I have lived a life of privilege and prudence, lucky enough to be raised by loving parents in a quiet place surrounded by beautiful landscapes and kind people. I have been educated, perhaps over-educated, and definitely overstimulated. I have had numerous opportunities to form lasting relationships, which of course I fouled up in the most selfish, self-involved ways possible, pretty much every single time. I have worked interesting jobs for excellent people, and have worked for myself more often than not, yet another incredible opportunity and privilege.

None of that gives me the right to speak.

So, if I am going to sit here and speak to you, what should I speak about that would underpin my own worthiness?

Would you like me to prostrate myself before you? I do so gladly, without hesitation. I come from a legacy of colonialism, born in country that was stolen from its inhabitants and built by slaves, descended from a litany of traditions and assigned a connection to a religion that, by happenstance, turned out to be a national identity, too. What luck! I got to grow up thinking that Judaism was about brotherhood and principle and morality. That aligned nicely with what America was supposed to be all about. But as I got older, I began to realize that many of the things I had been taught, whether at school or at shul or in books or on the news, were not only wrong, but pernicious lies designed to inflate an impulse: nationalism. That which keeps our conscience afloat in a sea of horrors. That which blinds us to the truth, which we exchange for a pleasing narrative.

As I got older, I learned about narrative.

The most cynical among us are keenly aware of narrative. Roger Ailes was a big believer in the power of narrative; may he burn slowly. Great politicians, businessmen, media personalities: they all believe in narrative and understand its power.

It is up to us, those that are opposed to falsehood, tyranny and structural oppression, to understand that our narrative is more powerful than their narrative, in part because our narrative is framed on truth and justice, while theirs is built to serve greed and corruption. So I challenge you, dear friend and brave soul who has read this far: will you ensure that your voice joins the narrative? Will you speak loudly and proudly against white supremacy, patriarchy, imperialism and oligarchy? Will you fight the your nationalist impulses and take responsibility for America’s failings? Will you join me in prostrating yourself in front of the world so that we may reconcile our past and build a future for everyone?

As we approach Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the ability to speak in a world that doesn’t necessarily need to hear my voice. I am thankful for people who will listen to me, and I am thankful for those who disagree with me, because otherwise, I may not have found the desire to speak out. I am thankful for the right to speak, even I haven’t truly earned it yet.

We are all imperfect beings in an unlikely situation, living through absurd events and incomprehensible tragedies. Let’s stand together and fight for as long as we can, as long as we are able to draw breath and live under the sun, as long as there is injustice in the world.