Heading to a Place We Do Not Know With Trump at the Helm

Dear The Mums,

This weekend was Shabbat Lech L’cha, your favorite parashah, with its connection to the immigrant experience and the perennial promise of America as the golden medina that always was so close to your heart.

After Tuesday’s stunning upset of Hillary Clinton by Donald Trump (yes, you read that correctly), it seems to be a most fitting portion for this week. Indeed, many of us feel as Abraham must have felt: we are going forth from the America we know to a land we truly do not know – at all.

Sadly, this country is not, as so many of us expected it would be, anticipating the historic inauguration of its first female president. Instead, we are on the brink of inaugurating Donald Trump as the leader of the free world, despite his proving again and again throughout the campaign that he and many of his supporters are racists, bigots, misogynists, xenophobes, homophobes, Islamaphobes, anti-Semites, and more. (As for his supporters who may not themselves be these horrible things, I cannot wrap my head around how any of them -- particularly women -- could possibly have voted for someone who is so demonstrably all of these things.)

With control of Congress in-hand and a vacancy on the Supreme Court to fill, Trump and his team threaten to unravel many of the hard-won freedoms we hold dear. Equally disturbing, he regularly incites many followers to spew hatred and violence against fellow Americans, especially those who look unlike them, believe differently than they do, or who see the world through a different prism.

This is a divisive, difficult, and frightening time in our country and it is up to each of us to remain vigilant in our efforts to identify and stand up against civil and social injustices on behalf of anyone who is threatened, endangered, unsafe, or wronged. (In an effort to get ahead of the curve, many of us are donating (or increasing our support) to Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, and organizations that provide services to refugees and immigrants, including HIAS, which has roots aiding many of our own people, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, as they made their way from pogroms and persecution to freedom under the watchful eye of Lady Liberty.)

Friday night at services, “God Bless America,” which really is a prayer, was the closing hymn. As I sang loudly and clearly, with chills of patriotism running down my spine and giving me goosebumps, I don’t think I’ve truly ever wanted anything quite as badly as I want that blessing.

God bless America, land that I love
Stand beside her and guide her
Through the night with the light from above

From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
God bless America, my home sweet home

From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
God bless America, my home sweet home
God bless America, my home sweet home

Miss you…xoxo.
~ Boo!

P.S. Have you run into Marcus yet? You may also see Edie Miller "around town." She'd be fun to have in your Torah study group, too. God knows she'll tell it like it is!

Grandma is Walking Right Beside Me

Earlier today, awed by what I’d watched on television at high noon, I changed my Facebook status to read, “Jane is this the greatest country in the world, or what?!”

A while ago, a friend commented on my status: “Truly amazing – I wonder what our Bubbes would think of the events of the day – I am in awe.”

To which I responded: “Didn't you hear him mention our Bubbes? He said, "For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life. For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West, endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.”

He continued, “Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction. This is the journey we continue today.”

And not just President Obama (wow, I like the sound of that!), but every single speaker today evoked the memory of my grandparents and the wonderful, rich legacy that is their gift to me.

Rick Warren did it when he launched his invocation with the Sh’ma, the watchword of the Jewish people: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God; the Lord is one.”

Elizabeth Alexander did it with pieces of her Praise song for the day: “We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, ‘I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road.’”

And later, with this: “Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.” That is precisely where, in my mind, my grandmother would reassure that “everything would piece itself out.”

And in closing, the Reverend Joseph Lowery did it too, imploring us “to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.”

And so it is that with the powerful eloquence of President Barack Obama, Pastor Rick Warren, poet Elizabeth Alexander and the Reverend Joseph Lowery, I was able to “mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled.” Indeed, it is our journey to continue, but thanks to all of them, I was reminded yet again of those who are walking right beside me, today and every day.

Election Reflections

At lunch today, Naomi, one of my colleagues, told the following story:

Her father was a poll worker in Wisconsin yesterday. An elderly African-American woman came in to vote. She was carrying with her a small package. The poll workers asked her what it was and she said, "I brought my ancestors with me." With that, she opened the package and took out pictures of several deceased relatives. The poll workers helped her set them up in the voting booth so they could be with her when she voted.

Naomi said that she's told the story three or four times and gets teary with each telling. She isn't the only one.

* * *

As always happens when I go to vote, I think about my grandparents. My grandfather died in March of 1986 and my grandmother in July of 1991. And, while I observe their yahrzeits at the appropriate season each year, I also think of Election Day as a pseudo-yahrzeit for each of them. In this, their adopted country, they savored the right to step up, to raise their voices, and to have them count. Never did either of them miss a trip to the polls on Election Day. Indeed, it is a most fitting tribute to their memories.

It was these thoughts that occupied my mind yesterday as I left my polling place. On the short walk home, I began to compose this post in my mind. And then this morning, I found the following poem on the blog of Rabbi James Stone Goodman:

Prayer After Voting

I voted
O holy God, I voted,
I felt good voting.
I honored my predecessors –
My grandparents, my parents of blessed memory –
Knowing, for them,
Voting
Was an ascendant experience.
They had complete confidence in our country
To provide opportunity for us
Their children
– That they did not have.

That is a matter of memory
Because I have had all opportunity,
But their stories reminded me that they
Did not.

I voted with the intention to honor them.
This year I voted from frustration too.

I voted against negativist language
Stiff, formal, and unbelievable to me –
The handlers speaking through puppets
Playing off fear in our country
When I want to vote for hope.

I voted for hope.
I voted for a deeper level of discourse
For a lower timbre of speech
Don’t yell at me pundits and politicians
And don’t think I am so easily played.
You couldn’t reach me with your strategies –
This year your strategies were transparent
And ugly –
And I turned off your voices
When they weren’t honest voices.

The problem is always discernment –
This year it was easy.
I know the truth when I hear it.
I voted out of discernment.

I voted for hope
I voted with the intention of honoring
Those who voted before me
During periods of higher expectations.

O holy God, I voted for higher expectations
Authenticity
Purification of purpose
Real talk from real people.

Politicos — don’t sweet talk me.
I’ll vote again.

Indeed, after such eloquence, there is nothing left to say.