One of the problems with politicians is they misunderstand their power. They assume that because they can set the rules, that is all the power they have. In the pandemic era, they like to use that power to tell us what we cannot do.
Take Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti. With COVID-19 hospitalizations hitting an all-time high this week, he admonished L.A. residents, saying: “Don’t meet up with others outside your household. Don’t host gatherings. Don’t go to gatherings. Just stay home.” He said plainly, “It’s time to cancel everything.”
Don’t do this, don’t do that, cancel this, cancel that. Putting aside for a moment that those restrictions can be confusing and inconsistent, my point is this: Why can’t politicians inspire us by telling us also what we can do? Even within the pandemic restrictions, we can, for example, do plenty to alleviate loneliness and help the needy.
That may be too mushy for politicians. Their role is to set the rules and enforce them. Our role is to follow them. How rote. How transactional. How limiting.
The same can apply to Jewish law. When people talk about observing the Sabbath, they focus on restrictions. You can’t drive, you can’t text, you can’t watch TV, and so on. A rabbi once told me that the real beauty of Shabbat is what we are allowed to do on the holy day. Unencumbered by technology, we are allowed to reconnect with nature, with those we love, with our tradition and with our humanity.
Politicians are not rabbis, I get that. But maybe that is precisely why they should speak like them. We don’t expect it. We like to be surprised. That is how they can reach our souls.
Politicians are not rabbis, I get that. But maybe that is precisely why they should speak like them. We don’t expect it.
Mister Mayor, we appreciate that you want to keep us safe. But don’t stop there. When you tell us what we can’t do because of the coronavirus, also remind us of everything we can do to make our city less lonely and our lives more meaningful. You have that power.
Shabbat shalom.
