To Love One's Neighbor

One of my fondest, and most spectacular, childhood memories is from when I was 8 years old. Originally it was cool to me because I was going to be staying up until midnight, but it didn't take long until there was added significance for me, even at that young age.

My mother, who has a surprisingly strong hippie streak in her, took me with her to march on Washington in December 1987 on behalf of the refuseniks - Soviet Jews who were barred from leaving the USSR, often thrown in jail. One of the most famous is Natan Sharansky, who endured all kinds of things while imprisoned. He and his wife now live freely in Jerusalem (I read his memoir when it was published in 1988, and am due for a re-read).

I remember taking the bus to DC. We got food, drinks, and one of the adults had Bazooka gum for us. There was a thrum of excitement on the bus, even if I didn't know exactly what we were excited about. We were also given kazoos by Mr. Sprung - and then asked NOT to play them on the bus! I remember seeing masses of people in DC, and understanding that I was taking part in something that was much bigger than anything I would understand immediately. I looked at the Lincoln Memorial and thought about how he would have approved of what we were doing that day.

I don't remember what my mother told me when she first proposed this trip. I don't remember her explanation of what was happening with Soviet Jewry. But I remember my sister 'twinning' her bat-mitzva with a girl from Russia, and later meeting that girl when she and her family moved to Israel. I remember meeting Yosef Begun at his home in Israel, and the sense that his attachment to Israel was deeper and different than mine (is there such a thing as Soveit Jewish zen? Because he would be the master). I remember the excitement in our home when Russian Jews started moving into Scranton. We became an unofficial welcome wagon. I learned some Russian, studying a dictionary over one summer, able to communicate enough to say hi, welcome, do you want soup... the basics : )

It lit a fire in me. I understood that one person, one very small person, could change things by sheer force of will. By standing up for others, by actively helping others, by opening up our home and our hearts, we could change the world for the people around us. There was a sense of pride and of true affection for our fellow Jews that I struggle to recapture today.

As a mother of 3 very young children, I wonder when my kids will be ready to take part in helping the world. How young is too young to go on a Midnight Run? What protests will be meaningful enough to me that I will drag out with a kid on a bus for hours, not getting home until midnight, but know that it's worth it to see that knowledge of the power of an individual light in their eyes?

I don't think I ever thanked my mother for inspiring me, including me, and indoctrinating me with the idea that we are all responsible for one another. So, Ima, thank you. You forged a part of me that is one of the parts I'm proudest of. It's a part that I've always felt was uniquely ours, and not very common in the Orthodox Jewish world. You and Abba both have always made me proud with your generosity of spirit, both within our immediate community, and the global Jewish community. When we Bronsteins do go on our first family march or protest or just to help out the new people in town, it will be because of that one bus trip, that day that inspired a lifetime.