And What a Week It Has Been
“These are the times that try (men’s) people’s souls.”*
It has been an excruciating week,
Packed full of tragedy—
The shooting at Brown University, an antisemitic-triggered mass shooting in Australia, and a beloved family’s public tragedy.
Each one alone and together
Echo and reverberate
Throughout our culture,
Painful and complicated and confusing.
Yet the Chanukah lights shine,
And the Solstice hovers.
Christmas and New Years,
Kwanza, all
Wait for us,
Just a few breaths away.
The light is returning.
“These are the times that try (men’s) people’s souls.”*
I ponder.
I sit, heartbroken.
I breathe.
I consider—the impact of my lighting Chanukah candles this year.
Where does that live in my body?
I remember:
~~~
Being a little Jewish kid growing up in Northeastern Pennsylvania in the 50’s and 60’s in a predominantly Christian-dominant culture was pretty trippy, for lack of any better words.
Here is part of a story I wrote, Heaven, Hell, and Hebrew School, for my first book, Recovering My Voice:
“I always knew I was Jewish. It was a deep and wordless knowing, yet another mighty divide that separated me from so many other kids at elementary school and summer camp. It actually seemed to set me apart from most people in my world. Like my stuttering or my wanting to kiss girls, being Jewish was a heavy load and one to keep secret……..
On a very real level, I knew it just wasn’t safe to be a Jew. That was a cellular knowledge that lived in me. And I knew I was different. I was The Other.
I have a clear and strong memory: One snowy late afternoon around Christmastime, the daylight just darkening as a soft snow fell over downtown Scranton, I said goodbye to my monogamous friend Gladys at the bus stop. Maybe we were twelve or thirteen… We had just seen our weekly Saturday afternoon movie, and now, climbing on different buses, we began to make our individual ways home. The wispy snow fell gently, softening the glow of the Christmas lights from all the department store windows.
“Little Drummer Boy”, that iconic, endless, and annoyingly evocative carol was playing on an endless loop in the Globe Store Window display; the Christmas shoppers were bundled up and hustling from store to store with bountiful gifts in their arms. And there I sat, watching from my seat next to the steamy bus window, the outside world presenting such an essential Christmas moment, the little drummer boy never, ever ceasing his damn caroling. The Christmas of It was so palpable. And it was not mine, not mine. I would go home to a house without lights, without presents. I would go to sleep without the fantasy of a jolly Santa Claus bringing me gifts. I would live in a family where Jesus Christ was not our Lord. I was an outsider, an observer of this dominant culture’s phenomenon. A sese of doom settled over me as we proceeded up the incline of Mulberry Street to the Hill Section where we lived.
As the day darkened, so did my heart.
Nevertheless, I was clandestinely proud of being Jewish too. The holidays were somewhat cool to my child’s eyes……..I guessed there were just so many things we had to live with, so many things we had to bear, because we were Jewish. There were many unseen and silent stipulations……
~~~
Growing up as a Jew, growing into the world as a Jew, and seeing the world through Jewish eyes, hearing the echo of my ancestors in the beat of my heart, today I truly am a grateful Jewish woman.
And, yes, what a week it has been.
~~~
So, let’s shift gears. Here is sheer silliness. The Macabeats! They are an American Orthodox Jewish all-male a cappella group. Founded in 2007 at Yeshiva University in NYC, the 14+ member group offers covers and parodies of contemporary hits using Jewish-themed lyrics.
Here is an ode to the Latke, the yummy, fried potato pancakes eaten during Chanukah symbolizing the miracle of oil from the destroyed Temple. Served with applesauce or sour cream, or whatever you want, here you go:
~~~
Dear Friends,
What a time it is.
We get it all,
The clarity and the befuddlement,
The hope and the despair.
The returning light, the endless fog of darkness.
It is all true.
It is all sacred.
It is all ours.
Give us the courage and the strength to show up,
To just get there,
To do the next best thing,
And to be kind.
May all beings benefit from our shared words.
The light returns.
Blessed be,
Aruni
*Thomas Paine’s famous opening line from the pamphlet, The American Crisis, No. 1, published in 1776, to inspire the colonists during the darkest days of the Revolutionary War. I first thought of the song by Peter, Paul and Mary from 100 years ago, Isn’t this a Terrible Time, which uses the quote. That led me to the Paine as the source of the quote. Then today, I see that my hero, Heather Cox Richardson in her piece today, uses Paine’s quote!
Thomas Paine, you are in our airwaves. Thank you for guiding us.