As the world swirls around us, it can be hard to determine where our focus should be. What is worthy of our emotional energy? Of our grief, of our rage? How do we cut through that grief and rage to find moments of joy, or to merely go through the motions of everyday life (like shoveling 40 cm of snow!)?
We started this week with the news of the return of the last hostage, Ran Gvili. Like too many painful endings over the last 27 months, Master Sgt. Ran Gvili was killed in captivity, and his remains were brought home on Monday to his family for burial in Israel. This is a moment of sadness and grief, but also a moment of exhale, a moment of relief. As Jon Polin and Rachel Goldberg-Polin said on Monday, “We are looking forward to tomorrow morning for the first time in 844 days, not having to put masking tape over our hearts.” Throughout Israel and the Jewish world, yellow ribbons, empty chairs, hostage photos, and dog tag necklaces have been packed away. It is an ending, but our collective joy is tempered.
This week’s Torah portion, Beshallach, is typically a joyful Shabbat, Shabbat Shira, which we celebrate at Temple Shalom in a beloved tradition with musicians and singing. The Torah portion tells the story of the Israelites finally leaving Egypt, crossing the sea, and rejoicing in their freedom. In the process of getting ready to leave, the Israelites remember – they cannot leave empty-handed. Their ancestor Joseph, on his deathbed many generations before, requested that his bones be buried in the land of Israel. ‘And Moses took with him the bones of Joseph, who had exacted an oath from the children of Israel, saying, “God will be sure to take notice of you: then you shall carry up my bones from here with you.'” (Exodus 13:19) Dr. Andrea Weiss notes that “the Sinai journey [is] a funeral procession as well as a trek to freedom.” The Israelites rejoiced in their freedom – and carried generations of grief and pain with them on their backs and in their hearts.
We do both – we hold the grief and the joy at the same time. We see the world “burning and blooming” in the words of poet Karen Salmansohn. We bear witness to the devastation, and to the potential of beauty, growth, and life that the future holds.
