There Is a Cat at My Right Arm

Shavu'a tov.
Bracha the Cat, who has been so ill, and whom we thought would be gone by now, is miraculously a little plumper than a few weeks ago, curled purring at my side on the salmon sofa. She has enough energy to leap up onto the island and sprawl on the stove now and then.
She has resumed her practice of coming up to the bedroom and meowing in the morning, if I have not gone downstairs to serve breakfast early enough.  (The message is perfectly clear:  ¿Nu?)

I walked and walked on this beautiful shabbos, humming my thanks for it all:  blue sky, yellow grass, trees, muskrat swimming across the lake, other people's dogs.

This evening I went to see "Conviction",  an intense (and very well-performed) one-man show at a local theater, set in contemporary Spain and Spain during the time of the Inquisition.  
Once I was home, I found myself wondering if groups and cultures take turns at being more and less enlightened, more and less primitive, more and less given to persecute whomever is designated as Other.  It is frightening to see this emerge so starkly once more in this country.  Of course, it has never gone away:  we hate those that we have wronged, and can't forgive them for our guilt.  I wonder whether, beneath all the presenting drama of economics vs. ecology and commerce vs. sovereignty, that is what is really being re-enacted at Standing Rock.

I find myself praying for healing rather than for victory.

Wishing us all a good week.  Good night.