Another new year. It comes reliably, almost outrageously punctually – regardless of whether we are ready or not. It doesn’t ask about our plans, our worries or our good intentions. It is simply there.
And what about us? We toast, count backwards, laugh, hug each other – and pretend for a brief moment that we have control over the future. Erich Kästner would have enjoyed this human spectacle – and he captured it very aptly in his “Proverb for New Year’s Eve”:
Don’t load the year with programs
like a sick horse.
If you weigh it down too much,
it will eventually break down.
The more lavish the plans blossom,
the trickier the deed becomes.
You resolve to make an effort,
and finally you have the salad!
It doesn’t do much good to be ashamed of yourself.
It doesn’t do any good, and it only does harm
to undertake a thousand things.
Leave the program! And get on with it!
Of course we know: The old year takes its stories with it – and many of them stay with us. A shift to the right, crises, loneliness, wars, social coldness. But also: courage, compassion, commitment, resistance to injustice, humanity on a small and large scale.
Because despite the unpredictability of the world, one thing remains certain:
Time passes – but responsibility remains.
It is not fate, not an invisible plan, not a divine construct. It is what we make of it. What we put into it: Turning towards it or looking away. Hope or resignation. Action or silence.
Kästner formulates this truth almost painfully clearly in his poem “I am time”:
My kingdom is small and impassable.
I am time.
I am time that creeps and hurries,
that strikes wounds and heals wounds.
I have neither heart nor eyesight.
I do not know the good and the bad.
I do not separate the good and the bad.
I hate no one, I feel sorry for no one.
I am time.
There is only one thing, – that is entrusted to you:
You are too loud!
I do not hear the seconds,
I do not hear the step of the hours.
I hear you praying, cursing, screaming,
I hear shots in between;
I hear only you, only you alone …
Pay attention, you people, what I want to say:
Be quiet at last!
You are a speck of dust on the robe of time, –
Leave your quarrels alone!
The planet is as small as a dot,
which rotates with you in space.
Microbes don’t like to shout.
And if you don’t want to be wise,
you can at least be quiet.
Be silent before the ticking of infinity!
Listen to time!
For us humanists, this means that we are not waiting to be rescued. We are not waiting for a sign from above. We are the ones who decide whether this new year will be colder or warmer – more humane or more indifferent.
And it doesn’t start “sometime”. Not on Monday. Not after the vacations.
But – well – now.
To put it bluntly:
The years change by themselves.
People have to do it themselves.
With this in mind, we wish you – and ourselves – not a perfect New Year, but an alert, sensitive, thoughtful and compassionate one.
Christiane Herrmann
