Sunday, January 25, 2009
Taking Darshan
Now that I have defrosted and thawed out, I can relate to you my recent trip to Washington, DC to witness the Inauguration of our new President, Barack Hussein Obama, Jr. (I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that thought!) I hope you’ll enjoy the little sojourn that I took and maybe understand the idea of completing the circles of time and history.
When I heard that one of the themes of the Inauguration was to be “A New Birth of Freedom”, I knew that there was just one place to visit before going to Washington. So, since it was on my way there, I stopped by the now-quiet battlefield at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. However, instead of a sweltering July day, it was cold and wintry and a snowstorm had just passed through. As I walked along the snow-covered pathway, I was taken in by the beauty of the Soldiers’ Cemetery. I stood where Abraham Lincoln gave those inspiring words about how these very same soldiers gave their last, full-measure of devotion to give us that new birth of freedom.
I then went to a portion of the battlefield to see where the worst of the conflict took place. I drove by the Valley of Death where the Pennsylvania Reserves held back the Confederates on the evening of July 2, 1863. Whenever I think of this place, I often wonder if some of the dying soldiers recited Psalm 23. Then, I walked through the Devil’s Den and the Slaughter Pen where the fighting was hand-to-hand. I looked up to Little Round Top which was defended by soldiers from New York, Pennsylvania and New England, and led by a Harvard-educated lawyer from New York City and a professor from Bowdoin College in Maine. Afterward, I drove past the Triangular Field which was defended by the “Orange Blossoms”, a regiment from Orange County, New York, and led by another New York lawyer (and former soldier-of-fortune).
As I walked along the rocky terrain of Devil’s Den, I thought of the upcoming events of the next day and the new dawn that was approaching. If the battle had ended one way instead of the other, the following day would never have happened, and the new dawn would be a perpetual night. I thought of the soldiers who fought for (and against) that new birth of freedom of which Lincoln alluded. These soldiers were lawyers and professors, farmers and laborers. Yet, they came together for a common purpose. It would not be the only time this would happen.
The next day started early for me. My cousin and I awoke much before the crack of dawn and waited for the first Metro train. (We ended up taking the second.) Upon reaching the city, we walked to the National Mall and went as far as we could towards the Capitol Building standing among the great unwashed. (We were not fortunate enough to get tickets – and seating.) Once there, we waited for that new dawn - and tried to keep ourselves warm as best as possible. Then, we saw the sun hit the side of the Capitol dome, and it was good….
The people that we met in our little circle were from all over the country (and the world). We were all of different races and ethnic backgrounds. Yet, we came for a common purpose. Watching it on television, one sees the events happening on the Capitol steps. Yet, among the crowd, it was the shared experience that brought us together from our separate origins. The embodiment of the Presidential campaign was found on the Mall.
We waited patiently for the program to begin. We were roused by the showing of Sunday’s concert at the Lincoln Memorial. Then, the program began, first with a children’s choir, and then the Marine Band playing incidental music.
A common theme that was heard was the old Shaker hymn, “Simple Gifts”. It was sung first by the children’s choir. It was then heard when the Marine Band played it as the “Shaker Theme” from Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring. Finally, it was beautifully played by that quartet performing the arrangement by John Williams (Airs and Simple Gifts). One can only think how appropriate this all was.
The Shakers were a Protestant Christian sect from the 19th Century who believed in common worship and simple living. They took a vow of celibacy and lived in quarters segregated by gender. Like the Quakers, they were pacifists. Unlike the Quakers, they were entirely American. Among their contributions were simple furniture, simple living, simple worship and “Simple Gifts”:
'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
Then came the arrival of the leaders both past and future. The crowd cheered as the new First Family appeared. The singing of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” by Aretha Franklin invoked the memory of Marian Anderson singing the same song 70 years ago across the Mall at the Lincoln Memorial. One circle was made complete.
The invocation by Rev. Rick Warren was as ecumenical as an evangelical could be. We were then silent and solemn when the Oaths of Office by the Vice President and President took place. Just looking at the first person of color taking the Oath for President was beyond magical. It was a mystical bond that we all felt, and we cheered like nothing else afterwards. It was not as deep as a religious experience. After all, politics is relative. Yet, that mystical bond was there and could be seen in our eyes.
As for the Inaugural Address given by the new President, there are words that move people, and there are words that make people move. I will let you decide what kind of words were spoken on that day.
Once the ceremony was over, we all went our separate ways. I said good-bye to my Sancho Panza at the Washington Monument, and went off tilting at my proverbial windmills. First, I saw the war memorials beginning with the one for World War II. I then walked to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. As I searched for the name of my childhood friend’s brother, I thought of the words spoken by George McGovern on the Senate floor about the moral cowardice of that time: “This chamber reeks with blood!” Remembering that, I could not help but think of the moral cowardice of our own time on both sides of Pennsylvania Avenue.
(To complete another circle, my friend’s brother was killed on the same day as Martin Luther King, Jr. – April 4, 1968.)
Walking up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, I remembered the first time I came to Washington, DC when I was four years old. At that age, the steps were gigantic as was the statue of Lincoln. I was too young to understand who he was and feared that it would come to life. (I watched way too many horror movies!)
What I remember most though was my father staring at Lincoln’s statue as if meditating. He went on to read the Gettysburg Address etched in marble on one side and the Second Inaugural on the other (“With malice toward none, with charity for all…”). Years later, my father told us that, back in India, when he was 10 years old, he had to memorize the Gettysburg Address for his English class. Remembering what had happened when he was 10 years old, I understood why his class had to memorize this document. This was when India had just gained its independence from Britain, and freedom-honoring works such as this was common at that time. Looking back to when my father was at the Lincoln Memorial those many years ago, I finally understood what he was doing. He was taking darshan from Abraham Lincoln.
The Hindu concept of Darshan is when a devotee is blessed when he sees the object of his worship. Often, this is a sacred rite that takes place in temples and other holy places. Yet, there is a secular form of darshan where a leader would make his presence known and his subjects (or fellow citizens) would be blessed by that. So, my father was being blessed by Abraham Lincoln, and I and others were blessed the same way on Inauguration Day.
Yet, my taking darshan was not about to end. I crossed the Memorial Bridge on my way to Arlington Cemetery. My purpose was to see the grave of John F. Kennedy. Unfortunately, the cemetery was closed, and the closest Kennedy site that I saw was the Kennedy Center of the Performing Arts viewed from the Memorial Bridge. However, I did walk around to see the U.S. Marines Iwo Jima Memorial with its sculpture of the famous photo taken from that battle. As I recall, of the six soldiers shown, three were killed during the course of the fighting on that small island.
Continuing on my sojourn, I went to the Jefferson Memorial and saw the statue of the Sage of Monticello. One can only wonder about the contradictions of a man who wrote such soaring words of liberty yet did not free most of his slaves. Yet, again, we prefer to remember the man who defined the meaning of liberty for us and whose words would inspire those who fought in places like Gettysburg and Iwo Jima. His words – and ideas – would inspire future leaders like Lincoln, the two Roosevelts…and the new occupant of the White House.
Nearby was a memorial for one of those Roosevelts – Franklin (and his wife Eleanor). I have to admit that I wasn’t thrilled by the design and that it didn’t do justice for this great (and flawed) man. The memorial I preferred was at Hyde Park where the Franklin Roosevelt Home and Presidential Library are located. I had gone there shortly after the recent election to honor the couple at their gravesite and visited their former homes – Springwood and Val-Kil. Seeing the exhibitions in the Presidential Library and Museum, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was history or current events what with bank failures and high unemployment.
Back in DC, I had wanted to continue my darshan odyssey to the National Cathedral and sit by the tomb of Woodrow Wilson. Again, like Thomas Jefferson, Wilson had his own contradictions. This was the idealistic leader who gave us the Fourteen Points, yet he also segregated the Federal government everywhere, not just in the South. If he had his way, January 20, 2009 would have been a much different day. Yet, again, the Wilson we prefer to remember is the idealistic Wilson who inspired the world to find a better way than war to solve our problems. Unfortunately, we are still trying to learn that lesson.
(Also, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to go to the National Cathedral. Maybe next time…)
As can be inferred, I had a long and tiring day, but my sojourn was not over yet. For the next day, on my way back home, I decided to take a slight detour, this time to another now-quiet field in Pennsylvania. This was in Shanksville, the site of the crash of United Airlines Flight 93 on September 11, 2001. It was way off my beaten path, but I felt I had to go there. This was where that struggle in the skies would end. Yet, it was better that it end here than the ultimate destination – Washington, DC, where the landscape would have been forever altered and the National Mall might have been another Ground Zero.
This was where ordinary people - flight attendants and corporate executives, students and retirees – were called to do extraordinary things to stop this flight from continuing. Again, like many before – and many to come – they had a common purpose which would end only in their deaths. Their day started as ordinary as they come, but it ended with their actions seared in our memories. I came there to complete another circle – from Gettysburg to Shanksville.
On my way home, I remembered smiling during President Obama’s address where he quoted George Washington’s words to his men as they were about to cross the icy Delaware River. I smiled because I too had to cross that same icy river a bit north of where Washington and the Continental Army had crossed. I too would end my journey where they would end it after their victories at Trenton and Princeton. Unlike them, I was to go to a warm home. Yet, it was because of them shivering in their cold huts that I had a warm home to go to. The final circle was complete.
Thinking back at all I saw and did, I meditated at what it all means – and what it will mean in the future. Throughout the campaign, the future President often spoke of shared struggles and sacrifices. He mentioned it again during his address. He told us in no uncertain terms that the days ahead would be hard and that we must prepare ourselves for such inevitabilities. Yet, he also stated that we can do it, as all in our past have done it.
From Washington’s men along the Delaware to the soldiers at Gettysburg to the Marines at Iwo Jima to the passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 93, ordinary people found themselves in extraordinary circumstances and availed themselves beyond measure. Our own struggles may not be a matter of life and death, but we should see that the future is in our hands, not just in our leaders. We must be the ones to strive and help not just ourselves but our neighbors. Back in 2004, in his keynote address, the future president said that we must be our brother’s keeper. During the 2008 campaign he often made the same refrain that cannot be repeated enough:
This is not about him.
(It was never really about him.)
This is about us.
(It has always been about us.)
When I heard that one of the themes of the Inauguration was to be “A New Birth of Freedom”, I knew that there was just one place to visit before going to Washington. So, since it was on my way there, I stopped by the now-quiet battlefield at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. However, instead of a sweltering July day, it was cold and wintry and a snowstorm had just passed through. As I walked along the snow-covered pathway, I was taken in by the beauty of the Soldiers’ Cemetery. I stood where Abraham Lincoln gave those inspiring words about how these very same soldiers gave their last, full-measure of devotion to give us that new birth of freedom.
I then went to a portion of the battlefield to see where the worst of the conflict took place. I drove by the Valley of Death where the Pennsylvania Reserves held back the Confederates on the evening of July 2, 1863. Whenever I think of this place, I often wonder if some of the dying soldiers recited Psalm 23. Then, I walked through the Devil’s Den and the Slaughter Pen where the fighting was hand-to-hand. I looked up to Little Round Top which was defended by soldiers from New York, Pennsylvania and New England, and led by a Harvard-educated lawyer from New York City and a professor from Bowdoin College in Maine. Afterward, I drove past the Triangular Field which was defended by the “Orange Blossoms”, a regiment from Orange County, New York, and led by another New York lawyer (and former soldier-of-fortune).
As I walked along the rocky terrain of Devil’s Den, I thought of the upcoming events of the next day and the new dawn that was approaching. If the battle had ended one way instead of the other, the following day would never have happened, and the new dawn would be a perpetual night. I thought of the soldiers who fought for (and against) that new birth of freedom of which Lincoln alluded. These soldiers were lawyers and professors, farmers and laborers. Yet, they came together for a common purpose. It would not be the only time this would happen.
The next day started early for me. My cousin and I awoke much before the crack of dawn and waited for the first Metro train. (We ended up taking the second.) Upon reaching the city, we walked to the National Mall and went as far as we could towards the Capitol Building standing among the great unwashed. (We were not fortunate enough to get tickets – and seating.) Once there, we waited for that new dawn - and tried to keep ourselves warm as best as possible. Then, we saw the sun hit the side of the Capitol dome, and it was good….
The people that we met in our little circle were from all over the country (and the world). We were all of different races and ethnic backgrounds. Yet, we came for a common purpose. Watching it on television, one sees the events happening on the Capitol steps. Yet, among the crowd, it was the shared experience that brought us together from our separate origins. The embodiment of the Presidential campaign was found on the Mall.
We waited patiently for the program to begin. We were roused by the showing of Sunday’s concert at the Lincoln Memorial. Then, the program began, first with a children’s choir, and then the Marine Band playing incidental music.
A common theme that was heard was the old Shaker hymn, “Simple Gifts”. It was sung first by the children’s choir. It was then heard when the Marine Band played it as the “Shaker Theme” from Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring. Finally, it was beautifully played by that quartet performing the arrangement by John Williams (Airs and Simple Gifts). One can only think how appropriate this all was.
The Shakers were a Protestant Christian sect from the 19th Century who believed in common worship and simple living. They took a vow of celibacy and lived in quarters segregated by gender. Like the Quakers, they were pacifists. Unlike the Quakers, they were entirely American. Among their contributions were simple furniture, simple living, simple worship and “Simple Gifts”:
'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
Then came the arrival of the leaders both past and future. The crowd cheered as the new First Family appeared. The singing of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” by Aretha Franklin invoked the memory of Marian Anderson singing the same song 70 years ago across the Mall at the Lincoln Memorial. One circle was made complete.
The invocation by Rev. Rick Warren was as ecumenical as an evangelical could be. We were then silent and solemn when the Oaths of Office by the Vice President and President took place. Just looking at the first person of color taking the Oath for President was beyond magical. It was a mystical bond that we all felt, and we cheered like nothing else afterwards. It was not as deep as a religious experience. After all, politics is relative. Yet, that mystical bond was there and could be seen in our eyes.
As for the Inaugural Address given by the new President, there are words that move people, and there are words that make people move. I will let you decide what kind of words were spoken on that day.
Once the ceremony was over, we all went our separate ways. I said good-bye to my Sancho Panza at the Washington Monument, and went off tilting at my proverbial windmills. First, I saw the war memorials beginning with the one for World War II. I then walked to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. As I searched for the name of my childhood friend’s brother, I thought of the words spoken by George McGovern on the Senate floor about the moral cowardice of that time: “This chamber reeks with blood!” Remembering that, I could not help but think of the moral cowardice of our own time on both sides of Pennsylvania Avenue.
(To complete another circle, my friend’s brother was killed on the same day as Martin Luther King, Jr. – April 4, 1968.)
Walking up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, I remembered the first time I came to Washington, DC when I was four years old. At that age, the steps were gigantic as was the statue of Lincoln. I was too young to understand who he was and feared that it would come to life. (I watched way too many horror movies!)
What I remember most though was my father staring at Lincoln’s statue as if meditating. He went on to read the Gettysburg Address etched in marble on one side and the Second Inaugural on the other (“With malice toward none, with charity for all…”). Years later, my father told us that, back in India, when he was 10 years old, he had to memorize the Gettysburg Address for his English class. Remembering what had happened when he was 10 years old, I understood why his class had to memorize this document. This was when India had just gained its independence from Britain, and freedom-honoring works such as this was common at that time. Looking back to when my father was at the Lincoln Memorial those many years ago, I finally understood what he was doing. He was taking darshan from Abraham Lincoln.
The Hindu concept of Darshan is when a devotee is blessed when he sees the object of his worship. Often, this is a sacred rite that takes place in temples and other holy places. Yet, there is a secular form of darshan where a leader would make his presence known and his subjects (or fellow citizens) would be blessed by that. So, my father was being blessed by Abraham Lincoln, and I and others were blessed the same way on Inauguration Day.
Yet, my taking darshan was not about to end. I crossed the Memorial Bridge on my way to Arlington Cemetery. My purpose was to see the grave of John F. Kennedy. Unfortunately, the cemetery was closed, and the closest Kennedy site that I saw was the Kennedy Center of the Performing Arts viewed from the Memorial Bridge. However, I did walk around to see the U.S. Marines Iwo Jima Memorial with its sculpture of the famous photo taken from that battle. As I recall, of the six soldiers shown, three were killed during the course of the fighting on that small island.
Continuing on my sojourn, I went to the Jefferson Memorial and saw the statue of the Sage of Monticello. One can only wonder about the contradictions of a man who wrote such soaring words of liberty yet did not free most of his slaves. Yet, again, we prefer to remember the man who defined the meaning of liberty for us and whose words would inspire those who fought in places like Gettysburg and Iwo Jima. His words – and ideas – would inspire future leaders like Lincoln, the two Roosevelts…and the new occupant of the White House.
Nearby was a memorial for one of those Roosevelts – Franklin (and his wife Eleanor). I have to admit that I wasn’t thrilled by the design and that it didn’t do justice for this great (and flawed) man. The memorial I preferred was at Hyde Park where the Franklin Roosevelt Home and Presidential Library are located. I had gone there shortly after the recent election to honor the couple at their gravesite and visited their former homes – Springwood and Val-Kil. Seeing the exhibitions in the Presidential Library and Museum, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was history or current events what with bank failures and high unemployment.
Back in DC, I had wanted to continue my darshan odyssey to the National Cathedral and sit by the tomb of Woodrow Wilson. Again, like Thomas Jefferson, Wilson had his own contradictions. This was the idealistic leader who gave us the Fourteen Points, yet he also segregated the Federal government everywhere, not just in the South. If he had his way, January 20, 2009 would have been a much different day. Yet, again, the Wilson we prefer to remember is the idealistic Wilson who inspired the world to find a better way than war to solve our problems. Unfortunately, we are still trying to learn that lesson.
(Also, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to go to the National Cathedral. Maybe next time…)
As can be inferred, I had a long and tiring day, but my sojourn was not over yet. For the next day, on my way back home, I decided to take a slight detour, this time to another now-quiet field in Pennsylvania. This was in Shanksville, the site of the crash of United Airlines Flight 93 on September 11, 2001. It was way off my beaten path, but I felt I had to go there. This was where that struggle in the skies would end. Yet, it was better that it end here than the ultimate destination – Washington, DC, where the landscape would have been forever altered and the National Mall might have been another Ground Zero.
This was where ordinary people - flight attendants and corporate executives, students and retirees – were called to do extraordinary things to stop this flight from continuing. Again, like many before – and many to come – they had a common purpose which would end only in their deaths. Their day started as ordinary as they come, but it ended with their actions seared in our memories. I came there to complete another circle – from Gettysburg to Shanksville.
On my way home, I remembered smiling during President Obama’s address where he quoted George Washington’s words to his men as they were about to cross the icy Delaware River. I smiled because I too had to cross that same icy river a bit north of where Washington and the Continental Army had crossed. I too would end my journey where they would end it after their victories at Trenton and Princeton. Unlike them, I was to go to a warm home. Yet, it was because of them shivering in their cold huts that I had a warm home to go to. The final circle was complete.
Thinking back at all I saw and did, I meditated at what it all means – and what it will mean in the future. Throughout the campaign, the future President often spoke of shared struggles and sacrifices. He mentioned it again during his address. He told us in no uncertain terms that the days ahead would be hard and that we must prepare ourselves for such inevitabilities. Yet, he also stated that we can do it, as all in our past have done it.
From Washington’s men along the Delaware to the soldiers at Gettysburg to the Marines at Iwo Jima to the passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 93, ordinary people found themselves in extraordinary circumstances and availed themselves beyond measure. Our own struggles may not be a matter of life and death, but we should see that the future is in our hands, not just in our leaders. We must be the ones to strive and help not just ourselves but our neighbors. Back in 2004, in his keynote address, the future president said that we must be our brother’s keeper. During the 2008 campaign he often made the same refrain that cannot be repeated enough:
This is not about him.
(It was never really about him.)
This is about us.
(It has always been about us.)
