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My mother-in-law died at the age of 82 in January
of this year. As part of the funeral preparations
my wife called on a Methodist pastor. Her mother,
like all of her relatives before her, had followed
the Christian churches, and it was only fitting
that a member of the clergy deliver a proper invocation
at her funeral. However, in one of the many conversations
that followed the services, her last remaining aunt,
herself a faltering 88 years old, referred to a
kosher side of the family. Intrigued by this unexpected
observation, my wife and one of her cousins began
an investigation into the family roots that led
to the discovery of a strain of Judaism in their
background, one that came in direct line through
the maternal side. All of a sudden, not only had
my wife become Jewish, but our daughter, whom we
had raised in a sort of pan-religious way, was Jewish
as well.
I would have thought that this discovery would
have caused an identity crisis for the two women
in my life. What ensued was more of a catharsis,
as both young and old received the news with a sigh
of relief, as if they had somehow subconsciously
known this fact but been unable to recall it or
make it conscious. My wife remarked how this event
cast light on a number of familial peculiarities
and idiosyncrasies that had baffled her over the
years. She recalled how certain members of her mother's
family had refused to go to church, even though
the entire community in her small town in southern
New Jersey had faithfully attended Sunday services.
She speculated how the conservatism of that region
had probably driven her ancestors to suppress their
true religious identity as a mechanism of survival.
As for our daughter, the news also provided a sort
of explanation for her infatuation with Hanukkah
and dredel songs.
The discovery, much like that reported by orphans
who suddenly discover their biological parents,
brought both relief and a need for introspection,
as our new-found identity forced our family to reevaluate
its history and its relationships to our local community,
friends and other family members. Suddenly, new
allies appeared where none had existed, and certain
issues on which we had held unassailable opinions
were now ripe for revision. More importantly, it
forced us to confront our relationship to our own
selves. In this newfound truth lay the roots of
healing not only for some of my wife's deeper wounds
but also for some of the issues that had plagued
our family as well. The eternal question, "Who
am I?" had once again intruded into our lives,
prompted by the death of a loved one.
As revelatory as this new identity was to prove,
this discovery came in the heels of another, more
global realization that was centered on our identity
as Americans and which had been prompted by the
deaths of September 11 and the wars in Afghanistan
and Iraq. No matter what side of this conflict one
may chose to stand on, the events which have transpired
since 9/11 have had one unexpected result: Americans
are now aware, as never before, of what the rest
of the world really thinks of us.
For a very long time our society had coddled the
illusion that our goals and ambitions, our way of
doing things, nay our very way of life, was something
others should admire, if not emulate. And the truth
is that for many people on the globe, the allure
of our wealth and the sophistication of our technology
and our political systems have proved to be a great
inspiration and a call to their own creativity.
But a greater truth is now dawning on us: that for
many citizens of the world, our way of being is
not only agreeable, but also downright objectionable.
If this now seems natural coming from religious
fanatics opposed to our global interventionism,
it is nevertheless surprising coming from impoverished
farming nations who suddenly gather the courage
to walk out on the trade negotiations in Cancun,
and even more surprising when it comes from cultures
that have been traditionally in favor of our world
views, such as the French and the Germans.
The result has been that our identity as a people
has been changed irreversibly, no matter how hard
our government or the media try to convey a return
to some pre-cultural moment when our way of life,
our values and convictions seemed to carry the moral
weight they no longer have. Clearly the world has
not changed overnight, so why did we as a people
not see what was so obvious to others? The fact
is that our image has been tarnishing for a long
time, yet we were incapable of seeing that simple
fact. Like my wife's ancestors, we had been trying
to hide from ourselves the obvious truth.
Our mistake has been to believe that our identity
could be something that we could create in the abstract,
apart from the other influences that rule the globe.
There is a noble history to this impulse, arising
as it did from the historical roots that underlie
the creation of our nation: liberty, individualism,
and freedom from ideals imposed from the outside.
Unfortunately, in our rush to create a new world
out of the need to have and hold personal power
over our destinies, we have neglected the fact that
this desire contradicts natural law, which states
that all living forms are interrelated and that
all actions are reciprocal. Despite whatever we
may think, what we as Americans do at home nevertheless
affects everything around the globe, and we are
therefore beholden to the effect our actions may
have in places we may have never heard of. This
is, in fact, simple enough to understand. Less obvious
is the fact that, whether we like it or not, what
others think of us is vitally important to our own
identity, and, if ignored, it will eventually come
home to haunt us.
Our mistake has been to believe that our identity
is somehow not part of our relationships with the
rest of the world, that our sense of self is not
somehow reciprocal to the sense of self of others.
Identity is formed when the gaze of the other meets
our own. In fact, our sense of self is always related
to how others perceive us and it grows and changes
as our relationships evolve. Identity requires that
we be seen and recognized as we are. It also requires
that we remain conscious of this exchange and that
we adjust to the flow of energy which it implies.
To achieve this, it is essential that we remain
fully conscious of our relationship to all things
and to the reciprocal exchanges which continuously
relate us to the world around us. This includes
not only other humans, but the entire web of life
that supports us.
Global consciousness means just that: for every
thought or action on our part, there is a reactive
thought or action in return. Whatever we do to others
will eventually return to us augmented by the additional
reaction of those to whom it was done. If our actions
are just and respectful, then we will receive fair
treatment in return, and the potential for prosperity
and joy is increased. If we were to err in this
regard, however, the ensuing result will be commensurate
not only with the gravity of our error, but it will
be augmented by the reaction of those others whom
we have aggrieved. In addition, because energy flows
within the medium of time, time itself also adds
energy to all reciprocal relationships. If nurtured,
a relationship grows in time. If neglected, time
will cause that relationship to fester until a crisis
ensues. This is nature's way of achieving balance.
What this means in practical terms is that reciprocal
results are not directly proportional to energy
input; they are geometrically proportional. Small,
consistent, and positive efforts will pay handsomely
in time. Conversely, neglect, if sustained long
enough, has the potential to generate disastrous
consequences.
It is ironic that it sometimes takes a full-blown
crisis to clear up misconceptions of identity. In
the case of America, it has been the terrible blow
of 9/11 and the continuing crisis in Iraq. In the
case of my family, it was the death of our matriarch.
Nevertheless, the seeds of healing have sprouted
for my wife and our life together. It is my hope
that the events of the last years will lead our
country to a renewed sense of identity, more in
keeping with the truth of our position in the world;
a sense of identity based not on the illusion of
personal needs and detachment from our responsibility
as members of a global society, but based on the
truth of our dependence upon others, their values,
and desires.
And lest the importance of a detail go unnoticed,
let me emphasize that fact that it was our daughter,
through her innocent dredel songs, who most clearly
saw through the illusion. Like the boy in The Emperor's
New Clothes, her gaze was clear. I find both inspiration
and a warning in this: that truth cannot be hidden
from the innocent, that it will find a way to manifest
itself, and that if all else fails, death, as the
ultimate arbiter, will intervene and make us see
who we really are.
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