By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO, Calif.—I'm a big fan of the music of John Lennon and the other Beatles, but I felt that his song, "Imagine," really sent the wrong message to the assembled athletes of the world.  Here, in case anyone has forgotten, is the second stanza:

Imagine there's no countries,
It isn't hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Those assembled in Turino, and the rest of us watching our televisions at home,  heard a version of Imagine  by Peter Gabriel, the former lead singer of Genesis. Syncopating their arms to the familiar melody, the athletes may not have thought too deeply about the concept that Lennon, through Gabriel, was espousing—that differences are the cause of problems in the world. If only we had no countries, no religion, but  instead were one undifferentiated mass of humanity, then these problems would go away.

All those athletes who carried their national flags as they marched into the stadium, in Lennon's view, should not have been so proud of the honor—not if countries, themselves, are the sources of humanity's troubles. Similarly, those people  in the stands who erupted in joy when the host Italian teams marched at the end of the procession were guilty under Lennon's edict of the same offense. They too were too proud of their country. Ditto those of us at home who strained forward to get a glimpse of the athletes from our own countries.

And religion—although no athletes actually represented a religion, many came from countries identified with various religions or, in some cases with a political philosophy, Communism, that used to describe religion as the "opiate of the masses."   Whereas Lennon believed that religions, like countries, divide humanity, rather than uniting it in a "brotherhood of man," many of us who consider ourselves to be persons of goodwill have quite a different view.  Religions, like countries, are not in themselves the sources of evil; to the contrary, respect for the multiplicity of religions is quite healthy for humanity. What is unhealthy is when people believe that there should be only one religious belief, or only one dominant country—theirs.

I remembered sadly that the four Beatles—Lennon, and his cohorts Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr—all came from the same country, yet that did not prevent them from breaking up in acrimony.  

Depending on their families—and it is families, by and large, who determine most people's religions and countries—viewers  had different sets of reactions as they watched the Parade of Nations.  By virtue of family, I am rooting for three teams to do well in the Olympics: the United States, where my wife, daughter, son, grandson and I were born; Israel, where my son-in-law was born, and Taiwan, where my daughter-in-law was born.  My wish is that we all will be able to sit around a table at the conclusion of the Olympics and bask in the accomplishments of the teams of our birthplaces. The warm Italian community of San Diego hosted an opening night festival in the "Little Italy" section of our city, and I hope that they too will always remember these 20th Winter Olympics with pride and joy.  

The small team from Denmark also caught my eye; I feared because of the controversy over the publication of anti-Muslim cartoons in a Danish newspaper that the lives of these innocent athletes might be endangered by extremists.  The cartoonist was wrong to insult the religious beliefs of the Muslims, and those who have been burning Danish embassies and threatening Danes also are wrong—in my view, the reaction has far exceeded the provocation.  Let these Olympics be a time for cooler heads. 

Let us draw lessons from the pragmatism of China and Taiwan, which agreed to field separate teams, one as "China;" the other as "Chinese Taiwan" even though each of their governments long has insisted that there is only one China, and that each of them is that country's legitimate government.  Let us also take heart that the athletes representing  two other political adversaries, North Korea and South Korea, marched into the stadium together in recognition of their common ancestry—that indeed they are members of the same families.  

Watching the small delegation from Iran, I  thought to myself that these are athletes—not politicians— and that just as the Danish athletes must not be judged by the drawings of a cartoonist, neither should the athletes of Iran be judged by the words of their country's president, whose hatred seems to know no bounds.  Governments come, governments go, but on the fields of competition, and in the Olympic village where athletes trade national pins, friendships and mutual respect can develop.

In the United States, there once was an overused metaphor about the "melting pot."  Immigrants from everywhere supposedly would come to the United States and be "melted" into a new mixture, that of being Americans.  I never liked the metaphor because like Lennon's song, it seemed to posit that our national origins represented problems to be eliminated.  Instead, I've favored the "chef's salad" metaphor about the United States.  Wherever we come from, we bring a special flavor to the salad of the American nationality. Each ingredient retains its unique flavor, yet each contributes to a combined food with another unique taste.

My country—the United States of America—and my religion—Judaism—each has imparted to me worthwhile values. From both of them I have learned the important concepts of optimism, responsibility, and fairness.  And I just can't imagine wanting to live in a world without these values.