Young Jewish children sit at tables in the childcare center at the Joodsche Schouwburg in the Amsterdam Jewish quarter, 1942. Source: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of Hilde Jacobsthal Goldberg
Over the past week, I have processed the election results both privately and in community. I was especially grateful for our Second Saturday Shabbat Service, where I could connect with our community and be held by the sounds of our liturgy. As I parse through my feelings, my worries and fears always come back to the children in my life.
I spend my weekdays in the Duck Room at the JCC, a toddler classroom of 13 brilliant and beautiful souls. I feel so honored to be trusted with their care, to see them forming words and learning how to use their bodies. More than anything, I treasure the deep, loving, trusting connections I have built with them and their families.
When the Ducks were dropped off last Wednesday, I exchanged quiet looks of sadness, anger, and fear with their parents. A few of them said they wished they could just stay home and be with their kids. I certainly hugged them extra tight throughout the day.
Although it was a sad day for many of the adults, it was business as usual for the toddlers. Their routines and rituals are what keep their world round. I was, and am, grateful to the presence that these children require. They keep me much too busy to allow my mind to wander to matters of dread and despair.
My thoughts have also been with our class of Beit Sefer students in this time. Their relentless energy, curiosity, wit, talent, stubbornness, and playfulness give me hope and solace.
We will be staging a mock Kabbalat Shabbat this Sunday, using ritual objects made and decorated by the students, and led by Rav Gavrielle. When the future is unknowable, I hope the practice and passing down of traditions may help us feel rooted in safety and security.
Finally, I think of my niece, at almost three months old, and what the world has in store for her. There are infinite paths of fear and doubt that I could go down. Thankfully, however, there are just as many of strength and perseverance.
In grieving and in growing, as we stand on this precipice, I come back to the priestly blessing we sing at the end of services. May all of the children in our communities, both near and far, know safety, health, courage, and ease.
