Jewish Unicorns

Or, how to pray for the impossible.

Fun fact about me: I’m terrible at birthdays. I barely know what day it is today, much less when you, or anyone else was born. But the worst part about birthdays — is gifts. And this doesn’t just mean that I’m bad at picking out gifts for others, which I am. But I am also pretty lousy at picking out gifts for myself. I dread the question that inevitably comes from well meaning people like my parents or my husband every October: what would you like for your birthday?

My go-to answer is always the same — and it has been for years.

“Peace on earth,” is what I will say, if you ask me what I would like for my birthday.

When I was in college, a friend gave me a dish filled with Reese’s peanut butter cups. Nestled in between the candies was simple drawing she made herself, of children holding hands while standing on the surface of a blue and green globe. Written above the children were the words “peace on earth.” The joke I guess, is that chocolate makes the world more peaceful. Or maybe, if we can’t have peace, at least we have chocolate. Or most likely, she was saying: “I can’t give you what you’ve asked for, but here’s some chocolate.”

You see, chocolate is attainable. But peace is a gift that still eludes us. We can wish for it when we blow out our birthday candles. We can hope for it. We can, and we do, pray for it. But peace — simple peace, pure peace — to me, it feels further away than ever before.