Miracles

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This afternoon, I sat in an office in Wichita, KS, and talked to my son in Moscow, Russia, while he led me through the process of creating this blog. If that is not a miracle, I don't know what is.

We have come to accept such miracles as commonplace. That, too, is a miracle.

But if we can communicate with anyone in the world, almost any time in the world, why is there so much mis-communication going on? Why can't we listen to one another with respect and discuss our differences without resorting to name-calling? Why is there sometimes less understanding among people who speak the same language than there is between people who do not speak one another's language at all? And why do these problems lead to violence?

The events last week in Mumbai have reminded Americans once again that the world is a dangerous place and that some, just some, of the people in the world are determined to prove to the rest of the world that they are filled with rage, justifiable or not, and that they don't care what inhumanities that rage leads them to commit or whether the people they hurt are the ones who hurt them.

In other words, to quote an old movie, they're "mad as hell and they're not going to take it any more!" At the end of that movie, a television network hires a team of home-grown terrorists to assassinate the character who said that -- on network television. The movie is a "black comedy," and its makers thought that was a joke. I didn't laugh.

I wish I knew better how to make use of our miracles of communication. All I can do is start with this blog and see where it leads.
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