As the new secular year begins, there's a great deal of hoopla about the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. Their goal is an important one, pointing out the very serious and challenging inequities in our national and global society. They are reminding us, clearly and simply, that something has gone amiss, and they are doing this with a democratic voice.
Important as the movement is, we cannot forget the many individual stories of pain and suffering, courage and fortitude, perseverance and hope, that inevitably punctuate our lives.
As congregants, and as the sacred community about which I spoke during the High Holy Days, we cannot forget Lauren Spierer's ongoing story, as we move beyond the six-month anniversary of her disappearance.
We just marked the winter solstice, a time of darkness lit up by a variety of lights. And we recently celebrated Chanukah, our festival of light. Light is such an important symbol. Just before the High Holy Days, there was a concert in Bloomington, Indiana, revolving around the image of shining a light for Lauren, to illumine her pathway home.
Several bands played, the basketball coach and a local DJ emceed the event, there were messages from the clergy; but clearly what made the most impact on me was the commitment and involvement of so many students, who stood there in the pouring rain, showing their support for a student and a family, who have been thrust into a nightmarish limelight. Many of the students never met Lauren, but they were there to show their solidarity, to offer their support.
As I was listening to the music, and gazing upon the crowd, my thoughts went back to when Lauren became a Bat Mitzvah, and beyond. She showed a compassionate care for others and their well-being, and a desire to stand up for the underdog. For Lauren, even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference. On a recent trip to Israel, she saw first-hand how our values and our deeds are often not in synch. This constellation of values is one which we can all use to help guide our own lives.
As the concert came to a close, the band played a song written especially for Lauren, and the audience used cell phones to shine lights into the sky, meant to guide her home. It was a very moving image, one that spoke of love and concern, community and hope, and that reflected the ongoing support of so many.
Light represents our sense of connectedness. We are all bound to one another. We have responsibilities for one another. Remember that things do happen. As a community, keep Lauren and her family in your thoughts and your prayers. Keep the search in your consciousness; don't let it fade away. And know when to speak out on behalf of one another.
Light represents hope. And hope springs eternal.
You've heard me say so many times, you never know what tomorrow brings. We don't. We never "know" our future, until it becomes our present, and then it may be too late. And so give your children and your grandchildren that extra hug and kiss, for Lauren's sake, and for all of us as well.
