fortify us against the fears of our time

Yesterday being the 23rd day of Adar was a significant day for my family, as it marked the first yahrzeit of Shosh’s grandmother Harriet Colman, of blessed memory. To honor the occasion everyone went out for dinner to a neighborhood spot that she frequented even at 101. 

But yesterday was also a terrifying day for the Jews of Metro Detroit, where Harriet lived almost all of her first 98 years of life (before her final four years in West Philly). Hearing the horrific news I was immediately transported back to last March, when on a cold and sunny spring day we buried her in West Bloomfield, Michigan. A young rabbi from Temple Israel gracefully helped us bury our beloved matriarch. The same synagogue that was attacked yesterday. 

I myself also have two adorable nephews who go to preschool in a large reform synagogue very much like Temple Israel. As different as Temple Israel and Kol Tzedek may appear, we are but one degree of separation, and I feel tremendous grief for the entire community terrorized by such a violent act. And also infinite gratitude for the fact that everyone, especially all of the children, are safe. Thank G!D. 

I also feel deeply for the family and community of Ayman Mohamad Ghazali, the 41 year old Lebanese American who lost his family in this cruel and unjust war in Lebanon. A man my age, I can only imagine, devastated by grief and powerlessness, who went out seeking revenge and retribution, and did something monstrous. What a horror we are all living through. 

To adapt the words of Dr. King, a threat to safety anywhere is a threat to our safety everywhere. 

Of all the news I have read in the past 24 hours, the words that have rung most true were that of a rabbi in Omaha, Nebraska, who said, “We are synagogues — we are houses of worship,” one rabbi said. “We are not Fort Knox.”

For this reason all of our liturgy is designed to fortify us against the fears of our time. Whether it is God or song itself, the community that singing creates or the human will to connect, Jewish prayer and sacred practices make us feel safer. They are themselves a kind of spiritual armor.

Our longing for safety is so reasonable, so relatable, and so ancient.

We sing in the closing words of Adon Olam, 
בְּעֵת אִישַׁן וְאָעִֽירָה:
וְעִם רוּחִי גְּוִיָּתִי,
יְהֹוָה לִי וְלֹא אִירָא:
When we wake and when we sleep
In my spirit and in my body
The Source is with me, I shall not fear. 

As I shared on Rosh Hashanah, 
Rebbe Nachman is famous for having said that the whole entire world is a very narrow bridge. And the important thing is not to be afraid, lo l’fached clal. 

The saying is iconic. 
But it is not entirely accurate. 

It is true that he conceived of the world in tenuous terms. But what Rebbe Nachman actually said was, “Kol HaOlam Kulo, The whole entire world, gesher tzar me’od, is a very narrow bridge…And the most important thing is not to make ourselves afraid -  lo l’hitpached clal - to not cultivate fear in our hearts. 

–

Each and every time we gather we pray for a world that is just and peaceful, safe for all who dwell on earth.  

This week in particular, 
I pray there is a swift end to this horrible war in Iran, Lebanon, Israel/Palestine and the U.S. provocation of violence everywhere. 

I pray that everyone who gathers in prayer this week, at masjids, synagogues, churches and temples, be sheltered under the protecting wings of the shechina. 

And I pray that we may have the courage to respond with compassion, to honor our vulnerability and not make ourselves even more afraid. ​