Odd Mom Out Returns & Ginnifer Goodwin's Baby NewsBy Gerri Miller
Find out who's guest starring on Odd Mom Out this season and get the scoop on Goodwin's new babe!Go To Pop Culture
I need to apologize. I’ve been quiet. I’ve been in my isolated bubble of white-straight-privilege and been perfectly fine in there. Don’t get me wrong, I was outraged, but I was also paralyzed by inaction, and quiet about it. I told myself I was doing really great work by helping people turned away from Jewish communities because of their spouse’s religion. I thought that was my form of social action, or at least that’s how I justified my silence (or maybe even apathy). But mass shooting after mass shooting I’ve gotten outraged for a few days and then gone on with my life. I’ve called my representatives and written letters once or twice, and then I’ve gotten busy and stopped.
I am sorry. I have sinned against my fellow humans by complacency. I have sinned against God by failing to act to save God’s creations. I am sorry.
When I woke up early on Sunday June 12 to the news that 20 people had been killed at a nightclub in Orlando, I was outraged. I shook my husband awake saying “there’s been another shooting, it’s just awful.” And then I went out in the living room to care for my young children who have no capacity for this kind of news, but while we played with blocks I couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach or stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
As the number of murdered humans rose to 49, my sadness grew. As details started emerging about the location and circumstances, the anger grew. All day as I fed my kids and entertained them along with my sister who was in town, I tried to sort through my feelings.
The same thoughts kept flooding my mind:
100 people were shot. By 1 man.
A gay nightclub.
How is this possible?
Do I know anyone there?
Does anyone I know, know anyone there?
100 people shot by 1 man.
How could this be possible?
And then I thought about it: Of course it’s possible. It’s possible because of people like me who go through their day sipping on cold brew and checking Facebook and watching Netflix and potty training kids and being busy at work and having family problems and and and and…
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve called my state representatives and written letters. Could I have called more and written more? Yes. Can I do more? Absolutely.
The violent act of murder and hate in Orlando on Sunday was the sound of the shofar I needed to hear to wake up and stand up. But to do what, I had no idea. I spent the evening and following day signing petitions, calling my friends, especially checking in with my LGBTQ friends whose trauma was only something I could begin to understand.
I attended a vigil on Monday evening at LA City Hall. I stood there, a straight, white, Jewish, upper-middle-class woman in a crowd of thousands of LGBTQ people and allies. I heard speech after speech exclaiming the personal trauma that people were feeling in the aftermath of the shooting, and I started to get it. I heard things like, “we’ve fought for our lives before and we’ll do it again,” and “we are singing for our lives.”
Since last Sunday I’ve wanted to scream from the rooftops “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” but there’s so much to do that I don’t know where to start.
On Monday I started with mourning. Mourning the 49 victims and 53 injured bodies and millions of souls. Mourning the end of the privileged life I’ve led in Scottsdale and Portland and Pasadena where I never sat in a school lockdown or knew someone killed by a hate crime. I mourned the ideal future I had imagined for my children, a future free from hate and violence.
I took Rabbi Denise Eger’s mourning prayer to heart as I listened to people speak the names of the 49 people murdered in Orlando on June 12 at the Pulse nightclub.
And now what? What do I do? What can I say? I know now I do not have the privilege of keeping silent. I have a voice and I need to use it, but who am I to stand up?
I am Moses saying “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?” I am Moses saying, “The Israelites would not listen to me, a man of impeded speech, why should Pharaoh listen to me?” (Shemot 7)
I have let my privilege and excuses be my impediment. But now I am here.
Hineini. Here I am.
I am here, screaming from the rooftops: ENOUGH.
I am standing up as an ally to all of my LGBTQ friends.
I am standing up as a clergy person who has a voice to comfort but also to empower.
I am standing up as a mom who wants a better safer future for her children.
I am standing up as a director at an organization that helps people who have been marginalized.
I am standing up as a person who lost a friend to suicide by gun he had easy access to.
I am standing up as a human being.
Who’s with me? Who will walk with me through the wilderness of gun control legislation and LGBTQ rights and human rights and freedom of religion and freedom to marry and and and and?
I have been quiet. But I’m not quiet anymore. There’s so much we can do. What will you do?
We live in a world of infinite choices, from the most minute (the sheer volume of restaurants that will deliver dinner within an hour), to the most important (the multitude of ways, places and communities in which we can express our values and sense of identity). With whom do we spend our time? What kinds of communities are important for us to belong to? How and to where do we donate money? All of these choices are an expression of our values, whether we know it or not.
Often we make choices out of convenience: which pre-school is closest to our home, has the best hours alongside their educational pedagogy and general warmth? And we make choices out of comfort or lack thereof: I’m not sure my Catholic spouse would feel comfortable joining a synagogue as a family, even though we have decided to raise our children as Jews, and we’re not sure it’s worth the hefty price tag if we don’t really feel welcome … AND we’re not sure about the God thing … AND we have found other types of non-religious communities that share our values.
I have heard from so many of my peers of all religious backgrounds that they are no longer moved by ritual or what they remember of religious community and spiritual life but do want to express their sense of religious values in other ways. (I must mention that as a rabbi, someone who does still find great meaning in ritual, music and synagogue community, that I am saddened by this trend. There are so many amazing synagogue communities that are constantly striving to evolve and create meaning for all generations in a great number of ways!)
A Jewish friend of mine takes his family to a soup kitchen twice a month to volunteer and takes the time to explain to his children that this is how they enact their Judaism: by feeding people who are hungry, by welcoming the stranger as Abraham and Sarah did, by “praying with their feet” as Abraham Joshua Heschel said about his involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. I imagine there are many others who also find similar value in these kinds of social justice/social action choices and have chosen this form of prayer, of meaning making, of religious expression over organized religious practice.
There is so much power in action, in getting up and doing something, in making even one person’s life better in real time, if only for a moment.
Two weeks ago, I attended a conference in Washington, D.C., created by the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism called, Consultation on Conscience. The goal of this conference is first to educate those who attend about the political and justice issues that our country is facing through high level speakers and conversation and secondly to provide tools to take back to individual communities to help galvanize increased involvement on these issues through a Jewish lens.
The issues ranged from Iran’s nuclear capabilities to environmental protection and marriage equality to fighting poverty. A third goal, easily achieved, was that of inspiration. I certainly left feeling not only a sense of pride to be involved and connected with people working to make our country and world a better place, but also inspired to find more ways to enact my Judaism through justice work. I was profoundly moved by Bryan Stevenson, the founder and Executive Director of the Equal Justice Initiative, a non-profit organization enacting justice by attempting to rectify the injustice in our justice system, one case, one person at a time. (Check out his TED Talk here if you are looking for a bit of inspiration. And you can see his RAC conference talk here. He begins 51 minutes in.)
I told many people after hearing his incredible stories and message that I would like to just follow him around for a while. (I’d even hold his bags, just to see him make the world better and more just, one person at a time.)
I get it, action is powerful. But so is community. Bryan doesn’t work alone, and neither do any of us. It is so important for each of us, for our families, to raise our voices for those things we believe in alongside moving our feet, and we have learned that the song sounds a bit sweeter in a choir and the dance always works a bit better with another person; the power of community.
The choices we make come from many sources and many needs but they do reflect our values and how we understand our identity and place in the world. Our children remember and learn from the things they feel a part of along with the things we teach them. We are stronger and can do more together.
So my question for you is: How do you enact your values (or how do you WANT to start)?
I am trying to raise my kids to think more about the world than their next playdate, TV show or snack. Recently a friend decided to host her 40th birthday party at a food distribution warehouse for the hungry. My first thought was, I’d rather take my friend out for a drink to toast her birthday, but I knew this was a nice thing to do. I thought about bringing a gift for her but I will do that another time. Little did I realize, I was the one to receive the real gift.
It was a Sunday morning on a beautiful day. My kids wanted to swim, sleep, watch TV… anything but go to the food warehouse. Through some serious and exhausting negotiation, I was able to encourage my oldest child to go with me.
In the warehouse, there are lots of smiling volunteers handing out cans and boxes of food to other volunteers holding boxes. Once the boxes are filled, they are closed and given to volunteers to distribute locally. I heard the requests over the loudspeaker to come and sign up for a route to deliver boxes to the elderly. My son and I hadn’t planned on delivering boxes. The boxes are a little heavy and, well, he’d rather be swimming. Frankly, so would I. But we decided that these boxes needed to be delivered and so we stepped up to get our list and directions to the address building where we would be delivering food.
When we arrived, we saw lots of people in the apartment building going out for the day and receiving Sunday visitors. What surprised me was that I drive by this building a few times a week. I never knew that there were hungry people living there. But there are. And the people in the building look just like my parents, aunts and uncles. Retired, happy. But some of them don’t have enough food to eat. I realized that one day that person without enough food to eat could be me. Or it could be you.
I dutifully delivered the boxes and suddenly wished I could do more. I thought about how lucky I am that I don’t worry at the grocery store about whether there will be enough money to pay for the food. It certainly puts life in perspective. And last night, I slept better than I would have, had I just gone swimming all day. Once again, by giving, I ended up receiving so much more through an increased level of appreciation for all that I have.
In Judaism, there is a concept of tikkun olam—repair the world. It happens that the organization that coordinated the food distribution is the Jewish Relief Agency based in Philadelphia. The organization distributes food once a month throughout the Philadelphia area. Many of the hungry folks are immigrants but some are not. Many are Jewish but some are not. (Click here to learn about upcoming dates to volunteer with JRA.)
In this crazy time of graduations, camp and vacations, repairing the world is important to remember. It also helps us repair a little of ourselves!
Temple Isaiah of Lafayette, CA (inland, due east of San Francisco) is making headlines. Their Board of Directors has “voted unanimously this week to to recommend that the rabbinical staff and synagogue members write letters stating their opposition to the policy, along with withdrawing financial support and refusing to participate in scouting events.”
Further, LGBTQNation reports:
So why is a boycott something a Jewish community that prides itself on being welcoming of all might undertake? Inclusion shouldn’t just be lip-service. It’s not enough to say that LGBTQ people and their families are welcome in our synagogues — they’re demonstrating that they mean it by trying to change the homophobic policies of Boy Scouts of America. Temple Isaiah knows that folks will feel most welcome within its community when everyone feels they can be recognized as their full selves.
Which has me wondering: what actions can synagogues take to show they’re welcoming of interfaith families? They can join our Network so interfaith couples/families can find them. They can show they’re involved with us by adding our affiliate badge to their homepage. They can create inclusive policies. If you work at a synagogue and want to take actions to show you’re not just giving lip service to your welcome, check out our Resource Center for Program Providers for more suggestions.
This is a guest blog post by Jordyn Rozensky, who has written for us before. She’s the Director of Young Adult & Service Programs at the Jewish Community Relations Council of Greater Boston.
In an article I wrote for InterfaithFamily about my family’s approach to Christmas celebrations, I mentioned that volunteering is a great way to navigate the holidays. But why wait for Christmukkah to do good in your community? Many communities are in need of volunteers. And here in Boston, we have an opportunity for interfaith couples to volunteer as a cohort!
You’re part of an interfaith couple and looking for a way to be involved in the Jewish community? Interested in volunteering, together? Looking for other young adults who might be asking some of the same questions? Well, ReachOut! could be the answer to those questions!
ReachOut! is excited to be expanding our offerings to include a volunteer opportunity for members of our community in interfaith relationships. This track, which would require participation from both members of the couples, will provide a chance to explore shared values of volunteering, as well as to discuss issues of service and community in an interfaith environment.
The interfaith track will take place Monday nights beginning on October 15th from 6:30-7:30 at Golda Meir House in Newton. The Golda Meir House is a senior residence, and part of the JCHE network. Volunteers will lead a weekly discussion group, having a chance to form relationships and create intergenerational connections.
The nitty gritty details are available on our event listing on the InterfaithFamily Network.
Got more questions? Well, we have more answers. Contact me, Jordyn, or swing by our launch party.