Dear TBZ Community:
As we move into Shabbat, I had an idea of what I wanted to write here about restarting our Torah reading cycle, parashat Bereishit (the first Torah portion), and the story of the creation of humanity. Instead I am struggling to find words through my tears and pain.
First human beings are created, the Torah teaches, in God’s image. This teaching frames our values and how we exist in the world, hoping and assuming that we can remember the godliness in ourselves and others. But too soon, after the creation of humanity, we read about the first killing – Cain kills his brother Abel. As we encounter this first act of violence, we wonder what happens to God’s image, what happens to our humanity? Right now, I am stuck on this question. I am angry, sad, and heartbroken, and I’m asking myself, as I imagine you are too, what happened to humanity?
I am holding the pain and the sadness like so many of us are, doing what I can to grasp onto hope and not let my fear and my heartbreak guide my words and my actions. I am not going to do an analysis or pretend to be your source for news, but I want to share what’s in my heart and what I am hearing from family and friends:
I hear the pain, devastation, and grief. Today when I spoke with my sister, who lives in Israel, her daughter was on her way to the funeral of a friend.
I hear the fear from those with family serving in the military. The husband of one of my dear friends and colleagues is in a combat unit in the north of Israel, and her daughter is in a combat unit in the south. But my friend is amazing. She has created a network of Masorti rabbis who are connecting with people who are grieving and have questions about mourners’ practices.
I hear the activism and communities coming together. People are showing up for each other, making packages for soldiers, showing up for shiva minyans of lone soldiers, hosting families from the south, organizing in any way they can to further the release of the hostages, and supporting those who are waiting. This list is much longer. And these actions remind me that we are created in God’s image.
I hear the fear of Arab Israelis and Palestinians who live in mixed cities. I spoke to a dear friend of mine from Haifa, who works at Hand in Hand School, a school that works to build bridges between the Jewish and Arab Israeli communities, who told me that her Arab friends are afraid to go out in the city and speak Arabic in the streets.
I hear the fear of those under attack, and those waiting to hear from friends and family who are under attack. One of our TBZ members works for a peace organization with Jews and Palestinians. She shared that one of her friends, a person who has been working for peace, texted from Gaza that his building was being targeted, then that he was under rubble, and then went silent; she told me that they heard from him after a few days and thank God he is alive. He closed his text with, “I love you all and I hope that we can build peace one day so my kids won’t witness this again.”
I hear the pain and anger from false equivalencies. I cannot understand and am deeply struggling with why people and groups on the left, those I consider my partners in the work of social justice, are unable to clearly condemn the actions of Hamas as the atrocities they are. We can both condemn the actions of Hamas, and oppose the occupation. We can care about the humanitarian devastation of the Gazan people, and oppose the tactics of Hamas. We can support the people of Israel, and be critical of the Israeli government. It is not one or the other.
I hear the fear and anxieties of so many people in Israel who are lacking care and protection from the Government of Israel. One of our TBZ members has a son who is volunteering as a lone soldier in Israel – and I am praying for him. They have shared that the army has left these young men alone to fight, without some of their basic needs like provisions or planning for their security.
I hear the fear of those of us in Brookline, in Massachusetts, and around the US, worried about a rise in antisemitism and acts of violence. Please know that we will be sending an email with an update about our security.
I hear all of this and more…
I hear the stories of young Israelis who were traveling or living abroad, who got onto planes and returned to Israel to volunteer, serve, and defend their people. And I pray for them and I hold them close.
I hear the stories of rescue and kindness, of people who were saved in almost miraculous ways. Those stories help me breathe.
I hear many of you who want to do something to help. I have shared ways to support financially. You can call our representatives to add pressure to release the hostages. And I will keep updating you for other possibilities for activism.
I hear the pain in our community after a soldier, son-in-law of Brookline residents, friends of TBZ members, died. He was 22 years old and only married for one year.
I hear the support of my interfaith colleagues. One of them just stopped by TBZ to give me a hug. Their presence and support means a lot.
I hear all of this and more…
And when I can’t breathe and feel hopeless, I think of Avi Dabush from Kibbutz Nirim, near the border of Gaza. Avi has been writing updates since all of this began. He shared his experience spending many hours inside a safe room, while Hamas terrorists were in his kibbutz. He shared hearing about loved ones, killed or taken hostage. He shared the relief of being reunited with the people of his kibbutz in Eilat. And he ends every post with the words אני מאמין – I believe. I wrote to him and I said, “if you can end with these words, I have no choice from here and I join you: אני מאמינה.”
On Shabbat we will be celebrating Nina’s bat mitzvah. Nina has been part of our community since birth, and as many of you know she is like a daughter to me. As I told her and her parents, we will hold the joy of her simcha; hold the pain of the moment; and remind ourselves that we don’t give up, that we keep going. This is what we Jews do. We pick up ourselves from the ashes and rebuild.
May this Shabbat bring blessings and consolation to all of you and your loved ones.
May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing. And may we find joy in the midst of darkness.
Let’s not forget our humanity:
וַיִּבְרָא אֱלֹהִים אֶת־הָאָדָם בְּצַלְמוֹ בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים בָּרָא אֹתוֹ
And God created humankind in the divine image, creating it in the image of God
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia
P.S. I want to share these three statements put out by T’ruah: The Rabbinic Call for Human Rights, an organization near and dear to me as I sit on their board of directors: