This week has been very difficult. I’ve spoken with so many of you over the last few days. Whether it’s a pastoral meeting, a long phone call, a quick hello, or even an email, we are all hurting. Like many Americans, when I see someone, I often ask: “How are you doing?” Almost instinctively, we all answer: “good” or “ok.” But this week, we are not ok. We are not good. We are sad. We are angry. We are fearful. We are numb. We don’t know what to think.
I’ve been reflecting a lot on this
week’s Torah portion, Noach. The famous Noah
and the Ark. You might know that Noah is
not a Jew. He lived a few generations
before Abraham and Sarah (the original Jewish people). Noah represents all of humanity. His story is all of our stories. He is Israel.
He is Palestine. He is America. He is everyone.
Noah spends forty days living through a monsoon. The storms were so threatening that the entire earth was covered with a flood. Noah didn’t know up or down. He was alone on that Ark for months, with his immediate family, and no one else. His world felt threatened, so fragile, so out of his control.
Let’s take a step back. Before the storm waters, before the first
raindrop, God told Noah to build an ark. The Torah tells us of the number of
cubits (the length, width, and height) of the ark. We learn of the gopher wood, tar, and other
supplies used to make the ship. And then
we learn this interesting detail… “Create a Tzohar in the Ark and
terminate within it a cubit on top” (Genesis 6:16). I’m doing that rabbinic thing where I don’t
translate the Hebrew! Create a Tzohar
in the Ark. The word tzohar
is connected to tzoharim which means noon. Our rabbis believed that Noah created something
on the ark that was connected to noontime, to midday.
One answer by our rabbis is that Noah created a gleaming stone that would allow light into the ark. There was so much darkness, rain, wind. There was no sun or stars to provide navigation. The gleaming stone allowed Noah, his family, and the animals to see. It also provided them with support and comfort during a very dark time.
I know that many of us feel very alone at this moment. We are a liberal Jewish community that is quite progressive in our thinking and in our advocacy. Our synagogue in recent years has worked closely on issues around immigration, reproductive rights, anti-racism efforts, climate advocacy, and education reform. We have stood firmly in word and action with many progressive organizations making our voices heard and supporting our allies in these efforts.
And yet, this week, not all, but many of these organizations have either been silent about the devastation in Israel or even worse have said very hurtful things about Israel.
Perhaps you’ve seen strongly worded statements in support of freeing Palestine or creating a Palestinian State from river to sea (which means that Israel would cease to exist). Perhaps you’ve read friends or allies’ comments on social media in support of those who have been killed in Gaza, but watched in disbelief as they remained silent and did not issue a statement for the Jewish women, men, folk, children, elderly, and others who were brutally murdered in Israel.
At this moment, we want our allies to reach out and ask us: how are you doing? We look to them to condemn the violence against innocent Jews. We might disagree politically about the crisis. That’s ok. We are all human beings. You can issue a statement supporting Palestinians and the innocent civilians in Gaza and also condemn the violence and the terrorism of Hamas and speak up for the Jewish civilians who were murdered. The gemstone that Noah created was to provide comfort to him during a very dark time. For many of us, that light has been missing.
But for some of us, that isn’t exactly true. I luckily have been surrounded by love and light this past week, even in the midst of darkness. Over the last week, so many non-Jewish friends have reached out to check-in on me. And seven different interfaith leaders reached out to me directly (by phone or email) to see how I was doing, to express their horror of what happened in Israel, and to give their support and love to Bolton Street Synagogue.
Out of those seven interfaith leaders, five of them are from BUILD, the interfaith community organizing initiative that we are a part. After hearing from the first four clergy leaders, I asked the fifth leader, “Did someone share that we are hurting and reminded you all to reach out to me?” “What, no.” they said. “We didn’t discuss this.” I was truly flabbergasted. Each clergy person had each reached out on their own accord because they knew I was not ok.
That is light. This gives me strength in times of darkness to know that a group of clergy leaders in Baltimore knew that I was hurting. They knew me well enough because of the relationship that we had created that they should reach out. May we continue to strengthen relationships in our lives with those who are different from us.
I want to conclude with one final thought. As you know, two Jews, three opinions! Some of our rabbis didn’t like the definition of Tzohar as a gleaming light. Instead, they defined tzohar as a window. Noah was expected to build a window in the ark. Why a window? The rabbinic commentator Radak teaches that Noah needed a window for the future. At first, the window would need to be closed because of the heavy storms. If the window was open, the rain would pour in. But one day, in the future, the rain would stop. Noah would be able to open the window, to see outside, to bring in the natural light, and to send the raven and the dove out into the world. This was the symbol of peace! Noah built the window during darkness because knowing that one day the window would be needed. One day, there would be peace.
For so many of us, we are still in darkness. We are terrified for our siblings in Israel. We are so scared for the future of the Jewish state. And we are fearful for the innocent Palestinians in Gaza. War is excruciating and when we hear that water and electricity are shut off, when we hear that trucks are unable to enter Gaza with needed supplies, we are heart-stricken. We condemn all violence. We wish for peace and for protection for Israelis and Palestinians alike.
And yet, we still need hope. We still need to believe that one day the
rain will stop, the waters will recede, the clouds will disappear. We need to be ready for that moment, to be
able to open the window and look out into the world. May we, at this difficult time, create a
window within our soul, that helps us look beyond this tragedy towards
peace. Perhaps that window is slammed
shut right now, but it’s there. That’s
ok. One day, may the window open and may
the light shine in.
