The other day, my sister and I went to Knott’s Berry Farm. It was a weekday, so not many people there, but then again I’m comparing it to Disneyland. It was empty enough that we could actually see people, as opposed to an ocean of figures through which you have to swim. While we enjoyed the rides and boysenberry-inspired cuisine, we noticed quite a number of Jewish families. Now, this isn’t a racial profiling situation or anything. See, when you live in an area where about 90% of the folks around you are some kind of Hispanic (and about 70% of those are Mexican Hispanics), it’s nice seeing those different from you. So we definitely noticed when more than a dozen Jewish families were enjoying themselves. We figured they were all a part of a possible synagogue field trip and found it neat when, as we were all leaving, watching all the men doing their evening prayer at the entrance.
This last Saturday, some monster invaded a Shabbat service and gunned down eleven innocent worshippers. When I first read about it, I immediately thought about all those families I saw that day. We sat beside a family eating the lunch they brought, the parents, four kids, their grandmother, all chatting away and passing around containers of food, just being with each other.
I can’t help but reflect on any shooting, on the victims whose only crime was being in the wrong place or being who they are. Kids going to school, devotees going to their morning services, politicians doing their jobs, citizens going shopping or out to eat, gamers participating in a tournament, employees going to work, or people simply existing. It’s not fair. Not for the victims and not for the rest of us who want to live without fear.
Simply Musing 