I’ve been banished to my “penalty box,” which is the sunroom of our house. My precious doggie Petey has been banished also, and he is actually the reason for this “banishment.” An harpsichord tuner is arriving shortly and he will need quiet to pay his professionally keen “listening” skills to the tuning of this lovely instrument. Petey would not permit this, having so much to say to any stranger with his raucous voice. And after all, this “penalty box” is one of my favorite places to set and watch the spring morning unfold, with Petey and I exploring philosophical intricacies!
“Limits” is on my mind so often with this pandemic that besets us. And even this visit from the tuner brought this to mind when my wife reminded me, “gloves and face mask” when he arrives. This same precaution is relevant anywhere I go, even to Wal Mart where I patiently wait in line with others in queue to “get stuff.” And even there, the queue will be donned with the same PPE I now have at my side.
Having a religious upbringing, of which I’m so proud, my mind goes biblical at times like this. The gods are speaking to us collectively and sternly telling us, “Limits!” (But I prefer the simple term “God” even though I occasionally I will refer to them with the plural pronoun.) Any people will get wayward here and there and will need a lesson like this, painful and deadly thought it might be. This god-sent “pestilence” is a message from “On High” that we need to look at ourselves closely…and I don’t mean look at “them” more closely unless we look at ourselves with equal intensity. In the words of the prophet Pogo, “We have met the enemy and he is us!”
I just watched a promo on TV about History Channel’s new three-part movie about U.S. Grant. The narrator pointed out that when Lee surrendered to him at Appomattox in April, 1864, it was a solemn occasion. Grant did not “rub it in” to the vanquished South and his opposing general, U.S. Lee. There was no taunting or jeering as the diplomatic graciousness of Abraham Lincoln had filtered down to Grant and his troops. It was a grievous occasion and Grant knew that merriment from him or his troops was not called for. I am reminded of a similar moment of graciousness to a defeated foe in the Spanish-American War of 1899 as a U.S. ship had blown a Spanish ship out of the water. The American troops broke into raucous cheer, happy to see their hard and dangerous work had been successful as the Spanish ship, the Vizcaya, went down in flames. The captain of the American ship, John Woodward Philip, chided his cheering troops with these famous words, “Don’t cheer boys. The poor devils are dying.”
Our history offers us many examples of graciousness and respect in moments when our leaders could have responded differently. The humility needed in the moment requires deep-seated respect for boundaries, for the “other” even when our hearts are bursting with “the thrill of victory.” Those two events in our history reveal vividly the emotional/spiritual courage of leadership in a moment of crisis. These men had boundaries. I even remember a similar humility in the resignation of Richard Nixon in 1969 when, devastated with shame and humiliation he solemnly and graciously stepped into that helicopter, turned around and waved good-by , allowing Gerald Ford to take his place. Nixon was a broken man as our government had stepped in and firmly set a limit for that very fragile man, telling him, “That’s enough.” May our leaders always be able to muster up the courage and demonstrate the dignity that is required of all leaders.
This is a moment in the history of mankind when we can dare to tell ourselves, “It is not just about me/”
