I saw the meter maid stepping towards the back of my car to get license plate info. The meter had expired a few minutes before and like clockwork, she was there at the ready to write the ticket. I called out “Excuse me Ma’am!” and started to cross the street hopefully catching her in time. As I stepped off the curb, I felt a snap in my knee and down I went. The pain was excruciating. She looked up and saw me. I knew I had to get to her so I limped over as best I could, needing to catch my breath before I could say anything. She reached out to me to help me and asked if I was okay. We started to talk and she made it clear that she would not leave me until I was safely in my car.
She went from “meter maid” or “traffic enforcement officer” to caring human being. Actually, she was a lovely caring human being all along. It took me a while to realize that.
I do not know who she is. I never got her name. I reached out to the Parking Authority to try to find her and say thank you. They likely do not get too many of those kinds of letters.
And as I was sitting in my car, gaining my composure, I could not help but notice the person a couple of cars behind me frantically waving a ticket in his hand as he ran towards a confrontation with my good Samaritan.
So thank you my nameless good Samaritan. Thank you for sharing your humanity when I needed it.
So many of us have expressed outrage at the separation of children from parents at the border. Now the real work begins; for now that we are aware of the situation, the responsibility to change it is ours.
Write your Congressional representative and Senators and demand this policy stop immediately. This is not a negotiation, this is wrong. Anyone unwilling to unconditionally terminate this policy now will be held accountable at the ballot box.
In case you do not know your representative, find out here:
The appalling misuse of the Bible to defend stripping children from their parents at the border adds insult to injury, something I would have thought all but impossible given the heinous underlying act. It makes the indefensible downright obscene.
Whatever our personal position on strong border controls may be, this inhumane action undermines our most fundamental values. We are a nation of laws, but very importantly we are also a nation of hope. Our laws can be applied humanely with mercy and compassion. This egregious violation of our values is a symptom of a growing cancer in our society.
In an age of increasing division and antipathy, this moment needs to serve as a tipping point. Can we aspire to be the light unto the other nations, leading by example or must we retreat building walls that separate us in the name of protecting us? History shows us time and again that the latter approach ultimately fails. And by the time the walls are ultimately breached, what found inside is a hollow shell of the greatness that once lived.
Our greatness comes not from the domination of a ruler, or even the majority. Our greatness springs from America’s ability to protect and defend the minority when the majority prevails, exercising its will civilly and compassionately.
To those who find the actions on our borders justifiable, shame on you for your heartlessness. To those who find these actions unjustifiable, our thoughts must be backed by action that will cause change. Otherwise, we too will be responsible for the horrors wrought upon the children.
In my early training as a lifeguard, I was taught that you can only do so much to save another. You swim out to the distressed and offer a life ring, once they grab on to it, you can swim into shore rescuing him/her. But they had to grab hold of the flotation device otherwise you would risk both of your lives. You could go most of the way, but you needed the participation of the other. Later on, I learned a more aggressive approach to lifesaving using grips and evasive maneuvers to assert control over the victim. Finally, I learned that sometimes to save a life required knocking the other person out with a swift cross to the jaw. You saved two lives in that precarious moment, yours and the victim’s.
How actively and strongly do we intercede when it comes to saving another? How do we determine the appropriate course of action? Sadly, it often devolves into a matter of personal convenience. Whether it is suicide, drug abuse, or so many of our civic/social problems, we often find it easier to ignore them. How often do we step over the person sitting in the street begging rather than at least engage their humanity?
People need to be seen and heard. The silent scream of despair of one soul should ring as loudly in our ears as the giant thunderclap from the heavens. Wringing hands and feeling another’ pain consoles our own ego, but it does nothing to help another in need. If there is something we all need more of, it is human connection. Every one of us is nurtured by interactions with others. It makes us feel cared for, it makes us feel human. The loss of this most basic need dehumanizes us and only bad things can ensue.
We have reached a tipping point. It is time for each of us to reenergize human connection. Social media is a place to share, but it is does not replace the interpersonal one-on-one experiences with another. Government programs can provide safety nets but cannot create the human warmth and validation each of us so desperately needs. Communities of caring such as synagogues and churches can bring us together in important ways. But it all begins with me and my ability to see you, as an individual in your humanity; every one of us realizing that we need each other to truly be complete. And in that critical precarious moment, I am the person who can rescue you and you are the person who has the power to rescue me.
Parashah Shelach helps me understand a fundamental part of the human condition giving perspective into the fickle nature of the Israelite people’s relationship to their God as the Almighty leads them from bondage to the Promised Land. Put simply, the people lack trust. Not just in God, but more fundamentally in themselves. The text asks if I am unable to trust in myself, how can I be in a relationship with anyone else including even God?
The Almighty has been steadfast as a protector and provider, out of Egypt, across the Red Sea and to Sinai. Yet, at every turn, the people complain, unable to place their trust in God. In Parashah Shelach, God asks the people to send a reconnaissance team into the land that God has promised. The scouts return with more than information about the people and the land; the scouts conclude that they are like giants and we are like grasshoppers. They are of greater Middot[1] than we. Any attempt to conquer the land is doomed, even though this was the Land that God had promised. I was perplexed baffled by this lack of trust in God until I realized that in actuality, this was fundamentally a lack of trust in themselves, making it impossible to trust in God.
This insight remains as true today as it was then. Only when we are able to trust in ourselves can we then trust in another. Trust is the capacity to open ourselves to a deeper sharing, creating a more profound relationship. But this also requires becoming vulnerable to someone else. Our lack of trust, or fear of what bad might happen, is overcome by the hope of what good could be by establishing bonds of trust.
We so often build emotional walls around us. We believe the walls are meant to protect us. But in fact, these walls shut us off, creating a spiritual and emotional prison that keeps us from others as surely as they shut others out. But our greatest joy comes when we are in a relationship with others, when we can trust in ourselves enough to entrust others with the most intimate parts of who we are. Although it is scary to admit our fears, it is also empowering; for it opens us up to the possibilities of the heart.
This trust and openness is not a place of weakness; it takes a strong person who is able to show vulnerability. To show someone else, a spouse or a child, that you need them and their help requires inner strength and courage. It reinforces and deepens the relationship bringing you closer than before. Together you can face what certainly would have been a lonely battle by yourself. This becomes a message of hope.
The meaning of Shelach is ultimately this message of hope, which might seem counterintuitive. The older people are consigned to die in the desert so that the next generation is properly prepared to enter the Land. But it is this older generation who are the teachers of the generation that will enter the Promised Land. Even though they suffer the consequences of mistrust, the rest of the Torah shows them grapple with this important lesson and strive to teach their children well.
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[1] The term Middot, in Numbers 13:32, has been translated to mean size or stature. However, in the context of Mussar, Middot also means measure, character, or values. The Torah might have this broader understanding of this word, strengthening the argument posited in this essay.
Idan Raichel brings us Beresheet – a new song which he wrote during his travels, inspired by several unexpected encounters with people from Africa and India.
The song is accompanied by a beautiful video created by the sand artist Ilana Yahav, who brings her visual interpretation of the song in a sensitive and heartwarming way.
My thanks to Adam Wishkovsky for sharing this piece with me.
In reaction to Ms. Portman’s decision to reject the Genesis Prize the Jewish world has been a blaze. She has been vilified and pilloried. It seems just a matter of time before someone calls for her head. Ms. Portman was initially vague in her reasons for her action except to say that she did not want to appear to support Netanyahu or policies with which she has serious objections. As a citizen of Israel, a democratic country, she has the right to express her opinions regardless of who may agree.
Israel is ostensibly a Democracy and Ms. Portman is an Israeli citizen. So she is arguably demonstrating a loyalty to her country by exercising her right to an opinion and speaking out. Whether you agree or disagree with her position, her rights as a citizen should be respected and so should she. Ms. Portman is an accomplished, intelligent person.
As such, her opinions are likely thoughtful and deliberate, all the more so given the ramifications of this public stand.
The personal attacks on her and calls for charges of treason and revocation of her Israeli Citizenship are at best extreme and unwarranted. Whether you agree with her position, one can respectfully and even vehemently disagree without resorting to the calumny bandied about. The fact that she is an Israeli citizen and an active supporter of her homeland gives her voice a particular gravitas, something she undoubtedly considered in her decision and public statements. It is inappropriate and shameful that so many rush to judgement, seeking her head.
Our community needs to do better. We argue and disagree all the time. That is part of Jewish and Israeli cultural DNA. But if we forget that we are Am Yisrael we do so at our own peril. Anti-Semitism is alive and well. Those seeking a world without Jews or Israel are plentiful. It would be tragic if we did their work for them through the baseless hatred or Sinat Chinam, our tradition warns us against.
Natalie Portman was awarded the Genesis Prize, the highest achievement of her country Israel. She has decided to take a stand and reject this award. To spurn this national recognition is not done cavalierly, but with forethought. This was not some grade-school essay competition. The Prize signals a deep respect for her and her extraordinary achievements. We might do well to remember that before labeling her with disdain and contempt. Perhaps we might learn from the stand that she has taken and learn something about her, our people, and ourselves.
As we share Passover at the Seder table this year, notice that it is in the process of change. We are instructed to remember the Exodus experience and to consider as though we experience it ourselves as we participate in the reenactment. But this tradition evolves; with each generation, we fashion the Seder into something that is uniquely ours.
I recall the Seders of two generations ago, the seemingly endless table that ran from room to room of the small apartment in the Bronx or the small home in Queens. These are wonderful memories from long ago and much of those traditions continue on. But our current Seder will be different from those of my past. For example, an Orange and Olives will find themselves on our current Seder Plate and Miriam’s cup will be prominently placed alongside Elijah’s. Instead of asking the four questions, I will lead (to the extent my boisterous family will permit). We will read from a Hagaddah fashioned by my niece with interpretations and questions that resonate with her generation. For they are the future.
The Seder will continue to progress as the next generation of our family steps into the role of leadership and we slowly cede our positions leadership and authority, hopefully becoming Elders with positions of respect and wisdom. This is the natural progression of things. For each of us must embrace our understanding of the Jewish experience not only as a communal experience but as something uniquely our own. This was the tradition will be a meaningful part of our identity combining ritual with relevance.
At the Seder table, we can each look to either side (figuratively or literally), seeing our parents and what they have bequeathed to us and seeing our children as they fashion and shape Judaism as their own. This is the blessing of our legacy; family and historic community forming an unbroken chain linking us all together.
Wishing everyone a Joyful Pesach. Chag Pesach Sameach! and Shabbat Shalom
Ki Tisa is so timely coming in the wake of the Parkland tragedy. The giving of the Law, the singular seminal moment in the Jewish people’s experience, is juxtaposed against the story of the Golden Calf and revolt, the nadir of the Jewish experience. In the immediate aftermath of Parkland, our conversation has devolved into diatribe and intransigence. Seventeen dead barely buried and already we hear polarizing voices condemning and chastising those who do not share the same viewpoint.
Everyone has an idea about how to approach the problem that we have in America. And everyone has an opinion on what the problem is. And sadly, no one is willing to listen to anyone else, particularly when it comes from “the other side.” Whether you think the idea is good or bad, President Trump’s suggestion to arm trained teachers to carry concealed weapons into the schools should be part of the conversation. But the left would rather attack the idea and vilify the person rather than consider the merits of the argument as part of a broader conversation. The NRA would rather demonize those who do not embrace its views instigating people attending the CPAC conference to entrench against the subversive left instead of becoming part of a national discourse.
We need to create a safer more secure society and work towards solutions that address violence. There is no single fix, there is not even a single problem. The issues are deep and multi-layered. I suggest two things to start:
First, we charge the CDC with doing a deep and full study of gun violence in America. All comprehensive analysis has been thwarted by the Dickey amendment since the CDC’s last investigation in 1993. We need to have an intelligent conversation about gun violence and that starts with knowledge.
Second, we need to listen more and talk less. Everyone needs to try to appreciate the position of the other side. You may believe that a gun has absolutely no place in our society at all. There are those who are diametrically opposed to that viewpoint. Both sides have something important to contribute to the national conversation. Until we can stop characterizing the other as “enemy” there is no room for constructive discussion.
Reach out to your congressman and senator to demand the CDC does the important investigative work to provide insight and analysis. Then as a nation, we can move toward finding solutions to the problems we all face. There are solutions to the problem that can make for a better and healthier society. We must find them together.
Our tradition speaks at great lengths about filial obligations, the responsibilities of children to honor and revere their parents. Likewise, much is written about our obligations as parents to raise children properly, to teach them, and to prepare them for the world. But do we teach them Torah when we do not live it our selves? We do not teach them to build a better world but instead how to selfishly survive in it.
We offer them a world based on material gain, our nation withdrawing from its predominant place in the world, communal strife, a political system challenging the legitimacy of its fundamental institutions, and an economy that will burden them with almost intolerable crushing debt. We have not built a better world for them. And yet, these young people have galvanized in the wake of the Parkland horror. And that gives me hope. For even though we have not done right by them, they seek changes that will benefit us all.
Do we deserve our kids? That remains an open question until we begin to act as though they truly are the most prized things in our lives. We can start by supporting them in their efforts to address gun violence, this grievous wrong in our society that has murdered so many of them. Support them as they raise their voices, join them as they march in March. Help make the world they inherit better than what we have now.
I saw the meter maid stepping towards the back of my car to get license plate info. The meter had expired a few minutes before and like clockwork, she was there at the ready to write the ticket. I called out “Excuse me Ma’am!” and started to cross the street hopefully catching her in time. As I stepped off the curb, I felt a snap in my knee and down I went. The pain was excruciating. She looked up and saw me. I knew I had to get to her so I limped over as best I could, needing to catch my breath before I could say anything. She reached out to me to help me and asked if I was okay. We started to talk and she made it clear that she would not leave me until I was safely in my car.
