Tangled

I try to walk everyday, for the dog’s mental well being and my own. Sometimes I’m on the phone, often I’m listening to music, and along the way, I pause to praise the chorus of birds, or the water rushing in the nearby creek.

A few nights ago, I was catching up with a dear friend and gasped at the sight before me. A bunny was tangled by its neck in the netting of a small soccer goal. As the bunny struggled to find redemption, the remnants of Easter still beckoned on my neighbor’s lawn with brightly colored plastic eggs. It strained against the netting, pushing to break free as I approached. And then, in a sudden moment of surprise, the bunny simply turned instead of straining forward. It hopped away as I let out a sigh of relief, and then said aloud to my friend: “Sometimes we need to turn in order to find the path forward.”

How many times have we felt caught in a web, either from a power greater than us or one we design ourselves, that threatens our very existence? It’s an urgent question, one that becomes more real by the day.

I was deeply moved by a piece written by Rabbi Claudia Kreiman of TBZ in Brookline, where I met Michael for the first time now over 20 years ago. Rabbi Kreiman is originally from Chile, holds Israeli and American citizenship, and grew up during the Pinochet dictatorship. She lost her mother, tragically, in the AMIA bombing in Buenos Aires in 1994. Citing her teacher and our colleague, Rabbi Matalon, who grew up under the dictatorship in Argentina, she warns with his words: “The intimidation tactics, the suppression of free speech, and the undermining of democracy will ultimately come back to haunt us…tyrants count on our fear to divide and isolate us.” Rabbi Kreiman ends her Passover message with these words: Jewish safety will never come from turning away. It will come from turning toward others and from standing together.

Our fight to exist is ongoing, and, as we learn from what history teaches us time and again, we can still turn along the way in order to make our way forward. This is how we return to the many truths that define us as people of faith, as moral beings. In spring, our faith traditions mirror nature’s seasonal burst of color, as we focus our minds, bodies and souls on the sacred work of physical and spiritual redemption. It’s a humbling reminder that our redemption, personally and collectively, doesn’t only happen through dogged wars or through stubborn straining on a single perceived path of strength.

Do we feel tangled in a web of fear from rising antisemitism? Do we feel tempted to just shut it all out and focus on the beauty of our backyard garden? Do we feel overly confounded or confident? Yes, and yes, and yes, and as we acknowledge the complexity of it all, how we push forward has consequences…it may tangle us further. To stand strong for our own existence and the rights of others, isn’t mutually exclusive or a sign of weakness. I pray that we continue to seek ways to create unity amidst division, courage amidst fear, healing amidst grief, and by the grace of God, perhaps we humans won’t make for our own undoing. May we turn toward — toward what is just and true—one step closer to our collective freedom.