“Baruch She’amar V’Haya HaOlam, Baruch Hu.
Blessed is God who spoke, and the world came to be.”
This is a line from our Shabbat morning liturgy which I’ve always loved. Now that TBD has begun holding services on the last Saturday morning of most months we’ll all have the opportunity to acquaint ourselves with these words and the melody to which it’s set.
Why does my heart resonate to this opening phrase in a special way? Imagine a whole world knitting itself together based on a single Divine utterance. Speech is that primary in Jewish tradition. Words are a source of uplift, critical to how we pray, how we gather and learn, even how we argue. (Not for nothing, the old joke about two Jews, three opinions!) Words can also cut to the quick. A thoughtless insult can cause lasting pain. It’s no wonder our rabbis held that verbally embarrassing another person was tantamount to shedding his or her blood. To speak is to give shape and meaning to our relationships and to the world we inhabit. It is something to take seriously, and to take good and ethical care of.
These principles bring the protests taking place on college campuses across the country into even sharper focus. In an attempt to be as fair and inclusive as possible, and to use my words as your rabbi in the service of understanding rather than divisiveness, it must be reiterated that protest is an important part of our heritage. Protesting the status quo can bring – indeed has brought – positive changes to many societies, our own included. When the language protest relies on is both fierce and fair, it is an important and exhilarating tool.
But what about when protests bring about fear and distress? When they incite violence. When angry shouts to “globalize the intifada” and calls for Jews to go back to Poland (!) move from the margins to the center. When resources that might be used to bolster dialogue and civil group conversation are eschewed in favor of anti-Semitic provocation. When there is little to no attempt to find out what is actually needed by Israelis and Palestinians alike, and then to be of service with full and humble hearts.
It ends there. Or it should. Not the act of protest… never that. But the nature of these. When individual or group actions cause harm to others. When chants like “from the river to the sea” make it clear that the annihilation of the Jewish state is the true if unstated goal sweeping factions of our campuses. When we need to reiterate again and again that supporting Israel does not mean we aren’t also heartbroken about the staggering death toll in Gaza. Or that we don’t understand the importance of both peoples being able to live in safety and dignity. We do. We have not given up on that particular hope. I pray we never will.
Amid campus calls to divest/ until you do we will not rest (a chant that goes back as far as my own college days at least), as it turns out, we will not rest either.
Until every hostage ripped away from home on October 7 is returned there, we will not rest.
Until Jewish pride and joy sings as loudly as our current fears do, we will not rest.
Until language once again furthers the goals of understanding and compassion, we will not rest.
Well, except for on Shabbat!
Join us for Family Services tonight at 6:30pm. Let words of love and reverence be our anchor.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Gutterman
