הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ ונשוב [וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה] חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃
Return us, Adonai, to You, And let us return; Renew our days as of old!
Hashiveynu Adonai eleha venashuva
hadesh yameynu kekedem
hadesh yameynu kekedem
Community and the Individual Jew, Ronald Aigen
If modernity has taught us to say, ‘I,’ Judaism still asks us to say, ‘we.’
If modernity has taught us to say, ‘I,’ Judaism still asks us to say, ‘we.’
(מז) אָשַֽׁמְנוּ. בָּגַֽדְנוּ. גָּזַֽלְנוּ. דִּבַּֽרְנוּ דֹּֽפִי. הֶעֱוִֽינוּ. וְהִרְשַֽׁעְנוּ. זַֽדְנוּ. חָמַֽסְנוּ. טָפַֽלְנוּ שֶֽׁקֶר. יָעַֽצְנוּ רָע. כִּזַּֽבְנוּ. לַֽצְנוּ. מָרַֽדְנוּ. נִאַֽצְנוּ. סָרַֽרְנוּ. עָוִֽינוּ. פָּשַֽׁעְנוּ. צָרַֽרְנוּ. קִשִּֽׁינוּ עֹֽרֶף. רָשַֽׁעְנוּ. שִׁחַֽתְנוּ. תִּעַֽבְנוּ. תָּעִֽינוּ. תִּעְתָּֽעְנוּ:
(47) We have trespassed; We have betrayed ; We have stolen; We have slandered. We have caused others to sin; We have caused others to become wicked; We have sinned with malicious intent; We have committed violence; We have added falsehood upon falsehood; We have joined with evil individuals or groups; We have given harmful advice; We have deceived; we have mocked; We have rebelled; We have caused God to be angry with us; We have turned away from goodness; We have sinned deliberately; We have been negligent; We have caused our friends grief; We have been stiff-necked. We have been wicked. We have committed sins of moral corruption; We have committed abominations; We have gone astray; We have led others astray.
American Bumper Stickers Samples from 2017
Work harder – the people on welfare need your taxes!
You are not entitled to what I have earned!
If you can’t feed ‘em, don’t breed ‘em
Your life is not my fault, my life is not your business
Work harder – the people on welfare need your taxes!
You are not entitled to what I have earned!
If you can’t feed ‘em, don’t breed ‘em
Your life is not my fault, my life is not your business
Anthem, Ayn Rand
I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
"I.”
I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
"I.”
(יד) הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי. וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי:
(14) He [also] used to say: If I am not for myself, who is for me? But if I am for my own self [only], what am I? And if not now, when?
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel
In a free society, only some are guilty, but all are responsible.
In a free society, only some are guilty, but all are responsible.
Rabbi Toba Spitzer to Dorshei Tzedek May 2020
There is much to be disturbed about in the news these days. The recent exposure of the cold-blooded murder of an innocent Black man in Georgia two months ago, and the complete failure of local authorities to bring any charges until a video of the murder was released to the press, is a blood-chilling reminder of how far there is to go in battling racism in this country. But this event is also connected, in my mind, to another disturbing trend in the news: angry protesters nominally seeking the “freedom” to ignore public health policies mandating face masks and social distancing.
What is the connection? While the protests against Covid-19 safety measures are framed as a debate over individual freedoms, the “liberty” espoused by armed protesters storming government offices or mask-resisters attacking essential workers shares roots with the most noxious aspects of America’s history: the “freedom” of some people to harm others for their own pleasure and profit. These were the freedoms enjoyed by white Christian men in our nation’s earliest days: the freedom to enslave other human beings in order to gain wealth; the freedom to take land sacred to others for personal gain.
It is this history that shapes the perverse notion of “freedom” that was on display in Georgia, when two white men felt they were free to murder a Black man out for a run, for no reason at all. It is a version of “freedom” that says I am free of all responsibility for anyone else’s well-being, and in fact am free to harm others if it is to my own benefit (as long as I am the right category of person).
As Jews, our story of freedom could not be more different. Our “master narrative” is the Exodus from Egypt, one of the most powerful stories of freedom ever written. The Torah makes clear that the Israelites were not freed in order to escape responsibility, nor to oppress others. The freedom gained in the Exodus has as its end the creation of a society founded on a web of mutual obligation and care, in which the communal good enhances my personal well-being. To care for others is to care for myself. In such a society, putting on a mask is the mark of a free adult. To refuse is the act of a rebellious child.
So as we hunker down for yet another Zoom Shabbat, I hope we can take some comfort in the knowledge that we are doing so as an act of care, for our own households and for those we do not even know. May this be the form of freedom we cherish, a vigilance to uphold wise policies and protest those which are oppressive, and may we cultivate the ability to know one from the other.
There is much to be disturbed about in the news these days. The recent exposure of the cold-blooded murder of an innocent Black man in Georgia two months ago, and the complete failure of local authorities to bring any charges until a video of the murder was released to the press, is a blood-chilling reminder of how far there is to go in battling racism in this country. But this event is also connected, in my mind, to another disturbing trend in the news: angry protesters nominally seeking the “freedom” to ignore public health policies mandating face masks and social distancing.
What is the connection? While the protests against Covid-19 safety measures are framed as a debate over individual freedoms, the “liberty” espoused by armed protesters storming government offices or mask-resisters attacking essential workers shares roots with the most noxious aspects of America’s history: the “freedom” of some people to harm others for their own pleasure and profit. These were the freedoms enjoyed by white Christian men in our nation’s earliest days: the freedom to enslave other human beings in order to gain wealth; the freedom to take land sacred to others for personal gain.
It is this history that shapes the perverse notion of “freedom” that was on display in Georgia, when two white men felt they were free to murder a Black man out for a run, for no reason at all. It is a version of “freedom” that says I am free of all responsibility for anyone else’s well-being, and in fact am free to harm others if it is to my own benefit (as long as I am the right category of person).
As Jews, our story of freedom could not be more different. Our “master narrative” is the Exodus from Egypt, one of the most powerful stories of freedom ever written. The Torah makes clear that the Israelites were not freed in order to escape responsibility, nor to oppress others. The freedom gained in the Exodus has as its end the creation of a society founded on a web of mutual obligation and care, in which the communal good enhances my personal well-being. To care for others is to care for myself. In such a society, putting on a mask is the mark of a free adult. To refuse is the act of a rebellious child.
So as we hunker down for yet another Zoom Shabbat, I hope we can take some comfort in the knowledge that we are doing so as an act of care, for our own households and for those we do not even know. May this be the form of freedom we cherish, a vigilance to uphold wise policies and protest those which are oppressive, and may we cultivate the ability to know one from the other.
The Low Road by Marge Piercy
What can they do to you?
Whatever they want..
They can set you up, bust you,
they can break your fingers,
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can’t walk, can’t remember.
they can take away your children,
wall up your lover;
they can do anything you can’t stop them doing.
How can you stop them?
Alone you can fight, you can refuse.
You can take whatever revenge you can
But they roll right over you.
But two people fighting back to back
can cut through a mob
a snake-dancing fire
can break a cordon,
termites can bring down a mansion
Two people can keep each other sane
can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation
a cell, a wedge.
With four you can play games
and start a collective.
With six you can rent a whole house
have pie for dinner with no seconds
and make your own music.
Thirteen makes a circle,
a hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity
and your own newsletter;
ten thousand community
and your own papers;
a hundred thousand,
a network of communities;
a million our own world.
It goes one at a time.
It starts when you care to act.
It starts when you do it again
after they say no.
It starts when you say we
and know who you mean;
and each day you mean
one more.
What can they do to you?
Whatever they want..
They can set you up, bust you,
they can break your fingers,
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can’t walk, can’t remember.
they can take away your children,
wall up your lover;
they can do anything you can’t stop them doing.
How can you stop them?
Alone you can fight, you can refuse.
You can take whatever revenge you can
But they roll right over you.
But two people fighting back to back
can cut through a mob
a snake-dancing fire
can break a cordon,
termites can bring down a mansion
Two people can keep each other sane
can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation
a cell, a wedge.
With four you can play games
and start a collective.
With six you can rent a whole house
have pie for dinner with no seconds
and make your own music.
Thirteen makes a circle,
a hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity
and your own newsletter;
ten thousand community
and your own papers;
a hundred thousand,
a network of communities;
a million our own world.
It goes one at a time.
It starts when you care to act.
It starts when you do it again
after they say no.
It starts when you say we
and know who you mean;
and each day you mean
one more.
שׁוּב מַעֲשֶׂה בְּגוֹי אֶחָד שֶׁבָּא לִפְנֵי שַׁמַּאי. אָמַר לוֹ: גַּיְּירֵנִי עַל מְנָת שֶׁתְּלַמְּדֵנִי כׇּל הַתּוֹרָה כּוּלָּהּ כְּשֶׁאֲנִי עוֹמֵד עַל רֶגֶל אַחַת! דְּחָפוֹ בְּאַמַּת הַבִּנְיָן שֶׁבְּיָדוֹ. בָּא לִפְנֵי הִלֵּל, גַּיְירֵיהּ. אָמַר לוֹ: דַּעֲלָךְ סְנֵי לְחַבְרָךְ לָא תַּעֲבֵיד — זוֹ הִיא כׇּל הַתּוֹרָה כּוּלָּהּ, וְאִידַּךְ פֵּירוּשַׁהּ הוּא, זִיל גְּמוֹר.
There was another incident involving one gentile who came before Shammai and said to Shammai: Convert me on condition that you teach me the entire Torah while I am standing on one foot. Shammai pushed him away with the builder’s cubit in his hand. This was a common measuring stick and Shammai was a builder by trade. The same gentile came before Hillel. He converted him and said to him: That which is hateful to you do not do to another; that is the entire Torah, and the rest is its interpretation. Go study.