There is a war going on and in many ways the Jewish people are fighting for their very survival. These are dark times.
Those inside the community, both in Israel and abroad, feel a great pain, angst and sadness. I would never seek to speak for a whole community but in the darkness there is unity.
We entered the month of Kislev just a few days ago and the story of Chanukah is one of reclaiming the sanctity of the Temple. When the Maccabees re-entered the holy sanctuary in Jerusalem their ambition was to relight the eternal light of hope and faith, the Menorah. The returning Maccabees searched, ‘בָּדְקוּ וְלֹא מָצְאוּ’, they searched for a bottle of oil and only found a tiny quantity, not enough to keep the light alight.
Sometimes when we seek out sanctity, safety, holiness, we may only find a sliver, a small portion.
I reached out to two colleagues, friends in the last week, one Palestinian, one Israeli. I asked them each if they would write something with me.
My Israeli friend, someone I drink a beer with often when I am in Israel, said “these are very difficult times”, he was unable to write, not ready to put pen to paper for the strife and sadness of these days. He expressed concern for soldiers fighting (“kids”), kidnapped women and children, antisemitism and also the internal strife and huge questions which Israel will have to contend with going forward. We exchanged messages of care and affection, a few photos of our own children and bid each other well.
My Palestinian colleague who I worked with for many years in the time I lived in Israel was also unable to write, unwilling to help. He wrote that “first the bombs need to stop falling and we need to bury all of our dead”. In kind words, he too wished me well.
My reaching out to both of these people came at 3am on Sunday; I was suddenly anxious that as a rabbi I was not doing enough to support the freeing of hostages…more outreach, more writing was going to help??!!
In both of the responses I received, a different quality emerged…one of dignity and silence. Sometimes it is not time for words (sometimes we might need to log off our phones or silence them!).
In one of my favourite stories of the Talmud (Menuchot, 29b), Moses is transported to the time of Rabbi Akiva, he sees his Beit Midrash, his learning centre, all he had achieved. He then sees his gruesome torturous death at the hands of the Romans, he says: ‘זו תורה וזו שכרה’, ‘this is what he has achieved and this is his reward? God responds: ‘שתוק כך עלה במחשבה’, ‘be quiet, these parts are inexplicable’ (creative translation). In this rabbinic fable, the bottom line is that sometimes life is simply inexplicable, unfathomable.
Sometimes silence counts.
In this week’s parsha a different quality – ‘וְנִבְרְכוּ בְךָ כׇּל־מִשְׁפְּחֹת הָאֲדָמָה וּבְזַרְעֶךָ’, Jacob has a dream and as he wakes God promises him, ‘All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants’. What does this promise mean in relation to today? I cannot tell you but what I can tell you is that we must continue to strive to do better, to be better, to rise above the fear and the hatred, the foul speak and the ill treatment and be a people of love and care for those around us. Yes, our people are at war but the ultimate destination must be dignity, love and care.
And finally, God tells Jacob ‘הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי עִמָּךְ וּשְׁמַרְתִּיךָ בְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר־תֵּלֵךְ’, ‘I am with you: I will protect you wherever you go’. Somewhere in the story we have to believe that we will be taken care of ourselves, that we will endure, strive and survive; that is faith and that is the promise.
SHABBAT SHALOM
