One of the strange things that we Jews do is to rip our clothing when a close relative dies (parents, spouse or children). It's actually very cathartic to be able to rip at your clothes when you are in deep grief. When mom died, I was wearing a favorite sweater, that I then threw away. When dad died, I was wearing a silly Captain America sweat shirt. I like that shirt. The guys in the sushi place salute me when I'm wearing that shirt. I was going to throw it away after I ripped it. But I think I've decided to sew it back together. It will just have a scar. It will be a visual reminder of my emotional scar.
Our newly remodeled synagogue also has a scar. On the front wall where the neo-Nazi spray painted hate messages, there is a rather blotchy coat of new paint. In certain light, you can still see the shadow of darkness underneath. I like it. The pristine synagogue felt a little uncomfortable to me. Too clean. Scar-less. Like an old woman with a perfect face lift. Something not quite right.
So if you see a woman wearing a scarred Captain America sweat shirt, you can go ahead and salute.
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