I am The West

“This is my solemn oath.
As long as I am breathing,
The West will never fall.”

– Javier Levine, The War for the West

(Alexander in the Temple of Jerusalem, by Sebastinao Conca, 1736)

I am The West.

I am a fourth-generation American Jew. I am descended from those two great freedom-loving traditions, the tradition of Abraham and Arthur, Moses and Macchiavelli, Hertzl and Hobbes.

And I am The West.

I was born in Los Angeles, that once great city whose western border kisses the sun as it sets into the sea.

And I am The West.

Long before I was born, and long after I die, there was and will always be, The West.

The West is more than a geographic distinction, more than shorthand for a set of culture and values, more than anything we could possibly hope to understand.

The West is civilization itself.

And Civilization is not just a video game played by history nerds like me.

Civilization is the process by which man learns that he is not an animal, that he is something more, something greater, something to be proud of.

Civilization is the end of barbarism, the state human beings occupy when they cannot distinguish between themselves and their pets, their behavior and their instincts, their thoughts and their feelings.

And I am The West.

The West was created on a hot day in the hinterlands between Jerusalem and Alexandria.

A day when two great societies, one Greek, the other Jewish, met – not in battle, but in communion.

The day when the High Priest, Shimon HaTzaddik, rode out to meet the great conqueror Alexander, prepared to kneel and beg for safety and protection for his people.

Instead, he was met with kindness and respect.

Alexander, the great conqueror of the world, stepped down from his horse, bowed low before the High Priest, and thanked him.

For, as Alexander said, it was Shimon HaTzaddik, dressed in his magnificent priestly vestments, who visited Alexander in a dream, every night, before a great Greek victory.

There, in the great expanse between the Nile and the Jordan, that The West was born.

And I?

I am The West.

I am the living descendant of these two great men.

One half of my heart belongs to the great Jewish tradition, the tradition that taught the world about the One True G-d, about the divine order of all things, about the sanctity of all things living.

The other half belongs to the Greek, the tradition that sought to bring order to the chaos through reason alone, that sought to understand the inner-workings of the universe through careful study and contemplation, that brought the world the philosophy of Socrates, the poetry of Homer, the drama of Sophocles.

And goddamnit, I AM THE WEST!

If that is something for which my enemies would have me hanged, then so be it.

I’d rather hang in The West than cower in the dark.

For The West, no matter what our enemies might say, is not at war with the east – it is at war with the dark.

And I will make war on The Dark.

The Jews teach that in the beginning the world was “Tohu V’Vohu,” null and void, a dark expanse.

And into that void G-d the eternal words, LET THERE BE LIGHT, and there was light, and it was good.

The Greeks teach us that noble Prometheus stole fire from the heavens and brought it down into our dark world to illuminate our days.

And for his great sin, the enlightening of man, he was cursed.

As it was before, so it is now.

Like the jealous raven who eats away at Great Prometheus, the forces of darkness feast upon the flesh of those who bring light into their dark world.

They serve a darker master.

But I, I serve the light.

I serve the light that G-d spoke into the dark void on the day before time began.

I serve the light that blinded Socrates when he was dragged out of The Cave.

I serve the light that shone on the day those brave men took the beaches of Normandy, the men who made war on the dark black cloud stretching over Europe.

And I, I am The West.

I can tell you this much.

I have spent some time in hell, 
And I was not a fan, 
Trapped beneath the darkest spell, 
Is no way to be a man. 

But even in that hellish pit into which all men are born, there remains a light – a light that cannot go out – a light that has shone through all of human history, from Prometheus to Picasso.

It is the light of human life.

For as long as men live, as long as there is still air in our lungs, as long as our blood boils and our skin turns cold, there will be light!

There will always be light, emanating from the souls of the men who love freedom and truth.

And so I make this my solemn oath:

If darkness be the order of the day,
Then I shall be the light. 

The sun may rise in the east, 
But I will never let it set on The West. 

With my left hand on my bible, 
And my right hand on my sword, 
I shall make war upon the dark, 
I shall make war upon its hordes. 

As long as I am breathing, 
The West will never fall. 

Heap curses on my name, 
Throw daggers at my heart, 
They pour water on my flame, 
For I have come to kill the dark. 

So when G-d calls my name, 
Tell him, Here I stand, 
I’m standing for The West,
And I’m serving His Command. 

Make war upon the darkness, 
Make war upon the dark, 
I’ll bring an end to fear, 
And I’ll bring it with my art. 

~

Spread Love, Spread Light,

Am Yisrael Chai