Category: Sanctuary Blog

My blog mail varies, but I value it; it has become wiser and more thoughtful since I’ve taken my anger elsewhere. Occasionally, I receive messages so thoughtful that I feel compelled to share them. This is why I started the blog in the first place.

I received one of these messages this morning from Adam A, someone I had never spoken with or heard from, who has been reading my work for more than 30 years.

I know nothing about him. This is why I will never go on Substack or some site writers use to collect money. I value the contact with my readers, regardless of how unusual or surprising it may be.

It isn’t that I don’t need money; instead, it’s that I need people in my life, not just money.

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“Dear Mr.Katz, I have been a reader of your work since I discovered Death By Station Wagon (my first mystery). I agree about being dehumanized by all the technology around us. I will intentionally select the wrong option when I call somewhere, just in the hope that a living person will respond. And we are both better for the exchange. I was late to grasp the digital age, and in trying to catch up, have lost sight of the sights and sounds that surround me. The company of my wife, as we sit on our back gallery overlooking the forest that lies just beyond arm’s reach, is that I need most to heal and restore my belief system. You keep writing, and I’ll use you as my haven on my laptop. Thank you!”

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Thank you, Adam, you have put your finger on precisely what I wish to do with my blog as I head into the final chapters of my life. I will keep writing, and letters like yours are why. I am working hard to ensure I connect and reconnect not only with other humans but also with the nature that is all around me. Like you, it makes Maria and me very happy to sit on our back lawn and look at the fire and the landscape in front of us. It’s the search for humanity. We need to rescue it. We all need it.

For me, that’s what charity is about – easing the pain of others and letting others ease the pain in me. This is the highest meaning of humanity for me, and thanks for sharing your search for it. Thanks also for sharing it with me and us. I’m honored to be your haven on your laptop.

This morning, Pete sent the following message: “Oh, sure. Now you’re one of those who hates elitism! We all love elitism, just like…um, no, wait.”

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Steve, hold your fire. I just mentioned that I might write about this, but I just now did. I’m afraid you are the one who has to wait. I’m stumped. It’s too soon to make fun of me; I haven’t said anything yet about elitism. Let’s let ideas breathe here; that’s my new policy.

After a week or so of reading and thinking, I’m not close to being clear about what it is or how it affects my thinking and beliefs. Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it, and I never considered it before.

It says a lot about elitism that there is at least a score of definitions.

I have to confess up front that I have been unable to define or quite understand elitism or how it might have entered or reflected my life. My grandmother thought I was the most wonderful child in the world, but the rest of society didn’t agree.

I need to give it more thought.

It’s a fascinating subject, yet I need to be honest about what I don’t know and what I do know. I love my new motto: When someone hates, I love. When someone lies, I tell the truth.

The truth is, I don’t know if I’m an elitist, and I’m not sure it matters. It feels like another thing to throw at people, even if we don’t know what it means.

We all want to be on top, after all. I’m not on top of this one.

Generally, elitism is the belief that some things should be controlled or owned only by the richest or best-educated people. These elitists are also often described as having contempt for popular politics.

But there are all kinds of elitists – CEO’s, movie stars, billionaires, classical music conductors,  TikTok Influencers, and famous athletes.

In the recent election, the winner gained great support by labeling opponents as elitists, something working-class people have been feeling and complaining about for years. He meant liberals and Democrats. So did they.

Yet nobody complains more about billionaires and CEO’s. It isn’t very clear.

Commentator Naomi Wolf says there is a big problem: “Frankly, liberals are out of the habit of communicating with anyone outside their cohort. We have a cultural problem with self-righteousness and elitism.”

Amen to that. It seems true to me.

Recently, I dined with a friend who was obsessed with what was happening in our political system.
“Don’t these stupid people understand who they are voting for?” she asked. Bing, I thought, here is elitism, right in front me.  I see that. Everyone is corrupting our political system in different ways and for different reasons. Everyone in the country feels like everyone else is as dumb as a pitchfork.

I’m not getting on the hate-your-neighbor train. People labeled stupid are not about to listen to people urging them to think differently or change their minds. Perhaps the Democratic Party is finally getting this lesson. Don’t call people you want to vote for you stupid.

I’ve spent the past week studying elitism, its history, and its definition. I can’t tell you what it is, but I recognize myself in many of its criticisms. I’ve often, especially early on, dismissed people who disagreed with me as inferior to me and my intellect.

I often read hostile messages on social media and wonder aloud if these people have anything meaningful to do. Some seem stupid—I don’t have a better word for stupidity.

I see elitism as a somewhat natural evolution. The country is usually split between the well-educated and well-off and the working people. There is very little interaction between the two groups, and eventually, elitism was bound to explode in a national election. The as unspoken war between the wealthy and the poor has continued since people discovered fire.

Living in the country has taught me to stop thinking this awful way. Everyone has it worse than me and is just as smart or more intelligent than me. My life has given me no reason to decide I am smarter than anyone.

In political and sociological theory, the elite are a small group of powerful or wealthy people who hold a disproportionate amount of wealth, privilege, political power, or skill in a group.

According to many political observers and historians, the governing elite in the United States primarily draws its members from political leaders, including the president and a handful of key cabinet members, as well as close advisers, major corporate owners and directors, and high-ranking military officers.

“In most legislatures, punctilious attention to correct usage is considered elitist. For example, ‘government’ is normally pronounced ‘gummint’; bureaucracy is ‘bureaucacy’; fiscal comes out ‘physical,’ and one moves not to suspend the rules, but to ‘suppend.’ – Molly Ivins, writing about the Texas Legislature.

Elitists are inevitable in our culture, as are complaints from less fortunate people. That has existed for thousands of years and is becoming more evident in a society increasingly dominated by billionaires who are not an integral part of government.  It is no longer a People’s Republic.

Is the problem elitism?

Artists have argued with themselves about elitism for years. By denying people’s sense of visual beauty in painting and sculpture, melody in music, meter and rhyme in poetry, plot and narrative, and character in fiction, the elite arts often excluded the vast majority of their audience.

Critic Steven Pinter says the art world purposely excluded people who approach art in part for pleasure and edification in favour of social one-upmanship and an ever-narrowing, in-crowd elite. I often find high art obnoxious, but I know very few artists these days who feel superior or powerful.

Pinter got my attention, though. I see the love of flowers as the very opposite of high art.

“By denying people’s sense of visual beauty in painting and sculpture, melody in music, meter and rhyme in poetry, plot and narrative and character in fiction, the elite arts wrote off the vast majority of their audience,” says Pinker. “They purposely excluded people who approach art in part for pleasure and edification in favour of social one-upmanship and an ever-narrowing, in-crowd elite.”

The same argument has been made about the news media (including by me), who seem to have lost touch with ordinary people. They consider themselves the only people who understand what is happening.

That is obviously not true.

I balk at the idea that I am elitist. I was born into a poor middle-class family and have worked every day of my life since I was 16. I live in an “ordinary people” community and get along very well with the people. I’m not even close to being wealthy.  I don’t consider any of the people around me stupid or inferior.

“The time has come,” says political commentator Van Jones, “to move beyond eco-elitism to eco-populism. To change our laws and culture, the green movement justice, political solutions and social change.”

I can’t accept the idea that everyone wealthy and well-placed person in government or commerce is, by definition, elitist. I can see elitism in the decline of the news media, where journalists consider sitting in front of a TV set with a laptop a way to understand what is happening to ordinary people. How has that that worked this year?

Our culture has abandoned ordinary people in the same way it has abandoned the elderly. Remember Archie Bunker? He was the true seer in understanding our politics, but there are no Archie Bunkers on TV these days.

I believe the media’s elitism – they no longer bother to pretend to talk to people outside their circle – was evidence that not one national political reporter had an inkling of how unhappy most “ordinary” Americans were. This may cost the rest of us dearly.

Elitism is not a black-and-white issue for me, as most problems are. I have to leave this one open. Elitism is woven into the country’s major institutions: government, all media, culture, big pharma, and politics in general.

I think I have elitist blood running through my brain and instincts, like so many people do; I also think life has beaten out of me the idea that people who disagree with me are somehow less intelligent or worthy than the people who agree with me.

That’s not going to work. Elitism pops up too often in our world. I am beginning to believe it is woven into our DNA. It’s so ubiquitous that it is undefinable.

I don’t know whether I’ve discovered a new truth or been smothered by it.

“It is, of course, the first recourse of every elitist to see social barbarism in others….” – Graham Joyce.

“The more they hate, the more good I do. The more they lie, the more truthful and authentic I become. That’s my way of fighting back.” —  Me. I chose this way to protest and fight back

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I’ve decided to become a Truth Addict. It’s the least I can do in the mushrooming lies and distortions. It’s my way of feeling strong and helping people rather than hating them.

Like most people who try to be honest about themselves— the Dalai Lama, for one, Mother Teresa, and Thomas Jefferson, for example—I am not always truthful. I admit it. I sometimes exaggerate, hide unflattering things, embellish for style, and fail to tell the truth.

The spiritual path leads to self-awareness, which is often painful but necessary. I don’t need to lie or distort the truth. When someone like me finally looks at himself and faces his reality, nothing anyone can say about me can be worse than what I was of myself on my journey to authenticity. Someone who can’t admit to lying or distorting the truth is broken in spirit and soul.

If you are a human, the chance is you have light more than once, and rarely, if ever, admitted.

I was always taught that lying is a grave sin and a human failing, so I rarely consciously lie about big things. However, as my spiritual work has advanced and I have examined my behavior closely, I have realized that I sometimes lie to look good or to cover up some of my life’s many mistakes, even cruelties and moral failures.

In recent years, the truth has become increasingly important to me. I’ve faced up to my authenticity and learned, like Mark Train, that if I tell the truth, I don’t have to remember anything. Buddha says three things cannot be long hidden: the moon, the truth, and the truth.

Telling the truth is good for me. It builds trust, eases, and even eliminates my anxiety. It is the anchor of love and companionship. I bring respect and am well-meaning. It draws friends. It sells things. Learning to tell the truth has done so many things for me. It is so much healthier than rage and dishonesty.

My experience with the truth has been complex. For me, truth lives through three stages. First, it is often ridiculed. Then, and always, it intensely and violently opposes. Eventually, and in time, it becomes self-evident and widely accepted. Even if you are a minority of one, said Gandhi, the truth is the truth. We can learn from it, debate and twist it, but we can feel it in our hearts and souls. Lying makes the heart grow faster, raises blood pressure, and brings fear and self-loathing.

I’m with Socrates. The only true wisdom is knowing nothing, not thinking you know everything. For me, knowledge and learning lie in recognizing my limitations and seeking understanding and truth through listening and feeling.

In our time, lying has become a new kind of trusted and selfish morality. We are living in a shameless and morally less society, where lying is acceptable, profitable, and no longer widely condemned.

Socrates asked three questions when defining truth: Is it true, kind, or necessary? No leader in our country asks these questions anymore. As always, the people suffer. The rich get richer and screw the poor. It’s the oldest story.

So I’ve been inspired – another mediation gift – to make one of my new meaning choices to tell the truth, whether I look good or not, whether it’s big or small, whether it seems to matter. As I look at the news occasionally, I see the importance and value of truth. A government and society not bound by the truth is corrupt and disintegrating.

I won’t get on the hate-your-neighbor speed train. I want to be worth more than that. The more they hate, the more good I do. The more they lie, the more truthful and authentic I become. That’s my way of fighting back. If you wish, come and tell the truth with me.

Winston Churchill’s warning, “A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on, ” comes to mind in our social media sickness. He must have sensed the coming of social media.

I want to be addicted to the truth, a truth addict. I can’t do this for others; I’m not a truth policeman looking to condemn anyone else.  I don’t wish to call out anyone’s likes unless they are about me.

I want to be truthful in what I write and say to Maria, on my blog, and in my now famous responses to people, in every photograph I take, and in every word I write about it.

This means I must be thoughtful, honest, and open about my words and actions. I don’t have any expectations, but we live in a firestorm of lives, delusions, and conspiracies.

Every moment of truth is like a mosquito bite. It spreads, gets me out of myself, and gives something to others.  My new truths are doing good, publishing a sanctuary blog, and taking flower photos. It’s a good start.

A few nights ago, I turned to Maria, sitting across from me blogging, and just blurted, “We need a break; let’s take some time off.” To my surprise, Maria, a true workaholic, answered quickly: “I’d love that; we need it.” We had a brief negotiation. First, we’re not going away; we will spend these three days at the farm, reading, talking, walking, if possible, napping, meditating, and sleeping late.

I had one condition: I would not blog, take photos, or post Flower Art or other posts, but I would post Sarah’s daily request for Cambridge Pantry Support on the blog. I hated the idea of people getting hungry because I wanted a rest, so I’ll do pantry support on the blog daily. We have a beautiful, vital, and meaningful streak going with the pantry, and I don’t want to break the pattern. I know the Army of Goodwill understands; they never stop doing good.

Maria’s condition was that we go to a museum in Albany to see an exhibit on fiber art. We can’t miss that one, so we will look for a good Korean restaurant to have lunch at. Then, we will be back home for the weekend. There will be no blog posts, Flower Art, or photos other than those relating to the food pantry.

I have a good friend, Dave, a co-partner of the fantastic Lofty Pigeon bookstore in Brooklyn; he regularly sends me books and gets me even from a distance. He asks me what I’m looking for, and I say, “I want to read every book you love; I trust you completely.”

Four books arrived this week. I’m deep into the first one and drooling over the other three. Dave and I primarily work with mysteries from different countries.

So I have what seem like excellent books I intend to dig into this weekend: Dissolution, by C.J. Sansom, a mystery set in a 13th century England’s corrupt monastery; In The Morning I’ll Be Gone, the third in a series of books by Adrian McKinty about a conflicted but honest Catholic police officer – Sean Duffy –  working during the awful  “troubles” in Ireland; (I’m hooked on this series); Bruno, Chief Of Police, by Martin Walker. This is the story of Benoit Courreges, a/k/a Bruno policeman (and former soldier) who loves country life’s pleasures and slow rhythms. He has a gun but has never used it or carried it. A local murderer suddenly forces him to deal with the open wounds of the very dark Nazi occupation.

Then, finally, Zoo Station by David Downing is the first in the new John Russell Novel series.  An American freelance writer stays in wartime Berlin to be with his son and is drawn into the middle of multi-nation spying. I’m dying to read all of them (I never know what Daved will send until it gets here; he hasn’t failed me yet or even come close. I love our friendship. My daughter, a rabid reader of her life, turned me onto the Lofty Pigeon right in her neighborhood in Brooklyn.

Dave and his bookstore, the Lofty Pigeon,  are a real blessing for me. Dave is a dream bookstore owner. This will be a delightful and restful weekend. Maria is right. We both need it. The books are all new paperbacks, and the prices are reasonable. I used to insist on hardcovers, but Dave broke that habit.

I’m reading Dissolution first; I love the early England details and the hunchback lawyer at the center of this book, which has hypnotized me. This is a tough one to put down.  I’d like you to please stay tuned for pantry requests during our retreat. Otherwise, I’ll see you Thursday and tomorrow, blogging as usual, and off Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. It’s true, we need a rest. It’s as simple as that.

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Note:  I need to make clear that there will be no political hate messages from any side on my blog postings. There is no hate politics, no arguing; there’s enough of that outside of us. The blog is a safe zone, a sanctuary blog; the only one who can argue is me, and I never argue my views or beliefs on social media with strangers.

Please keep your thoughtful and insightful posts coming; I don’t want any complaining about any politician or political movement. I won’t post them. Trolls: don’t waste your time; I have the most wonderful blocking and banning software. I don’t need to know who you hate, why, or the see-what-he-did-today posts. Could you tell me what you think about life, fear, and anger that is thoughtful and useful to others? I’d love to read it, and don’t comment on thoughtful posts other than to thank people.

Ideas have the right to breathe and live.

Message to me this morning from Sarah:  Jon, there are times when you can hear the criticism of others and spend your time drafting a coherent, polite, and well-thought-out response, and there are others when you can levy the written equivalent of an extended middle finger. I’ve long thought that you find the delicate balance between the two. I’m sorry you have to deal with these trolls. I’m blessed to read your responses. I’m not sure to what extent simply ignoring them is practical, but you put air in their sails when you give them the time of day. They are not worthy of you. Less on them, more on that debonair kitty cat 🙂 Thank you for putting up with those folks and continuing to bless us with your voice.

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“Arrogance and stupidity are a deadly combination.” – Stephen Cooper. “Humility is a virtue of the heavenly, not arrogance. ”  Suzy Kassen.

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In recent days, I’ve received a much-appreciated wave of thoughtful, intelligent, and courteous messages, the way messages on social media were meant to be and should be. Sarah’s message was one of them.  I love those on my blog comments, and there are more and more every day. Sarah’s message stimulated me and made me think. It’s the kind of message that deserves and demands a response.

My blog has always discussed online cruelty and dishonesty because I have strong feelings about them. If no one objects to them, how can they ever stop? If we objected at the beginning of this new and often cold culture, cruelty and lying could be slowed or stopped.

As a Dyslexic and emotionally disturbed child, I was for years the target of bullies and the cruelty that was endemic in the poor neighborhood public schools of Providence where I grew up and the cruelty and abuse that marked life in my family. It destroyed my sister and left me unable to communicate with my brother, both of whom are out of my life. It damaged me.

Sarah, you are very worthy of a response. I’ll try to tell you how I feel. Thanks again for your message; it was so much truth and sensitivity.

I don’t want my blog to be a part of the disheartening division, hatred, anger, and dishonesty that is marking this time in our country. The people we are talking about are not trolls. Trolls are broken and emotionally disturbed people who are trying to gain or regain power and hurt by attacking people they don’t know. I never respond to trolls or pay much attention to them; there is no justice or point to attacking the mentally broken or ill. And conversation is never an option.

The people I respond to are not trolls. The nastiest are educated, have jobs, families, and friends, and know the difference between lying and viciousness.  A lot are academics, to my surprise. Colleges seem to teach arrogance, not the humility of learning.

Many of them are young and reek of arrogance, even while supposedly learning. They have grown up in a society where lying and cruelty are not sins or dishonorable, and they have grown lazy because of the lack of challenge, disapproval, or cruelty. For me, humility is the path to learning and intelligence. I have learned much more from my many mistakes than I ever learned at school. It’s curious; I often find myself urging children and many adults to get some manners and come back. Most have no idea what manners are.

For all of my troubles, and perhaps because of them, if I hate anything, I hate liars, bullies, or people who have rejected the cornerstone values I believe in. Humanity has been celebrating and teaching for eons lying is wrong, cruelty is terrible, and laziness is a waste of mind. Our country, one a miracle to the world, is just another big and greedy corporation, a kingdom run by billionaires.

The people who answer on my blog are not much different from the politicians “leading” our country, red and blue. We laugh off lying. Well, it isn’t what we think or don’t matter; all that matters is what it costs to live in America. Lying—at all levels of our society, from corporations to Congress—is what we do when necessary and as a habit. In our public life and online, there is no such thing as shame, apology, or dishonor. Lying is admired, not challenged.

Because I am getting older, I have different values. I cling to them and fight for them in my way. They matter to me. For years, I’ve been told to ignore people who lie or are cruel. Most of the time, I do. I pick my shots and only answer questions when I think they might be helpful to the millions of people who face this abuse and do not have the background or platform to respond.

I have that platform, and I speak to them on their behalf because I know what bullies and cowards do when they are not challenged. They get worse, and truth and decency are in danger of dying altogether.

I don’t want to be fighting all the time; it’s not who I am.

But I believe in honesty, decency, and kindness; that is who I am. If nobody ever challenges the dishonest and cruel, honesty and compassion will wither and even die. I hope that responding will protect my dignity and that the many other people in America who now face and experience lying, cruelty, and fear will respond. I have no illusions about stopping lying or cruelty; I sleep better when I fight back.

I respond only to people who lie and are cruel, but I also know that most are arrogant and cowardly. When challenged, they run and hide and disappear. I never hear from them again, which tells me they are not Trolls who live for being attacked.

Some good comes of that.

The blog is a sanctuary, not a backfield, and I will keep it that way. This is not about politics but morality.

But now and then, I must challenge this collapse of morality and kindness.

When liars and cruel people come after me, Sarah describes how I will challenge them, hopefully coherently and thoughtfully. Once in a while, I’ll get pushed over the line as she calls giving them the finger. I am sorry for that and am working on doing better. It does make me feel better. I see every flap as a win for truth.

So, thanks for writing your message, Sarah; it is helpful and appreciated.