There is much that is looming as we enter into Shabbat—both the hoped-for cease-fire in Israel and Gaza, and the inauguration this coming Monday. There were so many moments since last November when I felt tentatively hopeful that a ceasefire between Hamas and the Israeli government was imminent, only to have those hopes dashed. In this moment, the possibility of a significant pause in the relentless bombardment of Gaza, a massive escalation in aid, and the return of some of the Israeli hostages seems probable, as well as the release of some of the Palestinians being held in Israeli prisons.
I cannot begin to imagine the complex range of feelings being experienced in this moment by the hundreds of thousands of people in Gaza who have lost family and homes, who have experienced illness and starvation and seen their lives and future destroyed. I pray that they will experience some bit of relief in the coming days. Nor can I fully grasp the emotions of the hostages and their families, most of whom have felt betrayed by their own government, and some of whom will still have to wait for the release of their loved ones. For all of their sakes, I am hoping and praying for a true and lasting ceasefire. The path to any kind of true repair remains overwhelmingly daunting. But nonetheless, may the coming 40 days bring as much good as is possible.
On the home front, I have been pondering the significance of the second inauguration of Donald Trump on the day on which we celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. King was both a realist and an optimist. He saw clearly the evils that beset our society and our world—what he called “the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism.” He understood only too well the ways in which racism and economic oppression in this country and around the world are intertwined, and saw clearly as well the existential threat of nuclear war (and I can only imagine that, if he were here today, he’d be sounding the alarm about the existential threat of climate change). Yet he held fast, until his dying day, to his belief in the revolutionary potential of people coming together to make change. He refused to give up on his vision of a world transformed by the power of nonviolence.
So as we celebrate Dr. King’s legacy this weekend, may we continue to be inspired and challenged by his vision, his bravery, and his refusal to give up on the possibilities of peace and justice. May it be his voice we hear ringing most loudly in the days to come. As he proclaimed in Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech in 1964:
“I refuse to accept the idea that the "is-ness" of humanity's present nature makes us morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal "ought-ness" that forever confronts us. I refuse to accept the idea that people are mere flotsam and jetsam in the river of life which surrounds them. I refuse to accept the view that humankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality. I believe that even amid today's mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow. I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of humanity.”
Amen.
