Thoughts on December 7

FDR declared December 7, 1941, “A date that will live in infamy.” Then he declared war on the perpetrators. Not everyone in America agreed with the decision to go to war, but an entire generation was changed by the events that followed FDR’s declaration. That was my father’s generation, sometimes called the greatest generation. Almost everyone pulled together to defeat the enemy.

On September 14, 2001, George Bush made his famous “bullhorn” pronouncement. He told the crowd assembled at the site of the Twin Towers disaster, “I can hear you! The rest of the world hears you! And the people -- and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!” It was another infamous date; more people died on 9/11 than died at Pearl Harbor. Not everyone agreed with the way Bush prosecuted the “War on Terror,” but it did change all of America for a short time, maybe a year or two. Almost immediately there were those who voiced strident opposition.

Because there was no Emperor or Fuhrer to declare war against, George W. Bush had to rely on sketchy intelligence reports to locate “the people who knocked [those] buildings down.” For his efforts he was accused of lying (Bush lied; people died) or of trying to finish his father’s (George H. W. Bush) war. There is no doubt, in perfect hindsight, things could have, perhaps should have been done differently. Iraq became a failed nation-building exercise. Afghanistan became another Vietnam-like quagmire. ISIL grew out of the milieu, and continues its war of terror to this day.

I worry about today’s young people. My experience teaching classes of mostly millennials convinces me that they will not think of my generation as great at anything but making messes. Actually, their lack of historical perspective makes me doubt they will think of anyone but themselves. Most were just children in 2001, and while they may have been confused or scared, few seem to have grasped the real significance of the event. (For memories of 15 millennials see this Bustle article.) They seem primarily concerned with comfort and convenience and the latest gadget from Apple.

The millennials’ older brothers and sisters will remember 9/11. Many thousands went to war “against terror,” and many never came home. Many more were injured physically in ways that they will always struggle with. And then there are the countless thousands who still fight battles deep within; their bodies are often perfectly whole, but their lives have been changed in ways that have virtually stolen “normal” from their existence.

When I look at the deep divisions that plague America, I long for the way the December 7’s and 9/11’s in our history have caused us to come together in common cause, if only for a while. Surely there is more to unite than divide Republican and Democrat, black and white, gay and straight, religious and not-so-much. If ANTIFA and Black Lives Matter and Gay Pride marches are the social mechanisms on which we must rely, I fear it will take another “date that will live in infamy” to wake us up.

Since December 7 remembrances come as most of us begin to look forward to Christmas, and I am writing this while listening to Christian Christmas music, the incongruity strikes me. I wanted to share a line or two from a poem by W.B. Yeats, but I can’t decide what not to share, so with your permission, I will present the entire poem for your thoughtful consideration.

The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre  

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst  

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.  

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out  

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert  

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,  

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.  

The darkness drops again; but now I know  

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  

And what rough beast, its hour come ‘round at last,  

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Two World Wars and the Irish struggles for independence in his homeland gave Yeats a cynical outlook. I may disagree with his conclusions about political governance, but this poem reminds me that anarchy is not the answer either. In fact, the only answer is bringing more and more of this sin-wracked world under the kingdom rule of the One who made the First Coming in Bethlehem. This poem also makes me long more intensely for the real second coming. Maranatha, Lord Jesus; come quickly.