We have no words
As a rabbi, a man of words, I am supposed to know what to say.
As an author, a man of words, I am supposed to know what to write.
But as a rabbi, an author, and a Jew I have no words.
As an American citizen, and as an Israeli citizen, who studied in Israel, married in Israel, worked in Israel and served in the IDF in Israel, I have no words.
And as a citizen of the world, as a human being, I have no words.
I have no words for the atrocity that happened in Israel one week ago. [Has it been only a week- it seems like an eternity].
I have no words for the utter depravity of terrorists who indiscriminately slaughtered men, women, and children.
I have no words for the utter inhumanity of terrorists who raped and mutilated.
I have no words for the utter viciousness of terrorists who ripped children from their parents, and kidnapped the elderly and the infirm, to take as hostages and to use as human shields.
Words fail me.
Words cannot convey the depths of my emotions.
Words cannot convey the degree of my condemnation.
Yes, I am speaking/writing words right now, but they are not strong enough.
Even the holy words of the Torah do not reach deep enough, though they recognize, in the very portions we read this week and next, the depths that humanity can so easily slip to; that “sin couches at the door” (Gen.4:7); that “your brother’s blood cries out” (4:10), and “how great was human wickedness on earth” (6:5).
This, despite the cruel paradox, that we must never forget, that we are all created in God’s image.
When words fail we can only stand in shaken silence.
When words fail we can only stand in despairing tears.
And then, because we are human, we try to summon words.
Maybe it is the somber verse of the Passover Haggadah that rings truest:
Ella shebechol dor vador ‘omdim ‘alenu lechalotenu
“But in every generation they rise against us to destroy us.”
In our great grandparents’ generation they rose up to slaughter us in the pogroms.
But the people of Israel live.
In our grandparents’ generation they rose up to slaughter us in the Holocaust.
But the people of Israel live.
In our parents’ generation they rose up to slaughter us in the War of Independence and the Yom Kippur War.
But the people of Israel live.
In our generation they rise up to slaughter us on the borders.
But the people of Israel live.
We live as we count the dead, and mourn the dead.
More than 1300 men, women and children killed in cold blood, never again to love, to sing, to dream.
More than 3000 men, women, and children, damaged forever in body and soul.
Some 150 men, women and children, abducted, bound and brutalized, held hostage, and as human shields.
We stand with Israel. Our hearts are with Israel.
Does not every nation on earth have the right to defend itself?
We stand with Israel. Our hearts are with Israel.
Does not every nation on earth have the right to security and peace?
We stand with Israel. Our hearts are with Israel.
Does not every nation on earth have the right to build a future for its children?
Our tradition says that when a Jew is stricken anywhere, all Jews bleed.
That is why, though words ultimately fail us, we all grieve and we all pray…
with, broken that is, one heart and one soul.