To the Country I Thought I Lived In

Firstly, let me tell you just how much I love you. How do I love you?  Let me count the ways.

         I love living in you because of you’re being a democracy. I love knowing that whether the leader I want wins or loses in the election, there will be another election in two years and then again in four years. I have never in my life worried about whether there would be another election in four years. I love your peaceful transitions of power. I never in my life worried about whether there would be peaceful transitions of power no matter who won any election.

I loved having full bodily autonomy. I loved knowing that when I would bring life into this world would be my decision and my decision alone. I have loved knowing that even if God forbid, I were attacked, the decision of what to do next would be mine and mine alone. I loved knowing that if something went wrong with one of my pregnancies and that pregnancy was risking my life or that of my unborn baby or God forbid they found something wrong with a fetus in my womb, the choice of what to do next would be mine and mine alone – and that I could do everything necessary to save my life. I loved knowing that if I made a mistake, if I had an accidental pregnancy, what would happen next would be up to me alone. I loved and love having easy access to high quality health care and being treated with dignity and respect.

I loved being in a place which was committed to the equality of all people of all genders, all skin colors, religions, sexual orientations, gender expression, physical ability and place of origin. I love getting to know people who see the world differently from me who have entirely different life perspectives and experiences.

The ideal of everyone being treated equally was never fully realized in you, my beloved country, but I always knew that you were headed in that direction – one step at a time, and I knew without a doubt that that’s where you were going and that we would get there.  As Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “the arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice.” Although I would be frustrated that we weren’t there yet, I knew that you — that we were headed there.

I loved your structure of the balance of powers – of three separate branches of government which operate independently of one another and checked the power of one another. I loved the idea that no one person would get to make a decision alone, that only all of us could make decisions together through elected representation.

I love your Constitution, even with all its flaws. I love having that founding document which functions like a Torah, placing a check on any one person’s power. I loved that like the Torah, the Constitution could be reinterpreted, understood to include and extend the idea of liberty not just some of the people in the country but to all of us. I love the idea of power for the people, by the people, and of the people. I love the idea that of the fourth branch of government– called the free press, which looks for truth and I loved how the free press was treated with love and respect and admiration because we appreciated how the people working in that endeavor were speaking truth to power, holding leaders accountable to ensure that they speak the truth, that their actions are brought out into the light of day, so that the vulnerable can’t be taken advantage of by the powerful.

My grandparents came here to escape from religious persecution in Poland and Russia. They came to you, the “Goldene Medina” (the golden land), to be free. My grandfather was so proud of you and loved you so much that he volunteered to serve in the army in World War II. When we came to visit him, every night at dinner, he would tell us stories of his time in the army defending you. As kids, my brother and I didn’t want to hear his stories about defending you over and over and over again. We wondered why wouldn’t he talk about anything else? But now I know why. He was so in love with you. I didn’t understand then, but now I do.

In the past number of years, I’ve often wondered what my grandparents would think if they knew – if they saw the news about people being shot in synagogue or outside a Jewish museum, about Jewish businesses being vandalized, the home of a Jewish governor set on fire by an arsonist only a few hours after Passover seder was held in that room. What would they say if they saw, as I did, the burned pieces of the Passover Haggadot, the charred seder plate on the news? What would they say if you knew what happened to you, this beloved beautiful country?  They came here to get away from that violence. Although I miss them and wish they were still here with me every day, I also feel oddly grateful that they didn’t live to see the violence that they fled from happen here – in you. They loved you so much. They would have been heartbroken to know what happened to you, as I am heartbroken now.

You see, to be honest, my dear country, I’ve taken you for granted. You were always there, standing by my side, so I could focus on other things. I could focus on learning about my faith, delving over ancient texts all day every day until they called me rabbi. Then, I could focus then on raising my children and on serving my congregation. You, my dear country, didn’t require much from me. I would vote in every election – sometimes that would be quick, sometimes it would take a few hours if there was a long line, but the rest of the time, you didn’t need much from me. I was always grateful for you, but I didn’t have to think much about you. I never thought that the freedoms you provided would be taken away from me. I never thought that my daughter would have fewer freedoms than I do.

A friend suggested that I could say mourner’s Kaddish for you, now that you are dead, but I can’t. I can’t believe that you are gone. I can only believe that you are in hiding and will return.

I can’t say Kaddish for you. Instead, I have to pray for you and work for your release. You didn’t need much from me before, but now, you need me and all of us, to speak the truth of our deepest beliefs and what we believe in our hearts, to teach the Torah of love each and every day. You need us to be voices of love for every person in you, my beloved country. So that’s what I promise to do for you. And if you ever come back, I will never, ever take you for granted again.

Love always,

Ilana

Rabbi Ilana Grinblat serves as a spiritual leader at Ahavat Shalom and Temple Har Shalom.