Headlines, Horror, Cookies and Potato Latkes

There is a synagogue across the street from our church. We share parking lots and pleasantries during big events and holidays. We know their Rabbi and they know our Pastor. We speak and smile and try not to take the good parking spots from each other.  And this week, our hearts broke with theirs. They hosted a service of healing in their sacred worship space, and I found myself driving carpool; passing by as people, heads down and shoulders hunched were making their way inside. Tears stung in my eyes as I witnessed the weight of the broken world balanced on their side of the road. 

What a week it has been here in our country. As we celebrated Halloween yesterday there was no need to generate fake horror. We have had enough of that in real life. People gunned down in their house of worship? Here in our United States of America? How has this become a thing that keeps happening?

And what are we to do? You, me, our kids and those of us who love the Lord. How can we really make a difference or keep the same thing from happening here in our little southern suburb?

Pray. Vote.  Love our neighbor. Talk about our differences. Make a friend who is different from us. Denounce hatred. Yes! We should do all of these things. Every one of them is good and worthy and part of how we can work toward healing our nation.

But there must be more, a friend presses me on this as we discuss recent events. What is an actual thing we can do? She lays the question right out there on the pavement between us in the parking lot. And my answer surprises both of us.

Maybe we just need to start sharing our Christmas cookies and learn how to make potato latkes. What? I know it’s way too simple of an answer to a problem that runs deep. But maybe it’s at least a start.

Let me explain.

Growing up here in the suburbs of Atlanta, I was privileged to go to school with people from all over. I learned much about different nationalities, races, and religions. But a great majority of my friends from those days were Jewish. As early as kindergarten, we begin to learn about both faiths in school. I am not sure if that was legal back then, but it was how our parents and teachers chose to do it. And yes, I went to a public school.

During the holidays, my mom would come and talk to the class about Christmas. She would bring cookies and tell the story of why we celebrate Jesus’ birth while my friend’s mom would bring candles and talk about Hannukah. And she would always make us potato latkes.

Over cookies and fried potatoes, we broke bread and barriers and learned that different actually tastes pretty good.

As a child, I spent every Sunday on a church pew. But I thought nothing of spending Friday nights at my friend’s house watching her family light the Shabbat candles, prayers echoing around the kitchen table as we waited for her mom to serve dinner. And there were Saturdays and special occasions when I stood next to friends in different Jewish congregations amazed by the holy sound of people lifting their voices to God in Hebrew. The beauty of those words never stopped surprising me.

And every year we ate more cookies and more latkes and learned how to love each other a little better.

The truth is this. I don’t have answers. I don’t know how to bring healing to our land. But I do know this. Eating together has a way of not only nourishing our bodies but of changing our hearts. And God has a long history of knowing that it takes more than food to feed his people.

“Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Deut.8:3).

You see, it wasn’t about the cookies and the latkes in those elementary classrooms as much as it was about what happened around those tables.

We said different prayers, attended different houses of worship, ate different food and learned different customs but over cookie crumbs and sizzling potatoes we learned to talk about those differences.

My kids came home from church youth group on Sunday talking about the SHEMA. The SHEMA is a Hebrew prayer that is found in the Old Testament of the Christain Bible. Our Youth Pastor had taught them about it, and they were eager to share what they had learned. As I read the words in English, the Hebrew I had heard so often as a child came rushing back to me.

“Hear O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul and all of your strength. These commandments that I give to you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up …” (Deut. 6:4-5).

SHEMA is a Hebrew word that means to listen, to pay attention and to obey. It is a prayer intended to turn our hearts first to God and then to our neighbor. A prayer intended to remind us of how to teach our children. And if we SHEMA it? It is a prayer intended to heal us.

“Love the Lord your God with all of your heart … and love your neighbor as yourself.”

And maybe teach your children to share their cookies, learn to make potato latkes and listen to familiar words spoken in another language. Because who knows? These may turn out to be some of the greatest lessons we could ever learn. And may God grant his peace and comfort to all of those affected by the shootings in Pittsburgh. We continue to pray for healing in our land. Amen.