Kadima Blog

Happy New Year (Tu B'shvat) & Honoring the Years of Morgan Scherer

1/26/2024

525,600 minutes. Well, in a Gregorian year, that is. Well, in 75% of Gregorian years, that is. It is a bit harder to essentialize the number of minutes in a Jewish year. Especially when the Jewish year is measured from Gregorian date to Gregorian date. Yesterday was January 25, the one year Gregorian anniversary of the death of Kadima's dear mads deshazo z”l. On the Jewish calendar, yesterday was Tu B’Shvat – the fiscal new year for trees – the 15th day of the month of Shvat (at least according to the House of Hillel).

And in this week’s Torah portion, we see other markings of time: The end of 430 years of Israelite dwelling & enslavement in Mitzrayim, for example. But more than time, parashat Beshalach marks a transition of leadership and agency in the Exodus story. After a long period of leadership, the Deity (as we started calling the G-d character at Wednesday morning Torah study this week) tells Moses at the shore of the sea: “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward.” (Exodus 14:15) This transition of leadership and agency has always been striking to me. The Deity, while sometimes through an intermediary, was entirely in charge until now – certainly through the entire plague saga that has just concluded. It seems clear where to go when in need of a miracle at this point in our story. And then suddenly, just when the Israelites have finally left Mitzrayim, while stuck between a Sea [a rock] and a pursuing army [a hard place], the Deity says something that could be understood as anything from: ‘you don't need me to perform miracles – you all got this!’ to ‘what are you looking at me for?’.

L'havdil, yesterday was another important marker on the Kadima personnel calendar. January 25, yesterday, was Kadima's beloved Director of Operations and Co-Director, Morgan Scherer's last day on staff. Join me in supporting their and their family in this transition through this GoFundMe now.

Morgan has been a tremendous partner in Kadima's varied and multiple facets of work through so many different and varying seasons and experiences in our time leading Kadima together. They have been a partner and a friend, only the former of which has now come to a formal end.

Morgan is a gracious teacher and a kind demander of justice. Without them, Kadima would be light years behind in the realm of accessibility and disability justice. As would I and my relationship with my own mind-body-soul which I can now honor and see more fully due to Morgan's teachings (and patience with me) around ability and disability.

It is important that we mark moments when teachers and leaders shift. And in this case all the more so when a key teacher and leader on disability justice is no longer formally in the room. Morgan has been the lynch pin in Kadima's advancement on not just disability justice, but also the intersections of racial, disability, and gender justice – and we, despite very real advancements, still have far to go in these journeys.

And far to go we still aim and are prepared to go. May we, who have made ourselves willing to follow, learn, and collaborate, find ways to continue the journey and apply the teachings we have received in ways that will make our teachers proud and our students bored from how obvious and normal these teachings become. May we who have less experience with Morgan know that everything Kadima does decently well around accessibility and disability justice is in large part due to their ability to persist upstream and not leave any of us behind – kind yet unwavering, even as sometimes we have thwarted, frustrated, incorrectly interpreted, and at times hurt them and others.

And may you, Morgan, thank you for your willingness to forgive in the name of furthering the work and persistent partnership. Thank you for your prophetic vision of what is possible here and together. Thank you for your emotional, spiritual, and physical labor, that often pushed the bounds of justice, yet stayed the course as you balanced what was possible. May you know your worth, your impact, and your imprint – in part by watching us, your students, succeed (may it be so), and in part by knowing that when we don't, it is because of ableism and our stubbornness, and not for a second your deficiencies, as you have none that are not overshadowed by us and our hurtful, still healing society.

May we all find glorious and myriad ways to continue working together for disability, racial, and gender justice (and more) within Kadima, throughout Seattle, in our solidarity toward a just peace in Palestine and Israel, and within ourselves. And may we honor Morgan, and all our teachers as we do so. Especially as we move into both Jewish Disability Justice and Black History month this coming week.

L'havdalah (to honoring distinctions in time) – with a glass raised to moments of distinction and transition, their bittersweetness, their uncertainty, and the intentions we bring into them: L'chayim – may we create and sustain more and more life.

Shabbat shalom,
R’ David

PS – Maybe I'll see you at the Royal Toom for Rachel Edelman's book launch? Either way, check out her latest in Lilith Magazine, which is reworked from her Rosh HaShanah dvar torah with Kadima this year.

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The Matter of Genocide

1/19/2024

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Content warning – discussion of war and death

This week’s parashat Bo is a doozy. But it is important to remember the 10th plague in the context of how this story began two weeks ago at the end of Exodus 1: “Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, saying, ‘Every boy that is born you shall throw into the Nile, but let every girl live.’”

Pharaoh showed intent, the UN Genocide Convention might agree, to commit genocide.

But is this week’s 10th plague any different? Exodus 12:29 reads: “In the middle of the night Ado-nai struck down all the [male] first-born in the land of Egypt, from the first-born of Pharaoh who sat on the throne to the first-born of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the first-born of the cattle.”

The International Court of Justice is in the midst of hearing the case for genocide against the State of Israel. The decision could come as you read this. And we are in the midst of reading about ancient genocide attempts in the Torah, and perhaps the echoes of past charges of genocide are (or should be) ringing in our memory. I am on record as calling Israel’s military aggression genocidal as early as October 23 when Israeli government leaders were making their feelings plain and public.

And a comment from a Kadima elder at our December membership meeting keeps replaying in my mind. The way I remember it goes like this: “Genocide is hard to identify as it is happening. I do not know if what is happening in Gaza is a genocide. But what I do know through ancestral experience is that there can be a slow creep. And at some point, a mass bombing turns into a genocide. And when that happens, naming it as such is extremely important.”

I agree that if this is indeed a genocide, it is important to name it as such. While that will not stop the killing on its own. The pressure we and so many others are continuing to put on those who can stop it – the US government as one key player – is essential, if not frustrating to continue to have to do. We must learn to keep doing it in even more sustainable and healthy ways for ourselves and the others doing that work as well. On that note, I wish health and healing and recovery to all the Mennonites who were arrested in the US Capitol this week, including one brave Kadima mom.

Whatever classification the current onslaught in Gaza is deemed through the ICJ, we will all have to face the reality of how to tell the story of what happened on October 7 and its aftermath. The parasha concludes this week with an ancient example while describing some laws of Passover, including language for how to retell the 10th plague in Exodus 13:14-15:

“And when, in time to come, a child of yours asks you, saying, ‘What does this mean?’ you shall reply, ‘It was with a mighty hand that Ado-nai brought us out from Mitzrayim [the narrow place], the house of bondage. When Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, Ado-nai slew every [male] first-born in the land of Egypt, the first-born of both human and beast…”

How will we retell what is happening now “in time to come”? When a child of ours asks? And how might we make a physical reminder – the “this” referred to in the verse – that might mark this atrocity and cause others to never forget?

How we answer this question is of vital importance and we have the opportunity to answer that future question now: what did you do while it was happening? Let us answer that question in all the ways we can, now.

Toward a sustained movement: shabbat shalom.
R’ David

PS – I had the honor this week of closing the Seattle MLK Rally in prayer. You can read my words here.
PPS – I also had the honor of speaking as part of the Seattle College’s MLK Social Justice Week. You can read my prepared remarks here.

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Resilience & Community Care

1/18/2024

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The following were the opening prepared remarks R' David delivered as part of MLK Social Justice Week at Seattle Colleges, 2024. A unscripted conversation with Associate Vice Chancellor D'Andre Fisher followed his talk.

Thank you so much for this profound honor and opportunity to speak with you today, Associate Vice Chancellor Fisher and with all of you at the Seattle Colleges, students, staff, and faculty, board and community. Particularly yourself, D’Andre and your team, particularly Dr. Coop and Reed. And thank you Laura and your team for the ASL interpretation to increase the accessibility of these talks.

I want to start with a short embodiment practice. It is for you as much as it is for me. It is a practice I have developed for myself as a student of multiple disciplines, some of them Jewish, some of them not. I use this practice most closely on shabbat, the day of rest, the Jewish sabbath.

I take my cues from the chasidim rishonim, a group referenced in the 2000 year old text called the Mishnah, where it says the chasidim rishonim would sit for an hour before prayer. (Mishnah Berakhot 5:1)

Not knowing what they did exactly when they sat, the point of this for me is about going slow, is about being in a space for a while before engaging in practice in that space. It is about arranging our time intentionally, but with pause and slowness instead of rush and immediate transitions.

PAUSE. Take in the history of this moment. The thousands of years of breath. Jewish liturgy connects breath and soul in a single root word. Breath - nishama and soul - neshama. Let us connect our mind-body-spirit, and let us reach out as we feel able to connect with the mind-body-spirit of others here with us right now. In the spaces in which we sit now, and across the zoom-verse.

...I'll close our practice with the words of disabled Ashkenazi Jewish Puerta Riceña, Aurora Levins Morales:

When you inhale and when you exhale
breathe the possibility of another world
into the 37.2 trillion cells of your body
until it shines with hope.
Then imagine more. (excerpted from her V’ahavta)

With this in mind, let me tell you a bit about my journey to become a seasoned social justice pursuing rabbi, a father of two daughters, an 18 year partner of an amazing woman, and a dog owner.

I was raised a suburban white kid in Westchester NY who happened to be Jewish. I was not raised in a particularly Jewish part of Westchester, NY, known for some very Jewish and very wealthy suburbs of New York City. But I was raised near by to my father's cousins, aunts, uncles, and parents. Our extended family, the Basior/Schwartz/Forsythe family had a family business in the meat packing district of Manhattan, and we spent a lot of time together. We were both family and community in one.

This intergenerational big extended tight knit family was where I learned about politics and race and class and assimilation, despite no one intentionally saying a word about any of it.

This bubbled suburban utopia was created by the first generation in my family to be born in the United States and continued by their kids, the first generation of college graduates in my family. My great grandparents were all immigrants who were actively escaping state sponsored violence and repressive institutionalized antisemitism and Jew hatred. Where they lived, in the Pale of Settlement, they were racialized as Jews. Where they moved to in New York, they were racialized as white, despite it being somewhat conditional as Jews.

And it is in this conditionally that I want to focus and think about resilience.

What is resilience?

It can be traced to its Latin root as the jump or spring back. It is defined variably using words such as return, resume, recover, and resist, especially after crisis, disaster, disruption, depression, illness, destruction, and pressure.

To me as a rabbi, I translate the Hebrew word teshuvah as resilience. Teshuvah is the central theme and ideal act to be taken by a Jew, central to our Highest of Holidays in the season of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and the first thing we say in the morning as we liturgical thank divinity for the return of our soul-body connection upon awaking as well as the liturgy of forgivenes, a powerful return from grudge and disruption to relationship, said before falling asleep.

Ultimately, Jewish time is bookended with the plea and reminder for resilience. It is core to truly living - l’chayim: to life.

And so, how could a Jew not stand up against the threat of life anywhere? How could a Jew not, all the more so, stand up and speak out when the threat against life is threatening a fellow Jew? How could a Jew, all the more so more so, not stand up and speak out when it is their fellow Jew who is threatening the life of another?

Now is a time when as Jews, we must find ways to say these things. To act of these things. To do what it takes, because it will take us all. We must, truly must, not just for those being threatened – at this moment the current survivors of the onslaught in Gaza – but to make live the most important and central of Jewish values: teshuvah. Resilience. We are its caretakers, its guardians, and we must find ways to protect it. We must demand a ceasefire, especially when the threat to life is happening in our name.

And this leads me directly to community care. Firstly though, I must honor my disabled ancestors, elders, and teachers. In particular the creators and founders of the movement for Disability Justice– people like Aurora Levins Morales, Leah Lakshmi Peipzna Samasarinha, Rabbis Lauren Tuchman, Elliot Kukla, and Julia Watts Belser, Morgan Scherer, and Naomi Finklestein. And so many others. The idea of community care is certainly older than this particular iteration and movement, but in the neoliberal individualist late stage capitalist empire we currently live in, many of the ancient and ancestral systems of community care have been broken nearly to annihilation, and these folks have breathed life into the valley of bones. Thank God. They have catalyzed the resilience of community care.

Community care requires community. And it is a positive feedback loop from there if you and those you are in the community with can continue, persistently and unselfishly, to show up for one another. This sounds simple as I say it, but in a world where our entire economy is based on us not having this, it can be harder than it might seem. But the studies show and the wisdom traditions demand that when we give of ourselves to others – in ways that do not harm or impoverish ourselves and our dependents – we are healthier, and the we here is that we that is inclusive – both the individual or group who gave and the individual or group who received.

I think I'll pause here and open this up to conversation with Dr. Coop before taking questions from you all. I am eager to be in dialogue and delighted to be here with the Seattle Colleges at this profound and critical moment for human survival and potential thriving.

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Closing Prayer for Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday

1/15/2024

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The following was delivered by R' David Basior at Garfield High School at the 41st annual celebration for the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday as part of the Seattle MLK Coalition. He was honored to be asked to offer the closing prayer of the rally in the gymnasium.

It is the service of my heart today to recite a prayer to close this remarkable gathering and conjure our collective gratitude and praise for its presenters and speakers, founders and sustainers, elders, organizers, and youth. And for the tribal leaders on whose land we celebrate this birthday together. In some of my people’s languages: adank, gracias, todah rabah, shukran, skoy’ach, hazak u’varuch, and heiskasi’um: thank you, and may you and yours be strengthened and blessed.

I call forth my ancestors and teachers as I invite us into prayer:
Birshut, chaverimot – with your permission, my friends,
N’vareich et makor chayenu – let us bless the Source of Life

Let us bless the Source of Life which has indeed sanctified us all today by stirring in us our desire to take up the unfinished dream of the Rev. Dr. Martin Lurther King Jr. reaffirming the ancient words of Rabbi Tarfon of the Mishnah: we are not obligated to finish the task, but nor are we free to desist from it.

Let us bless the Source of life who awakens us to the teaching that we must love our neighbors as ourselves. And may we understand neighbor “not [as] a geographic term, [but] a moral concept,” as Rabbi Joachim Prinz implored at the March on Washington setting the stage for Rev. Dr. King to articulate his Dream.

Let us bless the Source of Life who gives humans the capacity to understand, to discern, to heed, to learn, to teach, to keep, to make, and to fulfill all that we can comprehend with love. That the only enemies are the temptations within us that keep us from living into what Rev. Dr. King called “nonviolent coexistence” with one another.

Let us bless the Source of Life who gave our ancestors the perspective that all is one – that our interconnection and interdependence is undeniable, and which gave them and us now the courage to pass this teaching down from generation to generation, and to attempt to live it as we walk and roll on the way.

We must by now this morning have a clear sense of what these blessings mean. Surely by now, oh Source, we have the power to act with clarity of vision and of purpose banishing “poverty, racism, and militarism.” To fulfill these blessings not just in recitation, but in embodiment, honoring your gift of life in our ways of being and doing.

We must by now this morning have a clear idea of what it means that yes, we are each a distinct and beautiful individual human from a distinct and beautiful people, like mine. And we must by now this morning have a clear understanding that while on one hand that is true, on the other, it is also true what Rev. Dr. King once wrote in a jail in Birmingham that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. [that] We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”

Let us all who are here have this clarity now, not more than ever, but forever more. That there is no liberation for you if there is no liberation for me. That there is no liberation for me if there is no liberation for you. We can all be safe. We can all be fed. We can all have homes. We can all reciprocate for one another the dignity we each need to thrive and belong if we, “rapidly…shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society” as Rev. Dr. King put it a year before he was killed.

And while yes, he did earlier say “the time is always right to do what is right,” he spoke that day of “the fierce urgency of now…[that] there is such a thing as being too late.”

Source of Life, grant us the fortitude and audacity to forgive ourselves as we are right now being too late for so many. From the streets of Seattle to what is left of the roads of Gaza, we are currently being too late for so, so many. Let shame not dominate, no, let us instead own our mistakes and be able to act now with a clear and aligned heart and hand. Let us bless that Source of Life that might provide us a path from denial, avoidance, and even management toward genuine transformation. Toward persistence. Toward resilience. Toward a mutual aid and a public show of love that Dr. Cornell West calls justice.

Yitgadal v’yikadash shmay rabah – may the great name of Divine Love be exalted as we remember those we’ve lost along the way. May their memories be a blessing.

And for those of us who still savor this great gift we call life, may we see the divine in each of our faces. And while we might pause to rest in the name of sustained action, may we not wait another moment to further the dream.

And let us say: Amen.

Bibliography for above references:
Rabbi Joachim Prinz at the March on Washington, 1963
Letter from a Birmingham Jail, August 1963
Beyond Vietnam, April 4, 1967
MLK at Stanford, 1967
Diane Douglas, Talya Gillman, and Lian Caspi at Limmud Seattle 2024 for transmitting a useful framing of conflict engagement

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Political Organizing, Antisemitism, and Prophetic Voice

1/11/2024

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This week in Parashat Vaera we read about a self-described “heavy mouthed” organizer/prophet (Moses) who has to do a great deal of code switching. Raised in the palace of Pharaoh, but also nursed by his own Israelite mother, he becomes enculturated as a Midianite in his young adult years only to then return to Mitzrayim as a born-into-slavery-raised-insider-turned-outsider who speaks the languages of the oppressed, the oppressor, insider and outsider. Whether his description of being of “heavy mouth” is describing a disability or simply an exhaustion he might feel about speaking in so many different ways to so many different people is unclear. But one thing is clear: our most revered prophet questioned whether or not he should speak.

I am thinking about this as we go into Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, honoring the birthday of the oft quoted modern prophet, in the week of the story of Moses’ organizing of Pharaoh and the Israelites, on the heels of another public action from Rabbis for Ceasefire, this time inside the United Nations (while I was planning on being there, illness kept me in Seattle this week) as well as a Palestinian-led Jewish-supported action to shut down I-5 in Seattle. Ultimately, none of these prophetic voices held back their calls for justice, despite all of them perhaps also not desirous to be in the position they found themselves.

They looked around and saw no one else who could do what they could do, and they did what they could. We each offer something unique that if we do not find the audacity and humility to offer the world it may never come to be at all. And who are we to know if our particular offering might help the tipping point – that moment that actually causes the moral arc of the universe to bend toward justice?

From my position, I often find myself organizing on behalf of the liberation of others. Sometimes, though, and very importantly, I must advocate for myself in the midst of it all. I must tell a comrade, ally, leader, elder, student, or friend that what they are doing does not work for me. That their organizing or messaging goes against my interests, and if we are going to achieve the collective liberation for which we both strive, we need to find a way that works for us both. This comes up most often for me around antisemitism, and I have noticed myself feeling less “heavy mouthed” about it than ever before.

While I have always been opposed to antisemitism as a part of a vision for collective liberation, it has been at times challenging to call out. Especially when insincere weaponization of antisemitism is so common a tool used to attack progressive and radical leaders, including non-Jewish and often Muslim and/or BIPOC women as well as anti-zionist and non-zionist Jews. But it is also essential to call out antisemitism when it is indeed happening. And yes, we need to do so, and possibly more so, in these intensified times of emergency in Israel/Palestine.

So, I am learning to have a less heavy tongue – to find ways to speak even when I am not desirous of the mic and to prepare myself to do so grounded, centered, and with perspective. May it be so for us all.

Shabbat shalom,
R’ David

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Morgan's Farewell as Director of Operations & Kadima Co-Director

1/5/2024

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I have been avoiding writing this, because writing it down makes it too real. I have loved being the Director of Operations and Co-Director of Kadima. However, our family was hit with COVID at the end of September and I now have the additional post-COVID symptoms I was so scared of developing, in addition to my pre-existing chronic illnesses. Working has become untenable for my health and taking so much time off has become untenable for my coworkers and the community. So, I am consensually being laid off from my position.

I am devastated. This would have been the week I would have been back at work, and I miss it so much. I miss Rabbi David, who has been the best Co-Director the world has ever seen. I miss Val, her realness, her steadiness, her attention to detail. I miss Gilah, our conversations, their empathy, and their deep thoughtfulness. And of course I miss you all. I miss emails to and from members and I miss checking in and connecting. I miss fixing things. I miss meetings. I miss the database. I miss feeling connected and knowing I was making a difference. I miss the board and everyone who shows up to get things done and take care of each other.

I have worked at Kadima for six years, so I guess this is my traditional seventh year of rest. I have tremendous hope that it will be a time of renewal, albeit one I did not choose.

I love Kadima for so many reasons and am incredibly grateful to have gotten to be your Director of Operations and Co-Director. For one thing, Kadima has been the best working environment I have ever experienced. While I have been consistently overwhelmed and stressed out these past six years, and did my best to do a full-time job in half the time, nonetheless I was surrounded by caring, empathetic, genuine people who were willing to be imperfect, accept each other as we are, and do their/our best to grow and improve. That is the quality I most cherish about the Kadima community. At our best, we are willing to be imperfect and learn how to do better. It’s remarkable how unusual this quality is! As a recovering perfectionist, there is no better community for me than one that accepts me as I am. And as a queer, nonbinary, chronically ill, disabled, autistic, neuro extra-spicy, Jewish, Pagan person, there is no other community that truly accepts me at all! Kadima has always been the only community where I do not have to leave part of myself at home in order to participate. The value of that sense of belonging cannot be overstated.

So thank you. Thank you for being who you are, and making this community the gift that it is. I have done my best to support those gifts. While I wish with all of my heart that my health was stable enough to keep working, it is time to stop arguing with reality and let go.

I will continue to be around as a member and, now that I will not be using the vast majority of my spoons on working, maybe I’ll even be able to attend some events in-person! See you soon.
--Morgan Scherer

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What is Time?

1/5/2024

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Perhaps, like me, you have not been able to figure out what day it is all week. With a civic Christian hegemonic New Year holiday (Happy Gregorian!) happening on a Monday, and school and work all starting on a Tuesday (for my family), it has been hard to track.

I write this, for example, on Thursday afternoon despite Hila having a clear deadline of Thursday at noon for newsletter content. I have asked for forgiveness, and appreciate the ways that this week, Hila was able to accommodate my tardiness.

Meanwhile, in this week’s parasha, Moshe (Moses) is said to have led the sheep “beyond/after/behind the wilderness” (Shemot/Exodus 3:1). Moshe might have been one of the first documented multiverse traversers, at least according to some explanations of this confusing choice of words in the Hebrew. Thus moving outside of geography and outside of time. In this space, Moshe experiences connection with the Divine at the “burning bush.”

And in many ways, we all are traversing the multiverse.

We are here, wherever we are (I write this from Coast Salish Territory of the Duwamish Tribe), and yet we are aware of, and emotionally and spiritually traversing, events happening all over the globe at various times in various places. It is hard to hold it all. And perhaps it is here that we too might experience connection with divinity.

And so, without a complete ability to hold it all at once, but while trying, I will say that I am writing this in solidarity with the people of Japan and its diaspora as people heal and care for those injured in a shocking earthquake and mourn the dead. I am writing this in solidarity with Muslims everywhere who are reeling from the news of an Imam shot and killed, a Black man, outside his place of worship, his masjid. I am writing in solidarity with Black and disabled people everywhere who know the experience of the Rev. Dr. William Barber II, a disabled Black champion of civil rights and economic justice after being forced to leave a movie theater in North Carolina. I am writing this in solidarity with the Palestinian, Israeli, and Jewish survivors and those mourning the over 24,000 people killed in Palestine and Israel over the last three months, and those wishing for the safe and speedy return of thousands still held as hostages and in illegal detention.

I am writing this with these and more in my heart and mind as I think about this week’s torah portion where we see the rise of the Torah’s first emperor. And we see immediately how quick, how courageous, how feminine-led, and how universal the resistance to power used to divide and conquer can be. Thank G-d for these ancestors and their teachings in the face of such a world.

And, I am writing in appreciation of the time – the time that was beyond, after, and sometimes behind time – that I had the privilege and the opportunity to work with my colleague and teacher, Morgan Scherer. Here is a note from them that says more.

L’shalom – toward peace,
R’ David

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Happy New Year (Tu B'shvat) & Honoring the Years of Morgan Scherer

The Matter of Genocide

Resilience & Community Care

Closing Prayer for Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday

Political Organizing, Antisemitism, and Prophetic Voice

Morgan's Farewell as Director of Operations & Kadima Co-Director

What is Time?

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