2020: The Power of Communal Healing

As we near another divisive election in another year of division, we are seeing a pain even deeper than we have experienced before. A year of uncertainty, a year of sickness (in more ways than one), a year of fear, a year of sadness.It is simultaneously shocking and unsurprising.

Whether physical, emotional or mental, desperately or slightly, we are all suffering, all in need of healing. I’ve seen pundits write that while we may not all be in the same boat (and, in fact, many don’t even have an umbrella much less a lifejacket), we are all in the same collective storm. I see so many commenting that we cannot let the election divide us more - we cannot let this be reason to ignore the suffering, to not care. At the same time, it is also important to remember that many votes come from a place of suffering, a feeling of pain, a need for saving. 

My reform Jewish upbringing came with many traditions. These included quite literally standing at times with strangers (neighbors) while they were grieving and echoing prayers of healing with them as they held sick loved ones close to their hearts. And as we stood in the synagogue our rabbis asked us to “say a prayer for those who have no one to say one for them.” Spending our energy, our time, to blindly send prayers into the world without discrimination for the stranger in desperate need. Similarly, “thoughts and prayers” have taken over the digital wires via social media this year. A story of pain, trauma and loss goes viral or we see a friend post heartbreaking news, and we are quick to let them know, in our still busy and filled days, we are spending precious moments to send what might exist of our own healing powers. My own family has been on the receiving end of these thoughts, prayers, and outreaches of love many times over the last decade, and I can personally say, though they seem like just words in a time when words can’t bring back a lost one or single-handedly turn back time, it is magical what power they can contain. The feeling of endless circles of arms around you, literal and figurative, brings a level of peace that is hard to describe. Yet outside of these moments, outside of a holy space, how often are we ourselves feeding the brokenness and sickness? How often are we refusing to provide that level of unrestricted compassion necessary to help heal?

We have an election in front of us that needs us. So of course I will make a call to let your voice be heard through voting [Vote! Vote! Vote!] and to do what you can in your community to ensure other voices are heard as well. 

But I think it is also important we remember why we head to the polls; Why we all care about those in leadership positions who we may have limited if any contact with. Because we have concerns matched with hope, pain matched with a yearning for healing. I believe 2 things are critically important here…

1. To understand the American struggles, to understand the American pain, the truest source in the age of misinformation is the source itself: ourselves and our neighbors. 

2. Our leaders are not the only ones with power to heal our pain, to lessen our struggle. We have a responsibility and a power here too.

This year needs us doing everything we can to help heal our communities. We may feel at times we are powerless in this -- the forces causing this pain seem overwhelming and unyielding, and we seem small in this ocean. But the healing moments at places of worship or online social forums and the times we ourselves are navigating the raging waters of trauma, saved by friends, family and even strangers, prove otherwise. We just need to be willing to see the pain in front of us. 

As we near this critical election, a common question I hear is “But how could they vote for him?” Depending on the asker, this question could refer to either “him” on the ballot for the presidency this year. The interesting thing about this question is it seems to be rarely asked of the people who could actually answer it. Many would claim the answer doesn’t truly matter this year - that our lives are on the line, our future is on the line, the foundations of our country are on the line and the only thing that matters is that the person who can correct our course sits in the Oval Office come February. In slight irony, I would say that might actually be the common answer we would get on both sides if we actually were willing to have the conversation we are refusing to have at this moment. 

It is time we asked. In a world where there is newfound weight of the simple greeting “How are you doing?," it is time we reached out with genuine curiosity. Not with the goal of changing people’s minds or votes but instead, even when that might not be possible, giving them a listening ear as they do the same for you; For us to better understand each other, to help hold each other during this time, to understand the pain that probably won't be fully healed in 4 years and will need our collective work in the long run. Because, once the dust has settled in the aftermath of the election, we are each other’s neighbors, fellow Americans all fighting for a better tomorrow and all in need of healing.

Opinion: Minneapolis is an example of how we can begin #WeavingCommunity

If you’ve turned on the news or checked social media in the past few weeks, you’ve likely seen at least one story framing the nationwide protests as tearing communities apart, causing mass destruction, and exposing the sharp divisions in our country. There are indeed sharp divisions in our country, and some destruction of property has occurred. I believe, however, that much of the media’s coverage has been a function of the old media adage, “if it bleeds, it leads.” People enjoy consuming controversial content, even better if what it shows is violent. We enjoy contrasting our own groups—always correct, intelligent, and civilized—with the “strange” nature of “the other.” As a Minnesota native who has witnessed the epicenter of these protests first hand, however, my experience is quite different from what you may see on your nightly news coverage. It has been one of communities coming together despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles in their way.

While I was born in the suburbs, I consider Minneapolis my home. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of time spent at Twins or Timberwolves games and exploring the city’s countless museums. As a college student, Minneapolis has shaped me into the person I am today. Whether it be volunteering in the community, experiencing the cultural confluence of places like the Midtown Global Market, or simply roaming the streets with friends on a summer evening, these experiences are foundational to my worldview. Although I had been away from Minneapolis since before the events of the past few weeks, I returned on June 5 to participate in a march. While riding around Lake Street (the area of Minneapolis where most of the protests, rioting, and looting occured) on my bicycle, I was struck by the stark dichotomy before my eyes. While the destruction was obvious—with the crumbled remains of burned businesses resembling images I have seen of war torn countries—there was also a tangible feeling of growth and opportunity. 

I saw people helping each other sweep rubble from the streets, donation sites where community members had dropped off food and essential goods like diapers, and countless murals and signs. This juxtaposition of destruction and growth, sadness and happiness, separation and togetherness, has remained at the forefront of my mind. Later that day, while waiting for the march to begin, I watched as thousands of people of all ages, races, genders, and ethnic groups gathered into the plaza outside US Bank Stadium to listen to speakers and local musicians. The fact that such a diverse group could come together around a common cause is hopefully something in which we can all take solace.

As the march commenced and we made our way out of the city center into the surrounding neighborhoods, I was unsure of what to expect. I was happy to find that seemingly the entire community was in support. Handmade signs decorated the lawns and windows of nearly every house we passed. People perched on their front steps or reclined on lawn chairs offered calls of support, handed out water bottles, or simply raised a fist in the air as a symbol of solidarity. Even as we blocked traffic, cars honked in support, heads poked out of windows to yell encouragement, or, at worst, they simply turned their car around quietly and went to find a detour.

When we reached the intersection of 38th and Chicago, outside of the grocery store where George Floyd was murdered, I was once again struck by the contrasting images before me. On one side of the street, stores covered in freshly painted murals commemorating George Floyd and others who have died at the hands of police officers were surrounded by people solemnly paying their respects. In the surrounding streets and parking lots, however, was what could only be described as a block party—a celebration of life.  

Neighbors handed out free food as the smoke from dozens of grills cooking hamburgers and chicken wafted over the crowd. A DJ spun dance records, a man with a Polaroid snapped photos, and community organizers delivered speeches from atop a stage. Towering above all of this was the Speedway sign—previously used to advertise deals on hot dogs and soft drinks—now emblazoned with black letters reading “George Floyd Square.” The imagery of a man’s name rising from the same concrete where he was pinned, pleading for his life, for nearly nine minutes sent a powerful message from the people of Minneapolis. They had reclaimed this tragic event and transformed it into a time of healing and togetherness.

It’s devastating that the impetus for this community building was the loss of a life, and obviously nothing that is done now will bring George Floyd back to his family. But the sense of community and the hope for a better future that I’ve witnessed in Minneapolis these past weeks has been unlike anything I’ve seen before. From the ashes of the destruction, the opportunity for new growth is one that we cannot fail to pursue. Particularly in the midst of a global pandemic that has separated us for months, the need for connection—real, authentic, human connection that transcends arbitrary divisions—is at an all-time high. I think we can all benefit from considering the example set by those in Minneapolis and what we can do in our own lives to begin #WeavingCommunity.