Rabbinic Reflections: Ready and not

Be afraid; be a light. Never again; choose life. Be proud; expect security checkpoints. Jews today live in a strange place. We have achieved high degrees of success, and we have felt increasingly vulnerable. We have tried to make the world a better place, and we have been blamed for almost all of its ills. The experience of these polarities is enough to drive just about anyone at least a little crazy. How are we to be in the world? Confident or scared; responsible or rejected?

I remember as a teen sitting in High Holy Day services caught in the in-between. On the one hand, everyone would be dressed in the Sunday best. On the other hand, I would have to explain why I was missing school and could not do the work while out. On the one hand, the strength and size of the community were on full display. On the other hand, I would be reading passages from the Martyrology service recounting Roman persecution of ancient rabbis and similar instances throughout the centuries. I could not fathom what these stories of Jewish martyrs had to do with the pomp and circumstance of the biggest services of the Jewish year.

Now, I know why. The Martyrology service prepared us for Oct. 27, in Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life Synagogue. As Dara Horn wrote in the New York Times, “This story is old, with far too many words.” The Jewish tradition is filled with stories of a ruler or a people hating the Jews and seeking our destruction. The shooter is just another character, and our texts are guideposts for the process of mourning.

Horn goes on to write about the different ending to this chapter. She notes the overwhelming response of others, the police, neighbors, and people all over who declared in solidarity, #StrongerThanHate. When I went to synagogue in Wilmington the following Friday, Jews and non-Jews filled the sanctuary to #ShowUpForShabbat instead of showing fear. I was truly moved to feel how we are #StrongerTogether.

The next day, though, back in synagogue again, I paused just a bit too long when my 4-year-old asked if he could leave the sanctuary to go to the water fountain by himself. The texts of the Jewish tradition did not prepare me for that moment. The stories of persecution, heroism, martyrdom, and survival did not help me navigate the change in me.

I was not afraid. If I were we would have been at home. I have worked in Jewish institutional buildings for two decades, I know there are security measures for a reason. I knew the day would come when a synagogue would experience something like a mass shooting. I did not know when, and I did not know what it would do to me.

I was ready for the story; I was not ready for the reality. What once was historical is now personal. Our stories skip from hatred to destruction or prevention, we do not see the transition. The reality is that our world is more broken, more hateful and more deadly than I ever imagined. Our world is also more loving, more giving and more healing. I know that both are true. Even though I know that Jewish wisdom made me ready to live in that space where both are true, I am not ready.

 

About Rabbi Jeremy Winaker

Rabbi Jeremy Winaker is the executive director of the Greater Philadelphia Hillel Network, responsible for West Chester University, Haverford, Bryn Mawr, and other area colleges. He is the former head of school at the Albert Einstein Academy in Wilmington and was the senior Jewish educator at the Kristol Hillel Center at the University of Delaware for four years. Rabbi Winaker lives in Delaware with his wife and three children.

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Loading...

Comments

comments

Leave a Reply