Long ago,[i]
in the Old City of Jerusalem, there was once a small gate that faced towards
the East. This gate was called Sha’ar
HaRachamim, the Gate of Compassion, and it was the main entrance to the Holy Temple. Many centuries ago, the Gate of Compassion
was buzzing with people. Wedding Couples
and Mourners would meet there and the entire community would congregate around
them, to celebrate and comfort, to provide solace and compassion.
Sha’ar
HaRachamim was so important, that tradition teaches that the Messiah, the
Moshiach, the bringer of Redemption, would one day enter through this gate to
herald the Messianic Age – a utopia filled with justice, peace, and compassion
for us all.
That thought
terrified Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent.
The last thing he wanted was a Messianic entering the Old City! And so, in the year 1541, the Ottoman Sultan
filled the gate with stones, barricading the entrance. A fence was constructed,
and a cemetery placed in front, preventing the Messiah from entering Jerusalem
to bring about Redemption.. For hundreds
of years, the Gate of Compassion has been sealed shut.
That
image resonates deeply with me. There
too many walls, fences, and even locked doors in our world today. We need more gates, more bridges, more pathways
to see and understand one another. To
bring about the Messianic Age – to build a world of love, acceptance, and
peace, we must unlock the doors of suspicion, hatred, and animosity. We must restore the Gate of Compassion.
For there
is a severe lack of compassion in our world these days. We see this problem globally, with the rise
of refugees, authoritarianism, world conflicts, and of course Climate Change. Just weeks ago, hundreds of thousands of
people gathered in the streets for worldwide climate march. It was Greta Thunberg, the
16-year old Swedish environmental activist who became a worldwide sensation
when she addressed the UN Climate Action Summit in New York:[ii]
“This is all wrong! I shouldn’t be up here.,” she said. “I should be back at school on the other side
of the ocean. Yet you come to us young
people for hope. How dare you! You have stolen my dreams and my childhood
with your empty words and yet I’m one of the lucky ones. People are suffering, people are dying;
entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are
at the beginning of mass extinction and all you can talk about is the money and
fairy tales of eternal economic growth.
How dare you!”
Greta vividly
described the major obstacle of solving Climate Change! As a society, we have the resources, we
comprehend the problem, and we know what to do, yet nothing ever changes. Our politicians and leaders refuse to act,
focusing their efforts on economic growth, rather than making the tough choices
of curbing emissions. There is a lack of
compassion by our leaders, for the biggest impact of Climate Change will be on
the most vulnerable.
Most of
us in this room will be fine, even if the climate continues to change
dramatically. We have the resources to
rebuild our lives. It is those who are
the poorest, who are most in harm’s way.
The floods, droughts, and severe climate weirdness will affect the most defenseless,
as well as animals, and biodiversity. Our
lack of action points to a lack of compassion.
Earlier this
morning, we read the famous words: “I have put before you, life and death,
blessing and curse – choose life – if you and your offspring would live.” Rabbi Eliezer Davidovits asks the obvious
question: “Is there really a person who would choose death? Wouldn’t everyone prefer life to death,
blessing to curse?”
As Rabbi
Josh Zweibach teaches, there are in fact two ways to “choose life.” One approach is to focus on ourselves first,
considering our needs and desires, and only afterwards the wishes of others. But there is another way to “choose life.” Before we act, we can think about how our
behaviors will affect others as well as future generations. A real choice is offered to us: “Will we live
in a way that supports life in the broadest sense, or will we live in a way
that serves only ourselves?”[iii]
Although
it may mean less economic growth and giving up on certain behaviors that we
cherish, I believe the choice is obvious.
We must choose compassion over self.
We must recognize that our actions
affect those around the world including those who will follow in our footsteps. We must choose life for all.
Yet,
often, it seems difficult to choose which issue to put our full energy
behind. Each day, there seems to be more
and more problems in our country: from immigration to racism; LGBTQ rights to
anti-Semitism; Reproductive Rights to Gun Violence prevention, and on and on
and on. There are so many challenges in
the world, it seems overwhelming to even try and fix one problem. So, what do we do?
There is
no right answer. Every single issue
seems to be a moral imperative. Yet, if
we wish to restore the Gate of Compassion, we must first begin by seeing every
single person in this world as a human being, as a person created B’tzelem
Elohim “in the image of God.”
Compassion means seeing each other not as an It, but as a
person worthy of respect and dignity.
After the
constant news of the inhumane treatment of refugees at the border, three of our
own members, Elisabeth Liebow, Leslie Margolis, and Joyce Moskovits, decided
that they needed to do something. With
help from HIAS, they traveled down to Tijuana, to volunteer with an
organization, Al Otro Lado, which assists refugees in Mexico who are seeking
asylum in the United States.
Why did
they drop everything to head down to the border? As Leslie Margolis shares:
“Because sending money to
immigration organizations is good but is no longer enough. Because attending vigils and protests is
good, but no longer enough. Because what
is happening at the border is eerily reminiscent of 1930s Germany, and it is
imperative that we bear witness. Because
this massive overwhelming crisis feels intensely personal, and I felt compelled
to do something – anything – to make whatever difference I could.”
We’re
living in a time where we must do more than we’ve ever done before – because
this is personal – because our ancestors navigated these troubled waters –
because “Never Again!” does not mean “Never Again for just the Jews!” it means “Never Again for us all!”
The
world’s problems are so severe. And we
are limited to fix them. We can’t all
travel to the border. We can’t take in
every homeless person. We can’t feed
every hungry person. So, what can we
do?
We
marshal our resources. We join together
as a congregation to fulfill the responsibility of Tikkun Olam because
we know that we can make a bigger impact when we do this work together. We partner with organizations who are leading
the charge, like: BUILD, Jews United for Justice, HIAS, Strong Schools Maryland,
and so many others. We can’t do this
alone. By ourselves, change is
slow. Together, as one community, with
those across this country, we can begin to restore compassion and dignity to
our world.
For there
is much work to do. Whether it’s around
the world, at our nation’s border, or here in our own city of Baltimore. We can and must make a difference. Each and every day, we have the ability to restore
the Gate of Compassion.
Why did
our ancestors call this gate: the Gate of Compassion?[iv] Tradition teaches that were actually two
small gates, side by side. Everyone
would enter the Temple through the right gate and exit through the left. Unless, you were a mourner, or excommunicated
from the community. These individuals
would enter the opposite way, through the left gate and exit through the right.
People would ask them: “Why are you entering the opposite way?” They would reply: “I am a mourner. I feel isolated.” And so the community would look them in the
eye and share these words of blessing: “May the One who dwells in this House
comfort you. May the One who dwells in
this House open your hearts and the hearts of those close to you.”
The Gate
was a meeting place to provide each other with solace and comfort, blessing and
compassion. We too regularly meet strangers
and neighbors in our City, who look to us for sustained kindness and
compassion.
It’s the
barista at the local coffee shop. The
custodian who cleans your building. It’s
the neighbor whose name you don’t remember.
The homeless person standing on the street corner. It’s the squeegee boy who waits for the light
to turn red.
It’s easy
to ignore them. To roll up the
window. To walk on by. But instead of thinking: “How can I get rid
of the squeegee boy? How about moving a
little more towards compassion?” Maybe
it’s providing a dollar, or at the very least, it’s treating him with a little
bit more respect, dignity and humanity.
As the
poet Danny Siegel teaches:
If you
always assume
the man
sitting next to you is the Messiah
Waiting
for some simple human kindness –
You will
soon come to weigh your words
And watch
your hands.
And if he
so chooses
Not to
reveal himself
In your
time –
It will not
matter.[v]
For the
Messiah is waiting. Waiting for us to restore
the Gate of Compassion.
Long ago,[vi]
Rabbi Joshua ben Levi asked Elijah the prophet. “When will the Messiah
come?” Elijah replied: “Go and ask him
yourself! He’s sitting at the entrance
of the city.” “How will I recognize
him?” “He sits among the poor who suffer
from illness and helps them tie and untie their bandages.” Rabbi Joshua went to meet the Messiah. “Greetings to you, my rabbi, my
teacher.” “Greetings to you, Joshua ben
Levi,” came the reply. “Oh Messiah, when
will you come? We’ve been waiting so
patiently for you!” The Messiah
answered: “Today!” “Today!” Rabbi Joshua was overwhelmed! Yet, just a short time later, he returned to
Elijah visibly upset. “The Messiah lied
to me. The Messiah didn’t come! Elijah replied, “That was no lie. The Messiah said: “I will come today, if you
only hear God’s voice” (Psalm 95:7).
The
Messiah has been here all along. The
Messiah walks among us, caring for the sick, looking out for the most
vulnerable, welcoming the refugee, searching for peace. Yet, the Messiah waits. Waiting for us to act. Waiting for us to bring kindness and
compassion into our world!
Long ago,
there was a Gate of Compassion. A
meeting place where Wedding Couples and Mourners gathered. Where the community celebrated and provided
each other with solace and comfort. Centuries
ago, the Gate of Compassion was filed with stones, the entrance
barricaded. A fence constructed, and a
cemetery placed in front. The Messiah is
waiting there, unable to enter, waiting for us to restore the Gate of
Compassion, for the Gate of Compassion is sealed shut.
In these
dark times, when more and more fences, and walls, and locked doors are being
constructed, it is our responsibility, our obligation, to do the opposite: to
build bridges, to create new pathways, and to restore the Gate of Compassion. We must chip away at the animosity, the
suspicion, and the hatred. We must tear
down the fence and put others wellbeing before our own. We must create a new path forward by reaching
out to allies and neighbors and working together to change our society. We must open the gates and restore compassion
and humanity to our world.
For only,
when we join together and open the Gate of Compassion, can the Messiah enter
and bring about that Utopia that we yearn for, a world of justice, a world of
peace, and most importantly, a world of compassion.
[i] In
gratitude to Rabbi Karyn Kedar for sharing the story of Sha’ar HaRachamim (Gate
of Compassion) with me
[iii] Rabbi
Josh Zweibach, p. 265 Mishkan HaNefesh Yom Kippur
[iv] Mishnah,
Middot 2:2 and Pirke d’Rabbi Eliezer 17.
[v]
Danny Siegel “And God Braided Eve’s Hair”
[vi]
Babylonian Talmud, Sanhendrin 98a
