Repair the World with Lovingkindness

 A conversation today reminded me of how excited I was, back in second grade, to get my Girl Scout pin. I pinned it on my green sash, just so, and kept it upside down as was the tradition: you had to do a good deed before turning it right side up. A week passed and at our next session, all my troop-mates wore pins that showed me they had clearly accomplished their good deed. I, for my part, had not. Instead, I had spent evenings wondering what my good deed would be. Would it be worthy? Would it be enough?

I wouldn't have known enough to look at it this way back then, but I viewed my Girl Scout pin dilemma with a very Jewish mindset. Now, as the world is brimming over with antisemitism and brash generalizations about Jewish people are stemming from extreme violence on the other side of the globe, I want to share with you a side of Judaism that is so removed from bombings of hospitals and from hostages wrested from music concerts. I want to share with you my Jewish mindset-- different from bagels and blintzes, Chanukah candles and horas, this is a part of Jewish culture that others may not know about. It is the mindset of outreach.

I didn't know it when I was little, but there are two key phrases that summed up my struggle back then: Tikkun Olam and Gemilut Hasadim. The first is a drive to repair the world-- essentially, it is social action. The world is broken, and we need to do what we can to help out, wherever we can, whenever we can, however we can. It isn't just helping people who look like you or who have your culture or nationality. It is helping heal communities and individuals. It is helping heal rifts between communities and individuals too.

Seven-year-old Emily was looking for a good deed that would check all of those boxes and then some. It wasn't something that I learned in Hebrew School, but rather a way of life that I observed by watching my parents advocate teachers, students, and even local drivers who needed a stop sign on the corner. As a little girl, I did not understand that I couldn't fix it all, and that nobody expected me to fix it all. I was waiting to find that big opportunity to make my mark. It was years before I heard the wise phrase: "Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.... You are not obligated to complete the work; nor are you free to abandon it."

Along with Tikkun Olam, Jewish culture values "Gemilut Hasadim", acts of lovingkindness. These take so many shapes and forms: visiting the sick, welcoming the stranger, comforting mourners, and charitable giving. What stands out to me about this value is that it is not transactional. It isn't "I'll be good to you and you be good to me." There's not a goal of receiving something good in return for sharing lovingkindness. And it's not a one-time act. In other words, receiving the privilege of turning over a pin (a reward) for a one-time good deed is so antithetical to this belief! However, as a seven-year-old, I took my Girl Scout status seriously. The pin remained unturned.

Luckily, my troop leader was a neighbor who knew me very well. She knew how I lived my life, doing what I could, when I could, where I could. She made it clear that my life style was one of good deeds. She granted me permission to turn my pin over.

A few years later, I became the first person in my family (at least here in the US) to become a bat mitzvah. I didn't want a big party; in fact, the only person I invited outside of my family was my Hebrew School teacher. However, I knew that "bat mitzvah" means (literally) "daughter of good deeds." I wasn't sure at the time how I felt about praying in Hebrew, and I knew I had major problems with the prayerbook. (At the time, the Reform prayerbook only prayed to the fathers and it wished peace for Israel but not for the since-then added "and all who dwell on Earth.") Looking back, I see that I really was a Unitarian Universalist in training. But I was and remain a daughter of good deeds. That the Jewish part of my "Jewnitarian Quaker" self-designation.

There are awful stereotypes of my people. There are awful claims of selfishness and brutality. This breaks my heart.

In all societies, there are extremists. This also breaks my heart.

However, in all societies, there are also children of good deeds. They may not have gone through the same rites of passage as I had, Girl Scout pins or b'nei mitzvot. They may not use the same terminology or language for their actions to repair the world or show their love. But there are children of good deeds everywhere. This warms my heart.

I share this today because I want to shed some light on these aspects of Judaism to folks who may not have learned it, or who may need reminders. I also share it today because it's part of why I don't hide my Jewishness.

The world is broken. The world is also beautiful.

There's a lot of work to do!