Close to Home

I was stopped in my tracks about 20 minutes ago when my friend Karen called me and asked if I had heard. Heard what, I asked, thinking she had probably been awarded the fellowship she had applied for recently. Two bombs at the Boston Marathon. "You better call your friends who were running." But I can't. The phone lines are jammed. Three friends running the Marathon. Various others volunteering. Certainly their families are panicking, desperate to get through and make sure they're OK as well. But that isn't the story I wish to tell. I wasn't in the U.S. for 9/11 (on my mission in Chile), although I volunteered at the memorial here in 2011. I didn't experience that moment personally. And I'm very aware that two explosions at the Marathon finish line (and two others that were dismantled by police), with two dead and 23 or so injured, can't even begin to compare in magnitude and tragedy. Except that, for me, I feel angry and indignant as if I were attacked. I feel solidarity with Boston. It feels like home, and my home has been attacked today. Attacked on its day of celebration, Patriot's Day. Like the September 11th strike in New York, these bombs attacked Boston at its heart. I don't mean to be melodramatic - as far as I know, all my friends are fine, and I'm certainly fine. But I am angry at the brazen cowardice and calculated absurdity of this attack. And I take it somewhat personally. To intentionally hurt oblivious, well-intentioned people - people who have worked and sweated and trained to accomplish this moment, and the people who came to cheer them on - is despicable. I'm angry. I am also, at this moment, a Bostonian. Angry as a Bostonian. Angry as an American. And angry as a human: why do so many of us represent our race in such a contemptible way? These thoughts swept through me as I drove home from campus. And I thought I'd share. Thanks for listening. You'll be glad to know that my friends are all OK as well.

Thoughts on Israel

Please note, I just barely finished a really fine piece of work on this perfect weekend.  But the extra time the snow afforded allowed me to ponder and write a bit on how my perspective on Israel has developed over the last couple of years.  I hesitated whether to share it, but I think it might be interesting to a few of you.  But make sure you read the post before this - it's a lot more fun!

February 8, 2013

I believe I need to take more time to record my thoughts on my studies, on my life pursuit. I find the further I go, the less clarity I have. I suppose that is true of most things – the more you learn, the more there is to learn. The more you know, the more you realize you don't know. The more I learn about Israel, the the only thing that consistently becomes clearer is the immensity of the problems, with seemingly endless scholarship to accompany them all; plausible conclusions or solutions are hard to come by.

I entered this field with only a couple of things I solidly believed. The first was that Israel is a legitimate state with a legitimate right to exist. The second was that the Palestinians also had a legitimate right to their own state. I believed that the Jewish people was and remains God's chosen people. I still believe that. But what has become increasingly difficult for me to reconcile is how God's chosen people can be so thoroughly wrong in their approach to the problem.

This shouldn't surprise me, I suppose. The Bible alone exhibits ample evidence that God's chosen people rarely get it right. I wonder, does being God's chosen people mean you are chosen to be downright idiotic? Perhaps the danger of being chosen is the very real possibility (as evidenced by history) of becoming overwrought with your own grandiosity, convinced of your own rightness, never second-guessing.

And yet, I must interpose here and contribute a personal note: it's my own tendency to step back and consider that often stops me from acting – even when I should. Is it, then, better to leap before you look? Don't consider or dither too much? That is a question that one so prone to thought as I cannot possibly answer. And it is a digression.

A passage in 1 Nephi 15 has caused me to reflect on the possibility of God's chosen people being always remembered in the covenant, but perhaps only chosen upon conditions of righteousness. Verse 16 speaks of the House of Israel (referring to Lehi's seed in the Promised Land – but certainly it may also apply to the Jews) as being grafted back in, as a natural branch. This is after they have “come to a knowledge of their redeemer” and His gospel. So, it would seem their covenant might be in effect only in that condition. After all, Doctrine and Covenants 121:34-37 teaches that chosenness most certainly operates only on conditions of righteousness. They (the rights of the priesthood) can be “conferred”, but when they are used for personal gratification, “to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness” the authority is gone.

So the question is whether this applies in the case of the Jews as the chosen people. Are they, as the inheritors of the covenant, the seed of Abraham (but then, the seed of Abraham is as “the sands of the sea” - and it is beyond question that the Palestinians are also the seed of Abraham), the true heirs of the land? And if so, what of the Palestinians? If not, have we interpreted prophecy all wrong? Did Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, Ezra Taft Benson?

If it is the case that they are fulfilling prophecy, how can its fulfillment be so entirely unjust to another people? I find this irreconcilable, at the moment, at least. But, again, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and of Moses, was a God that I don't understand either. Complete demolition of the Canaanites is beyond my comprehension. It is less immediate to me now, and therefore, less distasteful. And I also realize that I am looking at a finite picture, while God sees eternity. These are merely blips on the radar. I do trust that all will be made right in the final, eternal unravelling. But it is difficult, with my finite perspective, to see the suffering of a people, believe that it is part of God's plan, and understand all of it. In many ways, then, I feel more unsettled than I did when I began.

Practically Perfect in Every Way

It's 11:05 (and will be much later by the time I finish), and I have to get up at 6, but I just got done praying and realized how much I am grateful for this weekend.  It's been some time since I posted, and by golly, it's time I checked in!  Let me tell you about my pretty perfect weekend.

This was the weekend of the big storm.  Most people ran to the store and bought every possible supply, hunkered down in their homes, and waited, grim-faced, for the storm to hit.  I also waited anxiously, but I was excited.  I keep learning new things about myself, and one of the things I am learning is that I am thoroughly exhilarated by the power of nature.  I love to experience it full-force (from the safety of my warm home, I add with a sheepish smile).  I want to feel the forceful gusts, see the pelting snow or rain.  I suppose that's why I took Dovie out during Hurricane Sandy, and why we made a similar trek early Saturday morning.  I was truly thrilled.

At first the storm seemed likely to disappoint - as have most of the storms I've experienced here.  The winds were only semi-boisterous, and the flakes were small, even though they were steady.  But during the night things improved (or worsened, depending on your perspective) and by morning, we had some good, deep, powdery snow.

I ventured out with Dovie, but I was one of very few.  Like I said, most hunkered down and waited it out.  But when the storm was over, people emerged.  And this is where the real magic of the weekend began.  We were like little squirrels coming out after a long winter, surveying the world again.  We had survived nature's blast, and were anxious to begin life again.  And we were all out together!  The storm forced us out together, to be neighborly, help each other shovel (boy, did I shovel!), check in on each other, and for me, get to know my neighbors' names.  Yes, I'm ashamed to admit, other than my landlord and their family, I didn't know any of my neighbors' names.  But this kind of event forces our lives to stop.  No one was even allowed to drive (not that anyone could!  My car was entirely buried - I'll post pictures when I figure out how to download them from my phone - as were everyone's who doesn't have a garage, and the shoveling took hours), so no hiding in the cars and then darting to your house without even a friendly word was not an option.  Mother nature forced us to get out of the holes of our lives and be friends.

And she forced us to stop for a day or two and play.  An unexpected, universal vacation.  At home.  It was really remarkable!  My friend in Cambridge went cross-country skiing down Mass Ave (the biggest and longest street in Boston - it was Carri, Christy Spencer).  Another friend made a snowman with the neighbors.  I met with all the dog people around here and we had a dog party at the park.  Dovie was in heaven - bounding through the snow like a porpoise in water.

And then church was cancelled - the parking ban in Cambridge remains in effect - and even when it is lifted, good luck!  People spent an hour or more digging out a parking spot, and they mark it with chairs, cones - anything - and woe be to the person who takes that spot!  Don't know what we'll do if it doesn't melt!  But Arlington ward did hold Sacrament Meeting, so I made my way up there, and then hustled home to go snow shoeing with my friend Joe.  Again, there were all kinds of people, out sledding (I had to keep Dovie away from the sledding hill - he still chases intensely anything that moves), walking their dogs, etc.  We trudged happily through the woods and chatted.  When do I ever get to do that?

So, with much of my studying caught up, sore but happy muscles, and a tuckered out dog, I am really pleased with this little gift in disguise provided by Mother Nature.  And did I mention that Tyson got his mission call to Eugene, Oregon?  Really, I must say, it has been a pretty perfect weekend.