Dear JCOGS family,
Once again, the State of Israel and the terrorist organization Hamas in Gaza are at war. Many life-threatening acts of war are being carried out daily in the region and there is violence on the streets of Israel, as well. It is hard, perhaps impossible to capture into words my anguish and care for this situation. I have heard from many of our members of how heartbreaking this situation is for them, too. My heart goes out to all of the families that mourn their innocent dead. It is a terrifying moment as we hear from our siblings, cousins, and friends, children, grandparents, and past neighbours who made aliyah to Israel to pursue a dream that puts them in harm’s way. It is tragic as we think about the innocents in Gaza, too, as both sides are caught in the crossfire of this century old conflict.
While there is no limit to opinion pieces you can read from experts and pundits which express concern, outrage, and the deeply held political opinions on either side of the conflict,* I feel called this week to share prayers for peace and safety.
Prayer has the capacity to help us with our fear, anxiety, and terror, whether from a place of shelter or from springtime sunshine in Vermont. As a Jew, prayer is what I turn to in my time of need, and is one of the raison d’etres for why JCOGS has a rabbi. Though it has its limits, prayer also allows us to put to words the world we wish to live in, the one not yet actualized. When we pray for peace, we begin to embody in our hearts what needs to take place in ourselves, our communities, and in our lands.
This prayer was scribed during our weekly meditation yesterday morning where, among those gathered on Zoom, we each wrote prayers and poems for peace. At first, I reached for a pen that did not work, and thus words spilled forth…
“A prayer for peace can only be written in pencil,
so fickle is peace,
once settled on the page,
it begins to fade,
or worse,
erased.
I once reached for the edge of a paper
that had a prayer of peace carved onto its page.
As soon as I stretched my hand out to touch it,
the prayer vanished from sight.
The dog began to bark,
the children were crying,
another rocket overhead,
the radio blasting over the sirens,
and like paper to a fire,
it was gone.
What prayer for peace can you grant
that might last 10,000 years
and never fade from the sunlight striking its page?
Search your heart.
Though paper cannot contain you,
the heart surely will.”
At the beginning of tonight’s service, we will offer more prayers for peace before entering into what we hope is a Shabbat Shalom, a calm and peaceful Shabbat.
With the upcoming holiday of Shavuot, we consider our collective connection to Am Yisrael, the Jewish people, the essential values of our Torah that guide our decisions, and G-d and the Oneness among all. On that pilgrimage holiday, our ancestors brought their first fruits to the Temple, the very same place where this current unrest escalated. May that place one day soon become a beacon of peace for all.
Tihiyu bri’im, may our people and their neighbours be safe, and may all be well. Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi David
p.s. For further framing on our connections to Israel, here is a d’var Torah/sermon I gave a few years ago, just before we last visited the Holy Land: What draws us to care about Israel?
p.p.s. We have postponed next week’s Stowe Jewish Film Festival conversation with one of the directors, who does not know where in Israel he will be—which staircase or bomb shelter, G-d forbid—at the time of the conversation. The films continue to be available for you to view.
*In gratitude to educator and friend, Dasee Berkowitz, who shared similar words before she wrote about being a parent in Jerusalem and the role of parents during times of conflict, violence, and duress.
