Old Soldiers

OK, so here's an idea and, as my daughter is wont to say, "Hear me out." That's kidspeak for "this is ridiculous but before you dismiss it, listen so you can mock it appropriately."

Fact -- in days of yore, when men were men and women weren't, there were rules for war. The big one, rule not war, (if Hamlet can be trusted) was that there was no fighting on Sunday. To make war prep or such then was a big no-no. Like "NO-NO" which is, clearly, bigger. So if we can accept that there are rules, and that even today, with the Geneva Convention (or, GenevaCon as those cosplayers like to call it) people want to play war need only a deck of cards and a respect for rules, I am advancing a new rule:

Soldiers must be over 45.

Brilliant, right? Yes, right, thanks for asking.

Let's work this through -- first, no one wants to sacrifice our youth. We need youth. Without it, we have trouble having oldth. Next, 18 year olds are generally disaffected and generally childish. Do we really want them to have guns? I vote "no." The young people have so much to live for and often try to evade the draft. Old people are convinced that there is ALWAYS a draft and we all just need to buck up and deal with it because when I was a boy it was always cold. Always.

Basic training seems to be obsessed with doing things late at night and early in the morning -- and as we age we need less sleep. I know that after I hit the mid to late 40's, I tended to fall asleep earlier but then I was up in the middle of the night frequently, and I find myself (when I look) awake at hours that I used to joke about -- 5AM who the hell wakes up at...oh.

Also, as we age, we lose interest in fighting. Unless the enemy is choosing to walk on our lawn or mess with our shed, I don't see why we wouldn't just say "oh, whatever...my knee hurts and the sun is really bright so I'm just gonna go lie down on the couch." Voila, no more war. Most men of this relatively advanced age would be happy to sit and talk through our problems with each other while drinking a beer or a Metamucil. By "our problems" I don't mean those "with each other." We would end up talking with each other about our problems, bonding while seeing the similarities in our complaints about life in general. We also wouldn't be able to carry really heavy guns because, you know, our back hurts, and there would be frequent bathroom breaks.

No fighting after, say, 7:30 and don't touch the thermostat. Damn kids, we PAY for that heat. 

Have Mercy

 

What does it mean to have mercy? Is it like pity? Is it something special beyond sympathy? I think that it signals a very special type of relationship.

 

Mercy is a favor. Mercy is an act of unnecessary compassion – unwarranted and undeserved. It is a show of connection that goes beyond simply being nice. It isn’t pity, because pity is just about feeling sorry for someone.

 

Because mercy is undeserved, asking for mercy is an admission, a confession. Asking implicitly includes “I know I have no grounds for asking but” or “Yes, I’m wrong, but still…” I would suggest that one of the components of repentance, the confession of wrong doing, could be considered to be fulfilled at least in part by the simple act of praying for mercy because asking God for mercy is an admission that, were it not for mercy, the individual would, indeed, be subject to punishment because of guilt.

 

The Hebrew word for mercy adds in another important dimension. The word is “rachamim” and this develops from (according to Ernest Klein’s dictionary) other middle eastern languages which all share a root meaning “mercy” or “compassion”. Mattiyahu Clark’s take includes another idea, “showing maternal-type mercy.” Why maternal? Back to Klein – the r-ch-m root goes back to the Akkadian “remu” which is the root for both mercy and womb (in fact, the Hebrew word for womb is rechem). Mercy is the compassion that a mother has, without concern for actual guilt. Your mother loves you no matter what and accepts you regardless of what you have done (as in “a face only a mother could love” or, more seriously, the maternal instinct to protect the young).

 

What is amazing though is that, while this is an attribute which we connect to the maternal sense, Hashem is often shown having this same connection to us even though he is also a father figure. We call upon the av harachamim and say before the morning Sh’ma that Hashem is “avinu, ha’av harachaman ham’rachem” our father, the father who is merciful (which is like saying “the dad with the womb”). This is a lesson to us all – the impossible is possible. We need to see this type of mercy, even by those whom one would think incapable, as our standard practice.

 

So when we are asked for mercy, we should approach the situation charitably – the petitioner is admitting guilt and we should find in us that Godly mother-feeling and be merciful to each other.