Collective Mortality

Thomas Carlyle once wrote: "We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails." If that's the case, Jack Layton must be doing at lot of adjustment at the moment. His response of rustic grace to his discovery of prostate cancer was inspiring.I've always been fascinated by how this kind of news affects the political spectrum. Opponents suddenly become friends. Venues like Facebook are used for well-wishing as opposed to partisanship. If the House was in session yesterday, virtually every member of that place would have walked across the middle divide to shake Jack's hand and give Olivia a hug. For the briefest of moments, mortality breaks through the veneer of our partisan world and reduces us to a common humanity.  In such moments the chamber becomes a fraternity. The dread so many feel about a political demise is transcended by the reminder that physical life is indeed precious and clearly more important than political fate. And then I get to wondering why we can't be like that more often. If we could, the benefits of such an outlook would accrue to the benefit of all Canadians and not just ourselves as MPs.I continue to be reminded by others in Ottawa that my belief in a workable non-partisanship is a pipe dream, an impossibility in a place of verbal war. Then I witness what happened yesterday in the response to Jack's condition and marvel once again that when humanity enters the room things that seemed impossible are suddenly transpiring.One of the lessons you quickly learn in the House is that many of these MPs and their leaders have been around for some time, developing a latent prejudice against one another. Each one of us as MPs become fully conditioned by our past. Everything - our prejudices, beliefs, assumptions, stresses - conspires to trap us in an endless series of boundaries. Over time we become jaded and the quest for public service seems to only matter in ways that effect our brand.And then the wind changes, as with Jack's announcement, and we're suddenly adjusting. In an instant we are more familial and desire to escape the paltry diet of destructive politics. There's the unmentioned yearning to escape not just from this influence but from ourselves. We suddenly embrace the reality that the politics of the day is actually insufficient for the great challenges of life. Who can forget Chuck Cadman?Jack Layton is likely about to become a cancer survivor, following in the footsteps of his father and his remarkable wife. But he's not alone. I think of others MPs like Bloc member Francine Lalonde, who survived a terrible bout of the disease and has reassumed her place on the front bench and, more frail though she may be, brings her absolute best to public service. This is politics as it should be all the time. Something can't be so naive if it's capable of overcoming an encounter with possible death.My favourite preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick, reminded his readers: "God has put within our lives meanings and possibilities that quite outrun the limits of mortality." By entering the House of Commons, Jack, Olivia, Francine, and others like them are fighting tenaciously for the very things that will outlast them. Disease will not strip them of that opportunity and they will play their part with dedication. I just wish, again, that we could all behave with such grace.I look forward to working with you in the future, Jack.  And just a reminder that cancer is a word, not a sentence.