Immediately after the Pesach Festival and Shabbat concluded and after we completed the Havdalah service, my wife saw that there were several WhatsApp messages from our daughter Hannah. Hannah has been studying in Israel during this current school year. She told us that there had been a synagogue shooting at a Shul in Poway, California, a suburb of San Diego. Having lived in San Diego for two years, she was worried. She was worried for a number of reasons. Did any of us know any of the victims or their families? Was it the one shul or were other San Diego synagogues targeted? Then of course there were the larger questions of a genuine concern about a rising tide of anti-Semitic incidents and near incidents throughout the U.S. Two days after the tragedy, my wife and I watched the funeral for the woman who was murdered during that Poway Synagogue terrorist attack. At the cemetery, there was another Hannah, the daughter of the deceased, who knelt by the grave as people performed a final act of kindness and placed dirt upon the casket. Hannah remained knelt as the hole was filled. Hannah remained knelt when they place a marker and she remained knelt and weeping for her mother as they pleaded with her to stand up. Eventually, Hannah was helped to her feet, she returned home and has been sitting Shiva. I spoke to my Hannah, and she explained that she hadn’t slept well as she feels increased anxiety and concern for the myriad of friends that she has throughout Canada and the United States. As she explained to me, “It seems that we are all targets because we are Jewish”. I wished I could have disagreed; I couldn’t. Yes, to a degree, we Jews are targets. It seems that we always have been and sadly it appears that we always will be targets, but that doesn’t mean we need to perceive ourselves as victims. I have thought about my Hannah in Israel who is scheduled to return home and begin University in the fall. I have thought about another Hannah who is only a few years older, a victim of Anti-Semitism, who just buried her mother and will spend this Shabbat in the midst of Shiva. I have thouight about the Jewish people who had just observed Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Dear Hannah:
Hashem Yikom Damah. I cannot imagine that there are any words that could bring you consolation during this tragic moment in life. Perhaps someday these words may prove to be a source of consolation after the intensity of shiva has concluded, and shloshim has waned, and you, your father, and extended family are left with the task of living. Yes, you will be living a very different type of life than the one that you were familiar with while you sat at your family’s seder celebrating Pesach. What I am saying to you Hannah, are words that I would say to my Hannah. There will be a someday when I won’t be able to say these words to her but they are words that she will need to hear as well. They are words that embody the way we raised our Hannah, and they are words that I know embody the way your mother raised her Hannah, you. While you may not be ready to read these words, I hope they might provide you with a source of strength when you feel darkness and emptiness encroaching upon your soul. I hope these words will offer you a source of light for your eyes when the darkness of others souls encroach upon you. I hope these words will offer warmth and security when darkness, hatred, and vitriol abound. These words of light are inspired by this week’s Torah portion: Acharei Mot. The Torah portion that resumes Aharon’s HaKohen’s preparations for his role in society immediately following the tragic deaths of his two sons.
The Torah portion discusses the Yom Kippur Avodah Service and the Kohen Gadol’s Vidui (The High Priest’s confession). Instructions are given regarding the drawing of lots and sending one goat into the wilderness and making an offering of the other goat on behalf of the community. The Parsha concludes with a reminder about the prohibition of consuming blood and then a list of forbidden relationships. Throughout the Parsha, Hashem speaks to Moshe who is supposed to speak to his brother Aaron regarding the Yom Kippur laws. This makes sense since Aaron is the Kohen Gadol and must know every detail concerning the offerings, blood sprinkling and bringing about atonement on his behalf as well as the B’nai Yisroel’s behalf. However, I have always wondered why Acharei Mot continues with a list of human relationships forbidden to B'nai Yisroel. The second half seems to belong to next week’s Torah portion. How is the first half of Acharei Mot connected to the second half Acharei Mot? How are Moshe’s instruction for his brother Aaron connected to his instructions for the rest of B’nai Yisroel?
I have struggled to find the words of consolation and light for you, Hannah, and for my Hannah. I watched your mother’s funeral and listened to Rabbi Goldstein. I know the community and I know people who knew your mother. I had a moment of clarity and an answer to my question. Indeed, the answer has everything to do with how your mother lived her life, and how my wife and I have raised our Hannah as well as her siblings. Acharei Mot, after death, after the death of a loved one, when we are bereft, inconsolable, feeling empty and perhaps very much alone, when we are left feeling as if there is “no point” to any of this; while our soul and our faith is in turmoil; we are left with Mourner’s Kaddish. We are left with life and all the mundane attributes of living that life. Aaron HaKohen had to continue living life, which is not to say he didn’t mourn every day of his life for his two sons. I am sure he mourned every day. However, he got on with the job of living life. The question is what is the job of living life? Your mother answered that question in the way she lived her life. Rabbi Goldstein answered thata question in his recent letter to the editor. This week was Yom HaShoah, and every Jew who died for Kiddush HaShem, and every kind and decent person who has ever lived, provided an answer to those of us who must continue living and to those of us who try to bring light to the darkest places. It is the answer as to why the second part of Acharei Mot and its list of forbidden relationships appears in this weeks Parsha and continues into next week’s Torah Portion, Kedoshim. The job of living life is to live it with Kedushah, Holiness. No matter how mundane, no matter how we may feel, if we are indeed, created in God’s image, then we have the capacity to always strive for and achieve a level of holiness that is beyond “human nature”. The capacity to strive for and achieve holiness is evident in our personal relationships, our relationship to God, our relationship to strangers and our relationship with our communities. Your mother embodied Chesed, kindness, and decency; she was a light of holiness for the community in which she lived and the lives she touched. As a parent, I hope that my Hannah has been imbued with the propensity to live a life of Kedushah and Chesed, a life of holiness and kindness as your mother and father have taught you. Because Acharei Mot, after death, those who remain alive have an opportunity to live lives with greater holiness and kindness and in doing so, reflext their loved one’s light and shine it upon the darkness.
I have struggled to find the words of consolation and light for you, Hannah, and for my Hannah. I watched your mother’s funeral and listened to Rabbi Goldstein. I know the community and I know people who knew your mother. I had a moment of clarity and an answer to my question. Indeed, the answer has everything to do with how your mother lived her life, and how my wife and I have raised our Hannah as well as her siblings. Acharei Mot, after death, after the death of a loved one, when we are bereft, inconsolable, feeling empty and perhaps very much alone, when we are left feeling as if there is “no point” to any of this; while our soul and our faith is in turmoil; we are left with Mourner’s Kaddish. We are left with life and all the mundane attributes of living that life. Aaron HaKohen had to continue living life, which is not to say he didn’t mourn every day of his life for his two sons. I am sure he mourned every day. However, he got on with the job of living life. The question is what is the job of living life? Your mother answered that question in the way she lived her life. Rabbi Goldstein answered thata question in his recent letter to the editor. This week was Yom HaShoah, and every Jew who died for Kiddush HaShem, and every kind and decent person who has ever lived, provided an answer to those of us who must continue living and to those of us who try to bring light to the darkest places. It is the answer as to why the second part of Acharei Mot and its list of forbidden relationships appears in this weeks Parsha and continues into next week’s Torah Portion, Kedoshim. The job of living life is to live it with Kedushah, Holiness. No matter how mundane, no matter how we may feel, if we are indeed, created in God’s image, then we have the capacity to always strive for and achieve a level of holiness that is beyond “human nature”. The capacity to strive for and achieve holiness is evident in our personal relationships, our relationship to God, our relationship to strangers and our relationship with our communities. Your mother embodied Chesed, kindness, and decency; she was a light of holiness for the community in which she lived and the lives she touched. As a parent, I hope that my Hannah has been imbued with the propensity to live a life of Kedushah and Chesed, a life of holiness and kindness as your mother and father have taught you. Because Acharei Mot, after death, those who remain alive have an opportunity to live lives with greater holiness and kindness and in doing so, reflext their loved one’s light and shine it upon the darkness.
Peace,
Rav Yitz
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