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One at a Time

ONE AT A TIME

Once there was a young man strolling on the coastline on a late morning in the autumn. As he approached a stretch of shoreline he noticed hundreds of thousands of starfish washed up on the beach. Apparently changes in tidal patterns had forced this massive deposit of starfish the previous night. As he continued to walk closer to the starfish, he noticed in the distance the figure of an older gentleman gently lifting the creatures and tossing them back, one by one, into the ocean, pausing for a moment between each throw. The younger man approached the older man and struck up a conversation with him.

“Why are you doing this?” the younger asked the elder. “Don’t you realize that it will be impossible for you to save all these starfish? There are simply too many to even count.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” said the elder to the younger. “You see this one starfish?” He then threw the starfish into the ocean.  “For this one, I made a difference.” Picking up another, pausing for a moment as if to meditate on his caring response, the older gentleman turned to the younger and asked him, “Care to help me a while?” and then threw the starfish back into the water.

Starfish moments - when the enormity of the problem seems insurmountable, and yet one step can make a real difference.

This past week’s shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas, feels like one of the many starfish who have washed ashore after violent changes in the tidal patterns of our society. This past week’s shooting feels like yet another example spotlighting the manic obsession our country has with guns, our obsession to own guns, and our obsession to prevent their ownership and their use.  For many of us still, there is a saturation of concern that numbs our souls. Perhaps the proximity of this event to the attack in Las Vegas resonates deeply, but our incapacity to affect immediate change stuns us into a tacit and throbbing silence. Not that it makes a difference, but this is the deadliest recording of shooting in a place of worship in this country. With 26 dead and 20 seriously injured, we want to respond, but how?

We’ve been comfortable to accept that sanctuaries, schools, shopping malls, concert venues and even political protests guarantee a certain amount of safety from the evil lurking in the shadows. Our shock and dismay emerge when that comfort is shattered again, again, and again. We cannot and should not underestimate the importance we now place on the security measures we have implemented for our community, both for our building at Ventura and Densmore and for the greater Los Angeles Jewish community. But more can be done. More must be done.

I know I personally felt a twinge of need to jump on a plane and fly to Texas to offer comfort to bereaved families, then felt the equal and opposite push of how absurd this romantic gesture would be in such a horrific crisis. Do I send a check for the bereaved families? Join the mounting activist efforts to prevent gun violence? For me, this is when the sanctuary, the shul, can be the space to help me gain some focus to respond effectively.

Our sanctuaries are safe, because we’ve made them that way. Our sanctuaries are safe because we speak and share about the concerns of our world, and meet the wisdom of sages who turn to us, at times of our despair, and remind us to take one step forward, one at a time to make a difference in this conversation.

Take a few moments and step forward with us to learn more about who is working to make our world a little safer, who is caring for the victims as if you were there yourself, who is healing the afflicted, and restoring hope to the bereaved in this world.  

Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence

Rabbis Against Gun Violence

 

Thu, March 28 2024 18 Adar II 5784