I admit it. On Shabbat afternoons in the fall I do something that some would consider not traditional. I watch football. Not any football. University of Michigan football. And almost every week I vow that I am not going to do it the following week. The fact that it is a vow gives me something to think about when we say Kol Nidre. On Sundays you may find me watching the Patriots or the Bears (yes, I’ve almost been converted!).

I didn’t go to the University of Michigan. In fact, I opted out, even though I was accepted to the honors college. I did go to football games in high school—sometimes but not always. So why? Why watch? For me, I enjoy the social camaraderie it builds. It is what my family does. My husband was a student manager of the University of Michigan football team. His father and grandfather attended UofM. Every Klein is a University of Michigan fan. Some have season tickets. Some go to every bowl game. My first trip to meet the family was a Michigan-Nebraska Fiesta Bowl in Tempe. Every year we dream of a University of Michigan-Arizona bowl game. I already know it will not be this year!

I could argue that watching football preserves peace in the house—shalom bayit—but that really depends on the outcome of the game. It was hard to say who was more upset over the shut out of Michigan by Notre Dame this year. My husband has said I don’t have to watch but I can’t imagine not sitting down with him, enjoying some blue corn chips (blue maize, get it?) and some Michigan salsa with a cold beer. Or my traditional third quarter nap.

As someone who thinks she is a peacenik, is it good to watch large men try to pulverize each other? Is it good for any of us? We know that violence in video games and on TV and movies can lead to more violence. Does watching violence in football games lead to more violence?

Football has taken some hits recently. I am very concerned about concussions and head trauma. I have been concerned since a University of Michigan Delaware State game about injuries when a big team like Michigan plays a much smaller, less prepared team. I can’t imagine how the administrators who set that schedule can allow their kids that risk. The answer I received while watching that game in a Boston bar with other UofM fans was not acceptable—for the glory of the good play—and for the TV royalties that come from playing Michigan. Really? What about the career-ending injury that could also come?

Now we are told there is another problem. Domestic Violence. Players, especially NFL ones who hit their partners. Is there something in the culture? If you are told to be aggressive on the field does that give you the right to be aggressive off the field? If you are big man on campus does that put you above the law? No. Period.

This is not a new problem. Every year or two there is a player or a former player, college or professional who is arrested on charges of domestic abuse or rape. Every year we seem to look away.

The statistics are overwhelming. 1 in 4 women will be abused at some point in their lifetime. 1 in 4. That more than will get breast cancer at a rate of 1 in 8. Why is it OK to talk about breast cancer and not about domestic violence?

For those who work on the frontlines of protecting women and children, football is tricky. It is not just a way that women can relax. Maureen Manning-Rosenfeld does a good job of summarizing the issues in this article from the Daily Herald. http://www.dailyherald.com/article/20140918/news/140918320/

USA Today reported on the pregame show before a recent Thursday night football game that included the Baltimore Ravens. The anchor, James Brown “spoke directly to the camera and delivered a plea to viewers. He asked that all the energy given to the Rice controversy be channeled to raising awareness of domestic violence. With so much attention paid to who saw the elevator video and when they saw it, Brown’s words were a needed reminder that this is about something far bigger. Two years ago, Brown made a similar plea after Kansas City Chiefs player Jovan Belcher killed his girlfriend, then committed suicide in the parking lot of Arrowhead Stadium. On Thursday, Brown pleaded for men to learn what “healthy, respective manhood is all about,” beginning with choices of language and deeds. “Our silence is deafening and deadly,” Brown said at the end of the powerful 90-second soliloquy. “

I may still watch football. But my vow this year for Kol Nidre will be to strengthen my voice and speak out about domestic violence wherever it occurs.

Our next guest is Sarah’s Hebrew School teacher. She is a former president of Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley. Together with Linda Gilmore, she and I have taken students to New York and Washington DC. Ask her about the signs we saw on the way home from New York.

I recently read Elul 9 and immediately thought about what my vision of peace is.  Just as quickly I remembered being at my father’s 60th birthday party at my parents’ house.  We were all in the dining room, and surrounding the table, closest to the food, were my father’s grandsons (his only granddaughter wasn’t born yet), great nieces, and great nephews.  The oldest was around 7 and the youngest around 2.  I looked at my father who was looking at all the little children, and he turned to me and said, “Look how beautiful they are.”  Yes, he was kvelling, (swelling with pride) and he was full of the peace and joy only family can give you.

I always hoped I would feel as he did at 60.  I’ve passed that milestone without any grandchildren, but just the thought of my great nieces and nephews gives me joy. And now that I’m thinking of it, they all fill me with peace and hope.  Hope that we’ll all see peace, and hope that we’ll all do what we can to help bring it about sooner.

My parents didn’t teach hate.  Mostly by their actions, they taught their children to accept differences and to try to understand why they exist.  My father told us at dinner one night, that we should never hate someone.  Hatred itself is bad; understanding is better.  It may be hard to do, but it’s the right thing to do.  I hope that all the generations touched by my parents will understand how Zayde/Uncle Sam felt about hatred and peace, will take it to heart, and will pass it forward.

Shabbat shalom,

Frada, (another name for Joy) also known as Marylin Gallant

With Joy is the best way to approach Shabbat.

Our next guest picks up what I was saying yesterday and hones in on it. This entry made me cry. It was exactly what I needed to hear. She is my WeightWatchers leader and has been very successful in her own weight loss journey. She is one of the most optimistic people I know. She is a successful real estate broker, mother and wife and she is a devout Christian. She blogs at http://www.terraayres.com

When we look at the outside world around us, it can be overwhelming to try to find peace.  It seems as if we need to change other people, other view points, societal beliefs, etc., in order to bring about peace, yet we have no real control over others.

What about starting from within? What changes could we make in our own thought to bring more peace into our own lives?   What we DO have control over is our own thoughts and understanding.  Most of us agree that we want a more loving, kind, forgiving, gentler society, so where does that start?  Where can we have the most impact and control?  I believe it is within our own thought.

Are we loving ourselves as the perfect children of God that we were created to be?  Or are we critical, harsh and unforgiving when it comes to treatment and thought about ourselves?  If we don’t love ourselves and cherish who we were brought into this world to be, how can we look outward and really share that with others?  We often think we have to change to find peace. “I will feel at peace when”….when I lose 20 pounds, when I earn more money, when my kids grow out of this stage.  I don’t believe peace comes from any “If this…then that” kind of mentality.  That’s like chasing a mirage.  We lose the 20 pounds or land the awesome job, then some other material circumstance arises and we find ourselves back in turmoil and unsatisfied.  We need not wait to love and accept ourselves.  We are perfect just as we are and when we can find a calm sense of that in this very moment, much of our inner turmoil will dissolve.  Loving ourselves is not selfish.  It is the exact opposite.  It’s showing respect and gratitude for the life we have been given.  Nurturing ourselves with self forgiveness and acceptance allows us to reflect those qualities so that others around us will experience it too.

All IS well!

Terra Ayres

The last few days we have been talking about where to find peace. Many said that there is a need for inner peace before there can be world peace. Even that seems elusive. Risa talked about respect. David also talked about respect. Judaism stresses this concept when it talks about creation. Each of us was created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Each of us has that spark of the Divine. For that reason alone, we need to find respect for each person. Each person is a reflection of the Divine.

Sometimes that reflection is hard to see. Maybe when Ken holds that high bar, high standard of inner peace and talks about it being like a Monet painting, it is refracted light. It is our job to put those little pieces of peace together to make a bigger peace.

Sharon made the point that it is easier when there are enough resources. In particular she cites getting enough sleep. She is right. Maslow’s pyramid lays this out. People need enough food, water, air, even sex. They need safety and security. They need a sense of love and belonging. Only then can people move further up the hierarchy to self-esteem and self-actualization. I know this is true for me. If I don’t get enough sleep, if I don’t eat on a regular schedule, I get cranky. When I get cranky I can act in a less peaceful manner toward those who are closest to me. If I feel unsafe, then I am afraid and not at peace. That fear can be from an external source or an internal source. That fear can come from walking through a parking structure alone at night, or driving through the “wrong neighborhood”. It can be because of a health scare or not having enough money (another resource). We know that more couples argue over money than over anything else.

Fear is an impediment to peace. We began this blog with the words of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav said, “Kol ha’olam kulo gesher tzar me’od. The world is a narrow bridge. The central thing is not to be afraid.”

Exercise, meditation, prayer can help. Those are resources too. Most of us are not monastic. We don’t have all day to meditate or pray. Sometimes it is hard to find the time to get in the exercise—even when we know it would be good for our own mental health.

We don’t live in a vacuum. We come into contact with other people. Some of those people have the ability to push our own buttons. Learning what those hot buttons are, can help us achieve our own sense of peace.

Leviticus teaches us, “You shall not take vengeance nor bear any grudge against the children of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Hillel said that loving your neighbor as yourself is the whole Torah, the rest is commentary go and study it. Others have said that before you can love your neighbor, you need to love yourself.

Perhaps then, this is what peace is: having enough resources, not living in fear, not holding a grudge against those who push our buttons, learning to love ourselves individually so that we can love our neighbors as ourselves.

Our next blogger, Risa Cohen is a risk manager for a large insurance company. A member of Congregation Kneseth Israel, she asks deep questions which I relish. She makes this seem so simple. Peace is respect. Now if we could just get everyone on the same page.

Peace equals mutual respect whether in families, neighbors, communities or countries. It may be a simple concept, but hard to put into action. How can one respect someone that disrespects them. The answer is you cannot control other people, but you can respect their right to their opinion. If that opinion means your destruction, it just means you need to influence their thought process, not destroy them. Much is written about enemies and war. Little is written about the families and individuals who try and build an environment based on living together. Someone has to take the first step. Let’s find those things we have in common and then find an approach to respecting those differences. Perhaps if the other party sees respect, they will reflect on it and return the respect.

Risa Cohen

The next guest wrestlers with a difficult subject. Given that there are stresses all the time in most American homes—how do we maintain in our own households. Her approach is an honest, refreshing look. She is a mother of three stepping stone girls—a modern “All of a kind Family.” She is also a physicist and a math tutor. And while she may think that peace is hard to achieve at home, she is the one who bakes challah almost every week (sometimes chocolate chip!), arranges play dates, serves on synagogue boards, and quietly uses her resources to take in people who need a home.

I hardly know what I think of when I think of peace. Except I know that it is lacking. In my heart, in my home, in my community, in the world.

Shalom Bayit. Peace of the home. I want it so badly, but we just can’t seem to achieve it for long. And when we get peace, it often seems more like detente than an ending of hostilities for the moment, ignoring the others instead of actually engaging. A lot of the trouble is lack of resources. Not enough time to do all that we want, not quite enough money, not enough attention to go around. Not enough sleep. Or maybe we have the raw resources but they just aren’t used wisely or aren’t quite distributed fairly.

I see lessons here for the world. How can we have peace on a wider scale when we can’t find it in ourselves? A lot of the trouble is lack of resources: land, water, goods, respect.

Yet, somehow I have hope. Even without Shalom Bayit, there is still love, still caring, still general fairness. And when the resources are there, when everyone has gotten enough sleep, there are patches of peace.

In the world, there is such a lack of peace. But when individuals from opposite sides sit down and talk and play and work and do: there is respect and appreciation. Even, sometimes, love. Perhaps we can add resources wisely? Perhaps then we can all grow up and stop squabbling.

Sharon Finberg

Our next guest has a similar idea to our last guest. Ken Hillman is a business owner who specializes in the gluten free food industry. He is a member of Congregation Kneseth Israel, on the education committee and grew up Bnei Jeshurun in New York City. He consistently makes me laugh. Maybe that is peace.

Peace is a funny word; people use it all of the time and assume you know what they mean. Ironically, however, it is one of the most contextual words I know and more often than you might think, two people using the word peace may be speaking about two totally different things. As a young Hebrew Student, I always thought it was odd that “Shalom” meant three things (say it along with me “HELLOGOODBYEANDPEACE”). Shouldn’t it only mean just one?

When the word Peace refers to a standing between two nations, it is merely a cessation of hostilities; peace is the absence of war. There is no emotion in this, simply a lack of fighting to “hit the bar” so to speak. If two nations are not firing weapons and killing each other, there is peace. Detente is peace, as is friendship or alliance. The bar is set low and compatibility, respect and harmony have no standing in this definition.

The peace in the house (or Shalom Bayit) between a married couple sets the bar slightly (okay…much) higher than the peace between nations. In Shalom Bayit, peace means mutual respect, harmony and nurturing. But we also learn in the midrash that there is compromise needed (and even a white lie, sometimes) in order to preserve Shalom Bayit. God omits Sarah’s comment about Abraham’s age in order to preserve Shalom Bayit…and if it’s good enough for God, shouldn’t we all learn to do what’s needed to preserve marital harmony? A little give and take, a white lie…no big deal

The most personal peace, however is inner peace. This  to me is the most stringent bar set as it is the most difficult to achieve. There can be no little white lies to achieve (or maintain) inner peace-there can be no inner peace without complete self acceptance: no lies, no white lies, no blemishes. This peace is very fragile and is broken often-threatened by every word and deed in everyday life

This is why to me, the word peace reminds me of a Monet…from far away it looks so beautiful and simple, but the closer you get, the more complex and the greater the granularity you need to navigate in order to achieve it. Peace is a funny word…

Ken Hillman

Our next guest was a good friend of my husband’s when they were at Wang. They were on a committee to improve corporate morale. She quickly became my friend as well. She is a deep thinker, a published poet, a very talented baker (who before she began baking professionally made our wedding cake) and lives in New Hampshire with her husband Rags, her cats, views of Mount Monadnock and wonderful stargazing.

A friend of mine once announced that he was going to take a year to travel the world and search for peace. He quit his job and left his family — his ex-wife and two teen-aged daughters — behind, disappearing from our lives.

The year went by quickly, and when he returned, I was eager to hear of his pilgrimage. I expected him to be relaxed and perhaps even a bit Buddha-like. But while his face was tanned and his body lean and fit, his eyes were jaded and disillusioned.

“I went everywhere,” he said. “The cities were too noisy and polluted. I traveled to the jungles, full of bright flowers and singing birds. But they were too hot, and bugs were everywhere. The mountains were clean and the air was clear, but they were cold and difficult to travel in. Finally I came to white sand beaches, and I thought I had finally found peace. I lay in the sun and listened to the rhythm of the waves and felt content. Then the sand flies came out, and I had to run for cover.”

“What I learned is that nowhere in the world can one can truly find peace.”

I am so grateful to him for his journey and the lesson he brought back. Sometimes my world is conflict-free, and I can simply coast. More often demands of time and people fill it, and I rush from duty to duty. I read the news and its horrors and tragedies. I feel overwhelmed, full of self loathing for my failures, in pain for the suffering in the world, always too busy with too much to do.

But if I force myself to step away, even for five minutes, and meditate — if I sit on my cushion or a straight chair or walk mindfully — if I hold myself from doing, allow myself to simply be, then my mind clears and the battles in my brain find truce. I breathe in. I breathe out. I breathe in. I breathe out. I live in the gift of the breath.

When I am done, I am able to act with focus and clarity. The world’s rough and tumble collision of needs and wants, joy and pain does not stop. But I am able to rejoin it without attachments, and do the best I can and let go of what I cannot.

There is only one place in this world where I have been able to find peace. It is within me. It is always reachable if I will only seek it out.

Nori Odoi

One of the things that I love about travel is the ability to think deeply without the pressures of my normal routine. Being up in airplane I frequently gain perspective I lose on the ground.

Tonight, I am lying awake in my friends’ house. It has been a good day, one of seeing long time friends, individually and in larger groups. Many people re-arranged schedules to come to see me and that is gratifying. It was a chance to make a difference in the world, even if it was small, drink some coffee, eat some ice cream, relax with friends, and laugh.

The day began with a delicious breakfast, fresh fruit, half an English muffin, scrambled eggs. It was served in one of my favorite rooms. A sun room with windows on three sides and a sky light. I have sat in that room for many meals watching the changing light and the deep green of the woods. It is like being in a tree house. A feeling of peace settled over me.

Later I was at the Habitat for Humanity event which you read about yesterday. I moved tires and garbage, raked debris. Somehow singing, “If I Had a Hammer” choked me up. And I felt peace as I worked side by side with friends, some whom I have known for years, others whom I just met. Jewish, Christian, Muslim.

Later still I had lunch with my ordaining rabbi. I smiled as he thumbed through my book and we celebrated my accomplishment. We slipped easily into conversation and we enjoyed talking about people we know, what I might say for the holidays, what retirement is like for him.

Even later I saw some thirty people at the Java Room. Yes, one more cup of coffee. Iced, this time. Then some of us moved to Bertuccis, a local pizza place for dinner. A chance to catch up more fully with a smaller group. And then Sully’s. They still have the best ice cream. I sat outside, watching the sky turn from deep blue to intense pink. Words don’t really capture it. Neither did my camera. We talked and laughed, told old stories and older jokes. That group has a shared history over many years. I realized I don’t laugh much in Chicago. People had commented all evening that they had never seen me look happier, that a great weight seemed to be lifted from me. (I wondered if it was an act but I don’t think so) Eating my Almond Joy ice cream, I wondered if peace is joy. I even wondered if I had found next year’s communal blogging project. What brings you joy?

Joy is a part of peace. But that is only part of it. But lying here in this bed, I found myself crying. Why? I just explained that it had been a good day and it was. Was I sad that I was leaving Boston again? That the people in this house are moving to Florida and I might never be in this house that has brought me so much joy, so much calm, so much peace again?

I was trying to answer a burning question. What does it mean for me to be a peaceful person. I tried to answer it earlier in the week. I think, like David said earlier, it is about remembering to respect the other. To see the image of the Divine in the other—even those we might not especially like.

But it is still more than that.

Earlier in the week I realized that it is about managing or controlling my anger. And that neither of those words is perfect. Maybe understanding my anger is closer. Understanding it so I don’t lash out inappropriately—usually at the ones I care the most about. Lying here, alone, I realize that I miss Simon and wish he were here.

I have a ring—my wedding ring—it is a copy of the ring Paul Revere gave to his second wife. We bought it at the MFA for $115 and I still love it. I love its simplicity. I love its elegant nature and I love its historicity. Inside it says “Live contented,” just as Revere engraved his ring to his wife. So maybe peace is contentment. Then I had it. It is the old translation of Shalom Rav from the Union Prayer Book One:

“Grant us peace Thy most precious gift, O Thou eternal source of peace. Bless our country, that it may be a stronghold of peace. May contentment reign within its borders, bonds of friendship throughout the world. Plant virtue in every soul and love for Thy name in every heart. Give us peace.”

This was my mother’s favorite prayer. It was her Confirmation speech. She read it every Rosh Hashanah at the dinner table and she read it at Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah.

There is a connection between contentment and peace. Joy and happiness are good—but they are the peaks. Laughing with friends is good. Contentment is the goal—more of a constant, more of a balance. Out of contentment comes peace and the ability to be secure. If I can be secure with myself, I do not live in fear. If I do not live in fear then I can be at peace.

It was a very good trip. I can sleep now and wake up ready to return to Chicago, ready to resume my normal routine, ready to work again for peace, ready to lead. Bring it on.

Here are the remarks I made this morning at a Habitat for Humanity event in Billerica, Massachusetts. I also worked for about two hours clearing a new house site with Christians, Muslims, Jews. It is at the corner of Peace and Friendship. Everyone who spoke talked about the need to build up–from the foundation up–at a time when things are falling down. After we finished each finished our remarks we broke bread (pita, naan, matzah, tortillas and rice cakes), we sang or read blessings and graces for Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. This was a powerful moment.

Habitat for Humanity is a powerful model. And while I was busy doing this, my daughter did something too. Behind the scenes she arranged for my old car in California to be donated to Habitat for Humanity in my honor. It seem so fitting. The car that brought me back and forth to New York. Her first car. Finding a new way to recycle and “ReStore.”

About six months ago I got a phone call from Dan Bush, the development director, for Habitat for Humanity of Greater Lowell. “What are you doing on 9/11?” he asked. “Working,” I was sure. Because it is so close to Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Why? I wondered. “Because I would like it if you could come into Boston and talk about your experience with Habitat for Humanity. On 9/11 about 9/11”

I rarely say no to Habitat. Here’s why. On September 11^th in 2001 I was in New York City. I was trying desperately to find the new campus of the Academy for Jewish Religion, tucked up on the fifth floor of the administration building of a Catholic College. I was lost in Yonkers. No, really. I was. I turned off the radio so I could concentrate. The last news story I heard was about an American drone being shot down over Iraq. Oh, no, I thought, here we go again. I called Simon for directions and could not get through. I cursed him and Sprint. When I finally found the College of Mount Saint Vincent…I was greeted by a hysterical classmate who was trying to find a television. She was worried about a bombing. I assumed in Israel. She said the World Trade Center. I said, and I quote, “Get a grip. That was 1993.” As it turned out she had a daughter in the World Trade Center and one in the Pentagon. She was lucky. Both were OK. As know now many more were not.

On a beautiful bright blue day, my class watched the smoke rise further down the river. After being told if we could make it to Connecticut we would be safe, somehow I managed to get gas in my car without a credit card server that worked and I made it to Connecticut where miraculously my cell phone started to work again. I say miraculously because in all those years I commuted to New York for school I dropped more calls in Connecticut than anywhere else. The first call I received was from Rabbi Larry Zimmerman. By now Dracut knew whom the pilot of Flight 11 was. John Oganowski. I knew him from Tufts. He was a farmer and helped Cambodian refugees grow food on this farm that otherwise was difficult to find in America. Dracut was already beginning the painful task of planning memorials. The next call was from a principal in Acton. She had a kindergarten student with a father on the plane. The next call was from a rabbi—who opted to close the synagogue for Hebrew School since the Wang Towers were also closing. It was a scary, long, confusion drive home. It was eerily silent. Most people were off the roads and holed up watching TV. Despite that bright blue sky, it seemed the world was collapsing. Do you remember?

Carol Gagne had the task of planning a service at Saints Memorial. I was doing my pastoral care class with her. The volunteer coordinator whose office was next door to Carol’s was Madeline Sweeney’s sister-in-law. Madeline was the flight attendant who heroically used her cell phone to alert the traffic control towers that they had been hijacked. We learned of others who were lost that day. One of my Girl Scouts lost an uncle. A good friend lost her mother. 2,997 people died that day. Do you remember?

I also remember this: The Rev. Imogene Stulken had had an idea that summer. What if the clergy of GLILA came together and showed Lowell how we could cooperate and build something lasting? What if we worked on a Habitat for Humanity build right here in Lowell? And so we signed up as a group. The day that was scheduled was September 12, 2001. I am not sure that any of us, maybe Imogene, knew what to expect when we got there. Some of the details are foggy. I think it must have been the project on Nichols Street. I know that Imogene, Simon, Steve Fisher, Gordon White, Larry Zimmerman were there. I can’t remember who else. I know that I helped dry wall a closet. I didn’t even know I could do that when I started.

And I know this. When we started building that morning it seemed like all the world was falling down, collapsing, smoking. If Jews and Christians could come together and build something, maybe the world was not so scary a place. Maybe we could even dare to hope for peace.

I have now worked on Habitat sites in North Carolina, Florida, Indiana, New Orleans (three times), and Illinois where I now live. Each of those times has been a special memory. Building with the Rev. Ginny McDaniel, The Rev. David Ferner, Betty and Rachel, Linda Gilmore, the members of my new congregation. I remember praying before working in North Carolina. I remember moving lots of sand to build a playground in hot, humid New Orleans. I remember signing the plywood in a house in the 9^th Ward with a Jewish blessing while a jazz musician played. That musician would be the owner of the house. I remember working along side house owners in Elgin as they moved rocks and laid a subfloor in Elgin.

Sometimes I am asked how I can work with Habitat since it was founded as an explicitly Christian organization. In most places I have been, Habitat accommodates. Habitat has had builds on Sunday—so that Jews can participate and not violate our Sabbath on Saturday. Habitat’s own website states explicitly that it has an open-door policy: “All who desire to be a part of this work are welcome, regardless of religious preference or background. We have a policy of building with people in need regardless of race or religion. We welcome volunteers and supporters from all backgrounds.”

Nonetheless, they see their work as being centered in Christianity in three important ways:

• It is a way of putting faith into action, following the teachings of Jesus, showing love and care for one another and not just words. By bringing, as the website says, diverse groups of people together to make affordable housing and better communities a reality for everyone.
• By following the economics of Jesus. When acting in response to human need, giving without seeking profit, Habitat believes G-d magnifies the effects of the efforts. Together the donated labor of construction workers and volunteers like us with the sweat equity of the Habitat’s partner families, Habitat has been able to make decent, affordable, safe housing for 800,000 families worldwide.
• Millard Fuller described his “theology of the hammer”. “We may disagree on all sorts of other things, but we can agree on the idea of building homes with G-d’s people in need and in doing so using biblical economics: no profit and no interest.”
• I know this—that biblical economics Fuller describes is the Bible we share in common. The Bible was explicit about how to reach economic justice. In the reading for Yom Kippur from the prophet Isaiah we are taught:

Is such the fast I desire,
A day to starve your bodies?
Is it bowing the head like a bulrush
And lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Do you call that a fast,
A day when the Lord is favorable?
No, this is the fast I desire:
To unlock the fetters of wickedness,
And untie the cords of the yoke
To let the oppressed go free;
To break off every yoke.
It is to share your bread with the hungry,
And to take the wretched poor into your home;
When you see the naked, to clothe him,
And not to ignore your own kin.

I know this: this is what Judaism, my own faith tradition demands as well. In Scripture we hold in common, we are taught, “Justice, Justice shall you pursue.” (Deut 16). We are taught that justice means to welcome the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We are taught that Abraham even interrupted his prayer to welcome the three guests to his tent, into his home. We are taught that if the officers speak to the people and say, “Who has built a new house and not dedicated it, let him go and return to his house, lest he die in battle and another dedicate it.” (Deut 20:5)

I know this: We are taught to not hold the wages of a laborer overnight. We are taught to leave the corners of our field for the stranger, the widow, the orphan, the most marginalized among us. We are taught that there is a shmita year, a year of release. The shmita year we let the land lay fallow and we forgive debts. It is another form of economic justice. That shmita year begins in two weeks, with Rosh Hashanah.

I know this: We are taught by a non-Jewish prophet, hired to curse the Israelites, “How goodly are your tents O Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel.” We are taught, “How good and how pleasant it is for people to dwell together.” We are taught “Seek Peace and Pursue it.” So justice and peace we need to pursue, actively run after, chase after with dogged determinism.

I know this: by being at a Habitat for Humanity build with my colleagues from GLILA on 9/12, building while the world seemed to be collapsing, it was the single most powerful moment of my life. Abraham Joshua Heschel said that when he marched with Martin Luther King in Selma his feet were praying. That day, and every day since when I have built with Habitat, I feel my hands are praying with every swing of the hammer.

I know this: by being here today, as we were on 9/11 13 years ago, we are doing precisely this. We are building peace—one swing of the hammer, one Habitat for Humanity home at a time.

And I know this: the world is a scary place again—or maybe still. Habitat for Humanity’s vision is “a world where everyone has a decent place to live. Our mission is to put God’s love into action by bringing people together to build homes, communities and hope.” That sense of hope is what this world needs right now, today. This is what we are building.