Spain – Page 2 – The Pull Of The Land

Lullaby

December 14, 2021December 14, 2021 Richard Barnes

As a child in El Pao I was sometimes teased (accused?) for being more American than Venezuelan. Looking back, I can grant the criticism in that I might have been too carelessly effusive in my praise of United States history while too reticent in my acknowledgment of Venezuela’s.

However, I must plead, not as an excuse but as a mitigating factor, that my Spanish instructors did not help me much in this, given their disdain for Spain’s actions and inactions in the Americas in general and in Venezuela in particular.

I now understand that the standard approach to Latin American history – at least in my day – did not exactly promote a love and appreciation for our heritage. If Spain was so evil and if it represented “500 years of atrocities”, then how am I, as a child, to value, let alone love the society or culture that they bequeathed to us?

As readers of this blog have seen, Spain’s contribution to the Americas was truly a wonder: 500 years of high culture, including the oldest cathedrals, universities, opera houses, and more in the western hemisphere, let alone the teaching and training of a language and system of law that were truly a marvel of accomplishment in their time.

We’ve written about that elsewhere (for example, see here and here) and will continue doing so.

I begin this post with the above because I do not want you to think I do not appreciate my years in Georgia, Puerto Rico, Texas, and other parts of the world where I have been blessed to have lived or otherwise spent time and met good and fine friends. I do appreciate them; very much so.

For now, however, as Christmas approaches, my thoughts inevitably wander back to our few short years in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Whenever I count my blessings, I think of my parents and grandparents and the life and heritage they bequeathed me.

I think of El Pao and childhood friends.

And I always think of Kalamazoo.

I vividly recall flying to that town for the first time in the early summer of 1984. As the plane approached and the green fields and lakes – so many lakes! – came into view, my heart was powerfully drawn to that small midwestern city that I had hardly ever heard about (except in a Glenn Miller song).

The folks I met, my interactions with clerks, executives, factory workers, children, immediately brought El Pao to my mind. The Midwest became more than a geographical touchpoint: it immediately became a part of me … because it was always a part of me, only I didn’t know it. The ready friendship and transparency of our neighbors, church brethren, professional colleagues, mechanics, you-name-it, was a throwback to my childhood in El Pao and purlieus. It was coming home to a home you did not know you had.

When it came time to leave, in late 1988, we kept coming back to visit, as one would come see parents or siblings whenever possible. Friendships made then, continue to be friendships now. Our most recent visit was in 2015; and I do hope it won’t be our last.

We used to say, “You can take the man out of Arthur Andersen but you cannot take Arthur Andersen out of the man.”

I can also say, “You can take the man out of Kalamazoo but you cannot take Kalamazoo out of the man.”

We’d play Christmas music – classical, hymns, popular – beginning late November and well into January. One little hymn has persistently remained in my memory: Lullaby (Music: J. Frederick Keel, English composer of Elizabethan songs; Lyrics: Alfred Noyes, English poet).

The first time I heard it, the sun had disappeared over the horizon, light snowflakes mysteriously reflected moonlight as they drifted silently onto the ground and forest preserve just beyond our apartment. The hymn is eerily perfect for a quiet Christmastime night.

And especially if you have a baby or young child in your home.

Although the hymn says nothing about snow, I cannot help but think of it as I listen to Lullaby whether in Georgia, Texas, or even in Puerto Rico. But what it evokes most in me are thoughts of a Babe in a manger, Christmas, Kalamazoo winter, and our young home.

One day, in the El Pao playgrounds, my childhood friends were again teasing me about America. In reactionary mode, I taunted my friend, Lizbeth, “Well, look at you! You are more German than Venezuelan!”

All became quiet, as she calmly replied, “I love Germany.”

I learned from her. That should have been my reply too, and henceforth, it was: “I love America.”

And I loved Kalamazoo, and am grateful for my years there and for our friends there.

Lullaby (circa 1925)

Sleep little Baby I love Thee, I love Thee
Sleep Little King, I am bending above Thee
How shall I know what to sing?
How shall I know what to sing
Here are my arms as I swing Thee to sleep?
Hushaby Low,
Rockaby so,
Hushaby Low.

Kings may have wonderful jewels to bring
Mother has only a kiss for her King
Only a kiss for her King.
Why should my singing so make me to weep?
Only I know that I love Thee
Only I know that I love Thee
Love Thee my little one,
Love Thee my little one,
Sleep! Hushaby low,
Rockaby so, Hushaby low.

Otro Mundo (Other World)

May 24, 2021May 24, 2021 Richard Barnes

“We northern Europeans have a strange extravagant prejudice against the Spanish people. I have been living on intimate terms with all the classes of society from the Capuchins to the Viceroy. I have become as familiar with the Spanish tongue as I am with my own…. All these people possess, in my mind, the elements of grand character … warm, convivial, of likable candor, or great simplicity of manner….” — Alexander von Humboldt, late fall, 1799 writing from Caracas, Venezuela

The above impressions only deepened when, soon thereafter, Humboldt and Bonpland made their way to the Llanos of Venezuela. A flat, almost treeless plain covered with short grass, stretching from the Orinoco deltas to the Andes, the Llanos are considered by experienced explorers to be the “most remarkable plains of the world.” They appeared to be one vast desolation. But no, cattle could be seen miles away, dotting the landscape, and homesteads, or hatos, were there as well. Ranchers lived many miles apart from each other, yet, the hospitality of the people never failed. At every hato they were cared for, fed sumptuously, and always treated to that grand finale, a pitch black coffee, “so strong as to keep the travelers awake half the night.”

When Humboldt visited, Venezuela, known as the Captaincy General of Venezuela, consisted of seven “United Provinces,” covering an enormous mass of land covering over 420,000 square miles (over a tenth of the size of the continental US), wedged between Colombia and Brazil. Her population was one million, of which about 125,000 were Indians and 200,000, Black. Humboldt was amazed that all population elements of Venezuela — the Black, the Indian, the Mestizo, and the Criollo majority (Spanish descendants) could “be fused into a living, cultural symphony.”

Three centuries before Humboldt, Christopher Columbus, on his third voyage in 1498, had stopped in Trinidad, named by the famed navigator for the Holy Trinity. He entered the Gulf of Paria and planted the Spanish flag on the Paria Peninsula in Venezuela. Later on he landed on the Venezuelan island of Margarita.

When in the gulf, he investigated the “Grande River” (the Orinoco) and seeing and experiencing the great torrents of fresh water flowing into the gulf, he understood that he had discovered another continent — “otro mundo”, because he saw that the vastness of the Orinoco and the water it cast onto the sea was far more than what an island can produce. He was convinced he had reached the outer regions of Paradise.

Since Christopher Columbus is little studied today, few know what our grandparents knew: he interpreted his travels and discoveries by the light of Scripture. He sometimes interpreted wrongly — especially in his calculations of the size of the earth — but his desire to do God’s work cannot be questioned.

On his return from this, his third voyage, the voyage in which he planted the Spanish flag in Venezuela and considered her to be the foyer to Paradise, he wrote to the king and queen of Spain. He was in chains as he wrote, for the Spanish soldier, Francisco de Bobadilla, who had been sent to Hispaniola by the sovereigns, was incensed when he saw that Columbus had hanged 5 rebellious Spanish soldiers in an attempt to restore order in what was becoming an anarchic situation. Upon arrival in Spain, he was immediately released and his honors restored. Bobadilla was unable to restore order and was recalled in 1502 but he and his fleet disappeared in a hurricane.

Columbus’ letter is most remarkable considering his chains and also his deteriorating health, including insomnia and rheumatoid arthritis, which many believe brought his death a few years later, shortly after his fourth and final voyage. The letter is written by a man absolutely confident and assured of his navigational abilities. Indeed, several of the men who sailed with him later expressed their amazement at his uncanny ability to know when and where to sail and his utmost confidence when on the seas. In fact, his final voyage resulted in shipwreck near Jamaica, but that was because he allowed his men to turn north too soon, against his better judgement.

In the letter, Columbus expressed his belief he had “found the outer regions of Paradise because the polestar rotation had given him the impression that the fleet was climbing. The weather had become extremely mild, and the flow of fresh water into the Gulf of Paria was, as he saw, enormous. All this could have one explanation only — they had mounted toward the temperate heights of the Earthly Paradise, heights from which the rivers of Paradise ran into the sea. Columbus had found all such signs of the outer regions … in his reading, and indeed they were widely known…. [Brittanica].”

On the basis of that letter, the Queen agreed to a fourth voyage in which, incredibly, Columbus came within a hair’s breadth of the Pacific Ocean. But that was not to be. He died shortly after his return, still convinced he had reached Asia sailing west.

But he had opened the doors to the Spanish colonization of much of America and to “three centuries of culture and civilization and progress”, to quote Simón Bolívar. That expression was affirmed by Alexander von Humboldt as he explored and analyzed the vast regions of Venezuela and Colombia while all the time deploring Spanish rule, and this, despite the fact that “enlightenment” France had refused to grant him passport for his travels and yet “obscurantist” Spain had. It was Spain who wanted more exploration and scientific inquiry, not France.

But Humboldt, whom i admire greatly, could not see beyond his prejudices. The same is the case with many.

A mere two decades after Humboldt’s and Bonpland’s visit, Venezuela had lost a third of her population in what can only be described as one vast bloodletting whose repercussions are still felt to this day. Bolívar had his way: he lamented that he had destroyed three centuries of progress.

Boca del Serpiente (Columbus had called it “Boca de Dragón” but that name was later transferred further north). I sailed there with my father on a trip to Puerto de Hierro (Puerto de Hierro). Very rough seas as the mighty Orinoco pours in.

One of the many sights Columbus viewed during his third voyage.

The Venezuelan people still retain their vitality, friendliness, and hospitality. With God’s help, they will survive and thrive again.

Which is it?

February 10, 2021February 10, 2021 Richard Barnes

The Indian worker is poor, but he is free. His condition is preferable to that of the peasant in great parts of northern Europe …. — Alexander von Humboldt, circa 1800

… y el pobre en su choza, libertad pidió [And the poor man in his hovel, for freedom implored.]. — Venezuelan National Anthem, 1810

Well, which is it?

This blog has often referred to Humboldt (see Monster Aguirre and The Invention of Nature for but two allusions; the search bar will direct you to more). Humboldt was no royalist; he did not even pause for an irony alert to ponder that “modern”, progressive France denied him permits to travel for scientific inquiry, whereas obscurantist Spain did.

Nevertheless, he recognized that the poor in pre-revolutionary Spanish America were free and many were prosperous. He wrote that a Mexican peasant under the Spaniards earned five (5) times more than a peasant in India under the English. He further discovered that Nueva España (Mexico) provided twice more to Spain’s treasury than India, with 5-times the population, did to England’s. During his visit to Spanish America, Venezuelans consumed 189 pounds of meat per capita, compared to 163 pounds by Parisians. Mexicans consumed 363 pounds of bread per capita compared to 377 by Parisians. Miners earned 25 to 30 francs per week compared to 4 to 5 francs by Saxons.

Esquivel Obregón, a Mexican, wrote that a wage earner in his country could buy 38 hectoliters (a hectoliter is 100 liters) of corn and 2,300 kilograms of flour in 1800, but only 24 and 525, respectively, in 1908, after “independence.” These are not isolated figures, but they do signal the catastrophic decline of Spanish America’s standard of living and reflect the desolation caused by the “chimera of liberty”.

But no need to rely on a Humboldt or an Obregón. What did Simón Bolívar himself write in 1829, a year before he died?

“From one end to the other, the New World is an abyss of abomination; there is no good faith in [Spanish] America; treaties are mere paper; constitutions, books; elections, combat; liberty, anarchy; life, a torment. We’ve never been so disgraced as we are now. Before, we enjoyed good things; illusion is fed by chimera … we are tormented by bitter realities.”

So one must wrestle with the fact that “the poor man in his hovel” most certainly was not imploring for freedom. He was free and prosperous.

Much, much more was going on at the time, but the overarching canopy was the French Revolution and its atheistic concepts which sought to disparage all that went before, including one’s own history. A 19th century Colombian diplomat wrote perceptively,

“In the codices [Spain was notorious for documenting everything. These codices are treasure troves for those willing and able to research largely unread tomes waiting to be rediscovered] known by me, the history of the Conquest and of the vice-royalty was recorded…. Three centuries of a patriarchal empire whose glories were echoed in palaces, pulpits, taverns, Indian colloquiums, and in royal audiences…. Then the violent winds blew and our ship ran aground on the Oedipus reefs where the desire to assassinate the fathers, to destroy the moorings of common ethics and religion which bound diverse cultures and civilizations to one tongue, one culture, and one loyalty to common principles, exalted the passions and drove men to madness.”

That diplomat went on to say, “…the degree of destruction and depopulation experienced in these lands compares with my vehement desire that someone, one day will love the Truth enough to divulge what I have observed and written.”

Readers of this blog know that I love Venezuela, the land of my birth. It is a land of heartbreaking beauty and one that has absorbed many rivers of blood since the early 19th century and is even now suffering greatly. The way back to sanity, prosperity, liberty, and peace begins with the Truth.

Readers should also see significant parallels to current events in the United States. George Washington, in his Farewell Address, addressed similar matters as were addressed by that Colombian diplomat, including the need for a common religion and common culture to bind together diverse peoples. The current, unbridled rush to deny anything good in our founding, and especially to denigrate our common religion, is very similar to the temper which became prevalent in Spanish American elite circles in the early 1800’s.

In both, Truth is the first casualty and all else follows, beginning with ordered liberty.

To restore and preserve our ordered liberty, we must recover and speak the Truth. Pilate tarried not for an answer when he asked, “What is truth?”, but turned away from Truth Personified, Who stood before him.

Unlike Pilate who inquired and did not await for a reply, we must do differently.

And the Truth will set us free.

17th century Spanish American art from Peru

Fourth and Fifth of July: Declarations of Independence

July 4, 2020July 4, 2020 Richard Barnes

Those who grew up in El Pao will remember celebrating both the Fourth and the Fifth of July, reflecting yet another similarity between the two countries. The American and Venezuelan holidays afforded an opportunity for executives to declare and affirm ongoing genuine friendship and a collaborative spirit between both peoples while we children looked forward to having our fathers home for a more extended time than usual, and also learning a bit more to understand and appreciate our liberties. I was fortunate to have had a father and mother who, as best they knew how, taught us appreciation and gratitude for America and also for Venezuela.

Venezuela history was a required subject in school. And a most frustrating one it was for me. For the life of me, I could not understand what the early 19th century fighting was about. My teachers seemed to tell stories assuming we students possessed presupposed knowledge as to why the revolutionaries rose against Madrid. But I had no such knowledge. My father had told me about the North American colonies and how they had a history of self-government and liberties and how England had begun taking those liberties away, even to the point of stationing mercenary troops in private homes where they abused and in some cases even defiled the mothers and daughters.

Furthermore, the English parliament had decreed the assignment of Church of England bishops to the colonies: a last straw. I could see why folks would resist and seek to stop that, even if it meant overthrowing the rule of the English king.

Although my mother and father taught me to respect and honor Venezuela, my teachers told no stories about Spain’s abuses against Venezuela. We heard much about concepts of liberty and fraternity and equality. However, all stratospheric disquisitions about intangible concepts did not satisfy me as to why the criollos rose against Madrid initially, let alone explain the eventual extermination of over one-third of their number. The entire country churned with violence and at the end had been practically depopulated. It was clear to me that the savagery and atrocities occurred not prior to, but during the Revolution. I do remember hearing a teacher quote the words uttered by Simón Bolivar as he approached death in the late 1820’s, “I have plowed in the sea…” And, “…those countries will infallibly fall into chaos and dictatorships…”

But why cast off Spanish rule for intangible concepts only to install tangibly cruel “chaos and dictatorships”?

To read the July 4, 1776 and the July 5, 1811 declarations of independence back to back is an instructive exercise which might help explain why.

The Venezuelan is over 800 words longer and reflects allusions to French revolutionary thinking that is absent from the American. Consistent with the American, it also alludes to the Christian religion which sounds discordant if one has a basic understanding of Rousseau and the Declaration of the Rights of Man.

The Venezuelan opens by alluding to a former declaration (April 19, 1810) which was adopted as a result of Spain’s occupation by France. It goes on to complain about three centuries of suppressed rights and that recent political events in Europe had served to offer an opportunity to restore those rights. They then, following the 1776 Declaration, proceed to justify their actions.

The United States [American] declaration does not complain about 150 years of colonial rule. Rather it expresses concern that, when abuses make it necessary to dissolve long-standing political bands, that such action must be taken carefully and with strong justification. It expresses the need and the willingness to “suffer, while evils are sufferable” before abolishing government and relations to “which they are accustomed.”

I know this is simplistic, and historians will disagree, but to the layman, the 1811 comes across as willful, the 1776, as reluctant.

The longest body in each is the justification. The Venezuelan uses 1,156 words, beginning with another allusion to 300 years of Spanish rule and affirming that a people has a right to govern themselves. Then the author expresses a willingness to overlook those 300 years by “placing a veil” over them (“corriendo un velo sobre los trescientos años“) and proceeds to recent European events which had dissolved the Spanish nation. It goes at length criticizing the Spanish monarchy for its abandonment of her throne in favor of the French and how this state of affairs had left Venezuela without legal recourse (“dejándola sin el amparo y garantía de las leyes“).

It asserts, furthermore, that the vast territories of the Americas with far more population than Spain itself cannot be governed from afar, etc. Here, the author presumes to speak for all the Spanish Americas. The layman is justified in wondering if this misdirection is inserted to remove attention from special pleading in the document that does not wholly stand up.

This section is not easy to follow today without some knowledge of the events current in 1811.

This was not a unanimous declaration; three provinces did not join, presaging the terrible bloodletting which was to follow.

For its justification, the American declaration uses 824 words (332 less than the Venezuelan), to list the abuses and their attempts to humbly address these legally only to have their attempts rebuffed. They make no allusions to 150 years of oppression or of unhappiness with their colonial status. They address only relatively recent abuses, including violence against life and property, mercenaries on their way to fight against them, war waged against them, threats to their religious liberty (the Quebec allusion), and much more. These are listed almost in bullet point format, but without the bullets, and are easy to understand, even 244 years later. It reads as if the document were a declaration of the right to self defense.

This was a unanimous declaration signed by representatives of each of the thirteen colonies.

In their conclusion, the Venezuelans, yet again, allude to centuries of oppression and their natural right to govern themselves. They assert they have a right to establish a government according to the general will (“voluntad general“) of her people.

It is hard to miss the influence of French revolutionary thinking in the Venezuelan document, despite allusions to a Supreme Being (“Ser Supremo”) and to Jesus Christ (“Jesucristo”). Its reference to the “General Will” is Rousseauean and is also found in the atheistic French Declaration of the Rights of Man.

They also state they will defend their religion.

The layman can’t help but be impressed by the schizophrenic nature of this document which contained appeals to atheistic revolutionary thinking then in vogue, while recognizing that the “regular folk” were still very religious and needed to hear allusions to religious fidelity.

The American conclusion appealed to the Supreme Judge of the world and in the name and authority of the people in the colonies they declared independence.

I know that professors delight in pointing out that Thomas Jefferson was the “author” of the American declaration and that he was not a Christian, etc.

However, one does not read the Virginia Fairfax Resolves (1774), or the Virginia Declaration of Rights (May, 1776), both of whose primary author was George Mason, a Christian, nor does one read clergyman, John Wise, who in 1710 wrote, “Every man must be acknowledged equal to every man,” and “The end of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, and so forth…” and “Democracy is Christ’s government in church and state.” Jefferson drew from a rich, deep Christian well. According to President Calvin Coolidge, Jefferson himself “acknowledged that his ‘best ideas of democracy’ had been secured at church meetings.”

The American declaration was followed by seven more years of war whose official end was the Treaty of Paris in 1783 and a constitution, still in effect, whose final ratification was in 1790. The Venezuelan declaration was followed by nineteen years of wars (plural) characterized by unspeakable cruelties and tortures, including a proclamation of “war to the death” by Simón Bolivar. By their end in 1830, one third of Venezuela’s population had perished. These wars were followed by more wars and rebellions which continued to the end of the century. She’s had 27 constitutions.

In sum, the American hearkened to her Christian heritage and history; the Venezuelan, to French revolutionary atheism, most starkly demonstrated by yet another revolution, the Russian, in 1917. Both the American and the Venezuelan shed blood. But the latter, like the French, shed it more abundantly.

I love the United States of America and its history. I love her Christian heritage and her pioneers. She is a wonderfully great country with a people who will always pull at my heart. I also love Venezuela and the warmth and genuine friendship of her people. I am grateful the Good Lord has exposed me to both and shown me that, in Christ, our best days are yet ahead.

Declaration of Independence – Text of the Declaration of Independence

Text of the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence

Acta de la Declaración de Independencia de Venezuela – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre

Towards the bottom of article linked above, the reader will find the text of the July 5, 1811 Venezuela Declaration of Independence. It is in Spanish.

Speech on the 150th Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence

Highly recommended to all, not just Americans

The Great Influenza

March 20, 2020March 20, 2020 Richard Barnes

From the AP: “Venezuela will implement a nationwide quarantine after detecting 16 new cases of the novel coronavirus on Monday, President [sic!] Nicolas Maduro said, adding that the total number of cases in the South American country has risen to 33.”

It is a given that the numbers are worse, as the Venezuelan state pronouncements have proved to be among the most unreliable.

There is a macabre irony in this latest news concerning the Wuhan Flu (Coronavirus): one of the worst pandemics to afflict the earth was popularly known as the Spanish Flu (or Spanish Influenza).

About 15 years ago, I read The Great Influenza, by John M. Barry. Setting aside his Darwinian presuppositions, Mr. Barry’s opus is an unforgettable, haunting tour de force. I’ve not opened the book since my first reading, but, given all the frenzy accompanying the Coronavirus, I’m considering re-adding to my reading pile.

The Great Influenza is considered to be the deadliest pandemic in history. It infected 500 million people, one-third of the world’s population, with up to 100 million deaths, or a 20% mortality rate. That’s far more than all the soldiers and civilians killed by the war. Most affected were the very young (under 5), those in the 20-40 age group, and those over 65. A most unique age distribution whose explanation is beyond the scope of this overview.

Mr. Barry makes the case that the virus originated in the hog farms of Kansas and spread to the U.S. Army base there and from thence to the world as armies were transported to all points on earth. However, more recent discoveries point to origins in China.

Although the origins of the flu may be debatable, the origins of the moniker are not. During the Great War (WWI), the Allied powers were very well aware of a devastating virus which was killing thousands of soldiers and civilians; however, they wanted to keep that under wraps so as to not hurt morale and to not disrupt war production. Yes, our wise and compassionate shepherds were telling us to suck it up and get back to the wartime factories and bases.

And spread the virus.

Spain was a neutral country and as the flu ravaged her, their newspapers were not shy in reporting its terrible advance, even infecting the Spanish king, Alfonso XIII. The Allies were perfectly content to let the world think it was due to something in Spain. However, as deaths accumulated — eventually killing 500,000-700,000 in the United States — its ravages could no longer be ignored.

Many Americans noticed symptoms in the morning and were dead by nightfall.

One story tells of a man who boarded a Philadelphia trolley. A fellow passenger fell over dead within minutes, another disembarked and keeled over, dead; finally the conductor succumbed. The passenger, unhurt, disembarked and walked home. Many symptoms were triggered by this pandemic, including coughing up blood as lungs collapsed.

It was a terrible scourge. Death was everywhere. A children’s rhyme in 1918 was:

“I had a little bird
Its name was Enza
I opened up the window
and in flew enza.”

My mother was born about a decade after the flu ran its course. She recalls that my grandmother said little about it other than, “Murieron muchos. [Many died.]” And that was well in the interior of Venezuela. There are few today who lived through that pandemic. Fritzi Bryant is one of them. She is 106 years old and lives in a nursing home in Washington State. She was interviewed recently.

“I’m doing wonderful,” she said. “Just fine. Everything is fine here. Plenty to eat, which is good. You have to look at the sunny side instead of the bad side of things.”

“There’s no sense in playing it down; you have to look it square in the face…to do everything you can in your power to make it better.”

My son, Nathan, recently posted some comments on Isaiah 41:1-10. Below are the first verse followed by his respective comments thereon:

“Keep silence before me, O islands; and let the people renew their strength: let them come near; then let them speak: let us come near together to judgment.”

(Everyone pause and listen, stop your panic and hear…. We are not called to keep in silent fear behind shut doors, but to gather near to God and encourage one another with words of hope, and then determine what is right to do and act accordingly. It seems we have skipped that first step, and in skipping it, we are not sure what to do; in not knowing what to do, we fear; and in fearing, we overreact; and in overreacting, we make extreme decisions; and in making extreme decisions, we collapse.)

So far, it’s 0.0039% and 0.0033%. Those are the percentages (.000039 and .000033, in decimal format) which represent the number of cases in the United States and in the world, compared to the total US and world populations, respectively, including deaths, recoveries, in-treatments. Compare those figures to the 33% infection rate during the Great Influenza. However, this is not the picture painted by the media and the bureaucrats, which lead to believe the Zombie Apocalypse is upon us.

It is not irrational to ask: are the “remedies” being imposed upon us worse than the disease? Life savings and annual earnings have been wiped out. And more is to come if nothing changes. A number of jurisdictions have, in effect, ordered the closure of churches. This might be the right thing to do; but be not afraid to ask questions.

We are to be prudent. But we are not to lose our minds, let alone our courage.

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)”

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: My God; in him will I trust.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler,And from the noisome pestilence.

He shall cover thee with his feathers,And under his wings shalt thou trust:

His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; Nor for the arrow that flight by day;

Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness;Nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.(Psalm 91:1-6)

Trust God and carry on.