The End of the Zero-Sum Game

“Zero-sum game” – a game in which the sum of the winnings and losses of the various players is always zero, the losses being counted negatively. (Dictionary.com)

Lately I hear arguments about a zero-sum game:

IF we pay attention to institutional racism,

     we might miss an opportunity to deal with gun violence.

IF we focus on gun violence,

we might drop the ball on disability rights.

IF we focus on the rights of disabled people,

we might forget the violence against women and transwomen of color.

IF we focus on justice for transgender people

what about women’s rights?

IF we focus on women’s rights

what about economic justice for all?

And if we are so focused on economic justice for all

what about… surely by now you get my point:

Justice is not a zero-sum game in which I am the natural enemy of another.

Justice is when we notice that we are natural allies: the queers, the browns, the blacks, the ones on wheels, the blinds, the poors, the last in line, the fats, the funny-looking, the girls, the trans, the bis, the dispossessed of all nations, the Palestinians AND the Jews, all the people who usually get shown the back door…

Until we notice that we are all at the same door

Until we notice that we are all

One.

And on that day, we will be One

And God’s Name will be One. – Jewish Prayer Book

I don’t know exactly  how we get there, but I am determined to work for it. I am determined to see the miraculous spark of the Holy One in every single face before my own. I won’t lie down in the road to be run over, but I will do my best to lift up every other person that I can. I will deal with my fears.

Because I am really, really tired of zero-sum games.

Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdof.

Justice, Justice, you shall pursue.

On Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day

Have mercy on Mother’s Day
for not everyone has a Hallmark life:

Some want with all their hearts to have a child to hold
and they can’t, just can’t.

Some yearn for the child who is gone
and their heart breaks over and over like clockwork every day.

Some ache for the children taken from them by politics
or murder, or a drunk driver, or bad luck.

Some gave a child up – it was “for the best” –
and now they wonder every day: where is she? What’s she doing?

Have mercy on Mother’s Day
because not everyone had a Hallmark life:

Their mom was sick or selfish
or she went missing one dark night and never came back
or she lived on her own private planet
perhaps some kind of hell.
Or it hurts even to be in the room with her
because she bites, like an injured mother cat
all claws and teeth.

Perhaps their mom was a child herself
Perhaps we’ll never know
They’ll never tell

Have mercy on Mother’s Day
Have mercy on all the mothers
All the children
Have mercy.

Shabbat: Accept (for Now)

Kinetic photography

Shabbat

is the day

when we sit with the world as it is.

We accept the Now.

I may notice

something needs fixing,

needs action

needs a letter to the editor but

on Shabbat I must sit

accept the unacceptable

for a few hours.

I must wait for the stars.

Then I may fly

like an arrow from the bow of Shabbat:

potential

unleashed.

 

         ——-

Image by theSmart77 some rights reserved

A Pile of Stones

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Somewhere in the sand

between the Sea and Sinai

there is a pile of rocks, a memorial.

Every year I stumble against it

trip over it

and the sharp stones hit a nerve.

I’ve only lately finished the matzah

only lately begun picking the soft white manna

from the grocery shelves again

enjoying my freedom

and then

wham!

I trip over those damned rocks again.

They recall all those souls, ground to gravel

Reduced to ash.

I cannot bear to think of them

And I cannot bear to forget them, either.

So I sit on the sand

aching

re-stacking the stones.

Image by Nick Brooks, some rights reserved

I will not forget (BaShallach)

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I will not forget the night that we left Egypt.
I remember clutching the baby, and the borrowed treasure,
And the screaming in the houses
As those people found their children.

I was not sorry, I was glad and terrified
Because I knew that when they made the connection
They’d be on our heels

We were on our way, through the dark
Night and day, following that cloud, that pillar of fire
It circled behind us, when the army came
We could hear the horses in the dark, hear the chariots grinding
All through the night

And the wind blew so hard I could not breathe.

We were caught between the fire and the shoreline knowing
That Pharaoh was just behind the fire, just behind
And we were trapped.

Moses kept waving towards the sea, hollering that we should go
And what, drown? but Nachshon waded out until
All we could see was his head, disappearing
And the sea, churned up by the wind, seemed to part before him

We rushed into the breach
on our way to the future.

Image by By Chenspec (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons