There is no room for self-righteousness, O Ye Comfortable Ones

There are those in our country who are expressing denial, disbelief or, worst of all, self-righteousness regarding the awful plight of so many Americans. I have seen sentiments ranging from "You made your bed, you sleep in it" to "the reason jobs are being lost is because people believe Democratic scare tactics and are not spending money -- spend your money folks!" This is in utter blindness to the cold hard fact that so many of us have none to spend and cannot even pay the bills.

Today in my World Wide Meanderings I came across the full "Meditation XVII" by John Donne. This piece contains a very famous phrase, but is so beautiful it deserves a full read and then a mulling-over.

It gets to the crux of my own innate sense that what happens to one of us happens to all of us; that the mistakes made by one of us have been made by all of us; that where each one of us remains open to growth of understanding we each can bring all of us along; that where one of us remains willfully blind we none of us can see. Donne's quaint and beautiful Jacobean prose still resonates so powerfully, these 386 years after he quilled them:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction.