thefutureisred

Propaganda Is Not the Answer to the Muslim Question

Anti-Muslim legislation and propaganda -- particularly that of Geert Wilders -- seems not only to be growing stronger, but is becoming increasingly accepted in the mainstream. Let me tell you why this is not only wrong but, in my opinion, a horrifying mistake.

I originally wrote this post a few weeks ago, but other things came up in between, and I decided not to post until now. Now, it seems particularly timely in light of yesterday's anniversary of Rachel Corrie's death and the rioting and anger now going on in Israel in relation to new construction in East Jerusalem.

My views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict are very much in the middle. Which pretty much means, everyone disagrees with me. Everyone thinks I side too much with the other side. While many countries stand heavily against Israel in their views and actions, those same countries and leaders don't see any conflict in the anti-Muslim stance they simultaneously hold.

This video by moderate Dutch politician Geert Wilders seems to be gaining political traction in Holland.

Wilder had initially been banned from the UK for his political stance. The ban has since been repealed, apparently, as he used his latest visit to the UK to continue pushing his Stop Islamatisation message.

Now compare the above film to the following:

What I see? Language like freedom vs takeover. Quoting of scripture as evidence and proof of action. Showing scenes from the lives of the "other" without any real knowledge of context.

"Propaganda," says Richard Alan Nelson in A Chronology and Glossary of Propaganda in the United States, "is defined as a systematic form of purposeful persuasion that attempts to influence the emotions, attitudes, opinions, and actions of specified target audiences for ideological, political or commercial purposes through the controlled transmission of one-sided messages."

I was taught growing up that one of the first signs of the impending Holocaust was the outlawing of Jewish practice. So when I see civilized European countries outlawing Muslim practice, it does not sit well with me.

France is considering making it illegal for women to wear burkas -- a face and head covering -- in public buildings. Switzerland calls the minaret -- the tall, slender turret attached to mosques -- a symbol of Islamic law and not simply of religion and therefore wants to remove them from mosques.Geert Wilders wants to place a ban on head scarves.

Yehuda Avner, who worked with Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin among others discusses in the Jerusalem post the nature of such conflicts from his recent book The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership. He quotes Rabin as saying the following:

While a political conflict is possible to solve through negotiation and compromise, there are no solutions to a theological conflict. Then it is jihad - religious war: their God against our God.... Our conflict would go from war to war, and from stalemate to stalemate.

You or I may believe the burka oppresses women or not want to see extreme Islamic law become the guiding moral authority in our hometowns, but what exactly will be accomplished by outlawing personal religious expression? What do we hope to gain?

The propaganda of the past set us on a path to war, death and destruction. Why would it be different this time around?

Coming Soon on The Future Is Red: A photo essay of my time spent on the West Bank.

What Would Martin Luther King Jr. Say Today About Haiti?

This question popped into my mind today. My answer to this question isn't entirely inspired. He'd say we should help, do what we can to provide relief. But boy, woudln't I love to actually hear MLK Jr. -- an orator of skill equaled by few -- speak and offer some advice or words of hope.

I rewatched the I Have A Dream speech to see if some of his words then would apply today.

I don't know about you, but I heard nothing to apply to our world today and the disaster occuring in Haiti. Does it have to? Of course not, but in times of trouble, people need someone who can talk with truth and honesty, one who knows how to say the things we ought to hear in order to find comfort and then be inspired to action.

Who speaks for us today?

The issues effecting the United States and the rest of the world then were different than they are now. MLK Jr. speaks of freedom. But I imagine freedom is a luxury when you have no water or food, and disease and violence lurk at every corner.

It makes me question if perhaps we've taken a big step back.

And who speaks for us in song as Martin Luther King, Jr did, a song that fills us with intention to seek change.

One day we will have to stand before the God of history, and we will talk in terms of things we've done. Yes, we will be able to say we built gargantuan birdges to span the seas. We built gigantic buildings to kiss the skies. We brought into being many other things with our scientific and technological power.

It seems I can hear the God of history saying, "That was not enough! But I was hungry, and ye fed me not. I was naked and ye clothed me not. I was devoid of sanitary house to live in, and ye proided no shelter for me, and consequently, you cannot enter the kindom of greatness. If ye do it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye do it unto me. That's the question facing America today.

I will not suggest the best way how or when each individual fulfills such a ordinance, but I will say that I believe it is up to everyone to try.

Picturing Where We Sat Talking of God

 

On the other side of this gate sits a bench and on that bench Lila and I sat talking about God. She asked about the man hanging on the cross. We visited many churches in South of France and Italy. This one in Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume near Sillans-la-Cascade, a pinching cold natural pool and waterfall.

I remember the church clearly for two reasons. First, it holds the supposed sarcophagus of and cult of Mary Magdelene. And two, Lila and I talked about God for the first time.

She asked about the man on the cross, and being Christ on the Cross isn't part of my particular beliefs, it's difficult to answer. She also asked me why people were sitting there.

"They're praying," I told her.

"What's praying."

I too often forget that we take so many things for granted when we speak. What do words like God, prayer, sin mean to Lila? Most words she hears in a context and must divine meaning for herself. Explanations of most of these words lead only to more words to explain.

Who is Jesus? He was a man that, as taught by some religions, was the messiah.

"What's the messiah?" A person who will bring peace and harmony to all people. If you try to simplify even further, perhaps you will say the messiah will make us all calm and happy. I think the five-year-old mind can grasp that pretty well, perhaps better than the 35 year old mind can.

But is that an adeqate definition of messiah?

That was a good day.

How Many Jews Does It Take To Make A Christmas Party?

Tomorrow night, there's a Couchsurfing Christmas dinner. Argentinians are with their families and don't seem to be around so much these days, but there are a lot of us others floating about.

Originally, I offered our place for the dinner, but when it seemed like more than 20 people were coming, the venue was switched to elsewhere. Now it's at Dan's place, and I'm doing what I can to help him organize.

Now it looks like it could be upwards of 50 people. This should be a lot of fun.

For me, this Christmas dinner is about meeting new people and spending time with other travelers who are away from home on a day they would normally be with family and friends. It's not just about the particular holiday.

But what about Lila? How does she see all of this?

I know I'm Jewish and it has always been such a part of my identity that I don't think twice about it. I know at least a few of my family members are worried that Lila will not be brought up properly Jewish. And if they want her to be Orthodox, then no, she will not be properly Jewish. I do, though, want her to know that she is Jewish, know the holidays, learn Hebrew, and have some idea of Jewish History.

I also want her to be able to go to a Christmas party, wish someone an Eid Mubarak or experience a Hindu wedding and not feel like she's doing something wrong. In fact, I hope she would want to know about other people's traditions, holidays and enjoy the celebration.

A few months ago, though, Lila got very upset when we told her she's Jewish.

"No," she shouted. "I'm not Jewish. Not Jewish." She stomped her feet and left I shocked. "What was that?" we asked ourselves. The first thought that we never wanted our families to hear her say these things, because they would most certainly blame it on us. That was fall out I did not need.

But I don't think either of us are anti-Jewish nor do i believe we have passed that message onto Lila.  It did make me wonder who in her life portrayed "jewish" as something bad. Then again, with a child of four years old, you never know how connections come together in their growing brains.

So how to deal with this Judaism issue? I don't want her to think I'm upset with her for not seeming to want to be Jewish. Because, really, I'm not even sure what it means to her to be Jewish. Then add to this, the constant travel? It's not easy. It's a priority to meet families with children because I want to make sure Lila doesn't spend all her time with adults, entertaining herself. But we rarely meet other Jewish families.

Much of our Judaism comes when we spend time with family and close friends. We light Chanuka candles with the cousins. Last Rosh Hashana we spent with Ken in Buffalo. Succot was with Ken, Rachel and finally my parents in Atlanta. We spend shabbat with friends in NY, with my parents, with Noah's sisters. And we do as much as we can on our own. I do have to admit, though, what we do on our own is a bare minimum, particularly when finding housing or transportation to the next city is on our minds.

This year, on the first night of Chanuka, we tried going to the Chabad chanuka lighting. When we arrived, we found nothing but an enormous chanukiya with the shamash and one light already lit. And crickets chirping.

So yesterday, when Lila asked me "When will Christmas be here," I started to worry about this again, because she hasn't asked a word about Chanuka.

What will we do?

We'll still go to this Christmas dinner, because it's important to have community wherever you are. But to make a point for Lila, we bought the makings of our own chanukiyah and will bring it along and light it, so we can all celebrate together, all of us, all the holidays. Everyone is welcome.

I'm Rockin' the Suburbs

I'm having some trouble typing as my hands are still thawing. I just went running and it's damn cold outside. I hate the cold. My throat aches. My lungs burn, and every part of me cringes with unhappiness.

As I ran along Lavista tonight, I once again realized how much i hate anything below 60 degrees. I also realized that, much as I try to deny it, I hate running. Give me 80 degree weather and a 3 hour intense yoga class with a heater on any day. Not this hell.

It's boring, repetitive, painful to the joints and the only way I get through it is to distract myself with music.

Tonight, though, I could not be distracted. Curse I-pod shuffle. There is no way in hell it's truly random. Otherwise, how did it randomly present endless Johnny Cash, Wu-Tang Clan, Beck and Led Zepellin. I broke my shuffle running rule again today and moved ahead, moved ahead, next, not you, no.

Why do I do this?

I dunno. It gives me time to think? Although, I didn't do too much thinking tonight. The only topic to rise above my own whinging was the thought of a book called My Jesus Year recently published by the youngest son of my high school rabbi, Benyamin Cohen. This is not the son I dated in 8th grade. That was Ezra. Our dating consisted of peering longingly down the hall at each other and talking on the phone at night. In memory,we lasted a few months. In reality, I think it was a few weeks. Ezra ended it because his friends thought he should. I was devastated.

This, all while running painfully past Beth Jacob, the synagogue where I davened in high school. And by davening I mean I sat with my friends and talked about other people.

Benyamin's book, which I plan to read as soon as possible, interests me on many levels. First, how brave to so openly discuss his doubts and dislikes of Judaism. It's hard enough for most of us who grew up Orthodox. Is it that much more difficult when your father is a rabbi?

Myself, I've never considered for a moment turning to Christianity. Sure, I love visiting churches, adore the iconography, and enjoy the signs and symbols in literature and life. But I've got enough confusion in relation to my own religion. Why in God's name would I make my life more complicated by turning to a religion that separates me from my family?

Perhaps if I felt strongly about religion, any religion, but I don't. I have yet to figure out how and where it fits into my life. And I have no idea what it will look like when it does.

This, by the way, took approximately two minutes to flit through my head and then I was back to my running, forward, forward. Method Man again. Didn't that song come on already? More Johnny Cash. I tried to listen but the beat was too slow. I'm a creep? No thanks, not now.

Finally, I came across one song -- five minutes long -- that made me laugh and supplied just enough energy to keep me going. As I ran along that cold, car-riddled street, past Outback Steakhouse and Blockbuster, turning along the bend by Calibre Woods beyond Kroger, Pike's nursery and onto where just houses and darker streets grace the hard concrete sidewalk that breaks a runner's knees and back, I had to smile. I listened to it twice.

Ain't nothing like the suburbs, baby, to bring it all home.

Ink Flows Across the Paper

Last year, I wrote a long involved post for this blog about the meaning of High Holidays. The perceived meanings. The actual meanings. The meaning to me.

When I read it to Noah, as I sometimes do before posting, he raised an eyebrow and asked. "You're really going to post that?"

I really was, but after a day or two of thought, decided against it. Why? It was angry. It was invective. And it goes against everything I want this blog to be.

This blog began as a semi-public journal of our travels meant for friends and family. As time passed, more people read it. Then a few more. Then a few more. Now, it seems there are hundreds reading and following along, which really is quite amazing to me.

My idea of what this thing should be has also changed. While the content, I think, does not yet reflect that quite yet, it will eventually, and if I've learned anything along the last year or two is that patience is your friend. As long as I keep moving forward, however slowly, it will happen.

The saying goes: May you be sealed in the book of life and sealed well.

Sealed? I don't like that idea of sealed. Who wants to be "sealed" into anything. That just strikes me as being stuck, laminated over with plastic and left with no room to breathe. No. Instead, I like to think of this as the inking of pen to paper, the continuation of a story -- a metaphor to which I can relate on many levels. Even better, it allows for forward movement.

My holy day post from last year reflected all that I saw wrong. Wrong with the world, my religion, my family. While it most certainly did not name names, and it came as straight arrow honesty, well, it wasn't the right thing to do. Believe it or not, I try my best to do the right thing with whatever information I have at that moment. What more is there to do?

There is also a custom of asking forgiveness from all those you may have hurt over the last year.

I am a big fan of honesty but sometimes convince myself it is alright to say or do something because it is honest. I have also been known to lose my temper and say or do things that were best left undone and unsaid. Over time, I have learned that silence is often a better choice even though silence is as easily misinterpreted as words.

It is not easy to apologize, because apologies mean you are wrong. Who among us embraces error? I rail against apologizing because I have also been hurt. Where are all the apologies owed to me?

Yes, yes, a silly, childish thought, but again, it is honest. An honesty, I believe echoed in the thoughts of others, even if you don't admit it. Then agian, even if I did hear the apologies I desire, I'm not sure I woudl believe them. Apologies mean nothing without follow up action.

So now.

Now as sundown approaches on this evening of Yom Kippur, I say thank you again. Thank for being a part of my life. I also apologize for anything I may have said or done that was hurtful. Some of it, I'm sure, was inadvertant. Some of it, because I chose not to pay attention. Some for other reasons altogether. Please know, though, that nothing I have said or done came from spite or the desire to hurt others. I have no desire to hurt anyone. It is just not worth it. On any level.

What is my action, here, though, that would lead you to believe my mea culpa. I'm not yet sure.

For now, I wish you all a good future. One of growth and potential. One of new experience and joy.

Gamar chatima tova.

Waiting on the Corner in the Morning

I first saw them a year ago. Two women on their knees on the corner of Main Street in Buffalo. They were holding signs: Don't Give Your Baby To These Baby Killers. I looked closer. Each woman had a rosary in her hand.

This year, these two women have grown to a much larger group. They've grown organized with flyers, radio announcements and even billboards.

I pass them every Saturday morning on my way to yoga class. Finally, last weekend, I stopped, introduced myself and asked if I could take pictures. They were more than happy to oblige me.

I arrived just as they were leaving, but Jim, one of the organizers, welcomed me back for next week. I'll be there with my camera and questions.