The time to act was yesterday.
This is not an abdication of responsibility. God-forbid. I am not throwing my hands up in despair. But I am wringing them in wonder and anguish. And I find myself asking again and again what, and how, and where to step next. I am in the eye of this brutal implosion, breathing with a mild sense of underlying panic that a next wave or perhaps the next will knock the wind out from inside my tired soul. The sheer breadth of the wreckage that once was a tentative peace — it exhausts me. I see the tired eyes of those who busy themselves with this war and all its terrible tentacles.
Most days, I am a leader — of someone, something, somewhere. A healer, even, or someone who tries. And I know that I am not the only one who sits in this late October, early Heshvan half-moon, frozen in love, overflowing with a capacity to give and honor and wrap the weary ones in my arms but my boots are stuck in place and I think and then I overthink and every response seems to fall short. How can I begin to build trust, to forge connections, now? Like this, in this moment?
When I read the NYTimes article honoring the gentle Andrea Hodos and her work with NewGround, and her loving friendship with Aziza, the tears flowed with a sense of painful awakening. The work does not start tomorrow. It doesn’t start today. It started many yesterdays ago and it requires a kind of precious tending and patient attention that cannot withstand rush.
The libelous and ugly foundation of terror has the horrific capacity to destroy in a matter of moments. This is a truth that is harder to bear than any words can capture. The sparks of hate next to the right bits of vulnerable tinder can demolish worlds in a moment. Enmity with enough firepower will contort into Kaddish.
Love takes time. Peace takes time. Friendships take time. The time to begin was yesterday.
Here is the great paradox: Diplomacy without a sense of urgency will never feel as important as diplomatic relations in the immediate swirl of a crisis. I think back four weeks and consider the priority I assigned to Israel and to my relationships with Muslim colleagues and friends. They were bottom of mind. (Is that a saying? I said it, so…) And I think of Andrea and Aziza, and the many years when they’ve planted thoughtful cohorts of NewGround participants. Year after year, through art and wrenching discussion and prayerful companionship, they take advantage of the great many times when things are quite boring and relatively peaceful and they help others build love and more love and then some more love on top of that. Then, when the hurt comes crashing, the hugs are there. Like family. With a bone-deep acknowledgement that their connection will bend and shudder but does not break.
Today will be, someday, a yesterday that I won’t wish to regret. So today I pledge to do something terribly boring but important. I will go about planting love whose dividends of kindness will only reveal themselves when the world cracks again. I will live and lead as if tomorrow depends on the way I act today, because as it turns out, that’s exactly how love works: built one hug, one brick of trust, one knowing glance at a time.
