Comments on the Tree of Life Synagogue Shooting

October 28, 2018

This morning on a call with friends, we wept together.
After hearing the news of Tree of Life synagogue, I noticed that I felt disjointed. I still do feel a dull aching all over my body. I feel a deep sorrow. On our morning call when a friend expressed her hurt, I realized that I was not alone in this feeling of deep grief and pain. We are not Jewish and do not worship at a temple. Yet, we are human and have a bigger dream of what we want this world to be for ourselves and every human being.

These brutal murders do not fit the world I dream of.
I thought of the families and friends of those who were killed in such a brutal way and my heart hurt for them. I thought of my friends who are Jewish and my love for them and the pain I feel for their loss.
I also wept for the loss that we as humans experience when we live in a world when such a thing happens.

I also remembered the citizens who were killed in the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in the Charleston massacre. Like those at Tree of Life synagogue, many of them were elders, perhaps, amongst those in the congregation who were pillars of their community and faith. Those who were and remain, treasured by members of their community.

And, I could not help but remember Rwanda. As I interviewed survivors, one who shared that everyone thought they would be safe in the churches. Churches were the “no war” zone. Yet, people were killed, thousands, in churches.
I thought of the messages I received growing up that there were some places which were sacred ground: our homes, our schools, and our places of worship. As a child, I would not even think of throwing a small candy wrapper on the floor of the sanctuary. In these times, it seems that all that many hold sacred, has been violated.

Precious

During a journey to Johannesburg, South Africa, I visited the home of a friend, Nandi. At the time, Nandi was an activist and youth leader who traveled the world speaking to educate people on the plight of children. Her focus was child trafficking.  She had stayed at my home when I lived in New York City a few times and I had promised to visit her home when I came to South Africa.

Nandi’s home is also home to over 100 children. One morning her mom was driving to work and she saw a young boy playing in the streets. She stopped her car and asked him, “Why are you not in school?”  He said, “My mother does not care.”  She took him home and his mom was sick with AIDS related illnesses. He also had 2 or 3 siblings. She offered the mom that she would take her son home and take care of him. The other children asked if they could come and she said yes. This began her service of taking care of children; most of whom had parents dead or dying due to AIDS. 

When I arrived at Nandi’s Place, I was treated as a dignitary. I was welcomed as one of the family. As I traveled around Africa, this treatment was not unusual because of a seeming cultural mandate to be kind and generous to strangers.

I was given a tour of the children’s quarters which included an area for toddlers, teens, boys and girls were in separate quarters. The children looked at me and giggled and smiled while peeking around corners or the aprons of their care-givers. They laughed a lot because they thought I spoke funny. I told them I had an American southern accent. I sometimes exaggerated my accent to make them laugh even more.

I was introduced to one child who appeared to be 6 or 7 years old.  She seemed to be very fragile, even frail. This child took leadership in guiding me around the compound and introducing me to each and every one of the children, one by one.

I was stunned when she first spoke to me because her voice was very different from how she looked. Her voice was loud, strong and clear. She spoke immaculate English and bombarded me with rapid fire questions.  Her name was Precious. Precious said, “Hello, how are you? Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have siblings? Why did you come here to see us?”  After I answered her questions, she smiled and took my hand and proceeded to give me a tour of the grounds.

The next day when I saw Precious, she continued her duties as guided ambassador again. I noticed her hair had been braided in a most beautiful style.  I said, “Precious, who did you hair?”  She said, “my sister did it.” As the day progressed, at some point, we were in a room with all of the girls. I looked around the room trying to figure out which of these girls might be Precious’s sister. I eventually asked Precious, “Precious, which of these girls is your sister?”  She stopped, looked directly into my eyes, and after being very thoughtful and silent began to approach one of the girls. She touched this girl on her shoulder and said,
“This is my sister.” Then she reached out to the next girl and said, “This is my sister.”  Then she reached out to the 3rd and 4th girl and said, “She is my sister.” This process continued until Precious had touched each of the 50+ girls in the room and proclaimed, “she is my sister.”

Finally, she touched my shoulder and said, “You are my sister.”  I learned that day from one who appeared to be small and fragile, yet turns out to be magnificent and strong.  This encounter was a testimony to all of our humanity and what is possible in embracing each other as brothers and sisters.

Although Precious appeared to be 6 or 7 years old, I learned that she was actually 14 years old. Her small statue was due to past lack of nourishment and malnutrition.
—

Baruch Bashan: “The blessings already are”.

I woke up this morning thinking about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I wrote this on 11/8/17. It is still too relevant.

Dr. King was born on January 15, 1929 and assassinated on April 4, 1968. At the time of his death he was 39 years old. I thought of all he had accomplished by that early age. Until Malala Yousafzai (at age 17), he was the youngest person to have received the Nobel Peace Prize (at age 35). I spent some time evaluating my own life (to be continued).
My favorite of the five books Dr. King wrote is Strength to Love. I felt in reading this book that I really got to know the inner man.

He truly struggled with the notion of non-violence. The non-violent stance was not necessarily an easy one for him to take. Yet, he saw non-violence and Love as necessary weapons for the mass destruction of hate. I use the capital L in spelling Love when speaking of Dr. King, because the type of Love he spoke of is one that requires the bigness of what it is to be human. Dr. King in my view was a Spiritual Revolutionary.
In light of all that has and is occurring in our world today, I plan to read Strength to Love and the Letter from a Birmingham Jail again. As I read, I want to see and listen for what that gives me as I continue my gentle walk on this earth. Below are a few of my favorite Martin Luther King Jr. quotes from Strength to Love:

  • “Only through an inner spiritual transformation do we gain the strength to fight vigorously the evils of the world in a humble and loving spirit.”
  • “On the parable of the Good Samaritan: “I imagine that the first question the priest and Levite asked was: ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But by the very nature of his concern, the good Samaritan reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”
  • “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction. So when Jesus says “Love your enemies,” he is setting forth a profound and ultimately inescapable admonition. Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies– or else? The chain reaction of evil–hate begetting hate, wars producing wars–must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.”
    —
Baruch Bashan:”The blessings already are”.

Journey to Nouakchott, Mauritania

In 2012, I journeyed as a consultant/trainer to Nouakchott, Mauritania, on behalf of Legacy International, to conduct a training program hosted there by the United States Embassy. The purpose of the training was to inquire into the needs of at-risk youth and to enhance existing and develop new programs country-wide. My training partner and I were supported by two translators in French and Arabic. This was lots of fun for me as I had worked with translators many times during training. At a couple of points, my intuition and observations told me that my words had not exactly been translated. I stopped, turned to the translators and said, “Hey, that’s not what I said.” Everyone laughed.

A participant came up at the end of the training and said, “How did you know that he was not saying your words?” I said, “Communication often is beyond words.” The translators themselves said this was the first time in all of their years of experience serving as translators that a trainer asked them what they needed to be able to do their jobs effectively. I also give them full permission to interrupt the training at any time to ask a question if they need clarification. They were an integral part of the training because, during and after the training, they also gave us information about cultural nuances that we may have missed. I enjoyed working with them. At the end of the training, I felt like a rock-star because everyone wanted to take photos with me and everyone wanted me to come to their homes for dinner. That was so hard because our time was very limited. The training was successful and my training partner and I were described in the evaluation as “a team of excellence.” At the end of the training, one woman came up to me with tears in her eyes. She said, “I felt so proud to see a competent, confident, and knowledgeable woman in front of the room. Thank you for what you did for us.” She walked away before I could respond. I think the training made a difference in ways that we may not ever know.

Other highlights of my journey to and from Mauritania: During the days that we conducted training, I mostly stayed in the hotel to rest and prepare for each day. Once the training was over, I experienced a bit of cultural shock as we rode around the city, I noticed I did not experience seeing a horizon with the light colored building and desert sand. I started to miss my Mom and realized I could not just get to her in minutes. One host suggested I needed to go to the sea. Once we arrived at the beach and I saw the vastness and beauty of the horizon, I was calmed. And, I still missed my Mom. As we were driving towards the sea, I noticed trees that had beautiful multi-colored flowers or fruit hanging from them. I was so excited to learn what type of flowers/fruit trees these were.

As we got closer, I realized the flowers/fruits were litter from PLASTIC BAGS. This made me rethink the often unconscious impact that I have on the environment with the use of plastic. This is why I often say to the cashier at the grocery store when she asks, “Are plastic bags okay?” I say, “Thank you for asking and no they are not okay, paper please.” I really need to do a better job of remembering to bring my reusable bags to the grocer. FOOD!!! OMG!!! The food in Mauritania was outstanding to me. One home we visited prepared a feast of so many dishes that I could not even taste them all. I was so upset because everything I did taste was so amazing that I wanted more of that thing. Also, the food was beautifully presented. I loved ever minute of eating in Mauritania. The blend of cultures certainly enhanced the flavor and nature of the food. I never felt unsafe in Mauritania. Yet, we were informed that there were places we could not go to without armed guards. Also, on our first night when we dined at a restaurant, we were informed that a bomb had been set off on the same street just days prior to our arrival. I found the people with whom I interacted in Mauritania to be very friendly and highly committed to the well-being and education of youth.

There are so many more stories I could tell and the memories flood my mind. I was left with a deep appreciation of people who are working all over this world to make it a better place. Once again, I fell in love with many people. Oh, I did not mention, in addition to being fed very well, I was given many gifts of perfume, earrings, clothes and even had my hands and arms henna. The henna happened minutes before I had to go to the airport. Our host insisted I get it because she said, “How can you say you have been to Mauritania and not get henna?!” So, my hands and arms were wrapped in tissue and plastic as I walked through the airport. Also the woman who did my henna was from a long line of people who performed this art.

Finally, on my way back to the USA, I stopped in Paris and then traveled by train to Chartres, France to visit The Chartres Labyrinth, which was built in 1200. It is one of the oldest existing labyrinths of its type. On the days I was there, the labyrinth was covered with chairs as the Cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres was scheduled to have concerts in the evenings. When I approached the security guard, he said tourists come from all over the world to see the labyrinth and the activities of the church come first. One woman was very upset and said she wanted the chairs removed and tried to get other visitors to assist her in doing so. I said, “I think I would like to respect the caretakers of this space.” Others in the group agreed and one man said, “Removing the chairs is not a good idea as all of you could be arrested.”

Much of my time in Chartres was spent enjoying the Cathedral and its architecture, gardens, and Gothic art. I also spent lots of time walking through the town, sitting in cafes watching people (as they watched me), and enjoying being in a different environment. It was ironic that I got this opportunity to visit one of the oldest existing labyrinths in the world because, at the time, I had just taken leadership at my school in the creation of two labyrinths, one for each campus, to be gifted by my class and a previous alumni class at Pacifica Graduate Institute. I feel that the Spirit of Labyrinths allowed this. For many years, everywhere I traveled I would make sure I found and walked the labyrinths. Check this out: https://labyrinthlocator.com/home

The second synchronicity was discovering that my hero and mentor James Baldwin had spent much time in Chartres! The thought that I walked in his footsteps and perhaps observed some of the same things he did was heartwarming and made the journey much more special. Oh yeah, I saw the Eiffel Tower, too.

—

Baruch Bashan:”The blessings already are”.

Sacred Music Festival in 1997 Fes, Morocco

In 1997, I had the privilege of attending the Fes Festival of World Sacred Music in Morocco. Myself and two others served as delegates on behalf of Legacy International, who were co-sponsors of the event.I wish I could capture all of the stories I could tell from that journey. To summarize: We dined on a hill full of red and yellow poppies, beautiful children and elders from the village welcomed us, I watched as men carried round dishes full of glorious food up the hill to us as we waited on woven carpets; during the day we toured many sacred and ancient sites; in the evenings we attended concerts in the courtyard of the Royal Palace, and in gardens and sacred sites in the afternoons. It was in Fes that I met the Agape International Choir and was with them during the day tours. I met great friends who I visit in California every chance I get. It was in Fes that I experience my first hamam. The bath was filled with laughter as the ladies, both old and young, witnessed my surprised at being asked to get naked, the elder ladies scrubbed my back, and I screamed when she alternately poured warm and ice cold water over my head. It was a delight to experience the communion of girls and women as we enjoyed the common tasks of bathing and being drenched in the delight of each others laughter. The men in Morocco are gorgeous. Oh my goodness. Yes ladies, eye candy everywhere. I never felt dishonored by any of them, although this was not the experience of all the women in my group. I did however have one man who followed me around calling me, “beautiful golden woman.” Yes, my skin turned golden in the Moroccan sunlight.The memories keep coming. It was in Fes that I first experienced the Whirling Dervish from Turkey as I sat under a canopy of stars in the courtyard of the Royal Palace. I remember just as the evening ended the sky opened up and we were all in our long gowns and shawls baptized in the sacred water. As I walked with the crowd to the bus, I felt free, at peace, and all was so well in the world. Do you now understand how I could spend a lifetime writing and writing?

#zerotohero