As I look around at our society and the world we live in, I see a world besieged by pain. We cannot shake the feeling that things are not right. Our economic well-being has been compromised for years. Our sense of social cohesion has been torn apart. All of us feel that injustice is rampant, although we cannot agree on what constitutes injustice, nor can we agree about who is responsible for the injustice. One person’s villain is the next person’s victim; one person’s victim is the other’s villain.
As the world changes rapidly around us, we strive to get our bearings. Is the change positive or destructive? One person’s step forward is the other’s step into the abyss. We have become convinced that the world is not a bountiful place to draw from and share, but a world of limited resources, to fight over and hoard. We no longer see ourselves as being part of some great march toward progress. Instead, we are convinced that we are embroiled in a zero-sum game. Either we win or lose. And the stakes are the highest – life and death. If you win, I die, and I cannot let that happen, at any cost.
As a result of this apocalyptic perspective, we have become blind and dumb. And our blindness and our dumbness support and reinforce each other.
As I think about these circumstances, I reach for the blessing in the Amidah that we have come to in our monthly discussions.
All prayer, aside from any other function it may perform, seeks to serve as a purifying vehicle for our power of speech. Prayer seeks to overcome our tendency to misuse our gift of speech, to help us be more measured, thoughtful, even reverent, in our words. It tries to save us from thoughtless jabbering or angry blustering. And it also offers to save us from powerless muteness and dumbfoundedness. It seeks to “open our mouths, so that our lips may tell Your praises.” In this blessing we address God and plead:
“Please see our pain, and fight our fight, and quickly redeem us for Your sake. For You are a strong Redeemer. Abounding in blessings, You have ever been the Redeemer of Israel.”
The measured words of the blessing help us speak. This blessing’s task is to help us speak about our pain. But, as we begin to speak, we give voice to the other fundamental need we must address. Our first request is that our pain be seen. In our reality today the need to be seen is acutely felt. Every person yearns to be recognized and believes it to be their inalienable right. So every reality show panders to our craving to be seen, just as we are. Yet, what we want for ourselves we begrudge to others. We have convinced ourselves that our visibility can only be purchased with the invisibility of the other person. When one person or group cries out to be recognized, there is some antagonized group that snarls back, outraged, screaming the way a wounded animal might scream. Our pleas that others see our pain are rebuffed. And then our pleas turn into angry demands. And the other side is further outraged. With all the media at our disposal, with all the coverage that we can put out there, we remain blind to the pain of others.
Afflicted with blindness, we scream and yell. But, with all our screaming and yelling, we have been struck dumb. We have lost the ability to talk about what pains us. The very acknowledgement of our pain – instead of bringing some sort of relief – brings us more pain. Increasingly we find it impossible to talk to each other. If we talk to those who agree with us, we just get more worked up. If we try to talk to those with whom we disagree, we just get more worked up. Not only can we not agree about what is wrong – to make a value judgment about something – we cannot agree on how to describe the something or someone we need to assess. We no longer agree on the facts, let alone the evaluation. People stand before us – public figures or close personal friends – and, in our rage, we are no longer able to see who they really are. We see before us only foreign agents working for nefarious, unseen powers.
Our Montclair community (- remember those foreign agents caught here!) lives with its own set of stresses. We have come to this beautiful town in search of safety and the amenities of life that include such goods as excellent schools and restaurants, cultural offerings and open spaces, a sense of welcoming community and an easy commute into the Big Apple. By any comparative measure, and taking into account our own very real personal struggles, we have it pretty good. But, no matter how much we immerse ourselves in the suburban cocoon, we are also aware human beings, in touch with everything that is happening around us, close by and far away. And we have opinions and concerns about what we see and hear. Our particular stress is produced by the question of whether, how, and how much we can or should seek our own safety and distance from the ugly mess that surrounds us or whether, how, and how much to get involved in that mess. To fight.
The blessings second phrase is: “And fight our fight.” Partisan warriors could adopt this prayer as a plea for God to join their side and beat up their enemies. Or we can take the prayer seriously and remember how necessary it is to see our pain and the pain of others. Pain, itself, is an affliction that needs to be fought. We need to fight with our pain, with its effects upon us. We dare not lose our sight and our speech by letting our pain vanquish us. And, knowing how destructive pain can be, we must also fight to ameliorate the pain of others. We ask God to help us fight that fight. But God does not do all the fighting. It remains our fight to fight.
“For You are a strong redeemer.” Any run-of-the-mill redeemer will not do for our painful situation. But You are a strong Redeemer. May we not lose hope.
Image(s): Invisible © Florian Bugiel used with permission via Creative Commons License
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