Broken

“Broken hands on broken ploughs, broken treaties, broken vows,

Broken pipes, broken tools, people bending broken rules”

     (from Everything is Broken by Bob Dylan)

I write this late at night, unable to sleep.  Today was cold, damp and dreary.  The nightly news was glum.  The world is broken.  “The time is out of joint,” and my mood is foul.

The impeachment trial of Donald J. Trump began a few days ago with the swearing in of 100 senators, each taking an oath to administer ‘impartial justice’.  Really?  I just wanted one senator to step forward with courage enough to refuse to take the oath, admitting to their intended partisan verdict.  This is no trial.  The outcome is preordained, give or take a vote.  Worst of all, 100 elected leaders, our representatives, mock the oath.  A sworn oath now means nothing.  Leadership is broken.

I don’t know whether, or not, I believe that President Trump should be removed from office.  I distrust the motives and the spin of both parties.  I listened to the testimony of witnesses in the House of Representatives’ hearings.  The testimony I found most credible came directly from those who have made public service their career, those who have served through multiple presidencies, serving both parties, without personal political ambition.  And what I heard from those witnesses is that there is something very wrong occurring at the highest levels of governance.  Something is rotten and corrupt.  Government is broken.

In our country the level of incivility has risen to a degree where I question whether differences can any longer be settled respectfully through negotiation or peacefully through elections.  I worry that even the election process itself has been corrupted beyond repair.  We drift closer and closer to autocracy, while leaders in the House and Senate appear impotent or unwilling to confront the inflating power of this current president.  Democracy Is broken.

That which is broken must somehow be repaired, but how and by whom?  My religion teaches that it is my obligation to do whatever is within my power to repair a broken world, tikkun olam.  Yet sometimes it is overwhelming just to keep my own house in repair.

When it feels as-if my world is spinning out of control, when it is broken, I remind myself of a story told about a different leader from a different time.  It’s a tale of King Solomon.  It is said that Solomon gathered his wise men, asking them for a special ring, a ring upon which they would inscribe the secret of wisdom. In good times, he could look upon the ring with humility and gratitude. In hard times he could look at the ring and remain hopeful.  After much deliberation he was finally presented with his ring.  On it was inscribed the words, “This Too Shall Pass.”

I hope so.