On Saturday, Jews began the reading of the Book of Numbers. In Hebrew the name is Bamidbar, in the desert. It starts by taking a census. Counting all the people. As I told my congregation on Saturday, it is because every person matters. Every person has a unique gift to offer. Every person has intrinsic worth. And I talked about an argument that I have had for over a decade with my step-daughter, who doesn’t believe that we should educate everybody for leadership. I disagreed, and talked about an old Girl Scout handbook that talked about different leadership styles.

There are directors, delegators, coaches, convenors, supporters. There are those who have vision and those who have compassion. There are those who can make decisions and those who build concensus. In our Torah portion, there are those whose sole job is to put a blue cloth under the menorah. Every person has a job to be done. Something that they are uniquely called to do and that are uniquely qualified for. Every person can be a leader and every person has intrinsic value.

At sundown on Saturday, we began the Jewish holiday of Shavuot, the feast of weeks. For seven weeks, since the second night of Passover, we have been counting our days. We are taught to “Number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

And so we have counted, 49 days. From Passover to Shavuot. From slavery to freedom to revelation. From Egypt to Sinai.

Some Jews have the tradition of staying up all night. I didn’t make it this year. Then I awoke to the horrible news. At first 20 people killed in a bar in Orlando. Then 50. How is that even possible? How can someone walk into a bar and shoot that many people? How can it last for 3 hours?

Now we count again. The grim task. 49 names. 49 people, each of whom had intrinsic worth. Each of whom were created in the image of the Divine. Each of them so full of life. Each of them cut down far too soon. Each of them with hopes and dreams, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, lovers and friends.

The lyrics of Rent play in my head. Incessantly. Seasons of Love

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love

Seasons of love….

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It’s time now to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let’s celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

The words were written by the late Rent creator/playwright Jonathan Larson originally intended for “Seasons Of Love” to be performed at character Angel’s funeral. But Larson died the night before the opening preview. Rent is a complicated, gutsy, powerful, hard rocking show written about the power of community—and love. In all its many forms.

The words from Rent speak for themselves. Every single person has worth. Every single life matters.

49 people died in the wee hours of Sunday morning, just as I was reading the 10 Commandments out loud. “Thou shall not murder.” And we are told, not a bird chirped. Just as I was reading about the connection between the 10 Commandments and Ruth. The 10 Commandments begin with the word, Anochi, I. Ruth answers Boaz’s question with Anochi, I. She had intrinsic worth. She was not an object. (That is a different blog that has been pre-empted by this one)

49 people, innocent people were murdered Sunday night, just after I had reminded people that every single one of us, as I so often have done, are created in the image of G-d. Gay, Straight, bi-sexual, transgendered. All. All means all. Every single one of those 49 people murdered in Pulse. A gay bar, where people just wanted to dance and feel their hearts beat and love. Whomever they want. They wanted to know that their lives matter.

49 people, innocent people, were murdered, just after I had taught the text, “Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.” (Talmud, Sanhedrin 37) The same text that is in the Koran, “if any one slew a person – unless it be for murder or for spreading mischief in the land – it would be as if he slew the whole people: and if any one saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people.” (5:32)

The words of Torah matter. The words of Ruth matter. The words of Talmud and Koran matter. The words of Rent matter. But words seem hollow. Thoughts and prayers are not enough. We have done that too many times. I have done that too many times.

On Sunday night, at 8:30, at dusk, just a week after this atrocity, the religious leaders of Elgin, the Human Rights Commission and the Elgin City of Peace will gather for a vigil. There will be a time to mourn and a time to cry. There will be a time to speak and a time to sing. And I pray, I never, ever have to organize another vigil like this.

Because all lives matter.