Incoming thread about Unetaneh Tokef, ableism, deadly injustice, and grief.

May @myceliorum's memory be for a blessing and a revolution.

We say that on Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, who will live and who will die, with a long list of various graphic detail.

We say that teshuva, tefillah, and tzedakah can tear up the harshness of the decree.

There are ways in which all of that feels increasing literal to me.

Not so much about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, that part is figurative.

But I think part about what's written and how to erase it is something close to literal.

Life and death often hang in the balance. Sometimes we can do something about it.

Mel Baggs was one of my closest friends. She suffocated to death earlier this year.

But what really killed her was years of intentional neglect at the hands of the medical system and the disability services system.

And...

Mel lived her life knowing that sooner or later, she would most likely die of injustice — if not outright murder.

The writing was on the wall.

That's the main thing that "the decree" referenced in Unetaneh Tokef means to me right now.

What I'd like people reading this to understand is that there was nothing unusual about the way Mel died or about the years in which the writing was on the wall.

What's unusual is how many times enough writing was erased.

What's unusual is that the decree was sometimes torn up.

Mel saw the writing on the wall. So did people who loved her and who loved justice. We were able to erase enough of that writing to keep her alive, time and time again.

Until we weren't.

Right now, that's what tearing up the harshness of the decree means to me.

And I think that, broadly defined, the teshuva/tefillah/tzedakah framework captures a lot about what it takes to tear up the harshness of that kind of decree.

Teshuva, often translated (kind of badly) as 'repentance', means facing up to sin/wrongdoing, both personal and communal.

If we want to tear up the decree, we have to notice what's wrong, and we have to take responsibility.

It's easier said than done.

Tefillah, often translated (kind of badly) as 'prayer', can be understood as finding the spiritual strength to keep noticing injustice without falling apart.

Sometimes this involves liturgy. Sometimes it involves other things.

Tzedakah, often translated (really badly) as 'charity', means doing concrete things to right wrongs. Sometimes this involves money. Sometimes this involves other types of contributions. It always involves concrete action.

Contemplation means very little without action.

Or, to put it another way: You have to notice the decree, you have to care, you have to find ways to make caring bearable, and you have to actually do something about it.

One excruciating reality is that none of us can do everything that needs to be done.

Sometimes we fail. Sometimes people die anyway.

But what we *can* do matters.

The decrees that we can tear up are worth tearing up.

/thread for now