This blog post is adapted from a reflection delivered by Rev. Samantha Gonzalez-Block on November 10, 2024, at the Interfaith Families Project, drawing on Psalm 46, Leviticus 19:18, and Matthew 22:25-40.
Last week, my spouse, Matt and I traveled down to Asheville and Swannanoa, North Carolina, carrying the items that you generously donated. The situation there is too terrible for words – neighbors still without potable water, piles of rubble across stretches of city. Please know all that you shared with those on the ground – was so appreciated and needed. I thank you with all my heart.
One small thing I wanted to do while there was to see if our old home was still standing. It’s a one floor house, situated in a woody area. When Matt and I arrived, we saw there were fallen trees splayed across the property. Thankfully our little house was fine. But then we noticed the house immediately beside ours – not 20 feet away. A fallen tree lay right through the middle of it.
Our imaginations went wild: what would it have been like for us if we had still been living in our home when the storm hit? What split decisions would we have had to make? And what would it have been like to witness that tree come crashing down through our neighbor’s home?
This election season has left many of us feeling like we are coming through a storm. Our IFFP community is certainly carrying a mix of emotions about what this election means for ourselves and our neighbors – we are, after all, an interfaith, intercultural, inter-political, intercontinental community. And our extended circles are wide and diverse.
Some of us in this beloved IFFP family are feeling a sense of relief and security post-election – as if our house is still standing (and we are safe from the storm).
Some of us are feeling a sense of shock and horror – as if a tree has fallen down the center of our home (and we are vulnerable to the elements).
Some of us here have expressed feeling energized and hopeful about what the future holds – finally things are moving in the right direction.
Some of us here have expressed real concerns about how this next chapter might impact marginalized populations, like the LGBTQ community and black and brown bodied people.
Some of us have all the words.
Some of us have no words at all.
Wherever you find yourself – know that your feelings are yours to claim and name. They are raw and real. They are valid and they have value. We can never deny one another’s feelings. And whatever shape yours are taking, please know that we see you and we love you.
To those of us who are feeling uneasy in our skin or in our identity – please know you matter and you belong here in your fullness.
Finally, if you are in a place where you just need time to process it all – take your time – and as you do, there are some things I invite us to ponder together.
Here at IFFP we know a thing or two about what it means to live as neighbors – neighbors who care for one another across lines of difference. Not unlike the American project, our little project believes that vibrant communities can be diverse in culture and religion and thought.
Here, we invite our partners and neighbors into our traditions, we invite our children to claim all of who they are, and together we seek to create worshipful interfaith spaces where everyone feels at home. It doesn’t always go perfectly, but we keep trying.
One thing that both Judaism and Christianity lift up again and again is the idea that there is something we must be mindful of along with our individual feelings: It is our actions. Our mitzvot. Our works. How we choose to live our lives in relationship to God, and in relationship to one another.
We throw that word love around so much that we often forget the enormity of it.
What does it take to love God with every ounce of your being?
What does it take to love our neighbor – be it a stranger, a friend, an enemy – as if your neighbor dwelled in you?
We have to wonder:
Would the choices we make be different…
would the questions we ask be different… would the tenderness we extend be different…if we could really see the humanity, the vulnerability, the divinity in our neighbor – and to see ourselves in them?
If we could see that our suffering, our joy and our fear are intertwined?
If we could look at a neighbor’s home destroyed – and recognize that home as our own?
The Golden Rule. In every religious tradition and ethical philosophy there is some similar version of it:
The list goes on and on.
So, what does the golden rule require of us today and moving forward?
…when we are feeling so distant and fractured from our neighbors?
…when we don’t want to look some in the eye?
…when we are unfriending others on social media?
…when we are disengaging from it all?
Perhaps, IFFP family, we can only embrace the golden rule when we open wide that word “neighbor” – and truly embrace one another. You see, we are not meant to simply exist side-by-side or put up with each other.
No, our faiths teach us that we are one. We are part of a singular whole.
There is no you and me, us and them, winners and losers. Across differences, we are called to weep together, rejoice together,
charge forward together – even when the storm is raging,
when the waves are high, when the trees are falling,
when there is no clear path in sight –
we can never throw up our hands,
because our neighbors need us as we need them,
to share in the work of tending to this beloved, fragile world.
Today, before we rejoice, before we despair, let’s do the radical thing of
looking each other in the eye and asking the questions:
“How are you, my neighbor?”
“Help me understand your experience.”
“What are you needing at this moment?”
“How can I tend to your spirit? And may I tell you about mine?”
Perhaps if we can find one another in the midst of these stormy, fractured times
and extend some astounding kindness and tenderness,
if we can greet each other with generous questions and authentic curiosity,
if we open ourselves up to learning and listening and being surprised
if we can affirm each other’s dignity and worth,
perhaps then we can begin to clear away some trees,
begin to rebuild the house,
begin to tend to that which is damaged,
in order to truly love and keep loving one another,
as God loves and keeps loving each of us. It won’t always go perfectly, but let’s keep trying.
My dear neighbors, the Golden Rule is no simple rule to live by. But what is? It’s a pearl worth clinging tight to – even if it feels hard, or near impossible.
In the coming days and weeks ahead, let’s keep the flame of hope and possibility and friendship burning bright. Let’s be mindful and humble in what we say and write and do. Let’s be compassionate when seeking understanding and fresh connection. Let’s be courageous in calling ourselves and our leaders to let wisdom and healing be our guide.
Let’s keep the faiths, so that our actions might be a blessing to God and to every precious soul we encounter. Surely, we can weather any storm that comes our way if we face it together.
