Dear TBZ community:
“This is not who we are. We are better than this”
Many have said these words in the last few days.
Perhaps we say them in order to separate ourselves from those who would violently attempt to overturn the results of a fair and democratic election, those who would choose to threaten the very pillars of our democracy, those who would jeopardize the physical safety of all who work inside the Capitol. Perhaps we say these words as a way to hold into the belief that we can do better than what we have seen this week and perhaps we say them in order to hold onto our trust that our humanity, and its goodness, will prevail.
But what if this is who we are? What if this is who we have become?
We, this country.
We, humanity.
I heard comments of disbelief, of shock that something like this could happen. And I’ve heard others who say that what happened on Wednesday was a predictable outcome of the last four years.
Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld, President of Hebrew College and TBZ Member wrote this week:
“There is a temptation to say, in such a moment, ‘I’m not shocked.’
There is a temptation to say that this is an entirely predictable outcome of the vitriol and violence that has been promoted from the highest halls of power over the last four years. To say that this is an entirely predictable outcome of the narcissistic leadership that has manipulated the deep divisions among us for self-aggrandizement and personal gain, rather than seeking to serve, to heal, to repair the fraying fabric of our society. We may be tempted to say all this and more.
But I urge us, still, to let ourselves be shocked.”
All these assertions, all these words we say and hear...
This is not who we are.
This is shocking.
This is who we have become.
This was predictable.
… hold the tension between recognizing our responsibility and the hope that we can change and evolve. Perhaps they reflect the tension between disbelief that there can be such deep rooted violence, hatred and racism and the belief that no one could, no one would, want such destruction and hatred to happen.
I remember when I first learned about the coup that had befell my birth country Chile just a year before I was born. I remember trying to understand the enormity of that time -- that a general of the Chilean army had led the armed forces to the most important building of the country, attacked those inside, killed the president and took control. I remember asking why. Why would anyone push to overthrow, through violence, a sitting government -- for what? This question has evolved, matured, over the years and yet I still find myself hearing that primal, and innocent, voice in my head wondering why and for what. Why would, for the sake of power, someone hurt another human being?
Perhaps it is necessary, more than ever, to welcome this tension. Perhaps we need to embrace the innocence of believing in humanity and energize the boldness to call our society for what it is and what it has become. We can recognize its beauty and its sins.
Wednesday's riot at the Capitol was a reminder of the country's racial double standards. As President Elect Joe Biden said: "No one can tell me that if it had been a group of Black Lives Matter protesters yesterday that they wouldn't have been treated very differently.”
Former First Lady Michelle Obama eloquently wrote:
“But there’s one question I just can’t shake: What if these rioters had looked like the folks who go to Ebenezer Baptist Church every Sunday? What would have been different? I think we all know the answer. This summer’s Black Lives Matter protests were an overwhelmingly peaceful movement—our nation’s largest demonstrations ever, bringing together people of every race and class and encouraging millions to re-examine their own assumptions and behavior. And yet, in city after city, day after day, we saw peaceful protestors met with brute force. We saw cracked skulls and mass arrests, law enforcement pepper spraying its way through a peaceful demonstration for a presidential photo op…. Seeing the gulf between the responses to yesterday’s riot and this summer’s peaceful protests and the larger movement for racial justice is so painful. It hurts. And I cannot think about moving on or turning the page until we reckon with the reality of what we saw yesterday. True progress will be possible only once we acknowledge that this disconnect exists and take steps to repair it. And that also means coming to grips with the reality that millions voted for a man so obviously willing to burn our democracy down for his own ego.”
This week's Parshat Shemot goes something like this:
There is a new Pharaoh. He is a dangerous tyrant.
The people of Israel are growing in numbers.
He creates oppression systems to get rid of them.
He enslaves them. He kills their children. He rules over them ruthlessly.
He generates followers: Egyptians that deal with them ruthlessly.
Women courageously thwart his plans.
Someone from his palace defies him, and stands up for justice.
This someone is part of the oppressed minority, he was supposed to die, but he was saved by the women.
So Pharaoh wants to kill him.
He is Moses.
Moses flees. Moses helps the vulnerable.
God selects him to unseat the tyrant.
This is the story we go back to and back to. It is our essential narrative. It holds all of what humanity is and what it can become; it holds the potential for evil and the possibility of salvation and redemption. This story takes us to the world of a dangerous tyrant and his followers, all of them human beings. This is not a story of gods and monsters but of men and women.
It chronicles the systems that are created, over time and with the consent and loyalty of followers, to oppress the vulnerable. It describes the people, who behind the scenes, silently thwart and ultimately overthrow the tyrants' plans. It shows us leaders who stand up for what is right, even when in doubt of their own capacity to lead.
As I wrote on Wednesday evening in my message to the community: “ We can and must hold onto hope and continue to hold dear the belief and trust that our humanity will rise and we will stand up against tyranny. A moral reckoning is coming and perhaps it is here.
Our community will continue to do the work of justice, of dismantling white supremacy, because that is what God demands from us:
הִגִּ֥יד לְךָ֛ אָדָ֖ם מַה־טּ֑וֹב וּמָֽה־יְהוָ֞ה דּוֹרֵ֣שׁ מִמְּךָ֗ כִּ֣י אִם־עֲשׂ֤וֹת מִשְׁפָּט֙ וְאַ֣הֲבַת חֶ֔סֶד וְהַצְנֵ֥עַ לֶ֖כֶת עִם־אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ
God has told you, what is good and what Adonai requires of you:
Do Justice, Love Mercy and Walk Humbly in God’s World.
(Micah 6:8)
On Wednesday Rev. Raphael Warnock addressed his supporters after being elected as the first Black Senator from the state of Georgia and said:
“I remember my dad used to wake me up every morning at dawn. It was morning. But it was still dark. It’s dark right now. But morning comes. And scripture tells us weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Let us rise up, greet the morning and meet the challenges of this moment. Together, we can do the necessary work and win the future for all of our children”.
These are the words from Psalm 30:6 - בָּ֭עֶרֶב יָלִ֥ין בֶּ֗כִי וְלַבֹּ֥קֶר רִנָּֽה – We may lie down weeping at nightfall, but joy comes in the morning.
May joy come in the morning after this dark and long night.
May this Shabbat bring renewal and blessings to all of you and your loved ones..
May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing.
May we have a joyful and restful Shabbat!
Shabbat Shalom,
