Same as the old boss after all

“How can you write about Neil Sedaka and being silly when there’s a war going on?” I heard the voice from a little corner of my consciousness, but the death of Neil Sedaka was on my mind Saturday, so I wrote about him for Sunday, and Mary and I were silly on Sunday, and I preferred to write about that for Monday.

I have little to add regarding the latest war against Iran anyway. The great battle in this world is not left versus right, but the state versus the individual. The left favors one version of an all-powerful state, and the right favors another version, but neither side is particularly interested in protecting individual rights.

And war is the state’s favorite tool. The left is criticizing the right-handed president’s war actions, but it had no problem when a left-handed president took similar actions. This president has said a lot of pretty things about ending wars, but in the end it’s another case of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

As a result I have little to say about the war against Iran. War is a function of the state, and I have no interest in the state except to find ways to reduce its size and power. Peace, on the other hand, takes concerted efforts by individuals, one individual at a time.

And so I offer, once again, my Declaration of Peace, from this individual to each individual I meet.

A Declaration of Peace

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to step back and ask, “What in the world are we doing?” and consider a different approach, it behooves us to explain what in the world we are doing, and why.

These truths ought to be self-evident — that all humans are created equal, endowed by our Creator with rights that are certain and unalienable, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness — but then governments are created to tinker with those rights, to abridge those rights, and eventually to trample those rights.

Ostensibly governments are created to do those things that individuals cannot do, but there are many acts that individuals will not do and should not do, and they are no less heinous when committed in the name of government, and among these are theft, extortion, blackmail, and murder.

As a free and independent human, therefore, I declare that I am at peace with my fellow humans and that I will not initiate violence against them. This I pledge by my life, my fortune (such as it is) and my sacred honor, so help me God.

In search of kindness

The blogger who goes by the name Toirdhealbheach Beucail posted McLaren’s thought on Sunday. There’s a lot of hammering going on in this world these days, and not many people seem interested in melting hard hearts.

There’s an old saying, “If all you have is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail.”

The McLaren quote gave me a new perspective on the old folk song “If I Had A Hammer.’ In the final verse the singer reveals he does have a hammer, and it’s “the hammer of justice.”

There are a number of ways to deliver justice with a hammer. You could build a courthouse. You could also build a gallows, or a guillotine. You could bash someone’s head in. In fact most ways of wielding a hammer in the name of justice are pretty violent. And violence may provide what you consider to be justice, but it’s not going to soften many hearts to win arguments, let alone the world.

The world has plenty of hammers. It’s in desperate need of kindness.

Refuge in the silly

Voices are especially loud of late, and it’s hard to make sense of it all, and so I have punted several times this week. One of the plaques on my wall says, “Be silly sometimes,” and when it’s hard to make sense of it all, maybe it’s a good idea to take a break and indulge in some nonsense.

The nonsense can be a relief from all the news about people who have taken leave of their senses. I sometimes despair whether they will eventually come to their senses — or I worry that they have not lost their minds, as it certainly appears, but prefer living in chaos filled with rage and hatred.

And so I take refuge in nonsense, and I pick up my guitar and sing songs of love, peace, and on Sunday mornings faith. I find comfort in knowing love still has a place on this planet, peace still beckons reasonable people, and a supernatural power is somehow still in control.

I’m just one man with one voice crying in the wilderness, but if I’m crying out in love, I’ve done all I possibly can.