Crossing Over Together
Almost a week has passed since we first heard about a synagogue under attack in Colleyville, Texas. Sadly, we certainly don’t need any more reminders about how rising antisemitism in America and around the world threaten our safety and security. We understand all too well that the Jewish community must be ever vigilant, now and always.
In some ways, the experiences of the past week are old hat for us. What was new was the speed with which the Jewish community globally learned about it and responded. I heard about the situation just after I finished Shabbat morning services. A rabbinic colleague in Austin texted me that Beth Israel “in Colleyville, TX is being held hostage live on Facebook – you can hear Charlie Cytron-Walker talking with the gunman.” Within hours, synagogues and Jewish institutions around the world, including ours, had sent messages of solidarity and hope to their communities.
When we see ourselves as part of a People, part of the global Beit Yisrael (House of Israel), we experience these traumas collectively. Even if we didn’t personally know any of those taken hostage, we can easily imagine ourselves in that sanctuary. We can imagine our beloved clergy being called to display the calm, non-anxious presence of Rabbi Cytron-Walker.
Part of what helps me manage the anxiety that comes with being a Jew is the knowledge that we are here because generations of those who came before us faced similar challenges (and many far worse) and yet somehow persevered.
My cousin, Rabbi Eliezer Davidovits, was a leader of one of those generations. He served as the head of the rabbinical court in Stranyan, Slovakia during the first half of the 20th century. He built a family and served his community with distinction. In 1942 he was murdered by the Nazis, but not before he memorialized much of his Torah in a manuscript that was rescued by his daughter after the war. This is how I came to learn a lesson about resilience from a relative that died twenty-seven years before I was born.
This week’s parasha begins by telling us that Yitro, Moses’s father-in-law, “heard all that God had done for Moses and for Israel…” (Exodus 18:10) Yitro was a Midianite priest who, according to Rabbinic tradition, later converted to Judaism because of what he heard about how God delivered our people from Egyptian bondage. The question my cousin asks is what specifically did Yitro hear that inspired him to become a Jew, to link his destiny with our People?
His answer is suggestive for this moment especially. Rabbi Davidovits notes that a verse in Psalm 136 praises God for parting the waters of the Red Sea into “many partings” (לִגְזָרִים – lee-g’zarim) using a plural form. My cousin suggests that part of the miracle of the splitting of the sea is that it did not happen for all of us as a collective, but rather in unique, individual ways for each Israelite. As we entered the sea, a special opening was created for each of us. Yes we all crossed over together but each in her own way, on his own path.
What a powerful metaphor for what it means to be part of the Jewish People. We have a shared history and a common destiny. At the same time, we experience what it means to be a Jew as individuals. We have our own identities, stories, and experiences that are unique to each of us.
We each navigate moments like the one we find ourselves in today in our own ways. For some of us, the best response to the events of last Shabbat is to show up this week—in person if possible—for worship. Some will post about their feelings on social media or process them with friends or a therapist. There are many ways to respond, many ways to move forward. What’s not an option—at least not a good one—is to give up. As Professor Deborah Lipstadt wrote this week in the New York Times: “We are resilient because we cannot afford not to be. That resiliency is part of the Jewish DNA. Without it, we would have disappeared centuries ago. We refuse to go away. But we are exhausted.”
We are tired, tired of having to respond to antisemitic flyers, synagogue shootings, anti-Israel rhetoric that crosses over from legitimate critique to demonization and antisemitism, and to daily micro-aggressions about Jewish power or wealth. We are tired but we will not go away. We will get through this challenging moment. We will cross over to the other side. We will continue to be brave and resilient together, each one of us in her or his own way.
— Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback
