- Clergy
- Shabbat
This has been a hard week. Actually, this has been another hard week. Since the start of the current ceasefire, we have seen the weekly release of some of our hostages from Gaza in varying conditions. We have heard the stories of their time in captivity slowly begin to trickle out from abused bodies and traumatized minds. We have cried with celebrants in Israel while they rejoice at the return of their brothers and sisters, and we have been furious over the spectacle created by Hamas in Gaza. We have felt hopeful. We have felt dejected. We have felt immense personal and communal pain. Over the last few weeks, the still-open wounds of October 7th have been exacerbated. Even as our extended family in Israel returns to us, we find ourselves once again reminded and injured by the seemingly never-ending October of ‘23.
When I watched the funeral for the Bibas family on Wednesday this week, I found myself thinking of what was taken from us. Shiri, Kfir, and Ariel Bibas should be alive today, but they are not. They were stolen from us and kept away until their lights were brutally extinguished from the world. In Judaism, we believe that one who takes away a life takes away an entire world, but this loss feels like so much more than that. It’s three worlds that are gone now, two of which had just barely begun to form into their own. Only God knows what beauty and love Kfir and Ariel may have brought into the world, or how many worlds may have come from them in turn. Their loss, and all of the loss we have experienced over the last 16 months, is truly incalculable.
And yet, in the face of all of this profound loss, I have also seen incredible gifts given. On Wednesday, as Shiri, Kfir, and Ariel were laid to their final rest, I watched footage and saw photographs of an entire people coming together in mourning. In Israel, main thoroughfares were lined with people carrying orange balloons (a symbol of the two red-headed children). In America Hillels and Synagogues initiated toy drives in honor and memory of Kfir and Ariel. Even the Empire State Building in New York City lit up in orange to pay tribute. In the face of this level of compounding tragedy, these moments of solidarity are gifts from and for the broken-hearted among us.
In the beginning of this week’s parsha, Terumah, God tells Moses:
דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כׇּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ תִּקְח֖וּ אֶת־תְּרוּמָתִֽי׃
“Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved.”
In his commentary on the verse, medieval rabbi and scholar, Rashi, explains that the word used to mean that the heart is “moved” refers specifically to goodwill, and so it feels fitting that this should be our Torah for this week when we have seen so many people’s hearts moved towards giving. We learn from the Torah that this has always been our approach in hard times. This moment where God seeks materials from the Israelites for the building of the tabernacle (the mobile sanctuary of the desert) and the ark of the covenant was not an easy one for the Israelites. Their exodus from their lives of slavery was still very recent and present in their minds. The people were traumatized by generations of oppression and now faced the harsh physical reality of life wandering in the desert. Even the moment of revelation at Sinai was an existentially terrifying experience! Still, in the face of all of their trauma the people were moved to give so much that Moses eventually (about 11 chapters and a couple of Torah Portions later) has to instruct the people to stop bringing materials!
This moment in Torah calls to us loudly this week as we see that our people’s instinct goes unchanged. When some of us (or even all of us) are hurting, we show up. Whether it is bringing food to a family in mourning, collecting Judaica for Jewish victims of the Los Angeles fires from which so many in our community are still recovering, or donating toys and wearing orange in memory of the Bibas family, we know to bring physical, spiritual, and emotional gifts. It is the way we show each other and show God that our hearts are moved. Let us continue this tradition, even as we pray and work for the end of its necessity.
This has been a hard week, and next week will be hard too. But if we continue to show each other that our hearts are moved, next week might be just a little bit easier. We know this is God’s will, so let it be ours as well. Shiri, Kfir, and Ariel, we will never forget you. You have truly moved us all.
Zichronam Livracha, may their memories be a blessing. And may the rest of the hostages come home speedily and in our day.
Shabbat Shalom,
Jeff Silverstein, Rabbinic Intern