Behind the sunrise

This morning as I got up to open the blinds for the big bay window overlooking Munsey Road, and the houses on the lower streets of Soldier Hill cascading down the Pascack Valley, I could not believe the beautiful, fiery red sky!  It looked like the lava of a spewing volcano, and like a volcano it got brighter and brighter and then, just as quickly, faded into the grey-blue background like solidifying lava.  Every morning the sun continues to rise and show its majesty like this and reminds us of its permanence and our transience. And as I reflected on this beauty, my mind automatircally brought back some of the sad news that stick in my mind yet remain outside my comprehension: the murder of 20 kindergartners with angelic faces and 6 adults in Connecticut, not some remote pagan village of yesteryear; the murder of 90 Shias in Pakistan, the country of my birth only yesterday; the death of a Yemeni 35 year old Guantanamo Bay prisoner, one of many, after 11 years of internment and no charges against him…and I wondered what is behind the sunrise.  Is there some other world that these innocent victims go to? And like the sun can they see our folly and now removed from this crazy planet, observe and feel safe and free?  One of our neighbor’s sons- Daanish Khan- died tragically in a drowning accident last September a day after his 25th birthday, and his mother said: maybe God knew this world is not a good place for him.  She was so brave and strong, and yet she was so right.  What are we doing to each other? And if we are not directly doing it, what are we allowing to happen that creates this unending ugliness and leaves us sad, angry, perplexed and numb? Each of us has to ask that question and reflect – there are no answers only more questions.

And then I have to remind myself that there are so many good people doing so much good work around the planet that we cannot give up hope ever, thousands of NGO’s and their brave leaders and staff; dozens of rich movie-stars doing noble work and not just producing violent movies; and millions of individual donors who keep giving to help those in need knowing that what they give is not even a millionth that is given to violence, oppression and war, and yet they continue to believe in change, drop by drop.  It would be so easy to resign and give up hope, for how could we ordinary individuals or groups  counter the powerful, symbiotic embrace of extreme power and extreme poverty fanning the flames of violence, war, hate and despair? I have to keep hope alive for the Syrians, the Palestinians, the Indians in the rainforest, the sea of refugees and illegal aliens from shore to shore. I have to continue to feel their pain, share their pain and do whatever I can to awaken us, the human race in the 21st century. The list of the oppressed is endless, and the list of the helpers is endless too.   Having been on a news blackout for a long time, my source of escape is the movies and I have to say that on a positive note, more and more movies, like Argo, Syriana, Dark Truth acknowledge the seed of violence and are moving beyond the self-righteous portrayals to exposing the manipulating machinations that go on, another hope for the awakening I seek.  Maybe if I helped the helpers more, I could lift a burden off my chest, feel less guilty about the privileges I enjoy and rejuvenate hope every day in myself and others. Maybe there is a pure place behind the sunrise and when I get there I will understand the mystery of this brutal reality of hope and despair.