This morning I picked up my necklace with all its charms to put it on. I wear these charms hoping that somehow my superstitions will add an extra layer of protection.

The chain was tangled, and looking closely as I struggled with it, I realized that if I just loosened my grip, it would untangle easily.

Those of us who were born around the 1960’s grew up thinking we were of the generation that would change the future of the world—if only we tightened our grip.

Major diseases had been overcome and modern medicine would save us all—eventually. Women were being liberated and would have control over their bodies. The same for Black people, who were learning to love their skin color and hair. Everyone would decide to lay down their sword and shield, and we would have war no more. Equality and justice would prevail and soon we’d all live in peace on Earth.

Many of us vowed to never give up the fight.

In this week’s parsha, we are taught about vows at length. Vows are not to be taken lightly, as they are a serious thing indeed.

Also, the five daughters of Zelophehad, who showed up in Pinchas last week, come back this week to conclude the story.

It is a story of female heroism and fairness.

First, these women stand up for their right to their father’s inheritance—and they are heard! They win (yay)!

Then, this week, the patriarchy demands its share. As the land the Israelites will inherit is being assigned to each tribe, the men protest; if these women marry outside their tribe, they will take their inheritance with them. The land will not be evenly divided as God assigned it. It wouldn’t be fair, they say.

What is fair? There are so many layers to this question.

Is it fair that these women must marry their cousins or lose their inheritance? Is it fair that the people previously living in The Promised Land are slaughtered? That the Moabite and Midianite women are blamed for luring the Israelite men?

I could go on, but I’d rather tell you about the show I’ve been watching called Russian Doll. It’s brilliant, funny and profound, and if you haven’t seen it, go watch it.

Like a Russian doll, the show uncovers deep layers of the human psyche. It’s about a woman who keeps dying. Over and over, she is (frustratingly) brought back to the same moment again and again—until she learns her lesson.

If you vow to see it, I won’t spoil it for you. But I will tell you that it’s about our desire to change life and make it fair.

It begs the question, “How are we supposed to live while we’re alive?” Should we try to turn back the clock, change the past, if only we had the power? Wouldn’t it make everything more fair—to get back the money someone stole from your family, kill all the Nazis, etc…?

If only…

If only we had fought harder, had a different administration, made a revolution…so many things would be different: coronavirus, abortion, gun violence, drug addiction, poverty, global warming…

If only we had been more politically active, raised our voices, not become complacent…

Tisha B’Av, which commemorates the Destruction of the Temple, is a time for mourning, and it’s coming next week. It’s one of those times in Judaism that allows us to simply mourn. We are not to try and change anything, or wonder how we could have done things differently.

We simply mourn. We read the Book of Lamentations and imagine the destruction, bloodshed and death.

I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing lately: imagining the destruction, bloodshed and death. Mental health professionals say we need to allow for that. I believe in that.

Political activists with a spiritual bent also tell us to grieve our losses, regain our balance, then use the energy of the pain and rage for the sake of change—take hold again, grab on tightly, make a vow to never give up.

I believe in that, too.

Look, I don’t have any of this figured out. I’m just journeying along in this life, trying to figure it out like the rest of you.

And what keeps coming up for me is that humans have always struggled for justice, equality and peace.

And at the heart of that is love.

Love for the land, our fellow humans, our families, our communities. And we’ve been taught that if we could divvy things up“just so,” making sure we all have our fair share of power and land, all our problems would be solved.

Conquer disease, and then we will all be protected, with no need for special charms around our necks.

But we know in our hearts that all disease will never be conquered. And we know that, come what may, we must all die in the end.

With Tisha b’Av we mourn the end of an era, and with this week’s parsha, we come to the end of the book of Numbers.

With these endings, maybe it isn’t a time for making vows or tightening our grip.

Maybe it’s a time to uncover the layers of our grief and figure out what lessons we each need to learn while we still live on this Earth.

And let us say Amen.