A
nation planted, so concerned with gain
As
the seasons come and go, greater grows the pain
And
far too many feelin’ the strain
When
will there be a harvest for the world
Many
years ago, among many more than I was worthy of receiving, my late, beloved
mother bestowed a great gift upon me: she urged me to turn to the written word whenever
I was wrestling with one of Life’s great challenges. She challenged me to work
it out in print, and I’ve been doing so ever since. And to the extent that I’ve
achieved some acclaim over the years for my writing, I don’t take it personally
as it’s owed to someone who taught me not only how to live but to love. So, at
this time when my heart is aching – and breaking for those ensnared in this
unfolding tragedy in which we find ourselves – I turn to the page – now electronic
pen and ink, as it were – and hope that in sharing I can contribute in some small
way to others finding solutions – or at least comfort – as well.…
More
than four decades ago, the Isley Brothers from Teaneck, New Jersey – now the
epicenter of the COVID-19 outbreak in this state – asked us a melodic and
profound question: when will there be a harvest for the world? At the time,
perhaps more appreciative of the melody than the message, we sang along without
feeling compelled to consider seriously and answer the query ... but Life has a
way of bringing things back around. Now the question is ever more urgent amidst
the social distancing required in a deadly global pandemic: indeed, aren’t we
all “hopin’ life gets better for the world” right now?
All
babies together, everyone a seed
Half
of us are satisfied, half of us in need
Love’s
bountiful in us, tarnished by our greed
when
will there be a harvest for the world
At
a time like this, when our very humanity is threatened, we’re forced to
remember that, indeed, we’re all “a seed,” Children of God trying to manifest the
love “bountiful in us” and not to be (overly) “tarnished by our greed.” But
since the time of this song’s composing, ever fewer of us are satisfied and
ever more of us are in need (at least in this country). We have all been tarnished
by the greed of our society in the succeeding decades and now find ourselves struggling
to collaborate in ways that are mutually beneficial.
In
fact, the Coronavirus is reminding us just how greatly our perverted economics has
warped our perspective: amidst calls from some misguided souls for the elderly
to sacrifice themselves for our future well-being, we’re being forced to
redefine who the truly “essential workers” in our society are … and it turns
out that they’re those whom we’ve largely taken for granted and whose
well-being has been evermore challenged as we’ve encouraged the concentration
of wealth in ever fewer, stronger hands. Sadly, it’s taken a global pandemic to
remind us of the importance of everyday folk, from the people who (re-)stock
the recently and frantically depleted shelves of our stores to the orderlies in
our hospitals who give care in the most thankless of ways to the delivery
people who now bring much of what we eat to our door because it’s no longer
safe for us to go out. Yet, while we’ve cut taxes for the already wealthy, it’s
been a mighty battle – and one yet to be won – for these hard-working fellow
citizens to be paid a living wage. What harvest has this brought us?
Dress
me up for battle, when all I want is peace
Those
of us who pay the price, come home with the least
Nation
after nation, turning into beast
When
will there be a harvest for the world
Then
it’s perhaps more sad than ironic that as our government attempts to stem the fallout
from this modern plague that a full quarter of the aid promised by the newly
enacted stimulus legislation will be used for the benefit of corporations, the
majority of whose taxes were cut significantly just three years ago and who’ve
since invested almost 90% of these gains not in building additional capacity or
hiring more workers but in repurchasing their shares and further enriching their
shareholders and executives. After this great boondoggle, we’re being asked to
mortgage our and our children’s futures a good bit more to protect those who
already have so much.
By
contrast, those in the greatest need, the everyday folk among us, will receive a
modest, one-time payout that may partially (and temporarily) stay the negative economic
tide that so/too many of us will feel in the coming months. Of course, many of
our peer countries around the world are investing far more heavily in their
people’s well-being than we are, which is a most damning reflection of our values-in-action
(though, most often and even now, we prefer to profess other, more lofty ones).
And
while all this is going on, we’ve seemingly lost focus on those even more distressed
and dispossessed than us: funny how we hear so little anymore about the
children who’re still in cages at our borders, the refugees scattered amongst
war-torn regions of the world, many of whom are literally starving to death and
facing unimaginable violence every day. What does this harvest tell us about
ourselves?
Gather
everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate
your lives, give thanks for your children
Gather
everyone, gather all together
Overlooking
none, hopin’ life gets better for the world
Sadly
and ironically – especially because so/too many of us underestimated the ferocity
of this global pandemic – we can now only gather virtually: we’ve behaved
ourselves into the reality that gathering in person is a potentially deadly choice.
Hopefully, this need to distance ourselves socially will ease eventually, but,
hopefully, too, our appreciation for the blessing of being able to do so will
not ebb (again).
Yes,
it’s taken a tragedy to remind us to cherish and celebrate our lives and give
thanks for our loved ones. And perhaps, just maybe, we’ll appreciate the gift
of forced unity in combating this mortal challenge when its urgency decreases. Or,
as the Isley Brothers would put it, perhaps after this, we’ll live “overlooking
none, hopin’ life gets better for the world.”
I
have to admit that this has been one of the hardest pieces to compose that I’ve
ever felt compelled to write, and I’ve cried my way through most of it.
I’m
saddened by the unnecessarily large toll that this modern scourge is wreaking
and will ultimately wreak on us.
I’m
saddened by the impotence of my righteous anger at those who continue to flaunt
the urgent social convention to distance. Truth be told, I’m okay with them endangering
their own lives – not to be too cynical, but it’s a damning reality that the
herd does thin itself, even in the human species – but I ache for the innocents
in their lives whom they’ll endanger and possibly extinguish.
I’m
saddened by the reality that, amidst a modern plague that literally has the
potential to kill millions of us, we’re ‘led’ by a president and his minions who
lie to us repeatedly and imperil us all with their cravenly inhumane egocentricity
and selfishness. This being said, I’m at least partially heartened that this
righteous anger is finding and will find release as I/we organize to ensure the
end of this ignominy come November 3rd.
And
I’m saddened by the reality that my generation, the rebellious Baby Boomers of
the ’60s who were supposed to change the world for the better, has instead mortgaged
both its present and our children’s and grandchildren’s future. To be blunt, if
we thought our parents in the Greatest Generation messed up our country, look
what we’ve wrought.…
So
I’m returned, as ever, to the compassionate and affirming wisdom of the Rev.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who urged us a half-century ago to engage in a “revolution
of values” focused on celebrating and elevating our common humanity by creating
the Beloved Community. No, it won’t be easy: there are far too many powerful
interests whose selfishness and investments in individual (or, at best, narrowly-distributed
collective) well-being must be overcome, but I still have faith. I've chosen to
focus on those among us whose humanity has been so manifestly and profoundly
positively evidenced during this crisis: indeed, this critical and capacious challenge
has brought out the best in so many of us. Let's keep this going even when the
crisis subsides eventually.
Partially
because I’m old and tired now and also because I’m sanguine, I realize that I
can’t do much to make this world a better place … but I can, as Mother Teresa directed,
do small things with love consistently. So it’s in this grassroots, bottom-up cause
that I ask you to join me: we may not be able to remake the world in its
entirety, but each of us can create the Beloved Community in our sphere of
influence and circle of concern. And who knows, maybe someday, the more
plentiful these individual loci of light become, perhaps they can coalesce into
a most elevating and illuminating collective outpouring.
I'm
beginning to think that the Beloved Community starts first with each of us and
then radiates when we extend it to our neighbor(s). Perhaps some good will come
from the Coronavirus: I pray that it reminds us never to become so infatuated
with our own progress that we leave behind our humanity – and too many of our
neighbors – and that it re-centers us on all that is sacred to us so that we
live into this, our individual and collective best lives, every day while we
also celebrate and support our neighbors in doing the same. Then, perhaps, we’ll
reap the blessing of the Isley Brothers’ vision: truly, a harvest for the
world.…
A
genuine revolution of values means in the final analysis
that
our loyalties must be ecumenical rather than sectional.
Every
nation must now develop an overriding loyalty to
mankind
as a whole in order to preserve the best in their
individual
societies.
This
call for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly
concern
beyond one’s tribe, race, class and nation is in
reality
a call for an all-embracing and unconditional
love
for all men. … When I speak of love, I am
speaking
of that force which all the great religions
have
seen as the supreme unifying principle of life.
Love
is the key that unlocks the door
which
leads to ultimate reality.
–
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Where
Do We Go From Here (1968)
