This weekend marks Memorial Day in the United States. Decoration Day as it used to be called. We are to remember our fallen service men and women. Typically there are parades, picnics and trips to the cemetery.

Judaism has a lot to say about memory. A lot to say about making war and peace. On this Memorial Day Weekend, I thought it might be appropriate to explore some of it.

First, there are wars. Nobody wants to go to war. It seems to be inevitable. And there are some that are even justifiable. (gasp.) I once wrote a paper published by Brandeis when I was in college justifying the incursion into Lebanon (gasp again).

Yet we send our young men and young women into harms way. Sometimes without thinking about the consequences deeply enough. Serving in our armed forces is hard work. And comes with real consequences. Dire consequences.

I am grateful to the men and women who have served in the armed forces so that we can enjoy the freedoms we hold so dear. That we are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That we cherish the freedoms, guaranteed in the Bill of Rights, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, freedom to assemble, even freedom to bear arms.

Those freedoms, like the Torah itself I taught about on Shabbat of Memorial Day Weekend are designed to bring peace, not war. Our founding fathers, George Washington in particular, quoted Isaiah extensively, praying for a time where every one could sit under their vine and fig tree and none would make them afraid as he stated in his letter to the Jewish community of Newport, RI:

“It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights, for, happily, the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support…

May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants—while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.”

https://www.tourosynagogue.org/history-learning/gw-letter

Fear, all too often leads to the opposite of peace. It can lead to war. On this Memorial Day Weekend, I pray for peace. I actively work for peace. I “seek peace and pursue it.” In my home and in my land. In my city and in another place.

This weekend, I taught a class on Elu Devarim, these are the obligations without measure whose reward too is without measure. One of them is to make peace where there is strife. That is what we studied Shabbat afternoon. As happens with Jews while studying Talmud there was a fair amount of debate, even arguing. Even US Constitutional Law.

Here are the texts we used:

“He who establishes peace between man and his fellow, between husband and wife, between two cities, two nations, two families or two governments…no harm should come to him” (Mekhilta Bahodesh 12)

“All that is written in the Torah was written for the sake of peace” (Tanhuma Shofetim 18)

“By three things the world is preserved, by justice, by truth, and by peace, and these three are one: if justice has been accomplished, so has truth, and so has peace” (JT Ta’anit 4:2)

“All falsehood is forbidden, but it is permissible to utter a falsehood for the purpose of making peace between a man and his fellow” (Derekh Erez Zuta, loc. cit.).

We also looked at a piece written by Rabbi Amy Eilberg, the first Conservative Movement woman rabbi who was a chaplain in Minnesota and then went on to do a lot of work in restorative justice. She wrote an important book, From Enemy to Friend, about peacemaking and a blog post of the Times of Israel, https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/10-ways-to-practice-peace-on-the-9th-of-adar/

“The Rabbis observed that most of the legislation in the Torah is case law. If we find a lost object, we are to return it to its owner. If we own property, we must take precautions to ensure the safety of those who enter it. If we see our enemy’s animal struggling under its load, we are to help him. When Shabbat or a holy day comes, we are to observe it.

Notably, two commandments are explicitly articulated not as responses to a particular situation, but as imperatives to be followed—indeed, pursued—at all times. We are not only to act in accordance with these imperatives passively when the occasion arises. We are to actively seek out opportunities to engage in them. The two cases are the pursuit of justice, of which it is said, “Justice, justice shall you pursue” (Deut. 16:20) and the pursuit of peace, of which it is said, “Seek peace and pursue it” (Ps. 34:15).

The Rabbis ask why the verse employs two verbs (“seek” and “pursue”) when one would have sufficed. Their answer: “Seek it in your place and pursue it in other places.” The two verbs, they suggest, convey different elements of the command: seek peace when conflict comes to your doorstep, but do not stop there. You must energetically pursue opportunities to practice peace, near and far, for it is the work of God.

This rabbinic teaching insists that we must reach beyond our homes and comfort zones in the pursuit of peace. What is called for is not passive or occasional practice, but a constant, relentless seeking after opportunities to respond to the command of peacemaking.”

Perhaps what I should have also taught were the rules for making war as outlined in Deuteronomy:

“When you go forth to battle against your enemies and you see horses and chariots and a people greater than you, you shall not be afraid of them for the Lord, your G-d is with you, who brought you out of the land of Egypt. And it will be that when you draw near to war, that the priest will approach and speak to the people and will say to them, “Hear O Israel, as you draw near this day to battle against your enemies, do not let your heart faint (go down). Do not be afraid not be alarmed, nor be fearful before them. For the Lord your G-d goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you. And the officers shall speak to the people saying, “Who is the man that has built a new house but has not dedicated it, let him go and return to his house lest he die in war and another man dedicate it. And who is the man that has planted a vineyard and has not used the fruit yet, let him go and return to his house, lest he die in war and another man use the fruit. And which man is there that has betrothed a woman and has not taken her? Let him go and return to his house, lest he die in war and another man takes her. And the officers shall speak more to the people saying, Who is the man who is fearful and faint-hearted, let his go and return to his house, lest his brother’s heart melts as his heart….when you come hear to a city to fight against it, proclaim peace to it…however, when you besiege a city a long time, you shall not destroy the trees by wielding an axe against them. You may eat of them, but you may not cut them down. (Deuteronomy 20)

So I will sit on my deck, wearing my Memorial Day t-shirt, purchased years ago for a Memorial Day parade. It reads, “Make America Beautiful. Plant a tree. Be kind to nature. Conserve energy. Volunteer.”

For those who are hurting this Memorial Day, for those who have lost a loved one to the ravages of war, I offer this from Peter, Paul and Mary:

You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last?
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past

And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you cast about and try to find new meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again

Carry on my sweet survivor
Carry on my lonely friend
Don’t give up on the dream and don’t you let it end

Carry on my sweet survivor
Though you know that something’s gone
For everything that matters, carry on

You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care for all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost

Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And a veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you’ve got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies

On this Memorial Day, I revert back to one of my favorite readings in Gates of Prayer, written by Archibald MacLeish:

The young, dead soldiers do not speak
Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.
They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.
They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.
They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.
They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this.
They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.

Today, we remember.

A teaching in honor of Dr. Ora Horn Prouser, Executive Vice President and Academic Dean of the Academy for Jewish Religion

“Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Do not put a stumbling block before the blind nor curse the deaf. Love your neighbors as yourself. I the Lord, your G-d am holy.” (Leviticus 19)

These verses are part of the Holiness Code, Kedoshim in Hebrew. They are in the central portion of the central book of the Torah. Right smack in the middle. And as such, they are given more weight. They beg us to behalf in a holy manner, for no other reason that G-d is holy.

Holy. Kadosh. What does that mean? It is not some kind of holier than thou, sanctimonious behavior. It is behavior that makes for an organized society. It demands that we treat others the way that we want to be treated. All people. Because all means all and we are all created in the image of the Divine, b’tzelem elohim. It sets us apart. Not from each other necessarily, but from animals, who cannot organize themselves this way.

Last Shabbat I was scheduled to lead a discussion and a walk at SEBA Park on these very verses. Unfortunately we had a thunderstorm. A big Midwestern thunderstorm. No one came. The event was part of the 613Blitz program for the Academy for Jewish Religion of which I am a proud graduate. Please consider a donation here.

https://www.crowdrise.com/donate/project/613-blitz-campaign/academy-for-jewish-religion

The Holiness Code lists many commandments that G-d commands to all the people of Israel, not just the priests, that we need to make a just society, a holy society. Some you might expect. Honor the Sabbath, Revere your mother and your father. However, it is not only a repetition of the 10 Commandments.

We went to SEBA Park in South Elgin because this portion demands that we not put a stumbling block before the blind, that we not curse the deaf. That, in fact, we are accessible and open to all. Later in Deuteronomy, we are reminded that “For the commandment which I command you this day is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven so that you should say, “who shall go up (aliyah) to us in heaven and bring it to us, and enable us to hear it so that we can do it. Nor is it across the sea, that you shall say, “who shall cross over the sea for us and bring it to us and make us hear it so that we may do it. But the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart that you may do it.” (Deut 30:11-14)

SEBA Park is a remarkable place, a place that I love hosting events. Nestled along the Fox River, it boasts a one-of-a-kind “universally accessible” playground:

It has a swing that a child in a wheelchair could use. Kids with balance can make it to the top of the structure. It has things to touch and feel if you are blind. It has

It is always busy. Except in a thunderstorm. The voices of children at play remind me of the Sheva Brachot, the marriage blessings that hope that we hear the voice of the bride and the groom and the voices of children at play.

Here is an article written by my friend Janelle Walker:

https://www.chicagotribune.com/suburbs/elgin-courier-news/ct-ecn-south-elgin-seba-park-st-0505-20160504-story.html

One of the things we would have studied is this checklist from Seeds of Change, Creating a Culture of Inclusion at Your Synagogue by Shelly Christianson. She was one of the presenters at an inclusion workshop hosted by Jewish United Fund.

She asked what does inclusion mean to you. For me it is about living out our vision statement that includes “Embracing Diversity.” All are welcome here. With all our varying abilities and disabilities.

She asked: “Inclusion supports people to live the quality of Jewish life that they want to live. How is this reflected in what your congregation does now? How is it different than what your congregation does now?”

She taught: “The Mishnah in Sanhedrin (4:5) teaches: “A human being mints many coins from the same mold, and they are all identical. But the Holy One, Blessed be God, strikes us all from the mold of the first human, and each one of us is unique.” “

How does this relate to us at CKI? Recently we were awarded a grant by Jewish United Fund (JUF) to make us even more accessible. We are putting in a sensory room for kids (and adults) who need a quieter environment. With the sensory room, we have designed some programming for Chanukah, Purim and Passover. It is great that we have Heather Weiser as our educational director because with her Masters in Special Ed she really understands what is needed. We are upgrading our sound system to make it easier for people to hear. We are hopeful that there will be money do work on the women’s bathroom.

Lastly, we are actively searching for a new shtender, a Torah reading table. Currently we have one on wheels that we can wheel anywhere in the building. (Downstairs) So that anyone can have a Torah aliyah. We used it recently at a Bat Mitzvah to accommodate one of the grandfathers who is in a wheelchair and on oxygen. The Bat Mitzvah and I talked about it in advance. We did all of the Torah reading “down low” so that the Torah was accessible to all and so we didn’t call attention to the disability of her grandfather. We didn’t want him to feel embarrassed or separate. So that morning, everyone had their aliyah from the floor.

The new shtender should be wider than the current one, to make it easier for the readers and to accommodate books and papers and the Torah itself. It should be adjustable to any height…wheelchair or little kid, or one of our tall 6’4” gabbaim or me as the rabbi at 5’4”. This shtender will be dedicated in memory of Saul Mariasis, z’l, our beloved gabbai who died last July. We’ve been looking. We haven’t found it yet. It might be a drafting table or a podium of some sort. Then we will truly make the Torah accessible to all.

Much have I learned from my teachers, including Dr. Ora Horn Prouser who wrote a book, Esau’s Blessings about how the bible embraces those with special needs, and even more from our B’nei Mitzvah students like Abigail who honored her grandfather by not putting a stumbling block before anyone. May this be a Shabbat of accessibility and welcome.

Yesterday, my study partner in New York, sent me a picture of her new, baby grandchild. The first of her generation. It’s an unremarkable picture of a tot on a playmat on the floor clutching a stuffed giraffe. Except that she is not unremarkable in the least. Nor is the photo. She is the great-grandchild of Holocaust survivors. And she lives. And someday, she will tell the story. That fills me with hope.

And yet…I stand before you today with some deep concerns. One Jewish response to the Holocaust has been, “Never again.” For some that means never again to Jews. They find peace in knowing that Israel is once again a homeland for the Jewish people, a safety and security net despite the wars and all the people sworn to destroy Israel and push it into the sea. For others, they mean “Never again, to anyone, at anytime.” And yet…there have been more wars and more genocide. I was asked to participate in a call today about the genocide of Rohingas in Myanmar.

And yet…my parents didn’t want me to be a rabbi. They were afraid I would be too visible. Too easily a target. People would just know where to get me. I rebelled, and so here I stand. They were not ready to forgive Germany, or the German people. Ever. We didn’t buy German products yet somehow, my first car, a used Volkswagon Rabbit was OK, precisely, because it was used. And when I went to work for a German software company, they were not at all happy.

Recently, I was again asked if it was smart for me to wear my kippah, this keppah, even sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Elgin. Right here in downtown Elgin.

And yet, I continue to wear my kippah. Proudly. Hineini, Here am I. I stand before you today, wearing this kippah that clearly identifies me as a Jew.   It too fills me with hope.

Two weeks ago, a man walked into a synagogue in California and shot a woman to death. It is the seventh armed attack on a Jewish organization in 10 years. The Elgin Police Department sent an officer before we at Congregation Kneseth Israel even knew an attack had happened. That fills me with hope.

Can we draw the line between what happened in Poway and what happened in Germany and Europe. Perhaps, when we read the perpetrators manifesto. Or we read the accounts of a different Holocaust Memorial event this time in Arkansas where some neo-Nazi white supremacists chanted “Six Million More.” Anti-semtism is real. It still exists. It is, as Rabbi Lord Sacks, the Chief Rabbi Emeritus of Great Britain says, the canary in the coal mine.

As part of becoming a rabbi, I wrote a thesis on the 13 Attributes of the Divine. The Lord, The Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, full of lovingkindness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. And then it adds but visiting the sins of the parents to the children and the children’s children to the 3^rd and 4^th generation. That little baby is the 4^th generation. What sin did she commit? How will she think of forgiveness and reconciliation in her generation?

Rev. Martin Niemoeller, a German Lutheran pastor said after the war:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

How will each of us speak up? How will we prevent the next Holocaust from happening. How will we be Upstanders instead of Bystanders?

On the Friday night after the Poway shooting, I opened the doors of the synagogue and we had 15 guests join us who wanted to share Shabbat with us and extend their support and solidarity. Those people that joined us, despite their busy schedules. They were Upstanders. That fills me with hope.

It fills me with hope that I have been given the key and the code to the church across the street, by another Lutheran pastor, because sadly, what if? That church, and many in Elgin are Upstanders.

At that service, I played this song. Ani Od Chai, Still I live. It was sung by 600 Holocaust survivors, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. (Play song) https://www.theicenter.org/resource/koolulam-am-yisrael-chai

That song fills me with hope. Still I live. Yet I live. We sitting here today, all do. It is a solemn responsibility and task, to not forget our past and remember the vision of the future, where no one is afraid to sit under their vine and fig tree.

My confirmation class will read this quote of Edmund Flegg, a French Jew who saw the approaching hoofbeats. He wrote it for his grandson. When my students read it in two weeks, it will a dor v’dor, a generation to generation moment. It fills me with hope too.

I am a Jew because born of Israel and having found it again, I would have it live after me even more alive that it is within me.
I am a Jew because the faith of Israel requires no abdication of my mind.
I am a Jew because the faith of Israel asks any possible sacrifice of my soul.
I am a Jew because in all places where there are tears and suffering the Jew weeps.
I am a Jew because the message of Israel is the most ancient and the most modern.
I am a Jew because Israel’s promise is a universal promise.
I am a Jew because for Israel the world is not finished; we will complete it.
I am a Jew because for Israel humanity is not yet completed; we are completing it.I am a Jew because Israel places humanity and its unity above nations and above Israel itself.
I am a Jew because above humanity, the image of the Divine Unity, Israel places the unity which is divine.
I am a Jew because in every age when the cry of despair is heard the Jew hopes. (Edmund Flegg)

 This reading fills me with hope.

You serve at a hospital. The best one I visit. And last year I visited 12 area hospitals to visit congregants. There are roughly 6000 Holocaust survivors in Chicagoland. Perhaps you have treated some. I would imagine you have done so with skill and with care and compassion. Your attendance here today fills me with hope as we remember. I hope you will also remember to stand up for victims everywhere. That you will become Upstanders.

And that picture of the baby on the playmat…that fills me with great hope.

Tomorrow we read the portion, Kedoshim, Holinesses. The first commandment of this portion, the central portion of the central book of the Torah, is “Revere your mother and father.” Not “Honor your father and mother” Not “Love your parents”. What’s with this construction?

The rabbis answer that saying that fathers were the ones who metted out punishment so they were more feared. Mothers need to be on an equal footing.

How appropriate that we read this section this weekend. This weekend is also “Mother’s Day.” Now I have said this before. Mother’s Day is not an invention of Hallmark. It was designed as a peace holiday by women during the Civil War who didn’t want to send one more son (child) off to war. Celebrating our mothers, revering and respecting them is important. And it can be fun. I am looking forward to going to a paint night and to running a race with my husband and my daughter.

Mother’s Day can be a tough holiday. If you haven’t been able to conceive and want a child. If you’ve chosen not to have a child. If you have lost a child. If you are a single parent. Or a step-mom. If your children are not living at home. If you are estranged. If you are waiting for that phone call that never comes.  If you have lost your own mother. This year or decades ago. If your relationship with your mother was “complicated.” If you are part of the LGBTQ community.

Not always, but it can be. Very tough.

Recently I have been doing a series of study sessions on the piece of Talmud, “These are the obligations without measure whose reward too is without measure.” The first one is honor your father and mother. We talked about how that works in a congregation. In some cases it  about making sure that our senior seniors are taken care of. By the congregation. For some, it is in visiting new moms and providing play spaces and play dates. For some, it is about making sure that the synagogue is accessible to all and recognizing the unique role that women can play. .

But our group also talked about how that works when the situation is complicated, like described above. The commandment doesn’t say, “Love your parent.” It is about honor and respect. For those that gave you life. Or maybe those that adopted you or fostered you. In the Fox River Valley we are painfully aware of what happens if that goes awry. Little AJ Freund is alleged to have been murdered by his own parents. It appears his parents and the system failed him. That is part of why we are delivering baby supplies to the Community Crisis Center on this Mother’s Day. Baby Moses was rescued by his adoptive parent, Batya, Pharaoh’s daughter.

After reading a story told by Rabbi Harold Kushner, about whether someone who been emotionally abused by a parent had to go to his funeral, we agreed that it is OK to mourn for a relationship you might not have had.  There are readings that I include as part of Yizkor, if you are mourning such a relationship.

Whatever feelings you are having today, feel them. Acknowledge them. If you want to cry, cry. You are not alone. You are never alone.  You are honored.. You are respected. You are loved. And I hope that you are surrounded by family and friends, flowers and good food of your choosing.

We are at the Shabbat between Yom HaShoah and Yom Ha”atzma’ut. Between Holocaust Memorial Day and Israel Independence Day. It has been a difficult week with more updates daily on safety and security. We take threats to the Jewish people very seriously and we cannot thank the Elgin Police Department enough for their proactive service, their professionalism and their compassion.

But what the injured rabbi, Rabbi Israel Goldstein has demanded is that we bring more light. That’s exactly what we did when lit candles last night and we were joined by 15 guests, friends of the community, who joined with us for our usual Kabbalat Shabbat service. They were people who showed up. Who wanted our community to know that they stand (and sit) with us. And we thank them too.

“When peace comes we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.”

or

“Peace will come when the Arabs will love their children more than they hate us.”

Both quotes attributed to Golda Meir and quoted in A  Land of Our Own : An Oral Autobiography (1973) edited by Marie Syrkin, p. 242, we can’t fully source the quotes but they stand nonetheless.

Today I want to talk about forgiveness and reconciliation.

Next week we will read the Holiness Code, Kedoshim. It demands that we be holy because the Lord our G-d is holy. We know this. We quote it often. We should not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds. We should welcome the stranger, the widow, the orphan. We should leave the corners of our field, and the central part, from the central portion of the central book of the Torah, quoted by Hillel and Jesus, Love your neighbor as yourself. As Hillel said, the rest is commentary, go and study.

Apparently, the world has a lot of studying left to do. Maybe that is why we say this verse every week as part of our Shabbat morning service.

That was the portion that was open last week as we welcomed 50 people to CKI as part of OpenElgin, a self-guided architectural tour sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The Torah, our most prized possession, was open to that very portion, because it is Abigail’s Bat Mitzvah portion and we had been practicing it together.

We practice Love Your Neighbor as Yourself when we leave the corners of our field, when we serve food to the hungry, when we partner with the Community Crisis Center, when we join together for Unity on Division Street, when we open our doors.

Every guest that made their way to the bimah last week, I read that verse from the Torah. With many I talked about our concerns about safety and security and the challenge of being warm and welcoming, open. I talked about the love we feel knowing how neighbors have supported us.

Today’s portion is a little different. It tells us that we should heap our sins on a goat and send it out. That is the origin of the concept of scapegoat. There has been a lot written this week again about ant-semitism. Anti-semitism is real. On the left and the right. As Rabbi Lord Sacks says in his book, Not in God’s Name, it is the canary in the coal mine. It is the leading indicator that society is in trouble. Real trouble. It is often the first way people scapegoat. The numbers coming out of the FBI and the ADL are clear. In Illinois there were 15 reported anti-semetic hate crimes in 2015. In 2018 there were 59. Those are the ones that were reported. https://www.adl.org/audit2018

https://chicago.suntimes.com/columnists/anti-semitic-incidents-rising-illinois-high-levels-u-s-new-adl-audit/

This week I had the opportunity to speak to many people about all of this. Whether it was a Torah School parent, our own safety and security team, someone thinking about conversion, fellow clergy, friends in the wider community, the congressman’s office, every conversation involved some part of safety and security. Every. Single. One.

One person I spoke with was Tony Sanders, CEO of u-46, headquartered on Chicago Street. I can see Tony’s office from mine and I consider him a friend. I called him because every single one of our students or their parents have expressed that they have experienced some kind of anti-semitic incident—a joke, teasing, bullying, taunting, a push, a shove on the playground,. Every Single One.

This isn’t new. It is just more brazen. Tony assured me that he would check with John Heiderscheidt, the Director of Safety and Culture at U-046. I explained to him that many of these incidents are not reported, never reported. Most. But I would be waiting for that report.

We agreed that we would continue to work together—and he ended the call by saying “I love you.” Really.

Next week, every single one of the superintendents will get a letter from me expressing our concerns. I will provide that letter to our Torah School families as well.

It is not limited to our Torah School families. I was at a party on Sunday afternoon. As often happens I was introduced as Rabbi and then someone proceeded tell a joke that was not appropriate. How do we handle such moments?

To be clear, an anti-semitic joke is not the same as walking into a synagogue with an automatic weapon with the intent of committing mass murder. Yet we teach our children, based on the Facing History and Ourselves curriculum to be Upstanders, not to be Bystanders.

Back to Rabbi Goldstein. He is an Upstander. His response to darkness, to terror is to say that he will be more brazenly Jewish.

“From here on in I am going to be more brazen. I am going to be even more proud about walking down the street wearing my tzitzit and kippah, acknowledging God’s presence. And I’m going to use my voice until I am hoarse to urge my fellow Jews to do Jewish. To light candles before Shabbat. To put up mezuzas on their doorposts. To do acts of kindness. And to show up in synagogue — especially this coming Shabbat.” https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/29/opinion/rabbi-chabad-poway-antisemitism.html

So we will do Jewish too. Just as we always have. Just as you’ve done by showing up today. Just as I do as I sit in a meeting at a coffee shop wearing a kippah.

But what about the forgiveness piece? A little bit of midrash:

It once happened that Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai was leaving Jerusalem with Rabbi Joshua, and they witnessed the destruction of the Temple. Rabbi Joshua said, “Woe to us, for the place where the sins of Israel were atoned for has been destroyed.” Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai said, “Do not be bitter, my son, for we have another form of atonement which is as great, and this is gemilut hasadim; as the verse states, “for it is kindness I desire and not burnt offerings” [Hos. 6:6]. Avot DeRabbi Natan, chapter 4

After the destruction of the Temple the rabbis taught that it was destroyed because of sinat chiman, baseless hatred. Rav Kook the first chief rabbi of Israel said the answer to sinat chinam is ahavat chinam, baseless love.

The answer to weeks like this is exactly what Rav Kook and Rabbi Goldstein teach. Love your neighbor as yourself. Perform acts of love and kindness. Practice ahavat chinam.

That’s what we will continue to do here at CKI. May this be a Shabbat of love and peace.