Dear TBZ Community:
For nine months – October through the beginning of summer – I felt a great sense of hopelessness, sadness, and fear. So much of the work I tried to focus on over the winter and spring was finding the places of gratitude, of light and song, of hope and possibility in the midst of darkness. Many of you mentioned that it has been hard to recognize me in such a place: joy is my usual M.O. and I’ve found it hard to hold onto. So much of the Torah I shared, learned, and tried to hold since October has been of trying to experience light in the midst of darkness, joy in the midst of despair, while embracing the fear and the deep sadness. Some days I succeeded, most I didn’t.
On the first Shabbat after I came back from spending six weeks in Israel, I shared that my time there this summer was grounding. Though it was hard and at times unbearable to witness the pain, the mourning, and the despair, being in Israel allowed me to connect in a way that had been hard for me from Brookline and enabled me to be in a different emotional place. Before going to Israel, my heart felt empty. My heart is broken and continues to break into small pieces every day for the suffering of Israelis and Palestinians, for the hostages, for the dreams, and for the future. Now, though my heart is still broken and breaking, it feels more full, a bit more hopeful, with some sense of possibility. But this week, it feels as if something has shattered again.
This week’s Torah portion, Shoftim, is all about law, authority, and power. It is a reflection on the social contract between judges and officials and the people who appoint them, and on the implicit trust upon which the systems of society exist.
The beginning of the parasha reads:
שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים, תִּתֶּן-לְךָ בְּכָל-שְׁעָרֶיךָ, אֲשֶׁר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לְךָ, לִשְׁבָטֶיךָ; וְשָׁפְטוּ אֶת-הָעָם, מִשְׁפַּט-צֶדֶק.
You shall appoint magistrates and officials for your tribes, in all the settlements that your God Adonai is giving you, and they shall govern the people with due justice.
To be able to live in a functional society, we are asked to appoint leaders who we trust to make decisions that will protect its people, and center their decision making in the well-being of people, in the values of justice and human dignity. This Torah portion deals with the institutions of community, the different forms of leadership, the different roles and responsibilities. The Torah sets forth a vision of a society with institutions and leadership that pursue justice and peace.
The famous verse of pursuing justice its at the center of this week’s parasha:
צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף
Justice, justice shall you pursue
Interestingly enough, the end of the Torah portion includes a very intriguing story (Deuteronomy 21:1-9): The Torah presents the scenario of a person found murdered in the fields when “it is not known who killed them.” The elders of the nearest town are required to participate in a ritual of purification, during which they proclaim, “our hands have not shed this blood.”
כִּי־יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בָּאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לְךָ לְרִשְׁתָּהּ נֹפֵל בַּשָּׂדֶה לֹא נוֹדַע מִי הִכָּהוּ
If, in the land that your God Adonai is assigning you to possess, someone slain is found lying in the open, the identity of the slayer not being known,
וְיָצְאוּ זְקֵנֶיךָ וְשֹׁפְטֶיךָ וּמָדְדוּ אֶל־הֶעָרִים אֲשֶׁר סְבִיבֹת הֶחָלָל
your elders and magistrates shall go out and measure the distances from the corpse to the nearby towns.
וְהָיָה הָעִיר הַקְּרֹבָה אֶל־הֶחָלָל וְלָקְחוּ זִקְנֵי הָעִיר הַהִוא עֶגְלַת בָּקָר אֲשֶׁר לֹא־עֻבַּד בָּהּ אֲשֶׁר לֹא־מָשְׁכָה בְּעֹל
The elders of the town nearest to the corpse shall then take a heifer which has never been worked, which has never pulled in a yoke
וְהוֹרִדוּ זִקְנֵי הָעִיר הַהִוא אֶת־הָעֶגְלָה אֶל־נַחַל אֵיתָן אֲשֶׁר לֹא־יֵעָבֵד בּוֹ וְלֹא יִזָּרֵעַ וְעָרְפוּ־שָׁם אֶת־הָעֶגְלָה בַּנָּחַל
and the elders of that town shall bring the heifer down to an everflowing wadi, which is not tilled or sown. There, in the wadi, they shall break the heifer’s neck.
וְנִגְּשׁוּ הַכֹּהֲנִים, בְּנֵי לֵוִי–כִּי בָם בָּחַר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ לְשָׁרְתוֹ, וּלְבָרֵךְ בְּשֵׁם יְהוָה; וְעַל-פִּיהֶם יִהְיֶה, כָּל-רִיב וְכָל-נָגַע
The priests, sons of Levi, shall come forward; for your God Adonai has chosen them for divine service and to pronounce blessing in the name of Adonai, and every lawsuit and case of assault is subject to their ruling.
וְכֹל זִקְנֵי הָעִיר הַהִוא הַקְּרֹבִים אֶל־הֶחָלָל יִרְחֲצוּ אֶת־יְדֵיהֶם עַל־הָעֶגְלָה הָעֲרוּפָה בַנָּחַל
Then all the elders of the town nearest to the corpse shall wash their hands over the heifer whose neck was broken in the wadi.
וְעָנוּ וְאָמְרוּ יָדֵינוּ לֹא שָׁפְכוּ אֶת־הַדָּם הַזֶּה וְעֵינֵינוּ לֹא רָאוּ
And they shall make this declaration: “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done.
כַּפֵּר לְעַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר־פָּדִיתָ יְהֹוָה וְאַל־תִּתֵּן דָּם נָקִי בְּקֶרֶב עַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל וְנִכַּפֵּר לָהֶם הַדָּם
Absolve, Adonai, Your people Israel whom You redeemed, and do not let guilt for the blood of the innocent remain among Your people Israel.” And they will be absolved of bloodguilt.
וְאַתָּה תְּבַעֵר הַדָּם הַנָּקִי מִקִּרְבֶּךָ כִּי־תַעֲשֶׂה הַיָּשָׁר בְּעֵינֵי יְהֹוָה
Thus you will remove from your midst guilt for the blood of the innocent, for you will be doing what is right in the sight of Adonai.
Rashi, the medieval commentator, questions why the elders need to do this ritual and why would they need to say, “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done:”
וְכִי עָלְתָה עַל לֵב שֶׁזִּקְנֵי בֵית דִּין שׁוֹפְכֵי דָמִים הֵם? אֶלָּא לֹא רְאִינוּהוּ וּפְטַרְנוּהוּ בְּלֹא מְזוֹנוֹת וּבְלֹא לְוָיָה
“But would it enter anyone’s mind that the elders of the court are suspected of blood-shedding?!
But the meaning of the declaration is: We never saw this person and knowingly let them depart without food or escort (if we had seen them we would not have let him depart without these)
What Rashi says is that the elders are obviously not the prime suspects in this murder. Rather, the elders’ proclamation should be understood as a statement of their responsibility for all who pass through their town. It is impossible, the elders say, that any person passing through our town would not have been hosted, fed, and accompanied on their way. We have not created a society that would allow such murders to happen.
I am reading these texts in tears. In tears realizing that in our societies, here in the United States and in Israel and all over the world, we have created societies that do allow these murders to happen. Gun violence, terrorism, political leadership that only cares about their own political gain and can not be trusted are the opposite of these elders’ proclamations. So I wonder: how can we hold onto light, how can we continue to hold onto threads of hope? How can we continue to dream and believe that it’s possible to build a world and societies led by leaders that can honestly say we would never let this happen to our people, we care for our people, the value of life and dignity, justice comes first, and we would do all that is necessary to uphold those values?
One of the teachers that grounded and inspired me this summer is Melila Hellner-Eshed, our scholar in residence this Shabbat (please join us at TBZ this Shabbat! I can’t imagine a better person to welcome after this very dark week, to help us find inspiration than Melila). My learning with her at the Hartman Institute focused on how we respond to devastation, the words we find in the midst of turmoil, how we can see light in the midst of darkness, or, perhaps my favorite image, how we can read text (Torah) in the darkness.
I am trying to hold onto that this week. Saturday night, after learning that six of the hostages – Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Carmel Gat, Alex Lobanov, Eden Yerushalmi, Ori Danino, and Almog Sarusi – were murdered by Hamas terrorists, I feel as if the very thin thread that I was able to weave and hold onto, finally after 11 months, was cut, ruthlessly cut. Taken away from us. So, I am trying to go back to Torah, to find light, to hold onto it, and believe that there is still a thread to hold onto. (You can read the message I sent to our community on Monday here.)
While studying with Melila this summer, I learned a text from Midrash Tehillim 22:
שנו רבותינו
מתוך כעס רצון.
ומתוך אפלה אורה
ומתוך רוגז רחמים
מתוך צרה רוחה
מתוך ריחוק קירוב
מתוך נפילה קימה
–
מתוך אפלה אורה כי אשב בחשך ה’ אור לי
מתוך נפילה קימה כי נפלתי קמתי
Our Masters taught:
From wrath — favor;
From darkness – light;
From anger – compassion
From trouble — comfort;
From rejection – acceptance;
From falling – rising up;
From darkness – light: For it is said “Though I sit in darkness. YHVH is my light (Micah 7:8)
From falling – rising up for it is said “Though I have fallen, I rise” (Micah 7:8)
I am not yet sure what the answer is at this moment and I don’t have clarity on how not to give up and how we hold onto hope, when once again our hearts are crushed. But, my invitation is to frame this text as a prayer, as a plea, as an aspiration.
I end with the words of Rachel Goldberg-Polin to her son Hersh z”l in her eulogy:
Now, my Hersh, I ask for your help.
As we transform our hope into grief and this new unknown brand of pain, I beg of you, please do what you can to have your light shine down on me, Dada, Leebie and Orly. Help shower us with healing and resilience. Help us to rise again. I know it will take a long time, but please may God bless us that one day, one fine day, Dada, Leebie, Orly and I will hear laughter, and we will turn around and see… that it’s us. And that we are ok. You will always be with us as a force of love and vitality, you will become our superpower.
May God bring blessing and comfort to all of us and our loved ones. May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity. May all those who are ill find healing.
May the hostages soon be returned to their families and friends; may peace prevail and may the leaders of the world know to prioritize life. May those who are working for peace be granted strength and courage to continue their sacred work, and may we soon see peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia