ever) to choose to allow God's redeeming and transforming power to operate. (This last sentence is packed with all sorts of assumptions and speculations--but it does for me hint at what it might mean to be unredeemable.)

Short of these terrible possibilities, both the scriptures and the Spirit suggest to me that there's ALWAYS hope. John H. Groberg gave a talk on that theme that repeats the phrase "there's always hope" 40 times (http://speeches.byu.edu/reader/reader.php?id=6901). I endorse that view and would add, the story’s not over yet and won’t be for quite a while.

A change in status?

On my Facebook profile, that is.  I changed my political view from something like "I like to think I transcend partisan politics (hah!)" to "Moderately liberal, mildly progressive, and somewhat conservative."  That was my somewhat playful way of saying that I don't think these big labels, which engender so much distrust and contention, are really polar opposites.  Each of the words means lots of different things; each has its own history and its own connotations; none of the words is truly an antonym for any of the others.

So I do in fact favor an open, free, pluralistic society, based on civility, tolerance, justice, respect, and goodwill (one meaning of "liberal") and have political positions on some, but not all, issues that are commonly considered "moderate" or "moderately liberal."  In general, I favor "progress" (who doesn't?), but with the caveat that not every change is really a change for the better.  And I do favor conserving what is good (though not everything is good simply because it is old or traditional).  And even when changes are made, I believe they need to be made carefully, with respect for the organic texture of social and spiritual reality.  So I guess that makes me "somewhat conservative."  (I greatly admire Edmund Burke, one of the great "conservative" thinkers of history.)  But at the same time, I find some typical "conservative" positions of the moment (as well as some typical "liberal" positions) abhorrent. (For more on this--a statement I recently discovered by Dallin Oaks--see the third comment below.)

I didn't throw in "radical" since I believe extreme political views tend to be impractical, arrogant, and destructive.  Yet if the word "radical" is taken in its literal sense (having to do with the "roots"), I think we have to at least think our problems through "radically" and consider what "radical" solutions--ways of getting at the roots of problems--would mean.

Which reminds me: I've just been rereading some of the dispute between Erasmus and Luther on "free will" (Erasmus believed there is some measure of human free will; Luther didn't).  I'm more Erasmian in my style--looking, with modesty, for a moderate, reasonable stance that accords with the complexities of real life.  Yet I admire the boldness and bluntness of Luther, who was absolutely sure he was right and who couldn't stand what he thought was Erasmus's wishy-washiness.  Luther certainly had immense impact on the world, but I think some of what he did was destructive and hindered rather than enhanced human understanding and improvement.  I hope Luther and Erasmus have become friends again and have come to accept a much larger, deeper, richer, and excitingly real reality than either of them could have imagined during their mortal lives.

My Waste Land walk--and more

Actually, it wasn't just a Waste Land walk.  I also saw things related to Shakespeare, Chaucer, and the expression "thrown into the clink."  My walk was followed a couple of days later by another set of the kinds of experiences I especially like to have in London--wanderings to spots that have special meaning and resonance to me.

Last Thursday, I spent part of the afternoon combining an errand with a T. S. Eliot/Geoffrey Chaucer/London theater walk. I headed out shortly before 3:00 and returned shortly before 5:00--so this all lasted about 2 hours, from leaving the BYU London Centre to returning.

It was an overcast afternoon, with moments of wind and a few sprinkles of rain--a nice atmosphere for the spots I visited. I took the Central Line to Bank, got out, and saw an impressive building, the Royal Exchange, located at the intersection of several streets. This is part of the financial area of "the City"--the City of London.

I checked the nearby spot on Cornhill St. where T. S. Eliot worked as a bank clerk for Lloyd's Bank. I looked at Queen Victoria Street and walked down King William Street, both mentioned in The Waste Land. I checked two other streets mentioned in the poem: Cannon Street and Lower Thames Street. Along the way as well as later on my walk, I saw lots of Christopher Wren church steeples and stopped at a couple of churches mentioned in the poem: St. Mary Woolnoth and St. Magnus Martyr. This last one has a beautiful Wren interior (nicely refurbished), described by Eliot in the phrase "Inexplicable spendour of Ionian white and gold" (there are interior columns of the Ionic order, mainly white with some gold decoration).

Then I walked across London Bridge ("A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, / I had not thought death had undone so many") and went to Southwark Cathedral, a church Shakespeare and many other actors and playwrights attended. Shakespeare's brother Edmund is buried there, as are the playwrights John Fletcher and Philip Massinger; also the medieval writer John Gower and the Jacobean clergyman Bishop Launcelot Andrewes (a friend and contemporary of Donne's, one of the 50+ who worked on creating the King James Bible, and famous for sermons, one of which T. S. Eliot uses in his poem "Journey of the Magi").

One of those helping visitors in the cathedral talked with me about the literary and theatrical associations and also told me about a visit not too long ago by Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. In the 1700s a Mohawk chief had come from America to present a petition to King George II, but died of smallpox before he could do so. He's buried in the Southwark Cathedral yard (mainly because it's technically outside of London and so foreigners could be buried there). In 2006, the current Mohawk chief came from the U.S. and presented the petition to Queen Elizabeth, and she dedicated a monument in the churchyard to his 18th-century predecessor.

Next I headed over to the George Inn, one of the few remaining old inn fronts, overlooking Talbot Yard where plays would once have been performed. Talbot Yard was once also the location of the Tabard Inn, where The Canterbury Tales begins.

After that Chaucer moment, I walked past the Borough market and down Clink St. (once part of an area notorious for foul prisons and the source of our expression "getting thrown into the clink") on my way to Shakespeare's Globe.  (To avoid any confusion, I should note that Shakespeare's Globe is a RECONSTRUCTION based on what scholars think the original Globe looked like.  It's been built in the general vicinity but not at the exact location of the original Globe.)

At the Globe, I bought a ticket for Henry IV, part 1, on Saturday afternoon (no yard tickets were left, so I had a seat--more on that later), then walked over the Thames on Millenium Bridge to St. Paul's and took the Central Line from St. Paul's back to Queensway.
 
On Saturday I did indeed return to the Globe for a performance of Henry IV, part 1, the first time I believe I've seen it performed on stage.  Apart from a mummer's play added at the beginning, with a fair amount of pseudo-historical vulgarity, I enjoyed the performance.  The Falstaff and Hotspur were both excellent; the actor who played Prince Hal was also very good.  And just about everybody else did a fine job.  I found a few of the speeches, especially near the beginning of the play, a bit wearisome and hard to follow--but that's Shakespeare's fault, a fault Samuel Johnson agrees with me on seeing as such, by the way.
 
I saw the first half of the play from my seated position, with a slightly obstructed view.  I found it hard to focus and feel engaged.  And so after the interval, I went into the yard, and watched the second half standing and leaning against the stage.  I much preferred seeing it that way.  For me at least, the Globe experience is several times better being in the yard and getting up close and personal.
 
It turns out it was Sam Wanamaker Day at the Globe.  (Wanamaker was the visionary whose energy and enthusiasm helped make the reconstructed Globe a reality, though he didn't live to see it completed.)  Stanley Wells, an important Shakespearean scholar and editor (though perhaps not the demi-god he was described as at the ceremony), was the recipient of this year's Sam Wanaker Award.  I stood right behind him (impressed by his hot pink shirt, the collar of which showed above his jacket) as he prepared to mount the stairs to the stage and receive his award.
 
After the post-play ceremony, I walked into the Globe lobby and saw a couple of familiar faces: Tim Slover and Jane England, here with a group of students from the University of Utah.  After happy embraces and a bit of chat, they went to an after play discussion, and I moved on to more adventures.
 
The adventures were (1) finding Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station (it's actually closer to Platform 8, tucked away in a bit of a corner); (2) walking from King's Cross up St. Pancras Road to Old St. Pancras Church.  I looked through the graveyard, struck by how few of the inscriptions are legible, how few of the "hungry generations" who lived and died there are remembered.  A group of headstones have even been moved into a clump surrounding a tree--the work of Thomas Hardy when he was employed to move old remains to make way for rail construction.  But finally, I found the grave of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin (the monument gives her her husband's surname).  This is the spot where Percy Byssche Shelley and Mary Godwin (later the author of Frankenstein) declared their adulterous love. 

I believe Shelley's wife Harriet was still alive at the time--she who later drowned in the Serpentine.  I've also visited that spot, near the BYU London Centre, and thought about her sad life.  The marriage with Percy had started very happily.  But Percy was a (self-justifying and, I'm afraid, very selfish) tremulously sensitive being who responded to his dream of ideal beauty and sympathy in whatever place he found or imagined it.  And so the marriage soured; Percy and Mary (and a sister) went off to the Continent.  And Harriet, abandoned, drowned.  I've discovered a scathing defense of Harriet written by Mark Twain and well worth reading.
 
But lest I end on a negative note, Percy wrote some great poetry and, as I've learned here, contributed some of the more thought-provoking passages to Frankenstein.