I feel so helpless, fellow sojourner… )’: Whenever I see so much injustice going on, I can’t help but feel so little and incapable. I feel weak because I couldn’t do anything strong enough to end such atrocities. It hurts me, really, to know that I can only do *this much* right now. It pains me to see hundreds of people die from greedy wars. But somehow… It pains me more that I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
If only I had more power–be this political, economic or social–I would go out and be dauntless in defending those who are severely persecuted. If only I were in a position of great influence, I would honorably maximize every connection possible so as to deliver a stronger blow against large forces that continue to abuse, harm and dehumanize people. I would not be afraid to speak up and go against the Goliaths of this generation. Let the David rise up against the oppressor.
Oh God… May you help me help other people better.
After suhoor, I saw this documentary about Gideon Levy, an Israeli journalist who writes about Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories. Lots of Israelis dislike him because they think that Levy is betraying his own country by “siding” with the Palestinians. Levy doesn’t side with the Palestinians, he sides with the truth. He writes what happens, as it happens. If the truth is radical, then so are his writings. Thus, why hate the journalist who reports such realities? Hate the system that perpetuates such atrocities.
Reality is radical, and this is what Levy writes. He bursts the isolated bubble people live in and shatters it with the INCONVENIENT truth—truth that takes away bliss from ignorance; truth that brings forth guilt and dissonance.
Life is unfair because people make it so. We say that all human beings–regardless of ethnicity, religion, gender, etc.–are equal and have the same basic rights. And yet, why is it that “fate” still dictates the fortune of our lives? I am safe here, writing this down, because I happen to be born in this condition. But what about the others? What if I were born in the occupied territories and soldiers just bullied me… Or shot my parents head on? Where is this sense of security–security and assurance–that no matter where a person is born, he or she will live as a DIGNIFIED human being, free from harassment, injustice and abuse?
Indeed, may God help us as we help ourselves.
The child has been hot for days. She shivers, she coughs—she’s weak, that’s clear enough. Mother tries to cool her down, but she fails. The child has been ailing, and now it’s gotten worse. The light, from the lone candle, dies down.
If only Mother had money. If only she did.
She is gone.