Rabbi Jess says Rabbi-ish Things (End of the Year Edition)

“The stories of the Talmud all fall into one of two categories:

Those that show that the gap between man and God is smaller than we think,

And those that show that the gap between man and man is greater than we imagine”

(Israeli writer Ari Elon, b.1950)

This quote, I suspect, applies not just to Talmud -an ancient compilation of stories and rules to help make sense of life- but to every important narrative that all cultures tell. Because stories are there to show us good and evil: what to strive for, and what NOT to do. Because, what is evil, if not creating distance between yourself and other individuals or groups by harming them in some way? And what is goodness if not bridging the gap between humans and divinity by godlike acts of compassion, forgiveness, love, and harmony? (that's the definition of God that I like and subscribe to, anyhoo!)

This quote brings me such hope and also such pain. Thousands of terrorists ran to commit degrading, despicable acts against regular Israeli folk this past Simchat Torah, because they could not see their Israeli neighbors as fellow humans worthy of respect and basic dignity, but as sub humans, or monsters. Myriads of people supported and celebrated the deaths, kidnapping, and mutilation of Jews because their belief systems, the stories that they have been marinating in, were designed to enlarge the gap between man and man. Antisemitism’s goal is to increase that gap between human beings, so that people who are not Jewish forget that Jews are people; complex, loving, fun, deep, weird, average oxygen-breathing planet earth dwellers. Ultimately, everyone suffers when humans increase the distances between one another.

But, what we have also witnessed are countless individuals and institutions speak out against this evil dehumanization. Whenever we close the gap between human and god, we are inviting sweetness, creativity, healing, and dignity (holiness) back into the world. And that is what I have felt at every single program at Hillel this past year, every single encounter, and every single Shabbat that we have experienced together.

We have not organized hate rallies, vandalized, blocked students from attending their classes, or dehumanized those who dehumanize us. We have wept when we have lost friends, and attempted to engage in dialogue with professors, family members, and institutions who have made us feel unsafe. We have prayed, and lit yahrzeit candles, we have looked for the light, and the hope, we have sang mi sheberach, a prayer to heal ALL who suffer. We have made spaces in the building to remember our hostages, and helped struggling students connect to one another and to our staff. We have created, nourished, and supported. We have offered educational and spiritual programs, and leaned into moments of fun and unbound joy. And we have remained defiantly Jewish.

We say how we are “proud to be Jewish”, but we don't always define what we are actually proud of! Well, here it is: We are proud that we act with respect, confident that we have so much to offer the world, and that we love to learn about other cultures, and partner with all faiths. That we truly seek to understand and celebrate differences because we see humanity in all, God's image in all.

We have celebrated life rather than death at Hillel. We have ensured that the gap between man and God is smaller than we imagine, even at this time when the gap between man and man feels greater than ever.