Unable to Turn Away
I believe ardently that, as souls, each of us chose to be here now, in this moment of history, to add our truth to the great alchemical soup pot of chaos and transformation roiling on our hot stove. But it’s a hard moment to be alive. It’s so easy to become overwhelmed, immobilized, cynical, or to simply turn away from all the pain unfolding around us.
Confession: I have felt neurotic as hell lately, torn between what I believe to be bottomline morality and what is actually unfolding in the world. One line from Torah overpowers me: Lo tuchal l’hitalem (Deut 22:3) Literally, the words mean: You are unable turn away. You cannot play oblivious, hide out, or walk away when you see a lost animal. You must take responsibility, step forward, and return it to its family. A lost animal? What about when you know babies are starving, hostages are languishing, neighbors are being disappeared to detention centers, while an American president can’t turn down a $4 billion gift plane from another country?
I feel neurotic because I was raised on the prophets, from Moses and Miriam to MLK Jr., who taught that justice is the highest principle, that it must roll down like rivers on everyone alike; that we are bound up in a single garment of destiny, responsible for each other’s well-being. Yet what we are seeing is more like an ancient caste system in which some are treated lesser than animals, unworthy of justice, undeserving of the simplest human dignities as food, water, medicine, and due process.
What’s a person to do? I have taken to volunteering at the emergency shelter in my community, writing checks, building bridges between communities, and returning lost animals whenever I can. (One example: I signed a petition this week joining with thousands of Jewish people of conscience calling for food aid for children and families starving in Gaza.)
Being unable to turn away from the pain of the world is one of the ways we stay human. But pain left to fester can become overwhelming – sleepless nights, irritability, numbness. Yet when we share, grieve, pray, and act together, we feel less alone, and build our courage.
The following are some ways I’m finding more courage, sanity, and inspiration. Hope you might be too.
Offering keynote talks at the Spiritual Directors International Gathering and the Kabbalah Experience’s 20th Anniversary Celebration
Being in conversation with Judaism Unbound (tune in!)
My friend Paul Levy’s course Dreaming Ourselves Awake in Dark Times
New film about Ancestral Wisdom for Collective Healing: The Eternal Song
