Small, Bright, Lifesaving Connections

The second-century Jewish sage Shimon Ben-Azzai once offered a teaching which so enthralled his listeners that they saw fire blazing around him. When asked later if he had been engaging in dangerous esoteric practices, Ben-Azzai said no: he was simply “sitting and stringing together” sacred teachings that had been separated from each other, restoring joy and hope.

One of the arts and crafts that I explored as a child was beading flowers. I strung together rows of tiny colorful glass beads on thin wires, twisting them around to create petals and leaves. The Torah that I now share as a rabbi is a process of stringing together words and actions, at times twisting them around to create something new — or renewed.

Far from the centers of public controversy, in the northern marketplaces of Tiberias where he taught, Ben-Azzai concerned himself with small, simple reconnections of what had been broken and alienated. Ben-Azzai also taught practical tolerance and respect for all those created in the image of God. Here, too, his words were connected to the works of our hands.

Many decades after my childhood crafting, I have returned to stringing beads. My beads are somewhat larger now, about 7mm in diameter: recycled glass from Ghana, lampwork glass from India, Czech glass. I sit and string the beads together on elastic cord, listening for echoes of Ben-Azzai’s wisdom.

Unplugging from the relentless onslaught of media, I string together beads of blue, white, red, black, green. These are colors brandished by warring children of Abraham, long broken and alienated from each other. The color combinations overlap on the elastic cord, extending to the colors of international mediating powers and the colors of other embattled nations worldwide. I connect these with colors of joint Israeli/Palestinian solidarity groups: teal, purple, turquoise and yellow.

I listen to the beads click quietly against each other as they slide down the cord. I recall how decades ago, when I was living in Israel during a previous period of upheaval and war, an Israeli feminist comrade brought my attention to the use of prayer beads in Hindu, Buddhist, Christian and Muslim practice: mala, rosary, misbaha/tasbih. Unlike words, beads are tangible. They help practitioners to stay focused on their intentions. Similarly, many Jews wear tzitzit (ritual fringes) on prayer shawls and undergarments. Some of us wrap and tie the fringes ourselves.

Now I’m wrapping and tying these beads into bracelets— and for more than prayer, meditation, or even occupational therapy in this time of trauma. Historically, beads served for both trading and treaties. Wampum beads of the Haudenosaunee people, created from shells, documented peace treaties among Indigenous nations as well as between Indigenous nations and European settlers. That such treaties were both misconstrued and violated does not diminish the timeless power of the beads.

The beads I string together now are raising funds for humanitarian aid and protective presence (nonviolent support for communities targeted by systemic violence) in Gaza and the West Bank. The current beneficiaries are Combatants for Peace, Gaza Soup Kitchen, Oasis of Peace, Physicians for Human Rights-Israel, The Road to Recovery, and Standing Together.

I have written recently about both the Gaza Soup Kitchen and Standing Together. Their respective initiatives have grown to involve increasing numbers of Palestinians, Israelis, and international supporters on both sides of the Green Line — and both sides of the Atlantic — in lifesaving humanitarian action. Through siege and displacement, the Gaza Soup Kitchen is expanding to include medical clinic care in addition to serving meals, distributing food and providing clean water.

Building on the success of its Humanitarian Guard — which effectively halted settler attacks on aid trucks — Standing Together has catalyzed a nationwide mobilization of Arab/Jewish solidarity. More than 400 truckloads of humanitarian aid for Gaza have been collected and sorted over recent weeks by tens of thousands of Palestinian and Jewish Israelis.

The Road to Recovery grew out of connections between Israelis and Palestinians who have lost close family members to the ongoing violence. One bereaved Palestinian man, whose brother needed transport for cancer treatment across military checkpoints, reached out to one bereaved Israeli man for driving assistance. Hundreds of Israeli and Palestinian volunteers, patients and families have come together since that time on a lifesaving journey of healing and hope. Even after Road to Recovery volunteers were murdered and kidnapped on October 7th, volunteers continue to transport patients to and from West Bank checkpoints for lifesaving cancer treatment, organ transplants and kidney dialysis.

The colors of The Road to Recovery are shared with Women Wage Peace and Women of the Sun, which have been jointly nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. Vivian Silver was a Women Wage Peace co-founder as well as a Road to Recovery volunteer killed on 10/7: one legacy among so many.

Physicians for Human Rights-Israel pivoted their longstanding mobile clinic services for the most underserved to support Jewish survivors in the immediate aftermath of the 10/7 attacks. PHRI leaders have shared their anguish over the willingness of Israeli medical personnel to support attacks on hospitals in Gaza— while also mourning the killing of dedicated medical volunteers like Waleed Abed al-Haq al-Malawi and his family in another Gaza bombing: one legacy among so many.

Oasis of Peace (Wahat al-Salam/Neve Shalom) is a cooperative village of Palestinian and Jewish Israelis established in 1970. Resident health care professionals have been operating a Humanitarian Aid Program in Gaza and the West Bank for more than two decades. Since the 10/7 attacks, relationships in the village have been painfully strained — yet resilience is evident. As lifelong village resident and bereaved brother Amit Kitain reflects at the end of the pre-10/7 documentary film Children of Peace: “And so what? We fail all the time. The biggest failure is war.”

“The biggest failure is war.” — Amit Kitain, Oasis of Peace

There is so much to mourn as well as organize. When I ship bracelets ordered online, each shipment includes a new white cotton handkerchief — as cushioning and as an alternative to disposable tissues. This is to help us grieve our losses (or at least wipe our noses) as we minimize further damage to our precious earth. “I am not sure there is a better way to change things than for us to break our hearts and let the tears come,” suggested Southern activist and ally Lillian Smith at a time of painful turmoil in the American civil rights movement. “Perhaps only when our eyes are blinded with tears can we see the new vision.”

There is so much to mourn as well as organize. In addition to protective presence and humanitarian aid campaigns, Israeli and Palestinian activists of Combatants for Peace have been gathering since 2006 for joint ceremonies of grief and remembrance: “In mourning together, we seek not to equate narratives, but rather transform despair and suffering into hope and build bridges of compassion.”

“In mourning together, we seek not to equate narratives, but rather transform despair and suffering into hope and build bridges of compassion.” — Combatants for Peace

I bear witness to all of this as my hands persist in small, simple reconnections of what has been broken and alienated. I sit and string together colors with hope, stewarding all funds raised beyond material costs to support those on the frontlines of both heartbreak and transformation. Another ancient sage reminds me that “The theory is not primary, but rather the practice.” I let the media information wars proceed without me.

My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed

I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,

with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world. (Adrienne Rich, “Natural Resources”)

As I move through these challenging days, I touch the beads on my wrist from time to time — focusing my energies for the lifesaving long haul that compassion, healing and just peace all require.