blogs/brentspodek

A few years back, a neighbor asked my daughter in the playground what she was doing for Easter. It was a reasonable question and I know my neighbor meant no malice with it. Nevertheless, I was incredibly proud when my daughter said "Nothing. We're Jewish. We celebrate Passover." The neighbor smiled and wished us a happy holiday.

Right there in the playground was American pluralism at its greatest. 

To live as a Jew is to be in constant tension with the world. There is just a "regular" way of doing things and those of us who practice Judaism often do things a different way.

There is Hebrew school and "regular" school the Jewish calendar and the "regular" calendar; Shabbat and the "regular" weekend. To practice Judaism can mean being highly irregular - different.

That dignity of difference, the ability to be irregular - queer, if you will - is the cornerstone of what makes America great. We are weakest when difference is subjugated, repressed, killed, and we are at our greatest and strongest when we make space for everyone - the "regular" and the "irregular" alike.

Our aspirations to national greatness are under tremendous strain. It's been a bruising election; hate crimes have spiked since election day and historians say that opposition to the election of a president has not been this strong since the eve of the Civil War.

Now, the president-elect has appointed Stephen Bannon, a self-described leader of the racist "alt-right," to be his chief strategist. Until he stepped down to advise Trump, Bannon was the executive chairman of Breitbart News, which the Southern Poverty Law Center has described as a "white ethno-nationalist propaganda mill."

Like Queen Esther long ago, we Jews are in a precarious position. We have long felt that Judaism is (more or less) "regular" in America, and have been spared the ravages that have been visited on other communities, particularly African Americans. Like Esther, we have become used to being accepted, even loved, in the halls of power. Yet, in the deepest recesses of our collective mind, we have had thoughts that have felt paranoid. We have known, that like in Esther's story, a foolish king Achashverosh could rise, a wicked Haman could have his ear, and things could change in an instant.

But as Mordechai says in the Book of Esther, we were made for moments like this. It is on us, who might feel our skin tone gives us pass with white supremacists,to have the courage of Esther. 

We must have the courage to stand and say no, I won't sit in the back of the bus, no I won't pretend that my partner is my roommate, no, I don't celebrate Easter.

We must have the courage, not just to stand up for our rights and to save our own skin, but to do as we are commanded and to build a world of love. We must have the courage to build a country for everyone - for others who flee different countries than our ancestors fled, others who have a different skin color, others who have a different culture, others who have a different sexuality, others who have a different religion, others who have different political views.

We are made for moments like this. Our community has space for everyone and that will not change, no matter what.

We will keep building a world of love in our hearts through prayer and meditation and Torah. No matter what. 

We will keep building a world of love in our synagogue through visiting the sick and comforting the mourners. No matter what. 

We will keep building a world of love in our community through feeding the hungry, working for justice and creating song together. 

Most of the time it can feel like we live in a very different world than our ancestors, and then at moments we are reminded of how some things are constant.

From the very beginning, Torah teaches us that we are to build a world of love. That is what we have always done and that is what we will always do.

No matter what.