This is the last Shabbat of 2023.
Most would agree that this has been the worst year for the Jewish People and for Israel since the Shoah. What an awful sentence to read (and to write). What a profoundly disturbing truth to acknowledge.
Just weeks before October 7, I spoke on Kol Nidrei about the threats to Israel’s democracy, the deep divisions in Israeli society, and the effect all this was having on Israel’s security. I thought, we thought, that this was the greatest threat.
As I prepared that message, I discussed the situation with numerous teachers and friends. Together we imagined a variety of possible outcomes related to the planned judicial overhaul. We considered the very real possibility of internal violence, bloodshed, and even civil war. We also discussed what Hamas, Hezbollah, or Iran might do in such a moment.
But even in our worst nightmares, we did not imagine the horrors of October 7 and its aftermath.The images of the brutality are forever seared into our consciousness. I close my eyes and I see the faces of the hostages, in particular the faces of the little Bibas boys, Kfir and Ariel, and 24-year-old Hersh Goldberg-Polin, whom I knew when he was in elementary school.
I grieve for the more than 1,200 souls murdered on October 7 and 8 and for the more than 180 IDF soldiers who have, since then, made the ultimate sacrifice for Medinat Yisrael.
And, yes, I am pained as well by the terrible cost of Hamas’s brutality on the people of Gaza. Images of the destruction there — notwithstanding the fact that all of this is ultimately the responsibility of Hamas and its reign of terror — are heartbreaking.
I remind myself, though, that this is not the only story of 2023, dramatic and painful as it is. Our tradition obligates us to acknowledge our blessings even (especially?) in moments of darkness.
So, on this last Shabbat of 2023, I want to conclude with words of thanksgiving for:
The miracle of a sovereign Jewish state blessed with a strong and dedicated military, a vibrant economy, and the friendship most especially of the United States of America.
Am Yisrael, the people of Israel, both in the land and outside, which continues to demonstrate its extraordinary resilience, determination, and unity. May these qualities only continue to deepen and flourish, especially when the war is over and we have the opportunity — God forbid — to return to internal division and strife.
The gift of a 3,000-year-old tradition that brings light, joy, and meaning to our lives day after day, week after week, year after year.
Our local Los Angeles Jewish community, which is blessed with wonderful clergy, professional leadership, teachers, allies, and community members. Our city-wide gathering on October 8 was a reminder of just how supportive and beautiful our community truly is.
More intimately and personally, I am grateful to be part of our Stephen Wise Temple family. We are so fortunate that our founders, almost exactly 60 years ago, had the vision and courage to create this loving community, to gift us with our breathtakingly beautiful campus, and to establish itself as a big-tent community that is fiercely and proudly Zionist.
Being alive at this moment in Jewish history. Notwithstanding the many challenges, we live in a time when we can enjoy the privilege of sovereignty and our people’s return to power. Despite its accompanying challenges, I wouldn’t trade it for the moral ease that powerlessness brings — not for an instant.
In the darkness of this moment, at the dawn of a new (secular) year, I remain what the prophet Zechariah labeled our people more than 25 centuries ago: a prisoner of hope (אֲסִירֵי הַתִּקְוָה). My heart is hurting but my resolve is firm, my commitment is ever stronger, and my hope remains.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi
Please join Jacqueline and me on a special Solidarity Mission to Israel, February 5-11, 2024. Learn more and register here.