A night time dream, July 8, 2014:

We arrive home from a trip. Our little cat Keely, a lively green-eyed tortoise shell, comes to greet us. But something is wrong. Her golden fur has faded to grey, and her eyes are missing from her little face. Cracks radiate from her empty eye sockets. Her wounds must be fresh but she does not bleed. She does not seem to be in pain.

It’s August 1, and I can’t stop the nightmare from replaying.

I’ve dreamed of cats before. When I need guidance, my late cat Yogi shows up to lead me as I travel. In our dreams, God can appear clothed in many symbols, and Yogi is a familiar guise.

But this divine cat is unfamiliar. It does not see, it does not bleed, it does not feel pain.

Maybe it is the face of the apathetic God.  Or the world controller giving up, waiting for us to figure it out ourselves.

Or maybe it’s just a God who does not see, bleed, or feel in human ways.

Philosopher Baruch Spinoza notes that human beings habitually evaluate events as good or bad. We tend to define good as “what benefits us” and bad as “what harms us.” If we are religious, we imagine that our prayers will cause God to make the world better, i.e., align it with our subjective perceptions. But God, who has no physical eyes, human will, or intellectual mind, does not “see” as we do.

As the horrific news about casualties in Gaza and Israel keeps rolling in, so many default to the habit Spinoza describes. Everything is classified into ultimate good or evil. Everyone, it seems, must stand against the side they deem evil.

People I have never met chant “Death to the Jews” and physically attack Jews they have never met.

Acquaintances urge me to be wary of cooperation with Canadian Muslims, emailing about the (nonexistent) Muslim Jihad against dogs.

Colleagues announce their permanent resignation from the Jewish faith. Moved by inner turmoil to visit a synagogue, they landed at one that prayed for peace in Israel without naming Gaza.

Friends write earnest, pain-filled pieces about wrestling with the grey areas in their beliefs, concluding that they can no longer support the evil that is Hamas or Israel.

What person with heart-connections to the Holy Land isn’t wrestling?

But please, let’s not imagine we are team-members in a wrestling match between cosmic good and cosmic evil.

Because, to the typical human mind, no evil can be done in the name of cosmic good. No good can be done in the name of cosmic evil. Agents of good must eliminate agents of evil.

This perspective works really well in the Book of Enoch, in action movies, and in other mythological settings with a clear narrative arc. But in real life, it works terribly, leading to violence with no clear resolution in sight.

Yes, the mythological perspective can flash suddenly into focus and feel like powerful divine message. Viewing life as a drama animated by cosmic forces can seem like spiritual perception.

But be wary if you think you now see as God sees.

That’s what my dream kitten came to say.

Still, I am trying to make sense of her message.

Are we always wrong to speak of cosmic evil? Even if we take care not to throw around the word “Nazi” as a euphemism for “agents of evil,” can we not agree that World War II vanquished cosmic evil?

My Uncle Harold, a Jewish American soldier during World War II, reflected on that.

From his station in North Africa, Harold wrote openly about all he saw — carefully following the censors’  rules, of course. He saw the region’s devastation, felt hate for Hitler, and expressed discomfort with military hierarchy.

And he also wrote about his ability to not see his enemies as agents of cosmic evil. In his words:

I’ve spoken to many Italian and German prisoners already. They are a nice lot generally speaking but apparently misguided. They are as one fellow remarked “typically GI.” You know, that’s the army expression for soldiers. It is just the fact that they’re fighting under another flag and for a cause of hatred and injustice. I thoroughly despise what any German soldier represents.

Uncle Harold of blessed memory, through all his life-changing experiences, saw only human beings caught in terrible conflict.

For those who follow the Jewish liturgical calendar, tomorrow is Shabbat Chazon, the Shabbat of Vision.

Let’s be mindful of our own ways of seeing.

 

Image: acatnamedhomer.blogspot.ca. Homer lives happily with his human, feline, and canine family.