That We All May Be One

On a whim, I ordered a DVD of Otto Preminger’s 1960 film Exodus. It was based on Leon Uris’ fine novel of the same name and starred Paul Newman, Eva Marie Saint, Peter Lawford, Lee J. Cobb and Sal Mineo! How’s that for a cast? It was a bit long at 3 hours 28 minutes (!) and considerably dated in its dialogue and special effects. But it was set on location in Israel/Palestine and the photography quite beautiful for its time.

It is set in 1948 and chronicles the rebirth of a people and the lead-up to the establishment of the state of Israel. The lead character, played by Newman, is Ari Ben Canaan (said to have been based loosely on the real-life Yitzak Rabin) who is a commander of the underground and who leads some 600 Jews from the detention camps of Cyprus onto a large freighter bound for Palestine. But British forces learn of his plan and insist that he turn back. Undaunted, the Jews refuse to give up and risk their lives for the greater cause of Israeli independence. Much blood is shed and the film concludes without a real conclusion and with Newman and his troops headed off into one more battle.

Whenever I get fed up with Benjamin Netanyahu’s strong arm tactics and policies of the Israeli government which trample upon the rights of the Palestinian people today, I try to remember that there is a reason why the world’s Jews seem paranoid and why they do not think their incredible military might (today funded and supported by the United States in large part) is unnecessary. As they old saying goes, “Just because you’re paranoid, that doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you!”

Yes, in many ways the oppressed have become the oppressor once again, this time in the state of Israel and I reserve the right to be critical of the Israeli government without for one minute conceding to the charge of anti-Semitism. I criticize my own government, but am not thereby un-American. I have allied myself with “J Street,” a Washington based pro-Israel, pro justice and peace lobby who continue to strive for a viable two-state solution in the Holy Land.

For, was it not a two-state solution that was initially envisioned? Near the end of Exodus Newman speaks at the burial of a boyhood Arab friend and a young Jewish girl, side by side, in the rocky soil of Palestine. He vows that, just as these two sleep together in death, one day Arab and Jew will live together, in this same land, side by side, in peace.

This story was set in 1948. The lines were spoken spoken in 1960. It is now 2016.

How long, O Lord?

We lost another prophet on Saturday. The Rev. Daniel J. Berrigan, a Jesuit priest and poet who was active in anti-war activities in the 1960s…and ever since. When I entered seminary in 1969 Dan and his brother, Philip, were heroes to many of us.

We were an interesting mixture on the seminary campuses of the late 1960s — some of us right off college campuses where we had marched for civil rights and against the Viet Nam war, some of us returning Viet Nam vets reassessing what they had seen and done in the light of their new-found, or renewed faith. But most all of us admired the Berrigans because we knew that, as the New York Times has it today:

“It was an essentially religious position (for them) based on a stringent reading of the Scriptures that some called pure and others radical. But it would have explosive political consequences as (the Berrigans)…and their allies took their case to the streets with rising disregard for the law or their personal fortunes.”

They were more radical than many of us: burning Selective Service draft records in Catonsville, Md.; hammering missile warheads in Pennsylvania; blocking the entrance to the Intrepid naval museum in Manhattan — Daniel the ascetic poet and Phillip a decorated hero of WW II. I sometimes questioned their tactics, but never their courage or their integrity.

And lest we think that we can slack off on our efforts for peace and justice today, that things have gotten better since the 1960s and 70s, hear this troubling comment from Daniel Berrigan just six short years ago in The Nation magazine, “This is the worst time of my long life. I have never had such meager expectations of the system.”

If he was still well enough, in his long illness, to keep up with the political machinations of today and the meager expectations so many of us have of Congress, he may well have been just as glad to close his eyes for the last time, knowing that even in this long night, he lit more than a few candles rather than being content to curse the darkness.