The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit,
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
—Omar Khayyam
Of all the words I’ve read during my 76 years on Earth, I find it difficult to imagine a bit of verse more profound. And as a writer, I’m obviously aware of how difficult it is — as the rhyme by the Persian poet indicates — to unsay it.
A handful of emails I’ve received — I’m sure many others in my Facebook circle also received them — have made me almost antagonistic toward the ease with which people can say things they later regret, or even worse, say and write things because of the cloak of anonymity.
Let me explain:
A long-time acquaintance has sent me (and presumably many others) emails urging some kind of immediate action. Does she want us to pray? Declare war? Send money? Most commonly, we’re being asked to jump on the bandwagon, denounce someone or some group and, of course, forward the email to 100 others.
In the past, I’ve written about the once-expensive habit of forwarding chain letters. Back in the day, before modern electronics, correspondents whom we seldom heard from, except for requests that we forward their letters, would ask us to send off some 25 copies of the letter we’d just received, after adding our name to the list and hoping it would rise.
Remember that? Even though postage, photo-copying and stationery are expensive, at least the process gave us a glimmer of hope that we would win zillions of dollars. Things have changed. Today it’s easy to forward an email message to everyone on our correspondents’ list, virtually free of charge.
But that’s only part of the issue. Wait, there’s more.
The 11th century poet, Khayyam, explains that no amount of tears can wash away messages. One of the things I dislike about the Internet is the ease with which users can protect their anonymity. If I’m reading a hateful comment from someone in New York City, or even Amarillo, the chances of knowing who said what are nil. At the same time, I believe, people are prone to believe whatever is written down, regardless of its speciousness.
For example, the former friend, who’s moved far away, once sent many of us an email deploring plans, headed up by Barack Obama, to set up many service stations, starting in Detroit and radiating outward, to provide free gas to the impoverished.
The logic was that the poor, in major cities, often lacked the money to fuel their cars to get to doctors.
Had our erstwhile friend checked, she would have noted that the origin of the free-gas plan was The Daily Currant. Had she dug a little deeper she would have discovered that The Currant draws its fame through satire. The Daily Currant, like The Onion, is an American satirical news blog that focuses on politics, technology and entertainment. A number of its satirical stories have been taken for true news reports by press.
Apparently, the correspondent never got that far. Instead, she wrote a sentence with 25 exclamation points (to indicate that she really meant it), leaving us to wonder, “What part of satire don’t you understand?”
The writer reminds me of many who sought to “put that atheist in her place” after swallowing the bait about Madeline Murray O’Hare, the notorious atheist whose persistence led to the elimination of requirements that students in public schools take part in religious instruction.
For decades, anything even hinting of secularism was attributed to O’Hare, including efforts to remove religious programming from the networks. Interesting how many times people have associated church-and-state matters to O’Hare’s machinations. What some people forget is thatO’Hare and her son were murdered in 1995 when she was almost 80.
But yet, some people continue to accuse her of pushing her atheist agenda.
She must have a very persistent ghost.
• • •
The final (so far) installment from my transplanted emailing acquaintance arrived this week. The request is to help “Christians bond together, voice their concerns and vote.” But we’re not sure what we’re supposed to vote on, or for whom.
Her email attacks Obama, who, according to her, “prays with the Muslims!” and “is encouraging schools to teach the Quran for extra credit, while at the same time, they cannot even talk about the Bible, God, pray, or salute the American Flag.”
It’s easy to stack facts, combine them with rumor and hearsay, and justify our position by assuming that “everybody believes it, so it must be true.”
As a Christian, I don’t believe there’s an Election Central in Heaven canvassing votes. I don’t buy the notion that anyone’s keeping score up there or that the sheer number of forwarded emails will be part of any celestial swaying or arm-twisting.
Innovations like the Internet and Facebook have made it oh-so-easy to spout feelings and attitudes (remember the cloak of anonymity) without grounding the words in facts, good judgment, knowledge or research.
My long-ago friend peppers her emails with capital letters, apparently to make her points seem stronger. For her sake, I hope she heeds the poet Omar Khayyam’s words. ’Tis a pity that neither piety nor wit nor tears can undo the distortions in that email.
• • •
I would appreciate emails or phone calls from others who received the same email I got this week.