Wow.
Apparently, I am darkness.
How do you know that I am darkness?
When have I ever tried to stop you from practicing Judaism in your way?
Is my existence so unacceptable to you that you would deny my humanity?
My relatives who may come closer to your practice do not call me darkness.
They may think I am a bit misguided, but they accept me as a person and a member of the family.
And they even listen to my music that features Hebrew and English.
What is dark about me?
I believe I know.
You are afraid of the darkness that has another name.
Doubt.
Doubt might lead you to think there is another way to practice your tradition, but, of course, you can’t believe that, because you might believe that the entire structure and edifice of your religious life would come tumbling down if you acknowledge that I might be carrying on our heritage in some way, that God might be hearing my prayers, and that my practice of Jewish tenets might have value.
“Love your neighbor as yourself,” practiced broadly, is not darkness.
“All are created in the divine image,” applied to all people, is not darkness.
“Love the stranger because you were strangers in Egypt” is not darkness.
And prayer that include brings all people together in one space, with no separation, no mechitzah, is not darkness.
If you are going to say that ways of believing that you oppose are “darkness,” then please explain the light that you bring, and please tell me how a God who, the Talmud says, prays that the divine attribute of mercy will override the attribute of strict justice, would not find light in every human being seeking to sincerely treat other human beings, all creatures, and the world, with dignity.
Where do you, Mr. human judge of darkness, find light?
That is what I want to know.
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