March 25: Bearskin Coats, Human Disasters, Turning a Blind Eye

A motion-picture camera was set up at the border--to record the fabulous victory.  Two civilians in bearskin coats were leaning on the camera when Billy and Weary came by.  They had run out of film hours ago.

One of them singled out Billy's face for a moment, then focused at infinity again.  There was a tiny plume of smoke at infinity.  There was a battle there.  People were dying there.  So it goes.  

And the sun went down, and Billy found himself bobbing in place in a railroad yard.  There were rows and rows of boxcars waiting.  They had brought reserves to the font.  Now they were going to take prisoners into Germany's interior.

Flashlight beams danced crazily.

The scene Vonnegut describes certainly calls to mind images of the Holocaust.  A railroad yard.  Boxcars waiting to be loaded with people.  A plume of smoke in the sky.  These details are loaded with meaning.  Billy and Roland are about to be loaded onto one of these trains.

The world hasn't learned its lesson from the Holocaust.  There have been genocides in Rwanda, Bosnia, Cambodia.  And, as before, people looked in the other direction.  It's so easy simply to ignore, rather than take notice.  Because to take notice means that you have to take action. 

Right now, there seems to be a whole lot of people willing to ignore, and it's a little frightening.  There are human disasters taking place in Syria, and yet the citizens of this planet are unwilling to step up and do something about it.  Instead of compassion and charity, refugees are met with suspicion and hatred.  I live in a country where that is happening.  Over seventy years ago, the United States turned away Jewish refugees from Germany.  History seems to be repeating itself.

Hopefully, the tide is going to turn.  I find the tidal wave of nationalism that seems to be sweeping across the world more than a little alarming.  My sister has Down Syndrome.  When she was young, my mother had to fight over and over simply to get her into a classroom, provide her with an education.  The comment she frequently got from school teachers, administrators, and other parents was, "We have to take care of our kids before we take care of yours." 

There is not "our" and "yours" in society.  Nobody is isolated.  We need to take care of each other.  Turning a blind eye on a person in need is not a tenet of any world religion.

Saint Marty is thankful today for the compassionate, loving people in his life.

January 18: All Business, My Business, Being Occupied

Scrooge, taking care of business

"It's not my business," Scrooge returned.  "It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's.  Mine occupies me constantly.  Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

This is Scrooge dismissing the two men who come to his office on Christmas Eve seeking a charitable donation for the poor.  Scrooge's little diatribe echoes back a little later in the stave when the ghost of  Jacob Marley laments over what the real business of his life should have been.

Obviously, Dickens doesn't subscribe to Scrooge's way of thinking.  The entire book is practically a call to social action .  I can almost see Dickens standing at the corner on a soapbox, yelling at well-dressed passers-by:  "Your business is to help your fellow man!"  (Yes, he would have used the word "man."  This is Victorian England we're talking about here.)  "Dig deep to help the poor and needy," he'd yell, "or the human race is doomed."  Later on in the book, in the stave with the Ghost of Christmas Present, Dickens actually uses the word "doom" to describe humanity's chances if it turns a blind eye towards the misery of others.

I understand Scrooge's response to the two gentlemen at the beginning of the book.  Most of the time, I am completely occupied and preoccupied by the business of my life.  My business.  My worries.  My needs.  My wants.  It's an easy mindset to fall into.  Dropping spare change into a Salvation Army bucket, writing out a check to church each weekend, putting a couple of dollars in an envelope for  a local homeless shelter, these things all take money away from me.  Money that could be used to pay bills or go to a movie or put gas in my vehicle.  You know, taking care of my business.

Of course, Scrooge learns his lesson by the end of A Christmas Carol.  He's completely reformed and spends the rest of his life, so it seems, squandering the fortune he's amassed in the bank.  He saves Tiny Tim, gives Bob a raise, parties with his nephew, donates to the poor.  He does these things without a thought about how he's going to pay for them.  He is obviously filthy, stinkin' rich.

I haven't reached that point of enlightenment in my life.  I still worry about money.  Finances are one of my greatest stresses.  I'm still focused on my business.  Perhaps I would have a different attitude if I were as wealthy as Ebenezer.  Perhaps I would go around, paying off people's mortgages or buying medical care for the Tiny Tims of the world.  Perhaps.  I don't know.

Give Saint Marty a couple million dollars and see what he does with it.