Tuesday, March 31, 2009
A REMARKABLE EVENING
On Monday night, March 30th, I attended a lecture at the Tifereth Israel Synagogue in Des Moines. The guest speaker was Brigitte Gabriel. Frankly, it was one of the most remarkable evenings I have ever experienced.
Ms. Gabriel is a Lebanese Christian, who survived the Lebanese Civil War while a child. She was saved from slaughter by the Israeli Defense Forces when they moved into Southern Lebanon. She later lived in Israel, and now is a resident of the United States. As a former journalist covering the Middle East, she is uniquely qualified to discuss the current events there, as well as the impact of Islamic extremism in the United States. If you have read either of her books, you have a basic understanding of the nature of her talk.
I would not be presumptuous enough to try to encapsulate the content of her talk. It lasted about an hour, with another hour of Questions and Answers. What I would rather do is discuss the venue, and the audience.
I arrived early, in order to become familiar with the Synagogue, never having been to Tifereth Israel before. I first went to the lounge area outside of the community room. In the community room, Ms Gabriel and a panel of local congregation members were hosting a large number of educators from the Des Moines area. High School, Middle and Grammar School teachers, numbering well over one hundred, were at the Question and Comment point. I listened in for awhile, but the questions were mostly inane, suggesting that most of the invited attendees had little comprehension of the nature of Islamic extremism. I heard the words tolerance and diversity in numbers too large to count. I felt I was at risk of having a brain numbing experience, so I went to the sanctuary.
The sanctuary, built in 1929, was done in a classic style, reminding me of the synagogues I visited in my youth in Chicago. I was comfortable in this setting, and sat in a pew just two rows from the lectern. Being early, I was able to watch and visit with many of the attendees for the evening lecture as they arrived. This was the first highlight of my evening.
I must point out that security was very evident. I am sure most know of the very real and explicit threats that Ms. Gabriel has received since beginning her education activities on the nature of violent Islam. But this is Des Moines, not Toronto, New York or Southern California. As it turned out, the security (Des Moines Police Officers) were mainly occupied with directing folks to the rest rooms, and insuring that Ms. Gabriel was not hugged into asphyxia.
My first conversation was a brief one with former Iowa Governor Robert Ray, and his wife Billie. I have met him on numerous occasions, and was pleased that he remembered me. As always, they were gracious, and greeted many of their friends and admirers with grace and courtesy. Sitting next to me were a middle aged couple who are members of the congregation. The wife was very knowledgeable on the history of the synagogue and its congregation, and gave me a brief education on Tifereth Israel. Behind me were a white couple and an African-American man who were members of an evangelical church in the neighborhood. We had an interesting discussion of heart healthy diets, as the African-American man was also a survivor of stroke, heart attack and by-pass surgery. Turns out we shared the surgeon, and had graduated from Cardiac Rehab at our mutual hospital just two months apart.
By 6:50 PM, the pews were filled, and additional folding chairs had been brought in for the side aisles and open spaces. I would guess total attendance at well over three hundred. I cannot describe adequately the diversity of the audience. College students from Drake and Grandview, High School students, parents with their children, married and single adults, middle aged and elderly people; all mingled in a delightfully haphazard manner. Not surprising for Iowa, the conversations among the guests were lively, friendly, and filled with introductions, handshakes and laughter. Three hundred strangers drawn together in what was for many an unfamiliar setting, but with a shared desire to learn.
After appropriate acknowledgments and introductions, the emcee turned over the microphone to Ms. Gabriel. The audience was immediately enraptured by both her personality, as well as the content. She spoke without script (no tele-prompter), referring to a single page of notes only when using an exact quote, or with reference to specific figures or names. The attendee reactions were among the most sincere and genuine I have ever witnessed. Laughter when she make a humorous remark, serious attention when she spoke of matters of importance, and free flowing tears when she talked of her childhood as a Christian child under attack by Moslem former neighbors and friends. The savagery of her experiences was underscored by her obvious emotion.
After the formal talk, Ms. Gabriel opened the floor to audience questions. Again, this is Iowa. Those wishing to ask questions lined up quietly at the microphone, and waited their turn politely and quietly. I was fortunate to be the second person to raise a question, and I introduced myself before posing my question. Every person who followed did the same, introducing themselves and telling the audience why they were here before posing their question. As with the audience, the questioners reflected the wide background of attendees. Among the expected folks who were Jewish, Christian, native Iowans and transplants; were three who stood out. One was a Lebanese Christian who was also a refugee from the turmoil of the seventies. Another was an African Christian from Darfur, and the third was a Muslim African, also a refugee from Darfur.
All of the questions were relevant, and polite. Ms. Gabriel answered each with thoroughness, and occasionally a passion, that showed her knowledge and experience on the issues presented. While she may have expected the standing ovation she received at the end of her formal presentation, I detected a bit of surprise on her face when she received another standing ovation at the end of the Question period.
After the event itself, there was a reception with light refreshments, and a book signing. As before, I met a variety of people during the reception, including the Rabbi of Tifereth Israel, the Cantor, the couple who sponsored the event, and a host of Jewish and Christian folks who all shared a common theme. The theme was a heartfelt thank you for the opportunity to attend, and an admiration for the guest of honor.
I had the privilege of speaking with Ms. Gabriel for a few minutes, and found her to be an engaging and intelligent conversationalist, who made those around her comfortable in a way that only very special people have. I would offer two thoughts from her that I wish to share.
“To tolerate the intolerable is in itself a crime.”
“Although the majority of Moslems are peaceful, their silence makes them irrelevant.”
Ms. Gabriel is a Lebanese Christian, who survived the Lebanese Civil War while a child. She was saved from slaughter by the Israeli Defense Forces when they moved into Southern Lebanon. She later lived in Israel, and now is a resident of the United States. As a former journalist covering the Middle East, she is uniquely qualified to discuss the current events there, as well as the impact of Islamic extremism in the United States. If you have read either of her books, you have a basic understanding of the nature of her talk.
I would not be presumptuous enough to try to encapsulate the content of her talk. It lasted about an hour, with another hour of Questions and Answers. What I would rather do is discuss the venue, and the audience.
I arrived early, in order to become familiar with the Synagogue, never having been to Tifereth Israel before. I first went to the lounge area outside of the community room. In the community room, Ms Gabriel and a panel of local congregation members were hosting a large number of educators from the Des Moines area. High School, Middle and Grammar School teachers, numbering well over one hundred, were at the Question and Comment point. I listened in for awhile, but the questions were mostly inane, suggesting that most of the invited attendees had little comprehension of the nature of Islamic extremism. I heard the words tolerance and diversity in numbers too large to count. I felt I was at risk of having a brain numbing experience, so I went to the sanctuary.
The sanctuary, built in 1929, was done in a classic style, reminding me of the synagogues I visited in my youth in Chicago. I was comfortable in this setting, and sat in a pew just two rows from the lectern. Being early, I was able to watch and visit with many of the attendees for the evening lecture as they arrived. This was the first highlight of my evening.
I must point out that security was very evident. I am sure most know of the very real and explicit threats that Ms. Gabriel has received since beginning her education activities on the nature of violent Islam. But this is Des Moines, not Toronto, New York or Southern California. As it turned out, the security (Des Moines Police Officers) were mainly occupied with directing folks to the rest rooms, and insuring that Ms. Gabriel was not hugged into asphyxia.
My first conversation was a brief one with former Iowa Governor Robert Ray, and his wife Billie. I have met him on numerous occasions, and was pleased that he remembered me. As always, they were gracious, and greeted many of their friends and admirers with grace and courtesy. Sitting next to me were a middle aged couple who are members of the congregation. The wife was very knowledgeable on the history of the synagogue and its congregation, and gave me a brief education on Tifereth Israel. Behind me were a white couple and an African-American man who were members of an evangelical church in the neighborhood. We had an interesting discussion of heart healthy diets, as the African-American man was also a survivor of stroke, heart attack and by-pass surgery. Turns out we shared the surgeon, and had graduated from Cardiac Rehab at our mutual hospital just two months apart.
By 6:50 PM, the pews were filled, and additional folding chairs had been brought in for the side aisles and open spaces. I would guess total attendance at well over three hundred. I cannot describe adequately the diversity of the audience. College students from Drake and Grandview, High School students, parents with their children, married and single adults, middle aged and elderly people; all mingled in a delightfully haphazard manner. Not surprising for Iowa, the conversations among the guests were lively, friendly, and filled with introductions, handshakes and laughter. Three hundred strangers drawn together in what was for many an unfamiliar setting, but with a shared desire to learn.
After appropriate acknowledgments and introductions, the emcee turned over the microphone to Ms. Gabriel. The audience was immediately enraptured by both her personality, as well as the content. She spoke without script (no tele-prompter), referring to a single page of notes only when using an exact quote, or with reference to specific figures or names. The attendee reactions were among the most sincere and genuine I have ever witnessed. Laughter when she make a humorous remark, serious attention when she spoke of matters of importance, and free flowing tears when she talked of her childhood as a Christian child under attack by Moslem former neighbors and friends. The savagery of her experiences was underscored by her obvious emotion.
After the formal talk, Ms. Gabriel opened the floor to audience questions. Again, this is Iowa. Those wishing to ask questions lined up quietly at the microphone, and waited their turn politely and quietly. I was fortunate to be the second person to raise a question, and I introduced myself before posing my question. Every person who followed did the same, introducing themselves and telling the audience why they were here before posing their question. As with the audience, the questioners reflected the wide background of attendees. Among the expected folks who were Jewish, Christian, native Iowans and transplants; were three who stood out. One was a Lebanese Christian who was also a refugee from the turmoil of the seventies. Another was an African Christian from Darfur, and the third was a Muslim African, also a refugee from Darfur.
All of the questions were relevant, and polite. Ms. Gabriel answered each with thoroughness, and occasionally a passion, that showed her knowledge and experience on the issues presented. While she may have expected the standing ovation she received at the end of her formal presentation, I detected a bit of surprise on her face when she received another standing ovation at the end of the Question period.
After the event itself, there was a reception with light refreshments, and a book signing. As before, I met a variety of people during the reception, including the Rabbi of Tifereth Israel, the Cantor, the couple who sponsored the event, and a host of Jewish and Christian folks who all shared a common theme. The theme was a heartfelt thank you for the opportunity to attend, and an admiration for the guest of honor.
I had the privilege of speaking with Ms. Gabriel for a few minutes, and found her to be an engaging and intelligent conversationalist, who made those around her comfortable in a way that only very special people have. I would offer two thoughts from her that I wish to share.
“To tolerate the intolerable is in itself a crime.”
“Although the majority of Moslems are peaceful, their silence makes them irrelevant.”
Friday, March 13, 2009
THE PASSING OF A HERO
The word hero is attached to many people in American culture. A Quarterback throws the winning touchdown with 6 seconds left in the game, and he is called a hero. A movie actor makes a political statement while accepting an award, and he is called heroic. A politician takes a stance on an issue based on popularity polls rather than ethics and principle, and he is deemed a hero.
I think we have lost the meaning of what constitutes heroic actions, and what makes a hero. I once heard that a hero is someone who controls his fear five minutes longer than those around him. While there may be some truth to that, I think true heroism involves so much more. Some heroes are made, and some are born, but they do have some common traits.
Heroes do what most of us can’t do, or won’t do. Heroes are driven by a desire to do what is right, not what is popular. Heroes put the safety and welfare of others before their own safety and welfare. Heroes have a strong belief in personal responsibility and honor, duty to God and country, and service to others. And heroes understand that we all will face a crisis decision at some point in our lives, and they neither avoid nor defer that decision at a critical time.
In my life, I have been privileged to know many heroes, both within my family and among my friends and acquaintances. My parents were heroes to me, as were my uncles and cousin who fought in World War II. I still view my brother, who served in Korea, though the eyes of a seven year old who felt that his big brother would always be his protector. My son, nephew and niece, who today wear the uniform of our Nation, are my heroes. So too are my nephews who serve in law enforcement, risking their lives to defend others. More than twenty of my former Boy Scouts who serve, or have served in the military, are true heroes. And many members of my own generation, who fought with courage and honor in the jungles of Vietnam.
I write this because my family has lost the last warrior of our greatest generation, our beloved Uncle Bobby. Major Robert Meyer, United States Marine Corp. (ret.) left us on Thursday. I was fortunate that I could spend several days with his bride, children and grandchildren as he fought his last battle. He was a larger than life man, and a role model of what a man should be to all in our family. My purpose in this piece is not to recount his actions in multiple wars, or his contributions to our country in those times between conflicts, but simply to acknowledge the man.
My uncle was a son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, uncle and great uncle to four generations. And he fulfilled all of those roles with honor. A loving husband and father, his time with his family was always golden. Never too busy to regale we younger ones with stories of his experiences, he did so with both insight and humor. He never discussed actual combat with us, but rather the experiences he had with his fellow Marines. His insights into the evolving technology of aviation, from his time in propeller bombers and fighters, into the jet age and beyond, bred in me a love of history that remains to this day.
He was a Marine to the end, fighting with all that was in him to remain with us for a little bit longer. As I left my extended family, and returned to my own family three states away, I had one enduring vision. When I was a boy in Chicago, Uncle Bobby was stationed in California. My mother and I drove to Glenview Naval Air Station to pick him up for a short visit with my grandfather and other family members. We drove onto the tarmac (no super security in those days), and watched as he taxied his fighter jet toward the hangers. As he opened the canopy, I watched as he removed his helmet, and carefully positioned his kepi on his head. He climbed down the short ladder, jumping past the last two rungs, and snapped a crisp salute to the ground crew. That done, he ran to my Mother, swooping his sister up in a giant bear hug. He then reached down to me, and hoisted me onto his shoulder. As we walked back to the car, several airmen walked by, saluting my uncle. He looked up at me with his trademark grin, and reminded me to return the salutes, because I was riding on the shoulder of a Marine. Despite my youth, I knew that I was in the presence of a hero, and I was so proud that others knew it too.
America has lost another hero. One who fully understood what “Semper Fidelis” means, and who lived it his entire life. Goodbye Uncle Bobby. Semper Fi!
I think we have lost the meaning of what constitutes heroic actions, and what makes a hero. I once heard that a hero is someone who controls his fear five minutes longer than those around him. While there may be some truth to that, I think true heroism involves so much more. Some heroes are made, and some are born, but they do have some common traits.
Heroes do what most of us can’t do, or won’t do. Heroes are driven by a desire to do what is right, not what is popular. Heroes put the safety and welfare of others before their own safety and welfare. Heroes have a strong belief in personal responsibility and honor, duty to God and country, and service to others. And heroes understand that we all will face a crisis decision at some point in our lives, and they neither avoid nor defer that decision at a critical time.
In my life, I have been privileged to know many heroes, both within my family and among my friends and acquaintances. My parents were heroes to me, as were my uncles and cousin who fought in World War II. I still view my brother, who served in Korea, though the eyes of a seven year old who felt that his big brother would always be his protector. My son, nephew and niece, who today wear the uniform of our Nation, are my heroes. So too are my nephews who serve in law enforcement, risking their lives to defend others. More than twenty of my former Boy Scouts who serve, or have served in the military, are true heroes. And many members of my own generation, who fought with courage and honor in the jungles of Vietnam.
I write this because my family has lost the last warrior of our greatest generation, our beloved Uncle Bobby. Major Robert Meyer, United States Marine Corp. (ret.) left us on Thursday. I was fortunate that I could spend several days with his bride, children and grandchildren as he fought his last battle. He was a larger than life man, and a role model of what a man should be to all in our family. My purpose in this piece is not to recount his actions in multiple wars, or his contributions to our country in those times between conflicts, but simply to acknowledge the man.
My uncle was a son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, uncle and great uncle to four generations. And he fulfilled all of those roles with honor. A loving husband and father, his time with his family was always golden. Never too busy to regale we younger ones with stories of his experiences, he did so with both insight and humor. He never discussed actual combat with us, but rather the experiences he had with his fellow Marines. His insights into the evolving technology of aviation, from his time in propeller bombers and fighters, into the jet age and beyond, bred in me a love of history that remains to this day.
He was a Marine to the end, fighting with all that was in him to remain with us for a little bit longer. As I left my extended family, and returned to my own family three states away, I had one enduring vision. When I was a boy in Chicago, Uncle Bobby was stationed in California. My mother and I drove to Glenview Naval Air Station to pick him up for a short visit with my grandfather and other family members. We drove onto the tarmac (no super security in those days), and watched as he taxied his fighter jet toward the hangers. As he opened the canopy, I watched as he removed his helmet, and carefully positioned his kepi on his head. He climbed down the short ladder, jumping past the last two rungs, and snapped a crisp salute to the ground crew. That done, he ran to my Mother, swooping his sister up in a giant bear hug. He then reached down to me, and hoisted me onto his shoulder. As we walked back to the car, several airmen walked by, saluting my uncle. He looked up at me with his trademark grin, and reminded me to return the salutes, because I was riding on the shoulder of a Marine. Despite my youth, I knew that I was in the presence of a hero, and I was so proud that others knew it too.
America has lost another hero. One who fully understood what “Semper Fidelis” means, and who lived it his entire life. Goodbye Uncle Bobby. Semper Fi!
