OMER Day 3: Reflection

The next stop in our Omer (ac)counting involves reflection.  Until we know where we've been, it's sometimes hard to know where to go.  That is one of the reasons we tell and re-tell the Passover story each year: to recall what hardship is, to remind us of how sweet freedom can be.  In doing so, we are supposed to inspire ourselves to ensure that no one suffers such oppression in our midst, moving forward.  And to help each of us see a glimmer of hope: that no matter how far we may feel we are from our own, personal freedom from that which plagues us, we have to keep working without giving up, so that we too can sing on the other side of our own parted seas.




One of those places on the other side of the sea that I've been working towards this year has been rights for those with questionable immigration status here in the U.S.  If you read my own journal entry below, you'll understand a bit more about it, and why it's a part of my own day of reflection. . . Or you can read Rabbi Karyn Kedar's understanding of it, as well.

Day 3 Omer journaling: Reflect: What lessons have you learned about yourself in the past year?  You can bullet point a list, but I'm going to go in depth on a certain area in this one (and introduce another recurring theme for this Omer blog).

Day 3 Omer action: Do something good for someone else, based on your new insight. . . I know, vague, right?  Sorry, but each of us has learned something very different about ourselves.  If it's a strength: use your strength for good.  If you found a weakness, go ahead and see if someone else can help you address the weakness - sometimes when we ask others for help, it turns out we offer them the chance to feel really good about being of service to someone they love. . . Just sayin' (Thanks, Rabbi Kipnes, for that lesson).

Ha-yom Shlosha yamim la-omer.

Today is the third day of the omer.

My journal: This year, I have learned a lot about developing my own voice when it comes to seeking justice.  I've been timid about speaking out on matters that are somewhat controversial in the public sphere, even when I feel there is clear, compelling reasons to do so.  I'm not a rock-the-boat type of guy: in high school, people nicknamed me "Benvolio" when we were reading Romeo and Juliet (for those who can't remember the poor fellow, he was the guy who continually tried to make peace between the Montagues and the Capulets).  But I have learned this year that there comes a time that in order to bring peace, one must bring the issues to the surface and create a dialogue and understanding.

I learned to use my voice through our work here at TBO on supporting the Moral Mondays movement.  And I have learned a great deal about political action through my work on immigration reform with the Rabbis Organizing Rabbis group.  I joined a group of rabbis who met with the offices Senators in DC prior to the Senate's approval of a comprehensive immigration reform bill.  Since then, we have been working on how to keep the dream of a better path to immigration than the one that exists.

Along the way, I learned that our current system does not only negatively impact those who have crossed a border without the proper papers to do so.  A colleague of mine was threatened with deportation when her work visa was not going to be renewed.  Another colleague could not enter the country for the first two months of her contract with a congregation in the northeast because she was Canadian and the visa would not go through quickly enough.  Another Canadian-born, talented Jewish educator in Texas had to leave a job because a visa had run out.
And for those who did come here illegally, it does not change the fact that they have children here who are citizens. And there are children who have grown up here without knowing anything else.  Entire sectors of the economy depend on those who are willing to come here to work, because those who have grown up in America do not want the jobs (which brings up an entirely different issue about fair wages, but I digress).

We never know when the person who comes here will be like our biblical hero, Ruth.  She gave up all she knew in order to live among her deceased husband's people.  She chose to support her mother-in-law.  She chose to fully join her new society.  And in the end, she gave back to the community way more than it could have given to her.  We never know when the person who comes here will be like our own grandparent or great-grandparent: the person whose bravery and resolve, whose willingness to infatilize oneself by diving into a new place where everything is different, down to the words one must use, to put up with the stigma of being "foreign," to start over from whatever was, has given us the chance to be as comfortably who we are today.  I'll get more in-depth as to the issues in the weeks to come, and I understand that we can't just have the entire world move here - but the system as it stands has the potential to tear families apart, to ruin sectors of our economy, to push away talented people who could be a part of our country's revitalization.  For so many reasons - those that affect us directly and those that affect us because we are caring individuals who seek justice - we just cannot stand idly by.

This is a big part of what I have learned this year.  For myself, my action today will be to help out with a Rabbis-organizing-rabbis campaign, and change my profile picture on facebook to the above picture.  I'll also post the RavBlog entry about the "I am Ruth" campaign on social media, and I'll invite a few other rabbis to do so.  If you'd like to join me in the efforts, I'd love it!  I didn't say the action had to be huge, but for the next few weeks, when people interact with me via social media