"All are Punished"

 

Dear Reader,

Lately, the world feels out of control. I find myself moving between anger, grief, and disbelief, searching for words that can hold what I’m feeling.

Reports of people being shot during immigration enforcement leave me frightened and heartbroken. Against that backdrop, the attention given to a presidential ballroom and a monumental arch in our capital feels painfully disconnected from the suffering around us. I keep wondering: Where is the concern for human life? Where is the accountability? What are we choosing to celebrate, and what are we allowing ourselves to overlook?

These questions bring me back to Shakespeare. Near the end of Romeo and Juliet, Prince Escalus addresses the feuding families:

What stays with me is the Prince’s admission: “And I, for winking at your discords too.” He recognizes his own failure to confront the hatred before him. He has suffered, too, and he understands that his authority did not absolve him of responsibility.

“All are punished.”

Those words feel painfully close today. Cruelty reaches beyond its immediate victims. Fear enters homes, grief changes families, and public trust wears away. We all lose something when human suffering becomes routine.

I don’t have a tidy answer. I’m writing because I don’t want to grow numb. I don’t want to become so accustomed to disturbing headlines that I forget the people living inside them.

I want leaders who understand that every life matters. I want accountability when power causes harm. And I want us to keep asking difficult questions, even when looking away would be easier.

Perhaps that is why Shakespeare’s words still speak so powerfully to me. They ask us to reckon with hatred—and with the consequences of allowing it to continue.

With grief, concern, and hope for something better,

A fellow Traveler

Justice Must Be Blind to Political Affiliation

 

Good Morning, Friends,

This morning I read an Associated Press report concerning a Justice Department search of the Washington residence of Representative Ilhan Omar.

What troubles me is not simply the search itself, but the questions it raises about the timing, purpose, and impartiality of our justice system.

We witnessed similar public controversy when federal agents searched former President Donald Trump's Mar-a-Lago residence in Florida in 2022. Now, with another election approaching, we are witnessing questions about the use of federal investigative authority involving a member of Congress.

I am not suggesting that either individual is above the law. Quite the opposite. I believe the law must apply equally to everyone, regardless of political affiliation, position, or personal beliefs.

Our Fourth Amendment protects us against unreasonable searches and seizures. It does not prohibit lawful searches, but it requires that government authority be exercised within constitutional limits.

And what of the press? The First Amendment gives journalists the freedom to investigate, question, and report. With that freedom comes a responsibility to distinguish established facts from allegations, political accusations, and speculation.

I find myself increasingly concerned that public confidence in our institutions is being weakened by political division.

Justice should never become an instrument of political retaliation, nor should legitimate investigations be dismissed simply because they involve someone we support.

The true test of our commitment to justice is not how we defend the rights of those we agree with, but how faithfully we defend the rights of those we oppose.

If justice is to remain worthy of our trust, it must be impartial in its application and accountable in its exercise.

I would be interested in your thoughts.

How do we protect the legitimate authority of law enforcement while ensuring that constitutional rights, due process, and freedom of the press remain equally protected for everyone?

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

Two Photographs, One Life: The Desire to Become

 Two Photographs, One Life: The Desire to Become 

Dear Reader,

This evening I had a moment of reflection.

I came across an old photograph of myself at age 18. I placed it beside a photograph taken recently, at age 83. Sixty-five years separated the two images.

Using ChatGPT, I asked artificial intelligence to identify the facial characteristics that might still be recognizable after all those years.

The observations were interesting. My smile remained remarkably similar. The shape of my nose, my cheeks, and even the way I combed my hair seemed to provide a connection between the two photographs.

But as I continued looking, I realized that what interested me most was not how much my appearance had changed.

It was how much of that young man still lived within me.

I began asking myself three questions.

First: Do I still recognize the young man of 18 in the face I see today?

My answer is yes.

The smile remains familiar, and I believe it still reflects my outlook on life. There is even something of that same devilish look in my eyes, suggesting that my joy in living and willingness to meet life's challenges are still very much alive.

The principal difference is that I would like to believe I now possess a little more common sense than I had at 18!

Yet today's smile carries something the younger man could not have understood. It reflects the experiences of a life lived through joys, disappointments, losses, discoveries, and spiritual awakenings.

The playful young man has never entirely disappeared. He has simply acquired another 65 years of experience.

And although it might be pleasant to see today's face with the tighter skin of youth, I would not trade those years for the spiritual depth I now possess.

Paul's words in 2 Corinthians 4:16 come to mind:

“Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.” 

Second: Do I still have the hopes and dreams I had at 18?

At 18, I possessed ambition, imagination, confidence in hard work, and faith in a loving God.

I was attending college, preparing for a career, and believing that almost anything was possible if I worked hard enough.

What I did not possess was the experience to understand how unexpectedly life could change.

I could not have imagined that a change in direction during my college years would eventually lead me along paths I had never considered.

Nor could I have anticipated the people who would enter my life, the relationships that would shape me, the mistakes I would make, or the experiences that would challenge and deepen my faith.

Looking back, however, I recognize that the young man already possessed some of the qualities that would help him find his way. 

He had the strength and desire to become. He simply did not know what he would become.

The young man's photograph represents possibility without experience. The older man's photograph represents experience without the illusion of certainty.

What they share is the desire to continue becoming.

I am reminded of Proverbs 16:9:

“A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.”

I do not believe this means every difficulty or disappointment was placed in my path by God. But I have come to believe that God can help us find meaning, purpose, and spiritual growth even when life unfolds differently from our plans.

At 83, my dreams may have changed, but my desire to grow has not.

Third: If I could speak to that 18-year-old young man, would I tell him what lay ahead, or allow him to discover life for himself?

This question gives me the greatest pause.

Would I warn him about the mistakes he would make? Would I tell him of the disappointments, losses, and painful lessons awaiting him?

Would I try to spare him those experiences?

I think not.

For in doing so, I might also deny him the discoveries, relationships, compassion, and spiritual understanding that have become so important to the person I am today.

Instead, I would offer him one simple message:

You are a child of a loving God. Stay close to the teachings of Jesus Christ and seek the guidance of the Holy Ghost. You will discover a life filled with adventure, pain, unexpected blessings, and the unmatched joy of being alive in this human experience.

And I would remind him that becoming is not something completed at a certain age.

It is a journey that continues for as long as we are willing to learn, to love, to serve, and to grow.

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️   

Giving; A way to learn to Love

 

“Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.”
— Euripides, Orestes (408 BC), translated by William Arrowsmith

Dear Reader,

This morning, a friend shared the above quotation from the ancient Greek playwright Euripides.

At first, I was drawn to its simplicity. But what caught my attention was the date. These words came from a play written more than 2,400 years ago.

I began to wonder whether the meaning of love, and its place in helping one another, has changed very much over the centuries.

That curiosity led me even further back in history, to the writings of the prophet Isaiah, who lived approximately three centuries before Euripides.

In Isaiah 1:17, we read:

“Learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.”

What struck me about this passage was that Isaiah does not specifically mention love. Instead, he describes actions that we might recognize as expressions of love: seeking justice, relieving suffering, and caring for those who need our help.

Elsewhere in the book of Isaiah, we find an equally meaningful thought. Isaiah 58:10 tells us:

“And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day.”

These words, preserved in a later portion of Isaiah, seem to suggest that something happens within us when we reach beyond ourselves to help another.

Centuries later, Jesus Christ would teach:

“That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.” — John 13:34

Notice the progression of these teachings.

Isaiah calls us to relieve suffering and defend the vulnerable. Euripides recognizes love as the means by which human beings help one another. Christ teaches us to love as He loved.

Different centuries, different cultures, yet a remarkably similar concern for our relationship with one another.

I find this especially meaningful when reflecting upon my own years in recovery.

In Alcoholics Anonymous, I learned that helping another alcoholic was not simply a matter of offering advice or sharing knowledge. It involved listening, understanding another person's suffering, and sometimes remembering experiences from my own past that were painful to revisit.

There have been times when I have offered help without knowing the person well enough to say that I loved them. Yet through listening, sharing, and serving, something changed.

Compassion grew. Understanding deepened. A stranger became someone whose welfare genuinely mattered to me.

I have experienced something similar through service to those who are hungry, homeless, lonely, or struggling to find their way.

Sometimes the love does not come before the act of service. Sometimes it grows because we chose to serve.

And this brings me back to my friend's quotation.

Is love truly all we have? Is it the only way we can help one another?

We have knowledge, resources, time, abilities, and many other gifts to offer. Yet when these gifts are accompanied by genuine concern for another human being, they become something greater than the assistance itself.

They become expressions of love.

Perhaps the important question is not whether love must come before service, but whether our willingness to serve can teach us how to love more deeply.

Across the centuries, from Isaiah to Euripides, from Christ's ministry to our present lives, the circumstances of humanity have changed beyond recognition. But our need for compassion, understanding, and the kindness of others remains.

We may begin by helping another because we care. But through helping, we often discover how deeply we are capable of loving.

Dear Reader, as you go about your day, consider this simple invitation:

Reach out to someone who may need a little encouragement, a listening ear, or a helping hand. You need not know them well, nor wait until you feel some extraordinary measure of love.

Begin with an act of kindness.

You may discover that the love you hoped to give was also growing within you.