The World is Built on Rage and Love - 2/11/2024

Hello everyone, thank you for coming to our community kaddish. Thank you for taking part of your Sunday to come together so that we can hold this grief together. So that we can mourn the 30,000 thousand plus Palestinians murdered by the Israeli military since October 7th. 

This week, I found myself feeling a lot of rage. Rage that our leaders are enabling this genocide | Rage that the Brown University administration ignored the hunger striking students and the truly impressive amounts of work that went into divestment proposals | Rage that the world is doing close to nothing as the people of Gaza are suffering from famine, disease, injury and dehumanization and now are facing complete expulsion.

This past week, 19 Brown University students undertook a hunger strike, supported by hundreds of Brown students, along with staff and faculty, in order to get the Brown Corporation to allow them to present their demands for divestment. These students became lawyers, economists, and educators, when they should get to be young adults enjoying their independence. Along with their rallies, they brought in speakers, showed films and sang.  

I was lucky enough to get to join them a few times over the past week. And as I was stewing in my own rage about the state of the world, I walked past one of the signs the students created that read:ע֭וֹלָם חֶ֣סֶד יִבָּנֶ֑ה - the world is built on love. Chesed is one of those words that does not really have a good translation in English. It is so much more than love or kindness. In my mind, and in my theology, chesed really comes from the acts of love between people and within their communities. Chesed is a thing that we do, not a thing that we are. How is it that we can build a world of love in the face of genocide? In the face of devastation? In the face of inaction? Being the agnostic liturgical nerd that I am, I went to text for answers. 

 

Many of my favorite pieces of Jewish knowledge come from Midrash - another word without a perfect translation to English - but means something along the lines of a reimagination of Jewish texts through story. These are teachings and musings that were passed down orally from 300- 500 CEand later compiled into writing by a collection of different rabbis living in modern day Palestine .

I had been searching for Jewish text about grief, resilience and what you do in the face of disaster and came about this teaching from a Midrash of Genesis (specifically Bereshit Rabbah Chapter 30, verse 4). The rabbis are discussing how it is that Noah managed to survive the flood and live to see his children leave the ark and start anew? Noah saw the entire world get flooded and destroyed. 

Noah is just one of the many figures that we see through Tanach, or Old Testament,who  witnessed so much loss and adversity and yet, marched on.

How is it that Noah and the other patriarchs and matriarchs in Jewish text could carry on in the face of atrocities/enslavement/persecution? How is it that these protagonists could make it through, despite the rage and grief that they experienced. 

The rabbis came to the conclusion that all of them were able to hold the same belief: אֶלָּא רָאָה עוֹלָם חָדָשׁ, each of them was able to see a new world. This sentiment of being able to see a new world, to reimagining what is possible is foundation to so much Jewish liturgy and it explores concepts of survival, and resilience, even in the most trying of times. 

Though I do not take the stories of the tanach as truth, I do think that these lessons still have salience

I am angry, and scared and grieving. I also believe that it is our duty to hold onto the belief that we can imagine a new world, a better world, a more just world, one built on love and one that requires resilience. A world where people free themselves from oppression, survive a disaster and fight with every fiber of their being to “be the change they wish to see,” like the students did so bravely this week.

A world in which this genocide ends, all of the captives are freed and Palestinians can live in peace, safety and autonomy on their land. 

In all of my rage and grief and frustration, it was walking and working with students that I got a reminder of why I wanted to create this mourning space and why I organize. It is because I hold this shared and unfinished vision of a better world. And that is something that is ancient and also familiar. And it starts with our reckoning with our grief and coming together to mourn. 

With that, I will turn it to Ilana for a reading. After that, we will say the Kaddish together and share some community announcements.