At the Confluence of Patriotism, Rosh Chodesh Tamuz, Shabbat Korach, Juneteenth & Mom’s Yahrzeit
As we enter Shabbat this week, I am feeling grounded and unusually buoyed by that which is beyond my inner circle and my inner ear.* I am struck by a sense of optimism for the human condition that I have had trouble accessing for quite some time. A “glass half full” person by nature and nurture, my glass has only felt full within the smallest circles of my marriage, friendships, and family and within the very largest circles of the Sacred Oneness of all that Is/Was/Will Be.* Beyond this tiny bubble and expansive paradigm, I have felt parched, my glass nearly empty all the time, my brain brimming with bristling and disappointment, my heart aching. Yet, despite incessant attacks on dignity, justice, democracy, civility, and just plain-old decency, this week has provided a glimpse into the myriad pockets of goodness, collaboration, and kindness that exist in the world daily. May we strive to see them and lift up the opportunities they represent.
Although I have really slimmed down my social media intake, I took advantage of my feed to listen to Michelle Obama speaking to her husband at the opening of the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago. She used the opportunity, speaking directly to her husband, to “take a little time to do something that I know my husband will not do today, and that is to fully sing his praises.” And then she did just that, leaving few dry eyes in the gathered crowd. In doing so, she reminded us (along with her “fellow formers—Joe and Jill, George and Laura, Bill and Hillary” sitting behind her husband and daughters) of a time when dignity, honor, and civility were hallmarks of the American presidency, regardless of party, background, religion, training, etc.—a time when patriotism felt meaningful as we moved into summer’s heat in anticipation of the Fourth of July. Her litany of laudable characteristics and unshakable values, which she and so many Americans see in her husband, might have provoked a quick pivot from optimism to despair had she not added a crucial sentence designed to remind us to live into these values daily. “Equality. Empathy. Honesty. Inclusion. Fairness … especially during these anxious and divisive times, it is so important that we remember that those values are not unique to my husband. They are the same ones that your husbands and wives, your parents and children, and your friends and neighbors exhibit and pass on every single day.” And truly, I do see these values exhibited daily when I move from my newsfeed to the streets and supermarkets and medical offices of my town.
Patriotism
As we move toward this 4th of July and the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, I have been wrestling with the word “patriotism.” This week, one of my favorite public radio programs* hosted a show on the subject, and it began with listeners who had recorded their thoughts. The prompt was whether you consider yourself an American patriot and why or why not. I cannot hear this word anymore without also hearing it uttered in support of behaviors I deplore—from the violent mob of individuals who stormed the Capitol in January 2021, attempting to overturn an election, to praise for politicians who fall in line behind hateful ideas; this word feels unsavory at best.
Yet, I grew up feeling very patriotic about my country—a place where democracy was an ideal we were perpetually working (together) to manifest. Although I went through school before our nation’s history was taught in a way that fully includes the multiplicity of truths of people that don’t look like the founding fathers in skintone, affluence, or access, I was made well aware that there was more to the story than the patriotic veneer of the Fourth of July celebrations of my childhood. I grew up in Ohio, where the history of the indigenous peoples of that land was and is a prominent part of the names of our rivers and towns; was taught with respect by my schools and scout troops; and was featured in the architecture of government buildings where I worked as an adult.
Within the first year of her work resettling our young family in Columbus, Ohio, from her native New York, my mom, zichrona livracha/of blessed memory, began volunteering as a docent at the Ohio Historical Museum. This required significant study, which she did (while we were at school or asleep) to become a better citizen of her new state. I remember her enthusiasm for Ohio history and how she took our Girl Scout troop to clean up trash around a local Indian burial mound, teaching us to respect the indigenous ancestors and honor the earth. As a family, we traveled around the state learning the history of indigenous people and European settlers. My mom's bookshelf grew, as did her enthusiasm for Indigenous art, culture, architecture, and civilizations. As a family, some of my favorite memories of travel are of our time in the desert Southwest. We visited national monuments and parks as well as reservations and contemporary villages to better understand how our country had and continued to marginalize the tribal citizens of this country.
Indigenous American Artistry and Values
On our last trip together, Mom and I traveled to Arizona, shortly after her first set of invasive and debilitating treatments for brain cancer, to hike and immerse ourselves in the red, dry, glorious land that is home to so many of the artisans she loved. She was a much paler version of her vibrant self, and she was determined to celebrate her daughter’s 50th birthday with a special trip to this soulful land we both loved. She bought me earrings by indigenous artists at a Tucson jewelry store she frequented and at the Heard Museum in Phoenix, which I regularly wear along with other pieces she purchased over the years from roadside vendors and high-end stores. She was always curating a vast collection of art and crafts from artists she admired for their creativity, style, sincerity (she could always spot phony behavior), and genuine warmth. This appreciation of the melding of our human capacities of brilliance and kindness is a gift that my mom gave to me, either through nature or nurture or both. Several years ago, the Smithsonian Crafts Show at the National Building Museum on the Mall in Washington, DC, featured Indigenous artisans, and I had the delight and honor of purchasing a gorgeous pair of earrings from Nanibaa Beck,* a second-generation Diné (Navajo) jeweler who taught me so much in our short and meaningful conversation. Her proud carriage of her heritage as an American reminds me that patriotism can be as regal, pure, and beautiful as Nanibaa and her craft and the natural materials she uses. This too was the patriotism I learned from my mother and her sense of pride in all that America had to offer to those who needed and wanted to build a life of meaning, safety, and growth. So profound was Mom’s connection to the expansive principles of liberty, equality, and democracy that she took her last breath within this plane of existence on July 4th, 2019. Her favorite holidays were Passover and the Fourth of July.
Jewish Time ~ The New Moonth of Tamuz
Bouncing between secular and Jewish time, this week, we moved through the early days of the Hebrew month of Tamuz (on the Jewish calendar, Mom’s yahrzeit/death anniversary is Rosh Chodesh Tamuz/the first day of the month). In these hot, thick days of my second Florida summer, evening brings a cooling breeze to the wet blanket of air, and I am drawn to the water’s edge most evenings to appreciate the liminality of sunset.* Tamuz brings the summer’s heat and often includes the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. We can be prone to irritability that comes with our physical reaction to the heat. We see this reflected in the biblical story of our ancestors, whose fear and anger in this hot month turned to the transgressive act of creating the Golden Calf. This reminds us to be aware of our temperament and work to grow our muscles for self-soothing and self-restraint.
The element for Tamuz is water, and the emotion associated with this month is grief. We observe the 17th of Tamuz as a fast day commemorating the Romans' breaching of the outer walls of the ancient Temple and the beginning of the three weeks of mourning that end on the 9th of Av. However, the more ancient stories of Ezekiel share the grief of women “weeping with Tamuz,”* an ancient Sumerian deity of vegitation and food, as they marked the passage from spring's abundance of new growth to the scorching days of summer marked by the solstice and the shortening of daylight toward winter. I am, as always, delighted and intrigued by the preservation and depth of interplay between Jewish religious and indigenous wisdom—head, heart, body, land, and spirit all dancing together in the vast treasure trove of our tradition and its contemporary growing edge.
Shabbat Korah ~ This Week’s Torah Portion
And finally, a word about the confluence of Juneteenth (America’s newest federal holiday) and Shabbat Korach. In a year when the United States Supreme Court gutted what was left of the Voting Rights Act, opening the floodgates for a wave of racial gerrymandering in states across the country, one might intuit that Juneteenth would feel like a pale imitation of a holiday this year. However, the lift received from the opening of the Obama Presidential Center this week, coupled with a sense of optimism that June brings as we elevate Pride Month, offers palpable joy as I navigate communal spaces today. People are wishing a “happy Juneteenth” with sincerity and honor to those who deserve far more than a holiday; they deserve the full enshrinement and protection of the values and dignity promised in the Emancipation Proclamation. And if Juneteenth commemorates the day (June 19, 1865) when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, to announce that the last enslaved Black Americans were free—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation was issued—surely we can do more than a “happy holiday” 160 years later to hasten the arrival of these values in new laws to replace those eroded in recent years.
Leadership
Leadership does not always come from the right places. This week’s Torah portion contrasts the leadership style and behaviors of Moses and Aaron—humble, thoughtful, and compassionate servant leaders of Am Yisrael/the People—with the populist rebellion of Korach, a self-proclaimed leader caught up in ego and a desire for rebellion. In the technicolor of biblical drama, Korach and his followers are not pardoned for their sedition; rather, they are burned by their disregard for the communal good and haughty, self-serving behavior and are swallowed by the earth. In addition, the rancor within the community results in a plague that takes many lives. Living in the 21st century does not prevent certain biblical stories from sounding remarkably current in their descriptions of human nature and consequences that result from a lack of civility, care, and concern for the collective good. Although this story is a complicated and unpleasant one, there are moments of deep sanctity in the descriptions of Moses and Aaron as they attempt to manage the aftermath of this communal trauma. They literally stand between life and death in their work to repair confidence and courage in their fragile community of wandering and traumatized people moving out of the narrowness of generations of enslavement mentality. To imagine communal norms and practices, rules, and laws that protect all members of the community requires a leap of faith and a conscious creativity that this nascent community has yet to develop. May we utilize our individual strengths and collective treasure trove of wisdom, courage, kindness, and boundaries to build the society that we wish to hand to the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who inherit this democracy from us. May we continue to evolve for the good.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Jessica
*1 My left inner ear, to be precise, as I am unusually preoccupied with an acute idiopathic hearing loss in my left ear.
*2 Words for God, Divine Expansiveness, God as Verb (how God described God's self to Moses at the burning bush in Torah)
*3 On Point with host Meghna Chakrabarti (WBUR) https://www.wbur.org/onpoint/2026/06/17/america-250-patriotism
*4 Nanibaa Beck https://nanibaa.com/about
*5 My photograph from the pier of the moon
*6 Ezekiel 8:14 https://www.sefaria.org/Ezekiel.8.14
