Every winter of discontent ultimately succumbs to
spring�s insistent warming, as the natural rhythms of the Earth remind us of
greater truths.
Outside an office window on Richmond�s western fringes,
fingers of March sunshine tenderly tug the shrunken blanket of snow from its
earth bed. After a season of slumber, life stirs and stands.
Crocuses and snowdrops peek out. Oak buds expand, pushing
stubborn leaves � crinkly as parchment � off their branches, to whirl lazily
down to the greening ground.
Migrating robins return, joining their home cousins.
Young squirrels and crows emerge, with shiny-fresh fur and feathers, to
explore their new-found world, at first tentative, then quickly rambunctious
and raucous.
Those who venture outdoors note that yesterday�s chilly
winds are today�s moist breezes. Like sluggish dawn, spring spreads and
sprawls across the land.
And a welcome spring this is, perhaps more than most.
Following a winter of discontent, the natural world is a refreshing elixir.
The certainty of its arrival eases the mind in a world where unease and
uncertainty spread like kudzu over a woodsy hillside.
It was a winter filled with lots of fireworks but little
illumination, across the political spectrum. Where are the statesmen with
original ideas; where is the optimistic updraft of a leader whose words make
us soar? Perhaps one will yet emerge, as the earth � and the race for the
presidency � heats up.
As we watch and worry about current events, it�s
comforting to remember that it�s always been thus. Each generation has had
its challenges, and each generation has had leaders who�ve risen to meet,
and overcome, them.
In late 1862, during some of the Union�s darkest days,
Abraham Lincoln was preparing his second State of the Union address.
Besieged by critics in the press and Congress, he frames the current crises
in the larger sweep of history, drawing on Ecclesiastes 1:4: �One generation
passes away, and another generation comes; but the earth abides forever.�
Later in the same address, Lincoln again picks up the
theme of life�s flickering flame, saying, �Our strife pertains to ourselves
� to the passing generations of men; and it can, without convulsion, be
hushed forever with the passing of one generation.�
Caring people of every generation ponder and puzzle over
daily matters large and small: how best to care for themselves, their
families, their nation, often the larger world as well.
The ancient book that gave voice to Lincoln�s thoughts
when the future of the Union was tenuous gives voice and perspective to the
concerns of every generation. The enduring wisdom of Ecclesiastes 1:8-11
resonates through the centuries: �All things are full of labor; Man cannot
express it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with
hearing. That which has been is what will be, that which is done is what
will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.
�Is there anything of which it may be said, �See, this is
new�? It has already been in ancient times before us. There is no
remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of things
that are to come by those who will come after.�
We borrow trouble and buy problems, fretting about the
home front and the world at large. We often forget that the political
candidates from both parties who bray and boast, dodge and misdirect will
soon melt from the national consciousness like spring thaw.
To paraphrase Ecclesiastes, one generation of politicos
passes away, and another generation takes over, but the Republic abides. If
not forever, then as long as we remember that it�s never about the person.
It�s always about the nation.
From Washington to Lincoln,
Jefferson to Jackson, the Roosevelts to Reagan, America has grown great
leaders.
But from leaders who are great, to those who are average
to greater or lesser degrees, the nation �like the earth � endures. The
nation abides. The nation remembers.
In the opening lines of Ecclesiastes, �the Preacher�
reminds us of our basic nature: �Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.� Which
is exactly why we remember those who rise above party and partisanship to
become statesmen and -women.
And why that large legion of
panderers and promisers, who put self before
service and greed before greater good, are forgotten as spring returns to
the land; last year�s showy annuals, now invisible, absorbed back into the
perennial earth from which they arose.
