With the Jewish New Year and Day of Atonement on the horizon, as a Jew, I begin spiritual preparations by asking myself, “Who have I become during the past year?” This practice requires the Jewish community to take a look in the mirror and identify the ways in which we have missed the mark we set for ourselves last year at this time. Through deep introspection, we have the opportunity to transform ourselves by righting our wrongs. In what are referred to as the days of awe, “… we join “generations of Jews … who have sought mercy for ourselves, for our communities, and for our world.”(Rabbis for Human Rights, 9/25). During the Hebrew month of Elul, the month before Rosh Hashana, (the Jewish New Year), we are called by the blast of the ram’s horn, referred to as the shofar, to move from blame and judgment to a place of compassion. For me, the shofar’s daily cry is a reminder to stop complaining and take action to heal a broken world.
As a daughter of parents who survived the brutality of the Holocaust, I am called to attend to the suffering of my immigrant neighbors across this country, and to admit that at times I/we have turned away from their plight. On Yom Kippur, Jews confess our transgressions using the third person “we.” We are a community, and our fates are bound up with each other.
The column I wrote for Gazette this July, entitled, “What have we become?” bemoaned the millions of Americans who heed the hateful words of white supremacist leaders who view immigrants as vermin, as well as the cowards who acquiesce to maintain their profits and power. What I forgot to include as part of the “we” is myself. How could I ignore the deportations that began long before Trump’s reign of terror? Why didn’t I speak up when Barack Obama deported more immigrants than any U.S. president? How many times over the years did I ignore the call to keep contacting Senators Ed Markey, Elizabeth Warren, Rep. Jim McGovern, and Gov. Maura Healey to demand that they do more to keep our immigrant neighbors safe? How often did I rationalize my inaction by parroting the words of others — “Phone calls don’t do any good.” “We turned out for all those protests and accomplished nothing.” How many times, in the company of friends, did I allow myself to get swept up in the drone of complaints about the despicable actions of the Trump administration? And why did I shake my head in agreement each time I heard the words, “He always wins. What we do doesn’t matter.” How many times did we bear witness to news stories of students, children, laborers in our own communities disappeared?
Clearly, I could have done more. We could do more. The Pirke Avot, a collection of wisdom from Jewish sages, states, “You are not required to complete the task, nor are you free to desist from it.” We can’t do it all, but we can engage in resistance. On Sept. 1, I drove to Holyoke to participate in a Labor Day rally. Hundreds turned out to “Show Up! Sing Out!” The diverse crowd who filled the lawn and spilled onto the sidewalk in front of City Hall, sang “Solidarity Forever,” “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Round,” “Hit the Road, ICE!” and lots more. As the singing continued, I silently stood on the sidewalk with a group of activists dressed in black, holding up posters that told the stories of Massachusetts residents disappeared by ICE. Those who stopped to read were visibly shaken, some spilling tears, others putting hand to heart.
I had an epiphany in Holyoke that morning. Amid the songs and the vigil, and the crowds holding signs supporting unions, peace, and of course, immigrant justice, we were becoming the community we envisioned for this country. I thought of my column, “What have we become?” and whispered to myself, “This is what we have become … and it’s good.”
I continue to engage in spiritual self-examination, trying to answer the important questions that will help me point my moral compass in the right direction. “What is my responsibility? How have I been complicit? Even with a conflict thrust upon us from the outside, how am I playing into it? What can I do?” (Rabbi Alan Lew) Each day I am tested. The recent unsigned Supreme Court decision permitting racial and ethnic profiling, was a hateful, calculated blow to human rights that will upend the lives of so many people of color. I think of Demetrio, the farm worker abducted by ICE on his way to an immigration court hearing on Aug. 25. I was one of several hundred supporters attending a vigil for Demetrio on Labor Day. One of the speakers reminded the audience that we need to be the voice of our immigrant neighbors who risk abduction and deportation by showing up at a vigil like this. We, the privileged, need to be the voices for those who have been labeled as less than human. When we resist through actions like joining the No Kings Protest on Oct. 18, imploring our state senators and representatives to pass legislation to protect immigrants, wearing a button with a blue triangle that says, “We support immigrants,” we are letting those who are targeted know that their cause is our cause.
Sara Weinberger lives in Easthampton.