The Israeli author David Grossman writes in his recent
collection of essays,
Writing in the Dark, of his worries that Israel is
letting go of its dream for peace, that decades of war have eroded its most
cherished vision. He writes:
If we ever achieve a state in which we have no enemies, perhaps we will be able
to break free from the all-too-familiar Israeli tendency to approach reality
with the mind-set of a sworn survivor, who is practically
programmed—condemned—to define the situations he encounters primarily in terms
of threat, danger, and entrapment, or daring rescue from all these…. The survivor thereby all but dooms himself to
exist forever within this partial, distorted, suspicious, and frightened
picture of reality, and is therefore tragically fated to make his anxieties and
nightmares come true time and time again.
The most insidious danger of terrorism is that it erodes our
dreams. In its randomness it can never
kill millions of people, but it can destroy a million souls. It can prevent us from doing the ordinary
things of life, a morning jog, catching a flight to see relatives, frequenting
the movie theatre or a favorite outdoor café.
One of the most remarkable things about our tradition is
that it was magnified under duress.
While the Romans oppressed us we authored the Mishnah, while the
Crusaders persecuted us we penned some of our most remarkable prayers and while
the Arab armies attacked us we built a vibrant Jewish democracy. We fought to maintain our most cherished
beliefs and values despite the fact that we were attacked or tortured,
persecuted or terrorized.
In this week’s Torah portion we are given a number of
ethical mandates. Only three times does
the Torah command us to love. In the
Shema, appearing in Deuteronomy, we are commanded to love God. The other two mitzvot appear this week. Here in the Book of Leviticus we are commanded
to love the neighbor and love the stranger.
“When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not wrong
him. The stranger who resides with you
shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for
you were strangers in the land of Egypt…” (Leviticus 19:33-34)
Here, in the Torah, we discover a people who recently
escaped from 400 years of slavery. It
would have been understandable had they codified a law that said, “Never allow
yourselves to become victimized or enslaved.”
Instead the Torah says that because we had such intimate knowledge of
suffering we must be on guard never to allow others to be cast aside as other.
In our new reality, where tests of endurance become instead
testimonies to survival, many will be labeled stranger. Foreigners will be pointed. Others will be blamed. In fact, only a small few are guilty. In this country stranger and citizen are
one. And that belief is our best
response to terror. No one is ever cast
outside. That is the vision we must
protect.
Since Monday’s bombing I have received a number of emails
about security briefings. I am certain
that soon we will see new security protocols for marathons. We might even see restrictions placed on the
purchase of pressure cookers, as we have to come know the all too familiar removing
of our shoes following the shoe bomber.
Some of these changes will be welcome.
Others not. Some might provide a brief
measure of comfort. Others will soon
become an annoyance. No amount of
additional security measures will prevent all future terrorist attacks.
There is only one response.
That is to focus on our values and beliefs. Our answer is to forever hold on to our
visions and dreams.
At morning services we sing a prayer authored millennia ago,
and penned amidst the pains of sufferings and destructions.
Grant peace, goodness, and blessing to the world; grace,
kindness, and mercy to us and to all Your people Israel. Bless us all, O our Creator, with the Divine
light of Your presence. For by that
Divine light You have revealed to us Your life-giving Torah, and taught us
lovingkindness, righteousness, mercy and peace.
May it please You to bless Your people Israel, in every season and at
every hour, with Your peace. Praised are
You, O Lord, Bestower of peace upon Your people Israel.
Such is the Sim Shalom prayer that we sing each and every
morning, in each and every generation.
We began praying this prayer when peace was but a distant hope. We sang its words not only to reach upward
begging God for peace but also to reach inward so that our souls would never be
hardened by the violence and terror our bodies experienced.
I believe it is possible to be vigilant about life while
holding on to the dreams that nurture our souls. In truth, we must come to recognize that we
can never fully protect ourselves. We
can however guard our souls. We can preserve
our values. I will not have it any other
way.