Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Reflections on yet another tragic shooting in Denver.

 Dear Friends,

 

I write this letter while on my Sabbatical.  For the past two and a half weeks I have been recording new music, reading, writing and taking time to relax, ski (despite the less than spectacular snow conditions…), and recharge my physical, emotional and spiritual batteries.  I look forward to returning refreshed and renewed on January 14th for Shabbat Shirah.

 

Unfortunately, tragedy does not take a Sabbatical. It marches on.  Sue and I are currently in Taos, New Mexico with family and friends. We awoke this morning to the news of the horrific series of deadly shootings that took place last night in Denver. As of this writing, four innocent lives have been lost and a policeman is in critical condition – all from gunshot wounds.  The alleged perpetrator is also dead. We grieve for those killed and all who knew them. 

 

There are multiple levels to this tragedy:

 

·       The tragic loss of life.

·       The never-ending national saga of gun violence that we, in Colorado, know all too well.

·       The fact that events such as these, while horrible, no longer have the capacity to shock us anymore. The requisite news stories, press releases, and calls for “thoughts and prayers” will soon die down until the next horrific act of violence occurs and the cycle will repeat itself over and over.

 

In this week’s Torah portion, Vaera, we read of the first seven plagues that God rained down upon Egypt.  A plague can be defined as a phenomenon over which we have no control that impacts society in a disastrous fashion.  As we experience this this second year of COVID-19 and the frightening realities of the Omicron variant, we are all too familiar with the fears, frustrations and insecurities brought on by plague. A key understanding of how plagues impact our lives is that when we first confront them, we feel that we have no way to eradicate or deal with them. 

 

Gun violence, unlike COVID-19, is not a plague. It is a sickness that has permeated every aspect of our lives – but there are clear and concrete ways to eradicate it. Chief among them are sane gun laws and a willingness among our elected officials to end the idolatrous worship of firearms and obeisance to the gun lobby that continues to corrupt our political process.

 

While our constitution enshrines our right to bear arms, too many people have taken this guarantee out of context. The founders of our nation never imagined the technology or the propaganda that would transform a simple right to self-defense into a fanatical obsession with weapons of destruction and the obscene profits derived by Firearms manufacturers and those who work to prevent any sane legislation that protects innocent lives from being snuffed out with the pull of a trigger.

 

I am not opposed to guns. I am, however, very worried that our national obsession with gun-worship will continue to encroach on our ability to create a society where human life is valued more than our possessions or a perceived diminution of basic freedoms.

 

Whether or not this latest tragedy will result in renewed efforts to prevent further gun violence depends on how loud our voices can be as we advocate for sane gun legislation and the recognition that our society and it’s entire moral fabric is threatened by our worship of firearms. Now is a time to both grieve and act. Gun Violence is as much a health crisis as COVID. If you feel as outraged as I do, reach out to your elected officials and let them know.  Our very lives may depend on it.

 

L’Shalom (in Peace),

 

Rabbi Joseph R. Black

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Drought- A New Poem

 

Drought – © Joe Black – December, 2021

 

Beneath my feet like blackened toast

I hear a crunching sound

With swirling winds that sound like ghosts

While leaves blow all around

The branches rattle with the wind

As dirt is strewn about

The winter sun is low and dimmed

At this time of drought

 

We pray for rain, we beat our breast

All to no avail

We can’t explain but do our best

To try and tell the tale

Of elders born in similar straits 

Who wrestled with their doubt

And puckish gods who swayed their fates

At other times of drought.

 

The patriots and the parasites

The devious and devout

The ancients and the acolytes

Who’d shriek and cry and shout

Those who lived to tell the tale

Those who chose to scream and wail

At clouds above to no avail.

All suffered from the drought

 

The deserts that we occupy aren’t only climate based

When demagogues are deified, and logic is replaced

By pundits and their party line

Who watch their venom sprout

And push the poisons they’ve designed

To profit from the drought

 

Scared souls will do anything

To quench a burning thirst

They’ll change the One they’re worshiping

If passions are well nursed

The tragic lessons of the past

Are easily shut out

The die may be already cast

Unless we end this drought.