Sunday Newscape Magazine

Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them? - Abraham Lincoln

I am watching, for the third time, a movie that I’ve always enjoyed – The Last Samurai with Tom Cruise and Ken Watanabe. Set in Feudal Japan, ancient Eastern tradition is confronted with Western politics and commerce. The clash of political agendas ignites a brutal war in which the last of the warrior Samurai stakes his beliefs and his life.

This time, the moving storyline of commitment, honor, and heartbreak sat with me heavily. I cried, but unlike before, my tears weren't for the plight of the fictional characters, but for the real and continuing sadness over humanity's blindness.

In the last half hour of the film, the battlefield is filled with thousands of soldier countrymen ready to kill or be killed. Some shoulder rifles; some brandish swords. Some man canons and rapid-fire Gatling guns. One side appears to be winning and then the other. Hundreds of bodies already litter the ground.

I paused the movie as the camera closed in on the face of an American lieutenant, pistol in hand. His face grimaced in terror. Eyes crazed and mouth opened in scream. I wondered as I watched, "Was he dying for what he believed in?"

In the end, when the fate of the battle was evident, the Gatling gun continued to sound hollowly in the air - mowing down man after man. The face of the gun's operator turned away in shame as he saw the inhumanity of following his leader's mandate to continue firing. Men on the winning side disobeyed and dropped their guns limply at their sides, averting their eyes from the slaughter.

In the silence that followed, Tom Cruise cradled samurai Watanabe's head in his hands. The dying leader flashed back to an earlier scene where he was trying to find the perfect blossom on a flowering cherry tree. He told Cruise back then that a life spent in search of such perfection would be a worthy life. Now, taking his last breaths, Watanabe whispers, "They're all perfect."

At this statement, I just lost it. Lost in the battle was more than flesh and bones. Dreams died at the behest of machines that knew nothing of life. Children lost fathers. Villages were destroyed. Countrymen killed countrymen. Humanity wept.

War and battle have leaned on words like honor and commitment. Dedication and valor. Courage and self-sacrifice. Words that are meant to pump our chests with pride. Words to rally patriotism and loyalty to country. Of themselves such words speak of high human ideals. But, when such words are used to support a lie, they sear the human soul like the bullets they bring to the body.

All I felt was a sick sadness at what we glorify in the name of rightness. Haven't we learned by now that rightness is relative? Each side of an argument or war believes in their rightness. Neither is willing to listen or consider their own role in creating violence.

Why do we massacre those unlike ourselves? Why do we condemn and judge and murder and abandon those we don't understand? Those who look different, sound different, believe differently.

In all of of history has violence once lead to peace? Truly? Conquered people may submit in the flesh, but they never submit in spirit and will bide their time in finding the moment to retaliate. The battlefield that men die on will absorb their bodies and will become the ground upon which other men will die.

If we're so willing to die for what we believe in, are we as willing to live for what we believe in? Violence widens the divide between people. It doesn't even the score or level the field. It resolves nothing. Violence is the mind's fear projected into the world. We try so hard to hide our vulnerability - believing it's weakness. Believing we must protect ourselves at all costs. Can't we see that vulnerability is as close to Truth as we ever get? Only when we are truly vulnerable are we receptive. Only then can we be equal in relationship to one another. Only then do we demonstrate our divine strength. Gandhi knew this. Buddha knew this. Christ knew this.

Watanabe was right, "They are all perfect." Our differences enrich us and make us whole. When will we own our divine perfection in all its diversity? Destruction will never nourish humanity. Blame never rectifies. Separation never unites.

Those who attack feel attacked. Those who hate feel hated. It's the pain in us that we try to get rid of by giving others pain. One who feels respected and heard and honored does not attack nor withhold respect and honor.

Whether on a large scale, as in war, or a smaller scale, as in argument and hatred, we must find a sustainable way to outgrow this dying consciousness of violence and death. We must stake our very lives on LIFE. Look for perfection in others, not flaws. What is the difference between a dandelion and a rose? Both are beautiful to look at. Both serve the larger whole. In truth, their difference is only an opinion. They, like we, are all perfect. When we own that perfection we won't feel the need to destroy for we will know that destruction has no allies. The hand that hits is hurt as well.

If you read this I know you have an opinion. Go ahead, let me have it! I'd love to share responses back in a future issue (anonymously if you wish).

In Joy, Karen