Irish Blessing: Braided Stories
I have always seen myself as a descendent of two [of many] quintessential American stories. The first is that of the American through and through story. On my mother’s side, though it’s more complicated than this, the story I know is that we originally made our way here from Scotland and Ireland. This side came so early on in America’s history that we can trace our roots to the Mayflower.
On my father’s side, the story is old as time for Ashkenazi Jews, and can be seen in different iterations for all kinds of immigrants. In search of a new life, with better economic opportunities, away from war; my ancestors made their way through Ellis Island at the turn of the 20th century. They lived in Brooklyn, owned a hotel in the Catskills, and worked their way through college.
I can feel my ancestral and national stories of each side of my family braided into me. One strand holds the Scottish-American identity, one holds the Jewish identity, each with their own prideful and painful points. Each strand overlays on top of each other and informs each other, but still each distinct in their origin and national stories. In my skin, I hold their stories together and try to make sense of their different origin points.
I’m not the most flag-waving person in the country, and this July 4th has been one of many in recent years that I find that the more I pay attention, the less I can be excited about the US. But my ancestral background is inextricably linked with America’s story, and for that I can certainly be grateful.
One of the successes of America and the enlightenment is its ability to draw multiple stories from different identity groups and braid them together like a challah. This felt particularly true for me on this year’s July 4th, when I finished the day by settling in to watch Pixar’s Brave (Scottish) with Tae Keller’s When You Trap a Tiger (Korean-American) on my bedside table.
A camp I know describes July 4th as Interdependence Day. Interdependence, as in, let’s take this day to remember that we all rely on each other, none of us could succeed without lifting the other up. I feel that when I think about these stories together. So many stories had to support each other, had to collide, for me to exist. Today, part of my job is to honor all aspects of myself. I am my best self when I tell my whole story, even where it sounds/feels self-contradictory or in opposition with my personal identity or politics.
I would be remiss not to acknowledge that this week, as the US celebrates its in[ter]dependence, the Jewish calendar enters into one of its most mournful national time periods of the year. We orient towards Tisha B’Av, the Jewish date which commemorates the destruction of the Second Temple and subsequent dispersion from our land of origin. It’s a time period that is so laden with heaviness that any subsequent dark event in Jewish history (perhaps with the exception of the Holocaust, which was given its own time) is remembered on this date. While I will join the Jewish people in mourning, and I do think this is something worth mourning, I must hold in my pocket a small piece of gratitude that whatever dark history we hold, it led to my parents meeting. Even in wreckage, flowers bloom.
Sure, I have plenty of things to tirade about. When I sat down to write this, I actually expected to go more in that direction. But at the end of the day, I love the people in my life and the people who make up this country. What can I say? I’m a sucker for hope and romance. Happy interdependence day.
__________________________________________________________________________
Traditional Gaelic Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
