A Eulogy for Ronald Reagan

Shabbat Shalom

As the sun sets, we begin Shabbat but end a National Day of Mourning. The sights and sounds of this past week—with its rider-less horse, the flag draped coffin, the lines of people filing by President Regan’s casket both here and in Washington, the solemn processions of military order, the grand organ of the National Cathedral bring a certain sense of patriotic unity to our country that has felt so divided for so long. Whatever we thought about his policies—there was honor given to his service to our country in the ceremonies of this week and as he was laid to rest tonight in Simi Valley. How amazing it was to see the leaders of the world—past and present gather to pay tribute to his public service and indeed to our country at a time when our country is not held in very high esteem around the globe.

My family always taught me that while I may disagree with the politics, that the office of the President and the person who occupies it deserved my respect and yes, even honor. And so tonight we take a moment to reflect on the life and death of President Reagan, the 40th President of the United States of America. We reflect on the ways in which he helped to change the world—how he nurtured the demise of the Soviet Empire and challenged Mr. Gorbechev to reach beyond the Iron Curtain’s grip towards the west. How he broke the gender barrier on the Supreme Court with the appointment of the first woman justice. Tonight we reflect upon President Reagan’s eloquent revelation after his presidency of his Alzheimer’s diagnosis—and his valiant struggle until his death and we reflect and honor Nancy Reagan’s devoted caring for her husband in health and sickness. We reflect and honor his use of humor and how he had a way of crossing over the political divide.

And yet, I must admit that I have struggled all week long to put this week of mourning into a context. While I honor these things I mentioned to you, other ghosts haunt me. I feel sadness and grief—but frankly, it is not for President Reagan. I can appreciate the depth of grief of his family they lost a husband of 53 years, a father and grandfather and even some of the triumphs of his administration but my sorrow on this national day of mourning are for the thousands of young men and women who died of AIDS while Mr. Reagan was silent. My tears are for the lives lost because of his neglect and the neglect of his administration. I remember that’ his shining city on the hill’ was an America of our darkest night; that his bright sunshine of morning in America –was the darkest hour of our communal life.

My grief today and this week are for the thousands of boys and men and women who died of AIDS. My grief is for our lovers and friends and family who died of AIDS while Ron and Nancy brought their brand of glamour to the White House. She changed the china—And our friend had their i.v.’s changed. He was so busy stubbornly chasing Communists who were already in the throes of their demise whether in the Soviet Union or Grenada or selling Arms to Iran to fund the Contras and firing Air Traffic Controllers that he could not muscle the resource of our government to attack the worst health crisis ever. 10 people got Legionnaires disease and he called them heroes. 1000’s upon 1000’s –a quarter of million by the early 90’s of our community died of HIV disease and not a word from Ronald W. Reagan’s lips.

All week long I couldn’t figure out why I felt nothing—even with the pomp and circumstance of the funeral. Even with my usual bent towards the patriotic. All week long even as I saw a frail Nancy Reagan being guided by her families’ hand—my usual compassionate self, felt little. Not a tear—not an understanding of why the lines of people gathered to pay him tribute. Oh I understood it intellectually as I explained earlier but not in a visceral- emotional way.

And then late last night I had a revelation—I understood. I came home late from a Union for Reform Judaism meeting in Denver. I flipped on the television to see an old friend in the form of Paul Monette and the film made about him and about us. At the Brink of a Summer’s End—documented the life and loves and work of author Paul Monette. Paul died in 1995. But his words, and his insights still ring with truths.

Paul wrote in his book “Borrowed Time”:

“ And if the government was stone-deaf, the press was mute. The media are convinced in 1987 that they’re doing a great job reporting the AIDS story, and there’s no denying they’ve grasped the horror. But for four years they let the bureaucracies get away with passive genocide, dismissing a no-win problem perceived as affecting only an underclass or two. It was often remarked acidly in West Hollywood that if AIDS had struck boy scouts first rather than gay men –or St. Louis rather than Kinshasa, it would have been covered like a nuclear war.

In September ’83, Cesar was circa case two thousand. By March ’85 Roger was number nine thousand give or take. In addition there had to be one or two hundred thousand others suffering symptoms of AIDS related Complex (ARC) –diagnosed or not, people who just felt awful and kept getting sick.” (Borrowed Time p. 110).

Monette reminds me of the truth of Reagan’s era—the truth of the deafening silence. Monette’s words and seeing and hearing Paul and so many friends last night in this movie from 1996 reminded me of the lack of response—the pain and suffering of so many of our friends. So many graves—so much suffering—long and painful suffering that still is with us… more than twenty years. And still our government does not enough—cut backs in AIDS services and health care—to those who most need it continue while billions pour into guns and ammunition.

The ghosts of men like Paul Monette are with me tonight—on this National Day of Mourning—for all the Pauls and Cesars and Rogers; for all the Dans and Hals and Billys and Ricks, and Richards; for all the Juans and Freds for all the Michaels, Steves and Georges and Gabes for all the Allens and Rands and Kennys and Sheldons who suffered needlessly while Ron and Nancy consulted their astrologers for the most propitious times of their lives.

This is for whom I mourn tonight.

In his elegy called “Manifesto” from “Love Alone –18 Elegies for Rog”—Paul Monette—reminds us of President’s Reagan’s deliberate inaction—

“Why do I care about all this –who does it
harm –shouldn’t the scared and solo have a shot at warding it off --six months a year by dint of mellowness, well yes and no -- we need the living alive to bucket Ronnie’s’ House with abattoirs of blood—hand in hand lesions across America –need to train wreck the whole show till someone listens.” (p. 40)

He didn’t listen—and he didn’t care.

I hope he finds his peace.

Because tonight my prayers will be for the many men I have held at their last breath—while reciting the 23rd Psalm—with hope that God will walk with them through the valley of the shadow of death. My tears this day are for them. The flag draped coffin—the riderless horse—it was not for the 40th president—but in my eyes for them. A state funeral—for all the funerals I have done for those with AIDS—who died too young and too soon. A state funeral—with military precision – and leaders who gathered from around the world—to remember and recall the truth –that our world –our families died –while they fiddled around.

Tonight my kaddish is for them. That we who have survived have not forgotten that silence = Death. And so tonight before this day of mourning is over we must speak the truth. And continue to bear witness to the tragedy of our time.

That we who have survived have not forgotten them. That we who have survived have built a new community—from the ground up. That we who have survived—will remember it all—AIDS, and suffering, inaction and those who did nothing and we will speak the truth. Now and always.

This week’s parasha—Shelach Lecha—in the book of Numbers has much to say about speaking the truth.. Leader one from each tribe are sent as an advance team to scout out the Promised land. They are to bring back a report about the bounty of the land, the military targets, the cities, their fortifications and any information that they can gain. For 40 days and nights –the 12 leaders investigate the new land and its peoples and they return to Moses and the people with reports. 10 of them bring back terrible news of giants and cities with impenetrable walls. While 2 of them Joshua and Caleb—speak the truth of the great bounty of the land and that armed with their faith—they know the future is bright—bright enough to capture the Promised Land as God promised in the Covenant.

But the 10 who lied whip up a frenzy—it is their version that the Children of Israel believe—and so the Children of Israel are condemned to wander for 40 years—a generation dying out before the next can come to the promised land.
The lies they told –doomed a generation.

So too for us—the lies they told about us and AIDS and their inaction doomed a generation of our lovers and friends.

Let us not be complicit in the lies—let us remember this day and going forward—that we will speak the truth about AIDS and especially about President Reagan.

And the ghosts of our friends who hover here with us close to our sorrowing hearts, will know that our kaddish is for them.

All quotes from Paul Monette’s work come from the Triangle Classics edition of
Borrowed Time, Love Alone and Becoming A Man by Paul Monette (QPB, New York, 2000)