Blowin in the wind...

Reading these proverbs today, I found myself disagreeing with the author - not because I imagine myself wiser than the Teacher, but because the final lines leave me unsettled. I agree to disagree, respectfully and honestly.

“There is a right time for everything on earth:
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.”

I agree with almost all of it - except the lines “a right time to love and another to hate” and “a right time to wage war and another to make peace.”

I cannot accept that there is ever a “right” time to hate another human being or to wage war. Yes, we can disagree agreeably, but hatred and war feel fundamentally incompatible for flourishing of humanity.

Perhaps the Teacher was “disoriented with life” when he wrote this. After all, he begins his writings with the bleak declaration: “Smoke, nothing but smoke… there’s nothing to anything - it’s all smoke.” He sounds like a man in a fog.

And yet, these very lines are what many leaders cling to: “This is the time for hate and war -  let’s do it.” They talk to themselves, till they believe this is true, and talk to each other and convince their followers to listen and believe. Where does this impulse come from? 

Some perspectives come to mind: “They have something we want.” “We will not allow them to have what we have. “And so hatred and war are justified -  but only by the powerful. 

If a few “cockroaches” (metaphorically speaking - I belong to no political party!) raise concerns against an elephant, the elephant can crush them or simply ignore them. Either way, the violence or the silence is justified. Refusing to listen to voices of pain or injustice.  

This is the context today.

I grew up listening to Bob Dylan’s haunting question: “Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly Before they’re forever banned?" And his answer - "The answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.”

Some days I feel like singing that line every waking hour. But I also disagree with Dylan’s conclusion that “the answer is blowin’ in the wind.” I don’t believe the answers are that vague or unreachable.

We are a generation that has learned to make machines talk to us — and even talk to one another -  solving problems of staggering complexity. Giving us all the knowledge we need. So we should be able to do something about all these?

But technology is faster, easier, more predictable. People are challenging. 

A family member who works in high-end tech often says it’s simpler to work with four AI engines than with junior staff. Even I, who once asked a friend to check my grammar, now turn to AI. It is faster and easier -  but I miss the human encouragement, the warmth, the shared laughter. AI’s affirmations simply don’t taste the same.

And yet I wonder: If we can build machines that speak with us, is it not possible for us to learn to speak with one another - not as rivals or strangers, but as children of the same Father? Could we not end wars and stop ignoring injustice?

We live in a time when we believe we possess the greatest knowledge humanity has ever held - with our knowledge-management systems and self-learning large language models. But perhaps we have gained knowledge and lost wisdom.

That is why the same Teacher, earlier and perhaps in a clearer state of mind, wrote: “Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He’s the one who will keep you on track. Don’t assume that you know it all.”

Maybe if we truly lived by this wisdom, we wouldn’t wait for the wind to carry answers to us. We would learn to listen - to the wisdom that comes from above, and to one another. I certainly do not have all the answers.

Yet perhaps, in my own small spheres of influence, I can help end a few conflicts, soften a few hardened spaces, and refuse to ignore the injustices that stare me in the face. That kind of wisdom, however, requires something uncomfortable: stopping long enough to stop listening to myself. To quell the noise that tells me that some violence and ignoring of injustice is ok.

To stop the endless inner monologue that drowns out the still, small voice. The voice of wisdom. 

Maybe I need to stop talking to myself so much - and start listening.