Category: justice

another gasp at my privilege

During a day with a heat index of 118 degrees F., the main water supply to my home was cut off for eight hours due to road construction. I moaned and groaned about it. I had to make lots of ice in the preceding days, store as much cool water as I could in the refrigerator, and lug up a large plastic container of water I had stored in the basement for years “in case of emergency.” Such were my trails and tribulations.

That morning, I woke up to a story on the radio about the drought and famine in Somalia. The story spoke of a woman who, everyday, walked miles to a dry river bed, dug and dug until she found some water for her family, and then lugged the distasteful water back home in order to survive. I gasped at my spoiled privilege that had me complaining about losing water from my faucets for only eight hours.

Where is the justice is this disparity? None. I’m at a loss on how to bring about justice in this world. I have worked for peace and justice my whole life, but so little have I been able to impact. My efforts of justice have impacted my little world — feminism, LGBTQUII, Interfaith dialogue; but only by supporting groups like Amnesty International, NAACP, Southern Poverty Law Center, the “Negro” College Fund, Human Rights WatchSpecial Olympics ….. well, I spill out money to appease my helplessness.

I am empty inside when I hear these stories of desperation. My heart breaks each time. Sometimes I feel my heart is now only fragments gathered with more broken fragments. “How long, O G-d, how long?”

Where is your salvation, your justice for this earth, Now?

We’re listening.

Better Left Unsaid (Lyrics) – Sean Ryan aka Skye Galaxy

A newly arrived Somali refugee boy tries to drink from a cup as he waits in line with his mother at a refugee reception center at Hagadera camp, one of three refugee camps that make up sprawling Dadaab refugee complex in Dadaab town, northeastern Kenya, on Sept. 5. (Dai Kurokawa / EPA) Click here. And here for today’s suffering.


listening to the voices

Listening to the voices.

Hearing the accents.

Hearing the sound of their feet in their shoes.

Or bare feet.

The voices tell stories to make meaning in our world;

narratives form our concerns and compassions.

To what voices are we listening?

What is the sound of G-d’s voice?

This is the questioning.