Mr. Hes’ letter (“Why America is Burning,” June 4, 2020) in last week’s paper underscores—in striking detail—why the situation we collectively find ourselves in as a nation will persist, unless we all start to do some self-reflection. Placing a primacy on structures, rather than people; ignoring the existence of systemic racism; dismissing the pain of others as somehow invalid; and failing to even acknowledge George Floyd’s horrific and unjust murder at the hands of a police officer (can we all at the very least agree on that last one?) as a catalyst for the very things he is complaining about make it clear that there is a fundamental and troubling gap in understanding. I am not naive enough to think that Mr. Hes is alone in his line of thinking, but that makes it all the more important to speak up, and use this moment as a reminder to conduct ourselves with empathy, an open mind and humanity.

I read with particular interest Mr. Hes’ contention that he is “proud to hold [his] own head up high, fully comfortable with wanting our country to operate under an ethos of fairness and justice for all.” And his conclusion to this statement, “Isn’t that what our Torah demands of us?”

Of course, we all want fairness and justice, but a look around makes it clear that we have a ways to go. Fairness and justice for all are absolutely wonderful goals, but they don’t just happen, and they certainly don’t happen by proclaiming that we are comfortable, proud of ourselves as is, and placing blame elsewhere. Real growth is hard; it takes discomfort, critical thinking and self-reflection. We all have a responsibility—as citizens of the world, as Jews, and simply as people—to not just want fairness and justice, but to take active steps, and ask ourselves, what can I do to make this world better, even in a small way? We will stumble, we will be imperfect, but the onus is on each of us, regardless.

As a parent, I strive every day to take the opportunities we are given to teach my children to know better, and to do better. I try wherever I can to do so by example, so that I can look them in the eyes, and know that they see we are doing what we can to listen, grow, learn and hopefully be even better people tomorrow. I stood at the protest last week with one of my kids, and looked around. I saw the strength and conviction of the participants. I saw Jewish friends and neighbors marching in solidarity. I saw communal responsibility, and support. I saw hope.

This, Mr. Hes, is what the Torah actually—and literally, in Devarim, 16:20—demands of us: “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof.” Tzedek, or justice, is so important that it is repeated in the pasuk. It is an exhortation, and a clear directive. It is an action. The Torah doesn’t ask for our pride. The Torah asks us to do good, speak kindly, care for our neighbors and to actually pursue (“tirdof”) a more just world for all.

It is imperative for all of us to reflect and look inward, to ask how we can do better; for ourselves, for our families, for our community and beyond. As the Christopher Wallace quote goes, “We can’t change the world unless we change ourselves.”