In Your Mouth and in Your Heart: Nitzavim

This week’s Torah reading, Nitzavim, begins: “You stand this day, all of you, before the Lord your God…”

Is it a coincidence that we read this right before Rosh Hashanah, asking for forgiveness, asking for another year?

“...I make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the Lord our God and with those who are not with us here this day...”

This year more than ever, we are acutely aware of the many who are no longer with us today-- and the many who may not be with us next year. 

“...Perchance there is among you some man or woman, some clan or tribe, whose heart is even now turning away from the Lord our God to go and worship the gods of those nations...sprouting poison weed and wormwood…”

Hmmm. Sprouting poison. 

“...When such a one hears the words of these sanctions, he may fancy himself immune, thinking, “I shall be safe, though I follow my own willful heart.”

Hmmm again. 

“...And later generations will ask---the children who succeed you, and foreigners who come from distant lands and see the plagues and diseases that the Lord has inflicted upon that land, all its soil devastated by sulfur and salt, beyond sowing and producing, no grass growing on it….”

But eventually, it seems, things will get better, because:  ”Then the Lord your God will open up your heart and the hearts of your offspring to love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, in order that you may live.”

Good news. We need it. And then some sarcasm?...

“...Surely, this instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?

“No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.” 

Hmmm.

In your mouth. 

And in your heart. 

After writing and publishing my blog last week, I got some feedback from a couple of friends, and it made me worry about what had come out of my own mouth and the effect of my words on others. It had seemed so harmless---talking about my joy. 

Only that wasn’t all I was talking about, and  there were questions. 

One friend said that a person of color might be offended by my making an analogy between the onslaught of curses from the bible and bullets coming from police against unarmed Black men and women. So I changed it. Just in case. 

The other said she didn’t feel the nuance in my writing of my understanding of the political situation as she knows I understand it; I forgot to point out my awareness of the privilege I hold by being able to escape the city at all---ever! 

She knows that I grew up going to (integrated) New York City public schools (an extreme rarity, then and now, in the most segregated public school system in the country--have you listened to the podcast, “Nice White Parents”? If not, you should).

This friend also knows I was taught to be sensitive to the history of the Black and brown students I went to school with, and to understand the anger they expressed toward white, blonde, little me and my siblings. 

She knows I had parents who taught me to argue against those who said, “‘They’ need to just get over it. Slavery ended a long time ago.” 

She wanted to hear this nuance in my writing. She thought it was important. I couldn’t sleep that night, I was so concerned. In the morning, I made some more changes. 

Should I worry about every single word that comes out of my mouth? If I do that, I won’t end up saying anything; I need to have a thicker skin; someone will always find something to criticize. 

If, on the other hand, I don’t worry enough, I’ll be like people I don’t want to be like. And how deep do I want my message to be?

Over the past couple of years, I’ve heard people complain: “Everyone has gotten so sensitive; you can’t say anything these days without worrying about offending or making someone feel ‘unsafe.’ 

“Feeling uncomfortable,” they say, “is a part of life; if you’re not uncomfortable, then you’re not growing.” 

All true. 

Everyone is very sensitive right now. And for good reason.This culture of “honesty” we are living in is hurting many people in real ways. 

And it’s important to have the uncomfortable conversations that help us grow. We are on a steep learning curve at this moment in history, and a lot--more than ever--is being asked of us. It’s hard. Many times, we’re not going to get it right, despite our best intentions. 

Besides trying my best to get the words right, I can be more patient and forgiving of others who aren’t getting it right, even those I completely disagree with. The world is a confusing, scary place for us all right now. 

I can’t do anything about other people’s mouths and hearts, and it’s really, really frustrating, but I can do something about my own. I want to know that I have tried my hardest to check my own mouth and my own heart, when I stand before God this year on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. 

Surely, this is not too difficult or baffling.