He Came to Listen. Something Changed.
Greetings from the National Jewish Retreat in Miami.
Last night, we had the opportunity to attend a late-night screening of Among Neighbors, a fascinating documentary centered on one particular town in Poland. Tragically, as happened in communities across Poland, Jewish survivors who returned home after the Holocaust – literally, to their own homes – were sometimes murdered by the very Polish neighbors among whom they had once lived. This is the story of one such town.
I won’t spoil the film, except to share one particular element that stayed with me. The documentary was widely viewed in Poland, including on public television, before eventually becoming the subject of intense opposition from nationalist elements in the country. But what fascinated me most was the way the filmmaker, Yoav Potash, entered this town and engaged the people who live there today, including some who still remember what happened.
One can imagine the suspicion when Jews arrive in a Polish town where Jews once lived. Are they coming with legal claims? Are they coming to demand their homes back? To accuse the people living there today of what their parents or grandparents did? But none of that happened. The filmmaker came not with accusations or protests, but to listen. And people began to speak.
One younger non-Jewish Polish man especially stood out. At first, he bristled at the suggestion that crimes had been committed. Jewish gravestones from centuries earlier had even ended up in his backyard, where they had been used as ordinary stones. Yet by the end of the film, something had shifted. In a deeply authentic moment, with tears in his eyes, he said simply: “It is wrong to destroy another person’s history.”
It was a profound moment – an expression of teshuvah, of repentance, emerging from a place one might never have expected. More than anything, it revealed something remarkable about what the human soul is capable of.
And perhaps it happened because the filmmaker first did something very simple: he showed up. He listened. The people felt seen and heard.
This week’s Torah portion is Re’eh – “See.” And in just a few days, we will enter the month of Elul, the month preceding the High Holidays, which this Shabbat blesses. Elul is the season of teshuvah, of return. It is the month described by the Alter Rebbe with the famous parable: “The King is in the field.”
Why should the King’s presence in the field inspire us to return?
Because the King comes to us where we are.
G-d does not wait for us to enter the palace dressed in our finest spiritual clothing. He comes out into the field, where we are occupied with ordinary life, dressed in our work clothes, carrying our struggles, our distractions, our imperfections and our stories. He sees us there.
And when a person truly feels seen, something can open.
We recognize that our story matters. That our choices matter. That each of us occupies a place in the magnificent puzzle of creation that no one else can fill. Teshuvah is not merely regretting what we have done wrong. It is rediscovering who we are and the part that only we can play in G-d’s world.
That is the beauty of this season leading into the High Holidays.
Of course, we look forward to a beautiful and meaningful Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Being that construction of the Synagogue is well underway – follow the progress here https://newchabadshul.
But before we get to Rosh Hashanah, pause and embrace this time. Embrace this season.
The High Holidays become infinitely more meaningful when they are preceded by weeks of genuine introspection and reflection – a time to recognize that we are seen, that our story matters, and that each of us has an indispensable role to play in G-d’s beautiful world.
