It’s
funny – people around the world dream of coming to New York City someday, and
have a list of the major landmarks they want to visit when they get there … but
those of us who have grown up in the NYC area tend to take those landmarks for
granted. In fact, many of us never even go to those “must see” sites, unless we’re
tagging along with friends or family visiting from out of town.
That’s
why I was so glad when I learned that my synagogue was planning a trip to the
Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. I
thought it would be a positive experience, made that much more meaningful by
going with this group. It definitely
was, and to a far greater extent than I’d imagined.
When
we arrived at Liberty Island, the rabbi gathered us together for a few brief
prayers and readings related to immigration, welcoming refugees, our shared
history, and hope for a better tomorrow.
I found myself nodding in agreement with the repeated affirmations that
we as a people will not repeat the atrocities of the past; that we will “act
boldly and with courage to create inclusive communities that honor the dignity
of those whose lives are in danger” (adapted from material by HIAS). It
was an empowering reminder that it is up to us to make this country a safe
haven to those in need, that we must do so without prejudice or fear. It was a call to action to pay it forward, as we were all strangers
at one time.
Though
I’ve seen the Statue of Liberty countless times in movies or from a distance
when crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, there’s a different feeling when you’re right
there. Up close, she is majestic. Looking up from the pedestal level, Liberty Enlightening the World seems to
reach up into the heavens, shining her light in every direction. The museum inside displays the history of the
statue, from its origins as a symbol of the friendship between France and the
United States to its greater significance as an emblem of hope for the entire
world. Based on the Roman goddess of
freedom (Libertas) and known over the years as Mother of Exiles, she represents the best of what this nation
stands for.
That’s
not to say that this nation has always (or ever) lived up to those ideals, and
the displays in both Liberty and Ellis Island do not shy away from that. Freedom was not for everyone, and people
brought against their will did not see a symbol of hope. But it is only by recognizing, acknowledging,
and owning the wrongs of our past that we can ever work towards making them
right.
It
is that notion that made this trip so impactful for me – because the atrocities
of our present are threatening that ideal every day. People are not treated equally under the law,
and we are seeing more hatred and divisiveness than I can remember in my lifetime. It feels as though we are moving backwards in
our beliefs and in our practices, and I have cried, screamed, and marched for
marginalized groups being targeted today (including, but not limited to, those
groups to which I belong as a disabled Jewish woman). But in
the midst of all the acrimony, discrimination, and intolerance that are so
prevalent today, this trip was a beautiful and refreshing reminder of what this
country really is - what we were founded on, what we still believe, and what no
political administration can destroy.
If
we want to continue to move forward, to strive for liberty and justice for all,
then we must speak up, stand up, and act up.
And what gives me hope is that people are doing just that – more now
than I can remember in my lifetime. From
movements like Black Lives Matter and
the Women’s March to groups like ADAPT and the ACLU,
people across the country are uniting with the common goal of protecting one
another. I am inspired by the protests,
and encouraged by the results we are beginning to see.
With all that in mind, I
am reminded of a concept I learned when I first became involved with the
synagogue that led this trip. It’s
called Tikkun Olam, simply translated
as repairing a broken world. It is “our Jewish mandate to do what we can
to make the world a better place” (SSTTE). Every generation sees its world broken in
some way, and every generation works to repair it. These are not simply Jewish values; they are
not simply American values. They are
human values, and they give me hope that together, we can make the world a
better place.
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