The authors of the Hebrew bible would have had a field day with 2020. Explaining the unexplainable was their bread and butter. The parting of seas. Crazy dreams about agriculture and their meaning. Unforgivable cruelty. Some parts of this year might have been difficult for them to handle, like making sense of the Doordash IPO. But others would have been right in their wheelhouse.
It’s been a year that’s tested rationality and the human spirit, and I suspect that's the way the year would be framed were it in the bible. And as in all good bible stories, for both, there were moments of triumph and failure, moments of calamity, and genuine lessons from each too. On rationality, in late February, on my last trip outside of DC, I remember driving with a friend on the San Mateo Bridge across the San Francisco Bay. COVID was already here in the country, but we didn't know it. And we thought we could figure it all out, because we had found the Johns Hopkins COVID Dashboard before others had. We were quite clever, we thought. We saw the graphs from China. Thirty days up. Thirty days down. The Starbucks were already reopening in Wuhan. This will be over in no time.
I love rationality, don't get me wrong. After all, my folks paid a lot of money to lots of different schools to convince me that it was worth something. But I'm not sure it really stuck. Or maybe it just came with a very large dose of hubris. I'm still trying to find the eternal lessons in my stubborn refusal to spring for the few extra dollars to a get a Spotify family plan, despite having three kids who all use the account. It makes no sense. I just want to hear Michael Buble radio, but it seems like every time I open the app, I get that annoying notice. "You are listening on Janie's iPhone." No, I'm not.
But thank the Lord that some of our fellow citizens -- and more importantly a Turkish couple who made their way to Germany in the face of plenty of hate, I'm sure -- studied science and developed the knowhow to treat the sick and create a vaccine. These were some of rationality's triumphs. Any maybe so too Amy Coney Barrett's decision to vote with her colleagues to dismiss the Texas Attorney General's suit against Wisconsin, Georgia, Michigan and Pennsylvania. Talk about hubris. While so many were losing all sense of rationality, a precious few Republicans stood up for what's real and knowable. A bit of faith restored.
But recognizing hubris wasn't the only lesson learned this year about rationality and truth. A cold, hard stare at this year from home -- and especially all that's happened over the last nine months -- has shown me, and convinced me, what privilege is all about. And that it's not fair. I never liked being told that I was privileged by my privileged children. After all, we are all born with gifts and disabilities. Some more, some less for sure. But the young ones are right. When everyone on the planet is all on the same boat, it's hard to miss who is in the staterooms on Zoom and who is left out in the cold to mop the decks, or down below to make the meals, take care of the sick, deliver the goods or just fend for themselves.
For so many in our country and around the world, there has been great sorrow this year. I think of the families of all those who have died, from COVID, by police, from heart attacks, by Bill Barr. And I think of those who have lost their work and are struggling to get by. For others, it’s been tumultuous, but pretty safe. Yes, for all of us, there has been upending of routines, changes in plans, and tremendous uncertainty. We have all felt the tug of despair, every last one of us. But some of us -- those privileged enough -- just have to deal with it and get on with things. I think of my father-in-law, who fought and watched his fellow Marines die on Guadalcanal, and then lived a life of service with no complaint, no whining, despite recurring nightmares. I think of my students, who fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. We can do this.
And as writer and philosopher Rebecca Solnit reminds us often, there is always uncertainty at life’s core; but with it, great opportunity. And those who can must see this as an opportunity. To live with grown children again. To help a neighbor. To protest for Black lives. To reach out to someone in need. To improve guitar playing. To write something. To help.
There is a huge difference, Solnit points out, between how we feel and what we do. We have seen tremendous courage and action, from nurses and doctors, first responders and grocery clerks, activists and reformers. Mothers and fathers, colleagues and friends, strangers and statesmen and women have stepped up to the challenge. Some have not. There has been calamity of the human spirit too, for sure. Especially on Twitter. But at least one calamity will be leaving the White House soon. Just keep an eye on him. He's devilish.
This is our time. This is what folklore is made of; to live through a moment of biblical proportions, with angels and devils. It's painful. But it also means we might be able to make something good and lasting of it. This project is not only about truth. It is also about transformation, and redemption, and forgiveness. Let's go.
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