Dear Friends,
Last Thursday morning (not this week; the one before), I opened the door of my home to find that our family’s mezuzah had been ripped from the doorpost and taken. I don’t know why. I have some hypotheses. They all feel pretty awful.
I spent the day angry — and a little scared, if I’m being honest. And then by evening, everything had changed again: war broke out between Israel and Iran. People are dying, trapped, afraid. Israelis can’t leave. Parts of Israel look like Gaza. Gaza – and not just some isolated parts of Gaza – is still in ruins. Iranians are terrified, too. And the mezuzah and the missiles feel connected. Very, very different scale. But not two fully separate conversations.
It’s a strange and painful thing, being a Jew right now. It’s probably strange and painful to be human, period. I’ll be talking about this more tonight, but it’s not lost on me that this week’s parsha, Shelach, is pointing us towards courage. Courage, faith, optimism, and a high tolerance for change. But it’s hardly crystal clear to me what that courage, faith, and change is meant to be pointing us toward.
One thing I do know is that I want it to point us towards a belief in a better future. For Israelis and Jews all over the world, for Palestinians and Iranians, for everyone, and even, honestly, for the people doing the worst, because part of my belief in a better future has to be a belief in the possibility of teshuvah. I believe in our capacity as humans and as a world to repair and be repaired.
However we imagine the Divine, this is our time to draw on that. Do you believe that God is good? Hold close to that; seek and lift up that goodness. Do you (like me) believe that we’re all connected through God? Meditate on that connection and consider the implications. For those who don’t use the term God, maybe you prefer language of truth, or love. Whatever feels eternal, whatever feels sacred – this is a Shabbat to really, concertedly focus on that.
I know it’s June, and we usually sing these words specifically moving into autumn, but I’ll say them now because it feels right: Hashiveinu Adonai eilecha, v’nashuvah. Chadesh yameinu k’kedem. Return us to you, God, and we will return. May we be renewed, just like we’ve engaged in renewal again and again for generations. May it be so.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Hannah