While I try to use this space for thoughtful and cohesive comments on the Parsha and what’s going on in the world, I’m having a very hard time producing anything cohesive right now. I hope to at least be thoughtful. What follows are scattered thoughts from a confused mind during disorderly times.
We’re Supposed To Be Sad
It was just a couple weeks ago that I was speaking with community members in advance of Yom Kippur, discussing their specific medical concerns and whether or not they could and should fast. In nearly every conversation, I noted the importance of differentiating between discomfort and an acute medical need. Fasting is uncomfortable and difficult. It is supposed to be uncomfortable and difficult. Eating on Yom Kippur is for those to whom fasting poses a threat to their health, not to their comfort.
I think that a similar rubric is required now as well. For some, sadness spirals too quickly into depression, and they will need to take heavy precautions in insulating their emotional and mental state from the realities of these dark days. But most of us should be sharing in the national mourning of the Jewish People. The discomfort thereof is not an exemption from this obligation.
At the time of writing, the death toll from the Hamas attack on our People exceeds 1,200. 1,200 funerals. 1,200 shiva homes. Tens of thousands of mourners left to cope. Yes, unity means tehilim and tzedaka and care packages and volunteering and activism, but it also means simply feeling the pain of our brothers and sisters. Both because it lends greater urgency and meaning to the above activities we undertake on their behalf, but also simply to hold their mourning and grief alongside them and to allow our tears to mix with theirs.
If you are sad, if you’ve been crying, if you’re distracted throughout the day, you’re probably right where you should be. Sadness is uncomfortable, but it is the emotion we’re called upon to feel right now.
Sometimes people need to eat, even on Yom Kippur. But most of us just need the reassurance that we’re going to be hungry, it’s ok to be hungry, and we’re supposed to be hungry.
Most of us are going to be sad, it’s ok to be sad, indeed, we’re supposed to sad. This is what it means to be a caring, feeling Jew right now.
On Civilians and Soldiers
Israel is now at war with hundreds of thousands of soldiers in tow. May Hashem watch over and protect every one. But should there be any casualties, Rachmana l’tzlan, be on guard. Such deaths will be reported as those of soldiers, not civilians. Don’t fall prey for one moment to terminology that makes those deaths seem any more legitimate or any less horrific and offensive.
What is the difference between a 30 year old father of three killed in his home and a 30 year old father of three killed in Gaza who is there only in an attempt to uproot the sort of evil that will kill a 30 year old father of three in his home?
The 300,000 Israelis who were called up to fight are computer programmers, accountants, and rebbeim. They are not bloodthirsty pirates looking to rape and pillage or expand borders or achieve personal glory. They are civilians who have been called upon to uproot terror and protect their People and Land.
Putting on a khaki-green uniform may change the technical application of an international war crime. But it does not alter truth or dilute morality. There are not 300,000 soldiers itching to fight, there are 300,000 civilians who have no other choice.
“Your Departure Is Too Difficult”
Shemini Atzeres is something of an add-on holiday. It belongs to the holiday season stretching from Rosh Hashana to Sukkos, and yet has little character of its own. It is not until we put down the arba minim and exit the sukkah that we celebrate it. Where did this day come from and what is its purpose?
Rashi on Chumash (Vayikra 23:36) explains that “Atzeres” should be interpreted as a “stop” or “halting.” Hashem tells the Jewish People that after all this time we’ve spent in such close quarters throughout the Yamim Tovim, “Kasha alai preidaschem—Your departure is too difficult for Me.” Hashem holds onto us for just one more day because He cannot bear to see us go.
It was this day, the day when Hashem says I cannot bear your departure, that hundreds of Jews were mortally wounded, ultimately departing this world altogether. 150 departed their homes at knife and gunpoint, carted off into captivity. Three hundred thousand were called upon to depart their families and homes to join the fight to defend the Jewish Nation and Homeland.
I don’t know what this means. Hashem’s ways are beyond human comprehension. But what I’ve done with this realization is to turn it into a tefilah. “Hashem, You Who cannot tolerate a premature departure of Your People from Your embrace, were robbed of an Atzeres, a day we stay with you and do not depart Your company. You are owed a day when Your children can finish their tefilos, can finish their hakafos, can finish their celebrations of Yom Tov in Your company. Bring them home soon, in safety and security, so they may finish the Atzeres they started.”