acts of bravery

I have lots of lovely jewelry.  Two days ago I wore the gold hamsa my parents bought  for me on their trip to Israel.

Yesterday I wore my Jewish star.  Today I am wearing my chai.  It's a pretty necklace, isn't it?

Chai -- the Hebrew word for life.  I've always loved that symbol.

I made a couple of purchases in the supermarket this week.  I bought two boxes of hamantaschen.  That's a pastry associated with  the minor Jewish holiday of Purim, which starts March 11.  My grandmother used to bake her own, every year.  One year when I was in college, she packed a box of hamantaschen and sent it to my dorm.  I suspect I may have to buy more, the two boxes I bought won't last until the holiday.

They've already set up the Passover food displays, so I picked up some Barton's Seder mints -- I waited too long last year, you may recall, and had to hunt for the mints in three different supermarkets.

I've printed out the ordering list for the Passover wine sale.  the synagogue brings in a kosher wine merchant, and he sells the wine at a discount.  The synagogue gets a portion of the proceeds of the sale.  

I've gone to the JCC twice this week, once for a yoga class and once to walk on the indoor track.  The JCC's community theater is presenting a musical in May -- each time I walk past the posters advertising the show, I remind myself to buy tickets, but so far I haven't followed through.

I actually made it to morning services Thursday.  When I was saying Kaddish for my father, I was very much a regular at morning prayers.  But I've been remiss of late.  I need to start going again. I'm really looking forward to the meditation program we have planned for Sunday.

All of these activities are part of my life, have been part of my life forever.  Just part of who I am.

And yet, now, they are all acts of bravery. All acts that tell the world, that tell the people full of hate, I will continue to live my life, I will not be cowed by hate and fear.

That's why I went to the Plainview JCC (the one that had the bomb threat) last night. We stood in the cold, holding our candles, united against hate.  We listened to the politicians, and the clergy of many faiths, we sang songs of hope and peace and pride in America.

Our message was clear:  not here, not now.

Not here, not now.