Shabbat Shalom! I
hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving, enjoyed your turkeys and your family
time and maybe some football. Thanksgiving gives us much to enjoy, and is a beautiful
moment to stop and think about all we have to be grateful for. However, I think
most adults know by now that the origin story of Thanksgiving is a myth, or at
least an anomaly of peace in what was otherwise a violent relationship between
white newcomers to this land and its natives. It’s certainly something I’ve struggled
with before, especially in my adolescent vegetarian days. “How can we all sit
around a big dead bird and celebrate the genocide of the Native Americans?” 16
year old Lizz would ask. The family dinner part got easier when I started
eating poultry again, and eventually my involvement in other forms of activism
allowed me to feel like I talk about genocide enough, I can set aside this day
for family and gratitude without thinking too hard on its origins.
This year, a
Facebook friend weighed in on the annual leftist agonizing over Thanksgiving by
offering a vision that really touched me. He said he likes to think of the myth
of the Pilgrims and Natives getting along and sharing their bounties as a goal of
what this country could be. Maybe it happened once and maybe it never happened
at all, and maybe we haven’t learned the lesson yet, but we could learn it. We
could learn to get along, to welcome in strangers looking for a better life, to
meet those offering help with gratitude and not greed. We could have a country
of equal partners looking out for each other and sharing our thanks. And as
American Jews, we can learn how from our ancestors and our Torah.
At the beginning
of this week’s Torah portion, Sarah dies at the age of 127. Abraham addresses
the Hittites, the specific tribe of Canaanites that he lives among, saying, “I
am a ger-toshav, a resident alien, living among you. Sell me a burial plot among
you so that I may remove my dead for burial.” They respond to him with great
mercy and respect, telling him he may have whatever plot of land he considers
best for his burial. He chooses the Cave of Machpelah and its owner immediately
offers to give it to him. Abraham refuses to take it for free, and weighs out
the proper amount of silver for the land owner. All the people in this business
transaction are polite and considerate of each other’s feelings, needs, and
concerns. Imagine if all business transactions and all acts of mercy for
someone in need were this honest and open-hearted.
This week, water
protectors at Standing Rock are under siege. Water cannons are being unleashed
on them in below freezing weather. Tear gas, rubber bullets, and concussion
grenades rain down on real live Native Americans while we celebrate a holiday
supposedly about the peace between them and the newer settlers of this land,
and all in the name of business. America has not yet learned the lesson of the
Thanksgiving myth, we have not yet learned to emulate our father Abraham or his
Hittite neighbors willing to give away good land for his sacred purpose. But
perhaps, in the coming weeks, as the season of giving descends on American
capitalism, as the Festival of Lights approaches for us, we can find the ways
we can open up our hearts a little more, shed a little light in the dark world,
and be a little kinder, a little more giving, and more welcoming to the
strangers, the poor, the orphan, the aggrieved. And may we find ourselves soon
in peaceful harmony with all our brothers and sisters of this earth. Amen, and
Shabbat Shalom.
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