(Yuval Tayib and Itzik Kala sing their song, “Heal Me,” over a set Shabbat table.)
May the holy memories of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim z’’l be for an everlasting blessing.
For those of us who have been paying attention to the global rise in antisemitism, their murders were the manifestation of an expected and familiar nightmare. For those of us in the fields of Jewish communal service, we could see ourselves, our colleagues, or our students in their places — hit before we reach the metal detectors, the guards, or the lobbies cleared by the police and bomb sniffing dogs (these are all of the security measures at the conference I attended two weeks ago. At the time I questioned the measures and their expense — now I’m wondering if it was enough.)
The question after each of these tragedies is, how do we continue? Even if these attacks are not surprising, they still feel like a punch in the gut. It is exhausting and dispiriting, and recovering from these blows hasn’t gotten easier as the past years have progressed.
Our haftarah this week, from the Book of Jeremiah (hardly known as a font of positivity), provides guidance and hope:
רְפָאֵ֤נִי יְהֹוָה֙ וְאֵ֣רָפֵ֔א הוֹשִׁיעֵ֖נִי וְאִוָּשֵׁ֑עָה כִּ֥י תְהִלָּתִ֖י אָֽתָּה׃
Heal me, O ETERNAL One, and let me be healed;
Save me, and let me be saved;
For You are my glory. (7:14)
We learn in psalms that God is the one who heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds. Jeremiah goes a step further though — his plea is directed not only toward God, but also to himself. He prays to God that he can accept healing and salvation, not only that God will provide what he needs.
What does it look like to allow ourselves to live healthy lives as Jews in this world? A few practices can help us:
Shabbat (our sabbath): After the conclusion of this week’s haftarah (which ends on 7:14), Jeremiah links our healing and salvation to leaving our burdens behind on Shabbat. In Jeremiah 17:21, he writes:
כֹּ֚ה אָמַ֣ר יְהֹוָ֔ה הִשָּׁמְר֖וּ בְּנַפְשׁוֹתֵיכֶ֑ם וְאַל־תִּשְׂא֤וּ מַשָּׂא֙ בְּי֣וֹם הַשַּׁבָּ֔ת וַהֲבֵאתֶ֖ם בְּשַׁעֲרֵ֥י יְרֽוּשָׁלָֽ͏ִם׃
Thus said GOD: Guard yourselves for your own sake against carrying burdens on the sabbath day, and bringing them through the gates of Jerusalem.
In the words of the father of cultural Zionism, Ahad Ha’am, “more than the Jewish people have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jewish people.” The twin struggles for particular survival and universal justice both require communal rest, reflection, and repair. No one can carry the burdens of the world every day, forever, alone.
It is tempting during times of tragedy to scroll alone, to focus on discovering every detail of the tragedy and dissect our neighbors’ perceived sympathies or lack thereof. That understandable reaction leads to an abyss with no bottom.
Shabbat, however, is where our cups are refilled. We are required to make our kiddush cups overflow before we sanctify the wine in them. No matter the depth of our sorrow, on Shabbat we are called upon to sing, praise, eat, and rest together. There is no more effective salve than the hospitality and attention of those with whom we are commanded to share our lives.
I cannot wait to be at synagogue tonight and honor my students on the occasion of their graduation. I know the food will be delicious. Hearing the Torah of my colleagues will move my heart. And saying the mourners kaddish for Yaron, Sarah, and others with my community will bring me back to center, affirming what is good in the shadow of our grief.
I cannot let those blessings in if I am still carrying the poison of the internet in my veins. God — heal me and let me be healed.
Hakarat HaTov (recognizing the good): I received three messages of support yesterday: One from a Christian colleague, one from a Jewish friend, and one from a Muslim Colby alum. This alum was my partner in learning, teaching, and leading during her four years as my student.
I know that there are those in the Jewish community that cannot accept that not everyone hates us, and believe that every fair weather ally will eventually betray us. I get it — after October 7th, I felt incredibly betrayed by those who I thought were friends, by people who I thought knew better. I don’t know a single Jew who didn’t go through that process.
But it wasn’t everybody. And some of those who have misstepped have apologized, or wanted to, but didn’t know how. And if we have the humility and grace to acknowledge that maybe we weren’t there for others in the way we wanted others to be there for us (at least sometimes, even if it wasn’t intentional), we can have grace with them.
Instead of cursing the darkness, we should do what we can to recognize and brighten the light when we have the wherewithall to do so. I am grateful to God for creating people who can express love across lines of difference, and I pray to God that I can let it in.
HaChnasat Orchim (welcoming guests): At the very beginning of the Bible, Abraham rushes out to bring guests into his tent, even though he was suffering from intense pain after his circumcision. He didn’t wait for people to come to him. He didn’t use his own pain as a permanent excuse for staying inside his own tent (though waiting for some healing and relief would have definitely been justified.)
I don’t believe that our ultimate salvation will come from diversity trainings, grievance politics, or building ever more impenetrable walls around Jewish life, even if security measures are necessary. The most effective bulwark against antisemitism I have seen is bringing people into our community for parties, meals, and services. Sharing my lamb stew with Christian neighbors on Purim was a better investment in Jewish safety than any powerpoint presentation I have ever given. Let me tell you why.
One of my daughter’s best friends from Waterville’s public schools has a dad - a Christian military veteran— who works at one of the local paper mills. One of his employees starting mouthing off about Jews, and he responded instantly. “Have you ever met a Jewish person?!” He asked. “No,” the employee responded. “Well I have — I know the rabbi, have been to the synagogue multiple times, and I know that what you are saying is false. And if you don’t cut it out, we’re going to HR.”
My other daughter is a Waterville Girl Scout, the only Jew in her troop. Every week, she teachers her fellow scouts a Hebrew word. She’s been doing it since February 2024 after we returned from our first post-Oct 7th family trip to Israel. Everyone girl in the group now has a Hebrew vocabulary of 50 words, and can put together basic sentences. They find incredible joy in learning Hebrew, and have built bonds with our tradition that no one could have expected or taken for granted. As they grow up, when someone speaks calumnies against our people, I believe that they will (at the very least) pause before accepting them as truth.
It would be easy for us to retreat to our tents alone at this moment. But that isn’t what Abraham would have done, and it won’t lead to the healing we desire. This week, let us remember that it takes at least two to heal and be saved. Healing and salvation cannot be found in isolation, but rather in relationship. Let us be open not only to a necessary partnership with God, but also with those in our community who are searching for peace, truth, and friendship as much as we are.
Shabbat Shalom