By Rabbi David Ariel-Joel
Rabbi David Ariel-Joel
Jews are a people who know very well what to do when the Jews are in trouble. We have a lot of experience in this. Our tradition teaches us that one of the things we need to do in times of trouble is to cry out, to shout, to scream. Maimonides calls it one of the ways of repentance: to scream and not to accept atrocities and terror as the way of the world! This is not a moment of, “it is what it is.” This is a moment when we should awaken ourselves, shout and cry out, and let everyone hear our screams.
At this overwhelming time in Israel, people are hurting. However, resilience and the power to redeem and recover were found, too. Among the reactions is poetry, freshly written and translated here. We know that poetry – everywhere in the world – is a way to reflect, share comforting words, and recover.
Poetry speaks in ways that regular words do not. Poetry penetrates our souls. These beautiful poems shout and scream, expressing our rage and our sorrow in ways that enter everyone’s souls. I am in awe of the amazing poetry being written these days in Israel and want to share these two amazing poems with our community.
Sense of loss is not easy, but I hope that together we can provide comfort.
Kaddish Asaf Gur (Translated by Heather Silverman, Michael Bohnen, Rachel Korazim)
Yisgadal V’yiskadash Shmei Raba
And no one came
Many thousands called Him on Shabbat morning
Crying His name out loud
Begging Him with tears just to come
But He ceases from all His work
No God came
And no God calmed
Only Satan Celebrated uninterrupted
Dancing between kibbutzim and the slaughter festival
And our correspondent goes on to report
All while sobbing
Saying there is a burnt baby
And there is an abducted baby
There is an orphaned baby
And there is a day-old baby
Still linked to his mother’s body by the umbilical cord
He hadn’t even managed to find out his name
What will be inscribed on the tiny headstone
With a single date for birth and death
This is what the kibbutz looks like after Satan’s visit
Turning the broadcast back to the studio
Quiet now they are shooting
They are also launching rockets
And there is no government
And there is no mercy
Just the screaming and the pictures
That will never leave the mind
The seventh of October
Two thousand and twenty three.
A Good Day Tal Shavit
I want to manage all the war rooms
To Mobilize all the supply chains
I want to take care of all the children
of all the single mothers
and those who are gone
I want to turn myself into protective vests
for all the fighters
Turn myself into iron domes over the heads
of all the girls
all of them.
To sustain all the families
That were evacuated
That were broken
That were crushed.
Return all that is lost
Bring back all who are kidnapped
I want to collect all the donations
and deliver them to their destinations.
To pass all the messages
To make all the sandwiches
To oversee all the efforts
But on a good day
I manage
Sometimes
To Breathe
To Drink
Sometimes
To call loved ones.
On a good day
I manage
Sometimes
To cry.
David Ariel-Joel is Senior Rabbi at The Temple