Thank you for the messages of condolence on the loss of my Uncle Peter, my mother's baby brother, and for the support from our leadership that has enabled me to extend my trip in London to be here with the family. I return next Tuesday. Here are some Torah reflections for this moment.
Walking through the Baka neighborhood of Jerusalem on Shabbat, with its narrow streets named after the 12 Tribes and other Biblical figures, and the sights, sounds and smells of Shabbat, has always filled me with oneg, a very particular type of joy. Being there just last Shabbat was familiar and beautiful, yet profoundly different, less than a month after the horrific and brutal slaughter and kidnapping by Hamas on October 7th and the ensuing war. The whole of Israel is in a state of trauma, grief and fear, which is palpable. I walked to Kehillat Hakel, a traditional egalitarian minyan. The prayers and melodies were all familiar, but the mood was different. Vayera contains the harrowing story of akeidat Yitzhak, the binding of Isaac. The person who read this section of the Torah chanted in a guttural, Yemenite trope and when he got to the actual narrative of a man being asked by God to sacrifice his son, his voice cracked and he had to pause as tears rolled down his cheeks; so moved was he, and all who were listening, by the painful, current resonance of the ancient text. When he went back to his seat, I noticed that he was next to a young man carrying a military rifle, most likely his son having a break for Shabbat from his army base by the border with Gaza. The intense tears, I assume, are for the sons and daughters whose lives are being sacrificed in defense of Israel on the altar of war. So many children of friends and family members are serving right now, some of them just 18 years old, and their parents are full of anguish. The previous day in Tel Aviv, after a restorative swim in the Mediterranean and its empty beaches, I sat on a rooftop with my old friend Rebecca as she received a whatsapp message from her soldier daughter Shaya, saying "I'm going in. No phone. I love you." If it is not obvious, the meaning was painfully clear to this anguished mother. Shaya is a combat paramedic and, at a moment's notice, she was called into Gaza. My friend immediately burst into tears. What parent wouldn't? This is the daily reality for so many in Israel and it is unbearable. Shaya, it turned out, was back out and safe after only a few hours.
The name of this week’s Torah reading, Chayei Sarah, means the life (or more literally the lives) of Sarah, yet it opens with her death. In the Midrash, when Isaac is on the altar before his father sees the ram and is holding a knife to his son’s neck, Isaac looks up and the angels in heaven are weeping and their tears fall into his eyes, which, says the teaching, is the cause of blindness at the end of his life. He had seen too much. The Midrash also teaches that at that same moment, an angel flew to Sarah and told her that Abraham had killed their son and she died instantly of a broken heart. She had heard too much. We have all seen and heard too much in recent weeks and it is unbearable. Too many parents are seeing their children die in this war and perhaps some of them are dying of broken hearts in their unbearable grief.
As we know Isaac lives, but is arguably traumatized and broken for the rest of his life. After the description of his mother’s death and burial, his father sends his servant Eliezer to find his son a wife. This servant intuits that the quality most essential in a future wife for Isaac is hesed, lovingkindness, and he sets up a kind of test. Rivkah arrives and passes the test, embodying hesed. When she eventually returns with him and becomes Isaac’s wife, he is healed and comforted from the loss of his mother. Perhaps hesed, lovingkindess, is part of the healing process for grief and trauma.
Rabbi Amy Eilberg has shared a beautiful piece this week called Lovingkindness in a Time of War. She writes: “I cannot shower the Middle East with droplets of love to make people think, feel and act differently than they do. But I can bring more lovingkindness into my small corner of the world, instead of adding to the cacophony of angry voices all around us. It is an act of faith that the love I spread right here where I live can tip the scales a bit, adding to the weight of the forces of love and peace, even while war rages.”
Many of us are feeling so angry and this anger can close our hearts to the possibility of love for all who are impacted as victims of this war; for those who might have very different opinions of the right strategy and response; for both Jews and Muslims across the globe who are experiencing an increase in hate. A conscious practice of lovingkindess, Rabbi Eilberg teaches, starts with ourselves and our immediate circles of loved ones, community, and it can expand further, to all beings in their pain and suffering.
In my short solidarity mission to Israel, I have seen and heard so much and witnessed the trauma. I am not a politician nor a military strategist nor a hostage negotiator. I have my opinions and beliefs and I stand strong in my support and solidarity for Israel, but I hope my heart has the capacity for compassion and kindness for all who are impacted, for the innocent lives of Palestinians, for all who have been blinded by angels’ tears, for all whose hearts have broken from grief.
My teacher of Jewish meditation, Rabbi Sheila Weinberg, took the essence of the threefold Priestly Blessing and adapted it as a Meta meditation (a Buddhist lovingkindness practice):
May you feel safe. May you feel happy. May you feel peaceful.
With so much hatred and violence raging in the world and the feelings of helplessness that many of us have, we can start in our own little corners with intentions and actions of kindness and love. This does not replace the ways in which we are each called to respond and support, nor does it deny the reality of increased antisemitism, but it can help us be more present, softer and balanced in these frightening times.
May we all feel safe. May we all feel happy. May we all feel peaceful. At least for some moments throughout our day. And especially on Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Marc
PS - many people are asking what we can do to support Israel. There is much to do, especially in the hostage release campaign and we will be providing some information and ideas, but for now, please visit our Israel resources page here
