Our summer set of torah portions read like sob stories:Moses hitting the rock, Miriam and Aaron bad mouthing their brother and sister-in law, Korah’s rebellion, and scouts not trusting in God. All of these stories carry difficult conversations about leadership, the role of community…lessons of anger and frustration…These are all chaotic situations. In reflecting on this parsha in particular, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks z’l  wrote

“It’s not Balak, or Bilam, or Moab, or Midian, or what happened next. It is about God’s love for a people, their strength, resilience, their willingness to be different, their family life (tents, dwelling places), and their ability to outlive empires. The Rambam explains that all God’s acts have a moral message for us. I believe that God is teaching us that love can turn curses into blessings. It is the only force capable of defeating hate. Love heals the wounds of the world.” 

One word was italicized in his statement: resilience.

Resilience is born out of deep loss and pain. This Tuesday, we observe the 17th of Tammuz, commemorating the Roman siege of Jerusalem in 70 CE. It was 3 weeks later, on the 9th of av, that the temple fell. Our liturgy will include a number of texts- the book of lamentations, collections of elegies and poems that speak of the people crying out, lamenting our hardship. We cry…alot. And so I wanted to share a portion of a text, introduced to me a few weeks ago when I was staffing Ramah Darom, taken from Eikha Rabbah, a talmudic-era midrash on the Book of Lamentations, compiled in Israel some 1500 years ago. 

Eikhah Rabbah 24 

In the pseudo-homily, the rabbis pit the patriarchs, Moses, and finally Rachel against God in a trial aimed at showing that Israel’s sins did not deserve the grim punishment that God devised. 

 “Therefore, I said: Turn from me, I will weep bitterly” (Isaiah 22:4) – 

The verse describes a God steadfastly refusing to be consoled over the grim fate of Israel. As a gloss to this verse, the author turns to a statement by Resh Lakish (3rd century C.E)

Reish Lakish said: On three occasions the ministering angels sought to recite song before the Holy One blessed be He but He did not allow them to do so. These are: In the generation of the Flood, at the sea, and upon the destruction of the Temple…

Metatron (name of an important angel). came and fell on his face and said before Him: ‘Master of the universe, I will weep but You shall not weep.’ He said to him: ‘If you do not allow Me to weep now, I will enter a place into which you have no authorization to enter, and I will weep, as it is stated: “But if you will not heed it, my soul will weep in concealed places due to your arrogance…”’(Jeremiah 13:17).

God is overcome with grief, refusing to be consoled, yet weeping WITH us. God threatens Metatron to weep alone because weeping amongst others holds so much power.

 The Holy One blessed be He said to the ministering angels: ‘Come and let us go, you and I, and let us see what the enemies did in My Temple.’ Immediately, the Holy One blessed be He and the ministering angels went, with Jeremiah before Him. When the Holy One blessed be He saw the Temple, He said: Certainly, this is My Temple and this is My resting place that enemies entered and did in it as they pleased. At that moment, the Holy One blessed be He was weeping and saying: Woe is Me for My Temple. My children, where are you? My priests, where are you? My beloved, where are you? What could I do for you? I warned you but you did not repent. 

The Holy One blessed be He said to Jeremiah: ‘Today I am like a person who had an only son, made a wedding canopy for him, and he died within his wedding canopy; do you not feel pain for Me or for My son? Go and call Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses from their graves, as they know how to weep.’ …..

Immediately, Abraham began [speaking] before the Holy One blessed be He and said: ‘Master of the universe, at one hundred years You gave me a son. When he achieved cognition and was a thirty-seven-year-old young man, You said to me: Sacrifice him as a burnt-offering before Me. I became like a cruel person to him and had no mercy on him. Rather, I, myself, bound him. Will You not remember this on my behalf and have mercy on my descendants?’

Isaac began and said: ‘Master of the universe, when my father said to me: “God, Himself, will see to the lamb for a burnt offering, my son” (Genesis 22:8), I did not delay fulfillment of Your words, and I was bound willingly upon the altar and extended my neck under the knife. Will You not remember this on my behalf and have mercy on my descendants?’

 Jacob began and said: ‘Master of the universe, did I not remain in Laban’s house for twenty years? When I departed from his house, the wicked Esau encountered me and sought to kill my children, and I endangered my life on their behalf. Now they are delivered into the hands of their enemies like sheep to slaughter after I raised them like chicks and suffered the travails of child raising on their behalf, as most of my days I experienced great suffering for their sake. Will You not now remember this on my behalf to have mercy on my descendants?’

 Moses began and said: ‘Master of the universe, was I not a loyal shepherd over Israel for forty years? I ran before them like a horse in the wilderness, yet when the time came for them to enter the land, You decreed against me that my bones would fall in the wilderness. Now that they have been exiled you sent to me to lament them and weep over them.’ This is the parable that people say: From the goodness of my master it is not good for me, and from his evil it is bad for me…

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Moses, are all unsuccessful in restoring Israel.

At that moment, Rachel, our matriarch, interjected before the Holy One blessed be He and said: ‘Master of the universe, it is revealed before You that Your servant Jacob loved me abundantly and worked for my father for seven years. When those seven years were completed and the time for my marriage to my husband arrived, my father plotted to exchange me with my sister for my husband. The matter was extremely difficult for me when I became aware of that plot, and I informed my husband and gave him a signal to distinguish between my sister and me so that my father would be unable to exchange me. 

Afterward, I regretted what I had done ( נִחַמְתִּי בְּעַצְמִי ) and suppressed my desire. I had mercy on my sister, so that she would not be led to humiliation. In the evening they exchanged me with my sister for my husband, and I transmitted to my sister all the signals that I had given to my husband, so that he would think that she is Rachel. Moreover, I entered beneath the bed on which he was lying with my sister. He would speak with her and she would be silent, and I would respond to each and every matter that he said, so that he would not identify my sister’s voice. I performed an act of kindness for her, I was not jealous of her, and I did not lead her to humiliation. If I, who is flesh and blood, was not jealous of my rival, and I did not lead her to humiliation and shame, You who are a living and eternal merciful King, why were You jealous of idol worship that has no substance, and You exiled my descendants, and they were killed by sword, and the enemies did to them as they pleased?’ Immediately, the mercy of the Holy One blessed be He was aroused and He said: ‘For you, Rachel, I will restore Israel to its place.’ That is what is written: “So said the Lord: A voice is heard in Rama, wailing, bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be consoled for her children, as they are not” (Jeremiah 31:14). And it is written: “So said the Lord: Restrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears, as there is reward for your actions.… And there is hope for your future, the utterance of the Lord, and your children will return to their borders” (Jeremiah 31:15–16).

Rachel knows how to cry. Cry bitterly. As we chant this passage from Jeremiah as part of the Haftarah on the 2nd day of Rosh Hashanah: 

(טו) כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר ה ק֣וֹל בְּרָמָ֤ה נִשְׁמָע֙ נְהִי֙ בְּכִ֣י תַמְרוּרִ֔ים רָחֵ֖ל מְבַכָּ֣ה עַל־בָּנֶ֑יהָ מֵאֲנָ֛ה לְהִנָּחֵ֥ם עַל־בָּנֶ֖יהָ כִּ֥י אֵינֶֽנּוּ׃ (ס) (טז) כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר ה מִנְעִ֤י קוֹלֵךְ֙ מִבֶּ֔כִי וְעֵינַ֖יִךְ מִדִּמְעָ֑ה כִּי֩ יֵ֨שׁ שָׂכָ֤ר לִפְעֻלָּתֵךְ֙ נְאֻם־ה וְשָׁ֖בוּ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ אוֹיֵֽב׃

(יז) וְיֵשׁ־תִּקְוָ֥ה לְאַחֲרִיתֵ֖ךְ נְאֻם־ה וְשָׁ֥בוּ בָנִ֖ים לִגְבוּלָֽם׃ (ס)

Jeremiah 31:15-17

(15) Thus said the LORD: A cry is heard in Ramah— Wailing, bitter weeping— Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted For her children, who are gone.

(16) Thus said the LORD: Restrain your voice from weeping, Your eyes from shedding tears; For there is a reward for your labor —declares the LORD: They shall return from the enemy’s land.

(17) And there is hope for your future —declares the LORD: Your children shall return to their country.

Would this symbolic Rachel have been comforted by God’s response? How do her bitter tears differ from God’s bitter tears? 

Eicha Rabbah opened with a portion of this verse from Isaiah 22:4, “That is why I say, “Let me be, I will weep bitterly.” I wanted to include the 2nd half:

That is why I say, “Let me be, I will weep bitterly. Press not (Don’t RUSH) to comfort me.For the ruin of my poor people.” 

עַל־כֵּ֥ן אָמַ֛רְתִּי שְׁע֥וּ מִנִּ֖י אֲמָרֵ֣ר

בַּבֶּ֑כִי אַל־תָּאִ֣יצוּ לְנַֽחֲמֵ֔נִי עַל־שֹׁ֖ד בַּת־עַמִּֽי׃

(Isaiah 22:4)

God’s anguish and Rachel’s anguish are different. God does not allow a space to have others comfort even when God’s pain is obvious. “Don’t rush to comfort” the text says. Rachel is not afforded a chance to be comforted at all. Rachel has to figure it out on her own… Her sadness is the greatest form of sorrow in our tradition. And the great tragedy of Rachel is that she does this alone, נִחַמְתִּי בְּעַצְמִי. 

I would argue that if we are to be truly resilient, to overcome life’s greatest tribulations, we must do so collectively. Rachel’s sorrow is heightened by the fact that she must comfort herself. There’s no backup, no support system. The counterpoint to her experience is how we will pluralize that word “nicham” in a few weeks following the 9th of av, as we say Nachamu Nachamu Ami, comfort comfort my people. 

In a new book entitled “The Genius of Israel: the surprising resilience of a divided nation in a turbulent world”… by Dan Senor and Saul Singer; the authors speak of Israel’s societal health. They write,

 “Gibush, the act of bringing people together, animates all walks of life, from the schoolroom to the workplace. Having a part in defending the country against a common threat gives a feeling of being needed and creates resilience. The country has youthful energy that fuels optimism. Israelis are connected to Jewish and Israeli history, know how to live in the moment, and feel that the country has a future. A spirit of service translates unity into action and builds a sense of purpose.”

 In other words, “Am Echad im lev echad, one people with one heart.”

Israel is the place and the people that partner with this word “resilient.” It repeats itself time and time again ever since October 7th. Israel is resilient.  

Two voices have been a constant comfort for me over the past 9+ months. In the For Heaven’s Sake podcast, Donniel Hartman and Yossi Klein Halevi revive the Jewish art of constructive discussion on topics related to political and social trends in Israel, Israel-Diaspora relations, and the collective consciousness of being Jewish. 

In their most recent podcast, “Generation of the Status Quo”- Donniel states that we’re

“living in a situation right now where the status quo is antithetical to our most fundamental interests. Because in a society, a society is built around deep loyalty, deep care. And when we all got shocked, Israeli society stood up and said, I’m here, count on me, I’m there. But how easy it could be for us to lose some of our sense of moral responsibility…(A reminder that) there’s a lot of people who don’t have normalcy. ..a reality that this war, for those in the south, did not begin on October 7, but has been ongoing now for over 15 years…” 

There’s a sense of collective consciousness leading to collective comfort.

This past week, Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin launched a “Week of Goodness” campaign, with the hope that extra kindness, good deeds and generosity in the world could help bring about the release of the 116 hostages remaining in Gaza, among them their son Hersh Goldberg-Polin. 

On Thursday night, the family and their extended community completed the writing of a new Torah. Rachel returned to a space she had last been to on the evening of October 6th, an evening of dancing and singing, of rejoicing with the torah. 

In addressing her community she said, “we have endured 286 days of an indescribable existence, BUT we have been nurtured, cared for, nourished, held, loved, and never alone , and we would never have made it to this moment without God blessing us with you. It is you who have brought us here.” 

The Israeli artist Moti Hammer wrote one of my favorite songs, Rikma enoshit achat – meaning ”we are all one flesh.”   a song that symbolizes how each of us is not just responsible for one another, but our stories are intertwined. Resilience is a collective attribute.

So Israel, Israelis, are resilient. What does that mean for us, diaspora Jews? Do we only marvel and kvell at the Gibush of our Israeli brothers and sisters, praising their collective resilience as a unique form of intestinal fortitude? Or may we consider it a blueprint for how we interact with our own family, neighbors and community? Let us recognize that no one should נִחַמְתִּי בְּעַצְמִי, have to comfort themselves, alone. What would it mean to offer an extra phone call, text, meme, or even a physical visit, donation, or care package?

How can Jews in the diaspora feel this sense of Gibush? Maybe it means going outside of our comfort zones. No more “I’m not friends with that person” or “that’s 5 minutes out of my way.” What would it mean to travel 20 minutes to a shiva minyan for a community member we only know by name, or to be put on a minyan call list even if we aren’t right around the corner from the synagogue? What would it mean to make a meal for someone we don’t know? 

In these 3+ weeks of collective sorrow on the Jewish calendar, as we mourn together, let us be reminded to be there for our community in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy. May we remember that our strength comes from the open tents we and our community dwell in. Mah tovu, how good and how resilient can our community be. This is our blessing.