Beating Fireworks into Ploughshares

I happen to be a fan of my country and while I find citizenship more important than patriotism; especially defined by children getting skin cancer and waving tiny american flags that were made in China, I do LOVE the 4th of July. I love barbeques and parades and fireworks.

My firework love was tainted tonight though. And not just because of the resources and the littering but because of irony. Everytime the flash-boom happened, I thought of my friend who has done two tours in Iraq and how much he HATES the Fourth of July. We celebrate our country and it's military/defense heroes by traumatizing their PTSD even further.

While sitting on a lovely lady's lap while she hugged me in the rain, I began to ponder fireworks qua fireworks. And how they are AWESOME. And I was kind of wishing we had some Gandelf, super magical fireworks with like dragons and stuff. I noted we didn't have blue...maybe they can only make certain colors because of the gun powder or something.

It's reminiscent of the Isaiah quote “and they shall beat their swords into plowshares/And their spears into pruning hooks:/Nation shall not take up/Sword against nation;/They shall never again know war.” (2:4)

Moreover I am reminded of the fluffy version from Mishkan T'filah “Don't stop after beating the swords into ploughshares, don't stop! Go on beating and make musical intruments out of them./ Whoever wants to make war again will have to turn them into ploughshares first.”

Weaponry has changed a lot since Isaiah was runnin' around. We can't just beat them into other things anymore. But what if we used all that powder and junk to make pretty displays instead of killing people?

I also pondered whether they shoot these things off in places like Kosovo or Israel that have had shelling in modern times. I won't be manufacturing arms or fireworks or ploughshares or musical instruments...maybe ploughshares....anytime soon, but I enjoy walking home in the chaos, people, cars, bikes, carts, happy-like explosions, like our own celebratory exodus.