Oh boy. What a week it has been. Who needs horror movies or action films, when turning on the evening news gets your heart pumping and blood boiling within seconds?? There are so many challenging, upsetting, difficult, uncomfortable, outrageous, problematic things happening around the world and within our country; I feel frozen by a combination of not knowing what to say or where to begin,
and also concern that anything I say, on any side of nearly ANY issue, will upset someone. Recently, I feel I have also been receiving conflicting messages about my rabbinate and my work in the community. On the one hand, this week I received the Media Fellowship House's Marie Whitaker Humanitarian Award, in large part because of our synagogue's work with FUSE, and I believe (I hope) that many congregants feel proud of what we've accomplished and what we're doing. On the other hand, I have started hearing whispers of my doing too much OUTSIDE the community, and not enough within Ohev Shalom and/or for Jewish causes. It's the push-and-pull of this work, which sometimes feels like the burden imposed on the ancient prophets. Take this week's Haftarah, for example.
Our Haftarah comes from the writings of the prophet Hosea, who wrote in the 8th Century BCE. God instructed Hosea to marry a prostitute (!) as a symbol of Israel's betrayal of God, and their abandonment of the covenant, which Hosea described as a marriage contract. Hosea's wife, Gomer,
gave birth to several children, and God instructed to give them some pretty eyebrow-raising names, like "Lo-Ruchamah" (meaning "Not Loved") and "Lo-Ammi" (meaning "Not My People). Imagine the teacher's reaction on the first day of school for THOSE kids!! Lucky for me, God and I don't talk as much, and God hasn't demanded any such dramatic actions. But being a rabbi CAN feel like being a prophet. Hosea is instructed to tell the people that God will rebuke them for their idolatry: "I will end all her rejoicing; her festivals, new moons, and sabbaths - all her festive seasons... I will punish her for the day of the Baalim [idols]" (2:13, 15). The people of Israel thought what they were doing was great... but God was displeased nonetheless.
The texts of our ancient prophets - like Hosea - speak alarmingly of the hubris of Israel, it's going astray and losing all sense of compassion. They would obsess over things like Temple sacrifices, fixated on buildings in the Holy City, as if they were embassies to God. And they would mistreat the less fortunate, giving themselves excuses like, "they aren't as holy as we are," or "they don't have a
'legitimate' claim to this land, so we are absolved of guilt." The prophets warn us again and again: God won't tolerate this forever. Corruption, abuse, violence, blockades - we can't keep moving in this direction, with excuses of "what-aboutism" or "well, they started it!", and think that no comeuppance is waiting on the other end. Do we really need to name our children "Lo-Ruchamah" and "Lo-Ammi" to wake up and see what we're doing? I love Israel, and I feel tremendous pain in admonishing her, just as I can hear pain and sadness in Hosea's prophecies. He describes the relationship between God and Israel as a marriage BECAUSE there is genuine, deep love there... but a spouse can also hurt you deeper than someone you don't know. When someone you love acts deplorably, the pain is excruciating.
Our Haftarah offers a message of hope; the unloved, rejected children are renamed "My People" and "Lovingly Accepted" (2:3). In both instances, the change requires only the removal of one word, two little letters: "Lo" (No or Not). Sometimes, a "no" can be helpful and important, like in several of the Ten Commandments, which we read this weekend for the holiday of Shavuot. "Don't steal" and "Don't murder," the Torah reminds us; those are the kinds of violations that God takes VERY seriously.
But "no" can also leave us callous and unkind, like when our fences, walls, and borders declare "NO!" to anyone trying to enter. And when we say "NO!" to introspection, self-examination, and admitting fault. God doesn't demand that we care for those less fortunate, discriminated against, and forgotten, because it's easy! Or because it's profitable or will give us more power. We care for those around us - on the other side of a highway or across a border wall - because we ourselves CANNOT be "Ruchamah" or "Ammi" without compassion. If we keep saying "LO!!!" then how could we have the audacity to think we don't deserve that label? When we chant that word repeatedly, with our words and our actions, then we are sealing our own fate, and we have no right to ask God to change our name. We need to remove the label of negativity, exclusion, xenophobia, and racism, and we need to do it ourselves. No more whataboutism, fear-mongering, or excuses. The road to a better future, to becoming "Lovingly Accepted," begins with an open arm and a "yes." And it needs to begin NOW.
Images in this blog post:
1. Image from the Media Fellowship House Annual Meeting, May 16, 2018, courtesy of David Pollack
2. CC image courtesy of U.S. Army Garrison Red Cloud on Flickr
3. CC image courtesy of Eviatar Bach on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Wikipedia
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