As American as Apple Pie
We are heartbroken and bereft. It’s always awful, terrifying and terrorizing and we grieve from afar along with those stricken. BUT it happens somewhere we are not, somewhere else, never here. And then it does happen. We’re in shock, fleeing and dodging bullets on what was supposed to be a celebratory vestige of what was once the UNITED States. It’s a National tradition as American as apple pie. We still have the 4th of July we thought. And then just like that, something still so sacrosanct to most Americans is snatched away from us, a kind of loss of a small glimmer of innocence we hoped was still left, something restorative amidst so much disunity.
We knew it could happen anywhere, that nowhere is really safe anymore with this epidemic of gun violence, but now we know what it FEELS like and any delusional façade of safety has now been completely stripped away. Nowhere is safe—not our schools, not our houses of worship, not any public arena. Our lives are getting smaller. Our world is not safe.
And, so we grieve and we are outraged, more senseless loss of life, more injured, and more lives tragically changed forever.
Are we supposed to applaud the Senate for finally, finally passing a modest gun safety bill? Isn’t this what we send them to Congress to do? Shouldn’t they be legislating instead of locked in a never-ending downward spiral of gridlock? Should we be grateful because they finally took a few baby steps with so much carnage enveloping us all?
Weapons designed to maim and murder do not belong in the hands of civilians. They are weapons intended only for war.
Clearly, among those who are empowered there is more of a love for guns in this country than there is for the sanctity of life, so very the antithesis of who we are as Jews, as decent human beings. The Talmud instructs us again and again about the sanctity of each life. Our lives are not expendable; they are immeasurably precious, and to save one life is as if we have saved an entire world. The preciousness of every life is one of the anchors of Judaism. Torah is the story of God whose message to every individual is to embody the calling to treat others as we ourselves want to be treated, to create a world of caring for each other. How is it possible to reconcile so much violence with the moral underpinnings of who we are as a people?
We must ask how many more lives will be senselessly cut short, how many more lives will be irreversibly shattered as we grieve with our neighbors and offer our prayers of healing? How many more lives will be sacrificed in the holy name of the 2nd Amendment?
This cannot be what the Framers of the Constitution had in mind. Constructive anger is often the seed for change and the Framers used it well. So may we.
The Psalmist tells us that God is the Healer of shattered hearts, (Psalm 147). We are never alone in our tears and outrage. As we cry out in our pain and anger, never resignation, we believe God hears our prayers.
We pray for those who lost their lives, for all who are injured including those with whom we have worshipped at Amichai services, and for our community.
May this dark epidemic of violence embolden and unite us to resist the dark forces that value guns over our lives and do everything in our power to create the change that is so obviously essential.
We knew it could happen anywhere, that nowhere is really safe anymore with this epidemic of gun violence, but now we know what it FEELS like and any delusional façade of safety has now been completely stripped away. Nowhere is safe—not our schools, not our houses of worship, not any public arena. Our lives are getting smaller. Our world is not safe.
And, so we grieve and we are outraged, more senseless loss of life, more injured, and more lives tragically changed forever.
Are we supposed to applaud the Senate for finally, finally passing a modest gun safety bill? Isn’t this what we send them to Congress to do? Shouldn’t they be legislating instead of locked in a never-ending downward spiral of gridlock? Should we be grateful because they finally took a few baby steps with so much carnage enveloping us all?
Weapons designed to maim and murder do not belong in the hands of civilians. They are weapons intended only for war.
Clearly, among those who are empowered there is more of a love for guns in this country than there is for the sanctity of life, so very the antithesis of who we are as Jews, as decent human beings. The Talmud instructs us again and again about the sanctity of each life. Our lives are not expendable; they are immeasurably precious, and to save one life is as if we have saved an entire world. The preciousness of every life is one of the anchors of Judaism. Torah is the story of God whose message to every individual is to embody the calling to treat others as we ourselves want to be treated, to create a world of caring for each other. How is it possible to reconcile so much violence with the moral underpinnings of who we are as a people?
We must ask how many more lives will be senselessly cut short, how many more lives will be irreversibly shattered as we grieve with our neighbors and offer our prayers of healing? How many more lives will be sacrificed in the holy name of the 2nd Amendment?
This cannot be what the Framers of the Constitution had in mind. Constructive anger is often the seed for change and the Framers used it well. So may we.
The Psalmist tells us that God is the Healer of shattered hearts, (Psalm 147). We are never alone in our tears and outrage. As we cry out in our pain and anger, never resignation, we believe God hears our prayers.
We pray for those who lost their lives, for all who are injured including those with whom we have worshipped at Amichai services, and for our community.
May this dark epidemic of violence embolden and unite us to resist the dark forces that value guns over our lives and do everything in our power to create the change that is so obviously essential.
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