Shalom

I wonder sometimes is heaven on earth. Or have we created a hell from our frustrations of our daily life? The unresolved frustrations turn to anger and then to rage.  Hate is spewed cowardly towards others in the darkness of the night.  Sprayed from an aerosol can, the words come to light, where they are not right.

I have entered the doors of the Temple De Hirsh Sinai to hear the Rev. Dr. Roland Stringfellow preach, who is from my hometown of Fort Wayne, Indiana.  I have not passed through the Temple De Hirsch’s doors since.

I drove down a street to the side of the Temple. It was the first time in more than 17-years of living in Seattle that I noticed the wall and the columns. I was drawn to this area.

As the rain repeatedly hit my car’s windshield, I searched for a parking space along a side street.  I slowly walked with my cane on the wet pavement. I took in the Star of David. I stood in front of the wall and placed my hand on it. I offered a prayer. I reflected upon the massive columns and how small I am yet I can do my part in giving back to our world as I reached out in this sacred place among the city sounds.

As I drove to a meeting yesterday, Seattle police surrounded the place I previously prayed weeks ago. The vehicles lights shone bright in the momentary overcast that enshrouded the ominous scene yet I continued on my journey.

The police evacuated. There was calm. I then noticed the words on the wall in big black letters: “Holocaust Is Fake History.”

I pulled my car over to the curb and silently prayed and then quietly sat as I looked at the wall. I thought, “It is my ‘wailing wall.’ As a community...as a neighborhood, it is our wailing wall.” I wept for my brothers and sisters.  As I drove away with my tear stained face, I mouthed, “Shalom. Shalom to our brothers and sisters."