I knew an English professor who remarked during the season of final exams that it was time, once again, to see how badly he had failed his students. I loved that an academic identified, at least rhetorically, as the tested one and not the master. I suspected he was a good teacher for it. I myself failed at teaching on various counts, the fundamental one being, in my own estimation, that I couldn’t make students love what I loved.

Today, November 5, 2024, we’re poised to find out how badly we’ve failed our country. Yesterday I savored two eloquent blog posts (here and here). They acknowledge the election, but urge redirection of focus to the higher plane of spirituality without expressing favor for a particular candidate. Sincere piety is ever to be respected. How readily does a pretend Caesar of today distinguish between what’s his and what isn’t? Render to Caesar… exactly what? That seems a practical problem posed by this election.

Whatever the outcome, much is lost. Decent civility has taken a grievous hit. We’ll be united in that loss; riled, roiled and riven, we lose together. It won’t be a blessed feeling for many. If we can negotiate a domestic ceasefire on the rhetoric front, at least, our prospects may improve.

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