A MORALIST

I’ve described myself as a latter-day moralist—an unpopular profession in an increasingly cynical and secular world. 

A moralist was, in earlier times ‘a voice crying in the wilderness’ . . . ‘the same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light. . . he was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light’ (John1:23, 7, 8 Holy Bible, KJV).  The moralist of old provided a witness and a warning.  He was a counterpoint to common culture. He (or she) chose to stand on higher ground, to resist the pull toward popularity or self-indulgence, to try to lift and lighten, to soothe and strengthen, to benefit and bless.  Such a person was not the ideal but believed in focusing on the ideal—and sought to try to influence others to embrace the values and virtues that led to that ideal—a  productive, acceptable, and happier life. 

Unfortunately not only is it, in our time, unpopular to assert that one is concerned with morals, values, character—even principles, especially ‘eternal principles’—Isn’t he presumptuous!—but it is considered pompous, ‘holier than thou,’ unseemly, and not ‘politically correct’ with many of our supposedly more liberal friends.  Consequently, one who does so may be subtly maligned or at least quickly dismissed.  For who does he think he is?

Ironically, in the name of ‘tolerance,’ which many secularists enthrone as the highest value, they are intolerant to those who are so bold to assert that the hedonistic pursuit of ‘self’ is not in the top three, or maybe even in the top ten, of acceptable life-pursuits of one inclined to respect and value traditional Christian or even traditional ‘Western’ values.

 

The problem is that so many of our young are not even acquainted with classical values.  They are not aware that work, sacrifice for others’ benefit, the values espoused in the Boy Scout oath (don’t they laugh at that!) were what brought this nation to ‘its finest hour.’ Neither are they aware that the dethronement of these values is the cause of many of our most pressing problems—personally and societally.

   

And so, I view myself as a spokesman for what was once a very common set of values and standards of decency that respected life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  But life (Jesus said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly”  (John 10:10)) is not valued if it is killed intrauterinely or as a terrorist act of revenge or as an act of lust by deranged men; liberty is not paid for without self-restraint and sacrifice and does not come without responsibility; and happiness does not come with guarantee or entitlement but rather by a clear-conscience and the experience of serving others.

 

Morals are no longer part of the public conversation except from certain pulpits.  Old Schooler seeks, in its very modest way, to change that.

Our moral compass needs reset.  We need to take back our social institutions from the cultural deconstructionists and put the heart back into our demoralized older generation and our younger generation who have had it carved out of them. C. S. Lewis wrote in The Abolition of Man; “We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise.  We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.  We castrate and then bid the geldings be fruitful.”

We need more men and women who are counterpoint spokespersons –more who are not afraid of crying in the wilderness of a culture and social institutions gone terribly astray.  

WORDS

‘Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.’

 Anyone of my vintage will have either heard this schoolyard retort or resorted to it themselves when words did, indeed, did hurt.  Closer to the truth might be this:

 ‘Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will break my heart.’ Or heal it. Or motivate it. Or captivate it. Or inspire it. Or teach it.

Anyone who writes or reads knows of the power of words—of language—to  move the world.  As Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein has written, “The limits of my language mean [or define] the limits of my world.”  Scholar Hugh Nibley has observed, “[Consider] the really marvelous things that writing does: the astounding feats of thought-stimulation, thought-preservation, and thought-transmission. . . . Language [organized words] is mankind’s other world, the dream world, a playing field, the parade ground, the shady retreat, the laboratory, the theater, the forum, the mirror of the cosmos.”

I remember a discussion in a social-psychology class I took at my university that explored the notion of words, themselves, being the mother of thoughts, and thoughts as actions.  That is, it posed the question,  “Would one even be able to think (at least think more profoundly than simple reactive or self-preservational thoughts of animals) without words to provide structure for action or direction or introspection or analysis? 

My experience and response to this question is, no; we would not be able to think or at least not very deeply.  In fact, I do not think, in general, that ‘a picture is worth a thousand words.’ The only way that could be a truism is if the picture were very carefully chosen and framed and the words came from an introductory children’s primer. 

I find it of interest that my Bible (King James Version) has over 20 scriptural citations in the Old Testament and over 50 in the New Testament regarding the power of words. They range—as a sampling—from:

·        “. . . man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord [i.e., revelation] . . . . “  (Deuteronomy 8:3)

·        “How forcible are right words.” (Job 6:25

·        “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalms 119:105)

·        “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” (Proverbs

·        25:11)

·        “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

·         “For the word of God is quick and powerful . . . “ (Hebrews 4:12)

·        “Write, for these words are true and faithful.” (Rev. 21:5)

Words are absolutely foundational to progress and the quality of life of sentient beings; they are mankind’s chief tool of communication.  Words are such a great blessing to humankind that it pains me to hear them sloppily used.  What would life be without the lyrics to some of our most powerful music (think Handel’s Hallelujah  Chorus), the words of the great English poets, scripture, and the insights and wisdom of the world’s great literature?

This is why I find the words of such genius’s as Emerson, Lincoln,  Brigham Young, George MacDonald, C. S. Lewis, and Neal Maxwell and a few others so influential in my life.  They were word-masters and consequently thought masters.

I can understand Jesus’s wrap-up to his Sermon on the Mount that If his foregoing counsel did not impact or at least stir the reader in some powerful way, that his disciples should “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine. . . .” (Matt. 7:6)  If you have read this far I know you are not of these species.

So I end with just a few memorable lines from a few of these word ‘masters’:

• ·        “Every revolution was first a thought in one man’s mind . . . every reform was once a private opinion . . . the creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.” (R.W. Emerson, History essay)
• ·        “Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet and hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty.” (J. F. Kennedy “Ask not what your country can do for you. . .” speech, January 20, 1961)

Seek words out of the best books and enrich your life and others’ immeasurably.  

COMMENCEMENT

It’s likely that all my readers have gone through a commencement exercise.  You remember the color, the joyfulness, that there were many onlookers proud of you and hoping for your future success and you remember that there were speakers. But you don’t remember what they said.  You had other things on your mind.

There was also a commencement of this new nation when it declared its independence from England in 1776 (and formalized in 1789 when our Constitution was ratified) that we combine for convenience and celebrate on the 4^th of July.  

The second sentence of The Declaration of Independence famously said:

            We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

 The preamble of the Constitution of the United States readS:

             We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

In order to “provide for the common defense” of these principles “we the people” must more frequently—I would even say daily—remember that as each new day ‘commences’ (i.e., we have a new Commencement) we  have a personal responsibility to defend in our sphere of influence, no matter how small it may be perceived, civilization itself.

 

There is a time to lay down arms, and there is a time to take them up, and that we are now in a time to take them up should be “self evident.”  We have a right protected by our Constitution to “keep and bear arms” to defend against and preempt barbarous attacks upon our persons and our country and our way of life. Civilization is increasingly vulnerable not only to fanatic terrorists,  it is vulnerable to cowardice and betrayal.  Our education should supply us with a memory of a thousand struggles, of thousands of battles, and of millions of those who fell and now stand with honor to establish and defend those principles that in these documents should be “self-evident” and personally subscribed to if we too are truly Americans. 

If civilization can be attacked on many fronts (e.g., the many venues chosen by suicide bombers and terrorists; a hostile press and media; some self-serving politicians, a decadent ‘entertainment’ industry; a law-breaking populace of certain citizen and non-citizen groups, mobs, and deranged individuals) it can also be defended on many fronts.

 

We may not have to bear arms such as guns, but we can bear our voices and our consciences, our personal convictions and our example and not cave in to pressures of a weak and decadent society.  We can volunteer to serve in many good causes, we can write our elected leaders, we can write our blogs, or letters to the editor of our newspaper opinion pages, we can write our letters and notes to our friends and relatives, we can salute and fly our flag,  sing our National Anthem, personally obey the laws of the land—we can take a stand and thereby we can stand out and we can make a difference. 

  

Will it take sacrifice?  Yes.  Sacrifice probably of time, of income, position, title, acceptance of fair-weather friends, perhaps even of life.  But what will be earned is a kind of battlefield commission that will give you neither rank nor insignia nor anything but honor.  The sense of honor may be slow to awaken in some of us but if it exists in enough of us it will prevail for it always has, and that is what got us here in the 241 years since we declared that we were a united people.  United in great principles that the free world, the decent world, has always respected and sought to become part of because they sensed deep-down that it was “endowed by its Creator.”  People of the world have always in far greater numbers sought to come here than to leave here.

And so I ask you each day to ‘commence’ the day with honor.  Choose your battles but stand your ground. For little things cascade into big things, and even should the larger battle not go well for a time be determined to hold your ground. You might lose some things, but you will gain what really matters—God’s valuation and validation—His gift of strength to those who need it most, when they need it most.  And you will be justly honored by those who come after you. God has blessed America. 

MONTEREY POP 1967 -- UNFINISHED LIVES

I didn’t attend Monterey Pop in June of 1967, but I lived so close by that had it been held in, say, 1963, I could have heard it just down the road about a mile away out of my bedroom window.  My wife--who I also didn’t “attend” because I didn’t then yet know her—did get in and attend as part of the crowd with dubious credentials as a ‘reporter.’

Monterey Pop, which preceded Woodstock by two years, presaged a domino effect on the music and lives of an entire, and what would become iconic, generation (my generation). It was a beginning—and   who would have known it then—ultimately an anthem to a large portion of a whole generation of music fans but also to other cataclysmic transitional cultural and social movements— the Civil Rights, militant Women’s Rights, and hippie movements.

At the time, I looked forward to knowing that the venue of Monterey Pop was coming to my community only because I knew and liked the laconic, by comparison, music of The Mamas and the Papas and Simon and Garfunkle, and saw on the posters that they would be singing. Frankly, I had never until then heard of the performers who later made this seminal event so iconic: Otis Redding, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendricks, The Byrds, Jefferson Airplane and many others.  But whether initiated or not, I suspect that few, if any, of us could anticipate what would  happen in the next decade.

 ‘Unfinished Lives’

 

The performance of Otis Redding, the final act of the Saturday night portion of the Festival (indeed, maybe the whole festival) was, and I think could be fairly said to be, the ‘tipping point,’ or jumping off point for an entire cultural era which transformed music and cultural mores. It at least introduced a style of music and pop culture dubbed—‘sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll’—of which I was only vaguely, and thankfully, not very familiar.

Otis Redding’s style and his voice in some of his songs painted a sound of increasing, leading to an even brutal, intensity and finally a  confrontation or conflagration leading to burnout.  His treatment of his concluding song Try a Little Tenderness seemed to be a harbinger of what happened to him as well as to a generation of followers—beginning with Monterey Pop and continuing with Woodstock and beyond.

Redding’s five song set: I’ve Been Loving You Too Long; Satisfaction; Try a Little Tenderness that Saturday night included, after a warmup, his song Respect, which he had written a couple of years before.  At the conclusion of Respect he said to the people below the stage, “You are the love generation, right?” The thousands packing the fairgrounds arena vociferously agreed.  It gave all who heard a more-or-less hazily focused identity which they lived out for the next decade.  (Respect was also recorded exactly three months earlier in 1967 by Aretha Franklin and rose to the top of the charts by June when Monterey Pop occurred).

Following the festival at the Monterey County Fair Grounds Redding felt he needed voice surgery which he had planned to have later that summer.

He barely lived to have it done.

Ironically, Otis Redding’s most popular song, Sittin on the Dock of the [San Francisco] Bay, (written by him following Monterey Pop while Redding was still in California and recorded only two days before his death by airplane crash at age 26) was released posthumously a couple of months later.

Dock of the Bay portended the temporal end for many of my generation (remember Viet Nam ) as well as for a number of other stars in that event. Within two years Jimi Hendricks and Janis Joplin were also dead.

Because of the Vietnam war, the cultural revolution of the so-called ‘Dawning of the Age of Aquarius,’ and the liberality and suggestibility through music of the ‘new morality,’ many of my contemporaries—not just musicians—continued to have ‘unfinished lives’ or didn’t even make it past the mid- 60’s to mid-70’s decade at all.  Sadly they went out with either ‘bang or a whimper’ or neither and are still to be seen around as the hapless and homeless people on the streets of America (see poet T. S. Eliot, The Hollow Men, 1925).

Alas for the most colorful—and maybe tragic—decade of my lifetime.

But for me, praise the Lord, it wasn’t like that.   

NATIONAL PEACE OFFICER'S MEMORIAL DAY / WEEK

POLICE WEEK

In 1962 National Police Week was established by a joint resolution of Congress.  And May 15 was designated as National Peace Officers Memorial day.  Both were dedicated to honoring America’s law enforcement community.  I wish to dedicate this essay to honor a true ‘officer of the peace.’

I write this memorial today in honor of a dear friend of mine—a policeman—a good man—a family man,  who died a little over a week ago.  He was not one of the over 20,000 law enforcement officers who have died in the line-of-duty since records have been kept in this country, but he like many other officers came close.  He died of the effects of a dread neurological disease that after early service with the Palo Alto Police Department in California and then 5 ½ years with the California Highway Patrol claimed first his coordination then his life.   He was forced to retire because of the onset of this disability.  But for the best part of his life he put his life on the line many times as a law enforcement officer a protector of the peace for the rest of us.

 

Let me tell you a little about my friend, Officer Harold Bartlett, California Highway Patrol officer, badge # 4538.

Harold was an all-American boy who grew up on the central coast and San Joaquin valley of California.  Active in sports and music and with many part-time jobs during his youth,  following high school he married his sweetheart and at age 22 applied for a job with the Palo Alto Police Department.  From a pool of 256 applicants he was one of two chosen.  Initially he walked evening foot-beats, and then bicycle beats after mid-night, and later regular motorcycle assignments.  After 6 months of service he was assigned a car beat.  Among many interesting encounters with law- breakers he had several in which his own life was put in jeopardy.

Because the pay from the P.A.P.D. was so poor and his young wife pregnant and bills piling up Harold found a part-time job at the Emporium department store during the 31 days of Christmas season as a Santa Claus.  He worked there from 9:30 a.m. to 10:00 p.m., then the graveyard shift at the police department from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m.  “I got pretty skinny and was tired all the time, but when [his first daughter] was born all the doctor and hospital bills were paid.” Almost all other officers of the department held second jobs as well.

Now here is what I really want you to know about this man.  Harold left the P.A.P.D. because of the repeated actions of a couple of officers—including at least one high in authority who did not display the integrity that should be expected of one in such a profession.  After one particularly egregious situation Harold wrote in his memoirs, “That incident plus several others started me thinking I wanted to complete my police career with a more honorable organization.  It also pointed out the need to make and keep copies in my personal file at home of all memos, all reports of a controversial nature, to record all the pertinent facts and dates and information that might be needed in your defense later.  This is what happens when you lose confidence and respect for the honor and integrity of those in authority over you from the Mayor and Chief on down.”

After about four years with the Palo Alto Police Department Harold made at least two very important decisions and life-style changes that would color the rest of his life.  He and his wife joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and he made application to the California Highway Patrol to which he was accepted.

He had heard of and personally observed the competency and high standards expected of officers representing the California Highway Patrol and wanted to be a part of it.  “The [C.H.P.] Academy reportedly was the finest in the world.  We got people from police agencies from all over the world who went thru our training shoulder to shoulder with us and then after graduation would return to their own country to accept a ranking police post.”  “Your badge and I.D. number on the badge meant a lot of pride, honor, integrity and self-discipline to you.  That number was only issued once and you took a lot of personal pride in wanting it to shine, and stand for something honorable, righteous, and good.”

As he told his stories of police action in the two departments you came to know that the majority of officers, like him, took their work very seriously and were honorable in a dangerous profession.  A few, however didn’t and brought disgrace and dishonor by association to their colleagues.  Though he had been beat up a few times and had his teeth knocked out by an assailant, this good man would have continued as a stellar representative of a noble profession.  Others believed so also.  In his last year at the C.H.P. Harold Bartlett was named Officer of the Year out of the Modesto, California office.

As a last word, the daily verbal abuses, excuses, and disrespect, not to mention the physical danger and public scrutiny to which a peace officer is subjected take a toll on the men and women in ‘blue’ who do their best to protect and preserve the rest of us.  Let’s cut them a little slack in the daily tension they absorb for us.  

STANDING FOR SOMETHING

A great man  named Gordon B. Hinckley wrote a book not long before he died titled Standing for Something.  I like that title.  A related notion, though I’ve never seen a book with this title, could be Amounting to Something.  I remember, as a kid, hearing my dad say something like, ‘if he would apply himself he could amount to something,’ and ‘he’ll never amount to anything.’  If so, how?  If not, why not?

I have though a lot about standing for something and amounting to something.  A good and continuing education can help with both. 

To become educated, we must surrender ignorance.  To move forward we often undertake a course of study and yield to teachers who are probably wiser and certainly better educated than we are.  When we pay money to go to school we usually don’t balk over the process.  When we go to a physician to get healed we usually submit to the treatment. Yet when we are encouraged to voluntarily engage in practices that could help us in our quest to ‘amount to something’ we often do not fully engage ourselves or invest ourselves or discipline ourselves to ‘go the course’ or take the medicine.  We may get distracted from our goal, or resent the expectations of our guide or mentor or maybe just get lazy. Or we stubbornly go on our own way thinking we know better.   But we don’t improve.  Self-improvement, for many, is difficult to obtain or to sustain.

 

Let me suggest that if you want to ‘amount to something’ more than you currently are, you don’t continue to go it alone.  Make a contract with another person that will make you accountable and then resolve to ‘endure the process to the end.’  Check in periodically for ‘progress reports.’  Engage another person in the pursuit of your quest.  Don’t be afraid of correction along the way.  Even the best of athletes, musicians, performers and presidents have coaches, mentors, and advisors to help them.

 

A final thought:  ‘Standing for something’ is probably a better test of integrity than ‘amounting to something’ because of the value placed upon it by our ultimate Judge. That is what really amounts to something.

The Hippocratic Oath

Like many non-physicians I was vaguely aware of the oath purportedly taken by the medical profession and the oft-stated principle at the heart of the oath commonly  expressed as ‘Do no harm.’

I have wondered about that for a long time in light of the continuing abomination of abortions (nearly 58 million estimated in the nearly 50 years since Roe v. Wade) performed by the ‘profession,’ and the looming potential involvement of the ‘profession’ in euthanasia of the elderly.

Here is the Hippocratic Oath edited slightly by me only by removing, by insertion of ellipsis, irrelevant material and maintaining by exact quotation the rest and substance of the ‘profession’:

            “I swear . . . that, according to my ability and judgment, I will keep this oath and stipulation . . . . 

            I will follow that method of treatment which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous.  I will give no deadly medicine to anyone if asked, nor suggest any such counsel.  Furthermore, I will not give to a woman an instrument to produce an abortion. 

            With Purity and with Holiness I will pass my life and practice my art. / Into  whatever houses I enter I will go into them for the benefit of the sick and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and further from the seduction of females or males, bond or free.           

            Whatever, in connection with my professional practice, or not in connection with it, I may see or hear in the lives of men which ought not to be spoken abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret.

            While I continue to keep this oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art, respected by all men, at all times, but should I trespass and violate this oath, may the reverse be my lot.”

The original oath, penned about 2,500 years ago, as quoted above, I have learned is not sworn to, nor ever was, by the vast majority of the medical profession. Neither is it even approximated by many physicians; it has long been superannuated and doctors are not bound by it. 

There are, however, politically correct and legally careful—yet probably  non-binding—ceremonial oaths taken in this country by graduates of most medical schools.

I’m sure most physicians would still like to be “respected by all men, at all times,” but what about the larger issue, respect for LIFE, which I always assumed was the medical profession’s obligation to protect, promote, and preserve which many religious people, such as me, consider to be the highest value?

Ask your physician about it—but, of course, you will probably be ‘billed’ for his/her answer.