On Becoming An American Today
Last week, I became an American citizen, knowing full well that I was going against the traffic headed to my native land of Canada. How do I make sense of becoming American in 2017, shortly before Rosh Hashanah?
I grew up in Montreal, and have been serving as a rabbi at New York University for over 15 years, so this change did not, admittedly, feel so pronounced. Holding a Green Card for over a decade, I’ve felt at home for a while. Nevertheless, I knew this would entail taking the Oath of Allegiance, not something that we take lightly in my line of work.
As I entered the waiting room at 26 Federal Plaza, I imagined I would be transported somehow to a space of patriotic idealism and grandeur. I anticipated being greeted by a melodious reading of something like the Constitution or Gettysburg Address. Instead, I took my seat in front of a screen which was broadcasting the “Price is Right” amid flag-themed décor from Party City. Welcome to the United States of America.
My “class” of initiates included 150 individuals from 47 countries. At the conclusion of the ceremony, we watched two videos. The first clip showed picturesque naturalization ceremonies filmed around the country, during which we were encouraged by a clerk to wave small flags which had been placed on our seats. The second was a message from our President, during which many of my fellow Americans laughed, booed or jeered. Welcome to the United States of America.
As I rose to leave, I stood behind a tall man from Senegal, dressed in a long white robe, donning a scarf and cufflinks bearing stars and stripes. I asked him, “What does this day mean to you?” He said, “I have been waiting my whole life for this moment. I drive a taxi in New York City. I have memorized the entire Koran and teach at a Mosque. This day is my dream.”
As we welcomed each other to the United States, it occurred to me that the work of my class would be to unite its people, heal a divided social fabric, and fight for a just and shared society. Having lived in the U.S. for two decades, I engaged in these tasks with only one foot in. Putting a second foot forward, it seems to me that three postures are necessary to bring the diverse communities:
1. Face-to-face: We need to trespass the cultural canyons which separate us from each other. I use the term “trespass” deliberately because of intensified social norms keeping everyone in their own corner. This posture means speaking to, not at, each other, listening, not silencing, each other. It means mapping each others visual articulation of happiness, fear, pride, and connection.
2. Back-to-back: Leaning against each other for support, we must send the message to our own communities, in our own language, that humility and openness are forms of courage, that espousing intolerance or proclaiming supremacy are capitulations to fear.
3. Shoulder-to-Shoulder: The powers of social media can scrutinize and bury virtually any coalition. No individual or group is beyond scrutiny. But let’s reserve our most careful scrutiny for the enormity of the challenges that face us all.
It took a Senegalese Imam to remind this rabbi about the grandeur of the American dream and the gravity of its responsibility.
As I thought about it, the truth is that these three postures are also ones that we daringly adopt during the Days of Awe. Our partner, in this case, is not each other, but the Divine. Rosh Hashanah is a moment of becoming, an act of owning our role as subjects to the Creator and Master of the world. And yet our relationship is not uni-dimensional; we do not spend the entire day in prostration, humility and servitude:
1. Face-to-face: Rosh Hashanah too is about encountering G-d. We learn G-d’s dreams, and G-d hears our prayers. We recite hineni, “here I am,” a supplication which re-asserts our presence and immediacy before the Almighty.
2. Back-to-back: One of the boldest theological threads in our tradition, masterfully told through countless stories of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev, asserts that during the Days of Awe not only do we introspect, but G-d introspects. We ask for forgiveness for insincerity and injustice; G-d seeks atonement for natural disasters and abject poverty. We are mutually inspired by each others actions.
3. Shoulder-to-shoulder: We commit to co-creation with the Divine in establishing a world of truthfulness, justice, and love. Our prayers do not end with anointing G-d as King (Malkhiyot), but with participation in the ultimate redemption (Shofarot).
There is much work to be done in 2017 and the start to 5778 in the Hebrew calendar. As we think about our role, we become more aware of our postures. In this moment of becoming, whether becoming an American citizen or becoming a spiritual subject to G-d, may we pursue a course of action which honors the grandeur of its task.
Rabbi Yehuda Sarna is the Skirball Executive Director of the Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life at New York University and University Chaplain at New York University.
