The Siren

Yesterday began like any other day. We woke up, took Gavi to school, and set off for Hartman to engage in a day of study on “A Time for War, A Time for Peace.” Ironic, I know.

I came home early due to a migraine, and was just waiting for Daniel to return after the evening session with Rabbi Aaron Panken, the new President of Hebrew Union College. I had finally gotten all of the children to bed. He came home, walked into the bedroom, and began telling me about the session with Rabbi Panken when I heard a sound I’ll never forget. The siren. The missile siren. Going off in Jerusalem. I don’t remember jumping up out of bed or running into the children’s room; everything was happening so fast. I grabbed Yaeli and Gavi; Liz (our baby-sitter) took Noa, and along with Daniel all huddled in the small bathroom waiting for it to go off.

It was probably the longest 30 seconds of my life. Finally, it ended. We exited the bathroom and all got into mommy and daddy’s bed to talk about what had just happened. Gavi started first: “Mommy, what was that scary noise?” “It was a siren. Can you tell me other times you’ve heard a siren?” Luckily, Gavi LOVES firetrucks and all things emergency vehicles, so I tried to redirect his thoughts to something positive. How do you explain to a 3 year old what just happened? We had a whole conversation about “good sirens” and how it means help is coming. Then we talked about weather sirens, and that time in Peoria we had to sit in the bathroom because there was a weather siren going off.

This moment made me think about all of those families living down south who deal with this as a part of their daily, even hourly, reality. This was one siren – one. And here I was, struggling to figure out how to explain to my 3 year old what had happened without scaring him more than he already was. I had always read newspaper articles about the sirens going off many, many times in Southern Israel, but until I experienced it for myself, found that I never truly understood what life would be like if that were part of my everyday reality.

It was an eye-opening experience, one that will always remain with me. As we woke up this morning, pretty tired from Gavi waking up scared constantly throughout the night, Gavi said, “I hope the siren never goes off again.” I looked at him and said: “I couldn’t agree with you more. Now go get ready for school.”

Snuggling post siren in mommy and daddy’s bed

The Siren

From the Rabbis' Desk: The Crisis in Israel

Dear Friends–

When we came to the Shalom Hartman Institute this summer, we knew that the theme of our studies was going to be “War and Peace in the Jewish Tradition”. This has unfortunately been a rather prescient topic. From the tragic kidnappings and murders of the three young Jewish boys to the awful spectre of six Jews who brought shame to us all through their retaliation and murder of a Palestinian boy, our first few weeks in Israel have been filled with too much violence.

Now it seems that this violence is only escalating as rockets continue to fall on towns in the south of Israel and Israel is forced to protect its citizens by once again entering into the Gaza Strip in Operation Protective Edge. One of the oddest, most surreal features of life here is just how disconnected we can feel from the danger and violence that is taking place close by; for good and for bad this means that life continues to go on in a very normal way for us even as protests rage in East Jerusalem, rockets fall on the south of Israel, and the IDF begins its fight in Gaza to protect our civilians in the south.

In an inspiring shiur by our teacher Micah Goodman this morning, we looked at the two messianic images of Ezekiel and of Isaiah. In Ezekiel we find an image of war–where our enemies will be destroyed and where our victory will be overwhelming. But the prophet Isaiah offers a counterbalance to this–with an image of a future that is not one of violence but instead one of peace, where the lion will lay down with the lamb and the world shall no longer learn to make war.

As we sit in our safe and peaceful homes–whether in our cozy apartment in the German Colony neighborhood of Jerusalem or in Central Illinois–let us pray that even as we engage in a just and defensive war, we can recommit to working toward the peaceful world of Isaiah; May we remember that while war may be a necessary evil, it is still an evil, and even necessary violence should never be glorified; May our soldiers defending us and the civilians in the south be protected even as the rockets of Hamas fall on them, but may we also remember the lesson of Raba from the Talmud, that our blood is no redder than the blood of the other; and may our souls be wide enough to include prayers for all of those who will tremble in fear during another sleepless night–Israeli and Palestinian, Jewish and Arab.

If you are interested in keeping up with what is happening here in Israel, we recommend HaAretz and The Times of Israel. In addition, Daniel Estrin has been doing phenomenal reporting on the situation here for various NPR programs, most notably All Things Considered (disclosure: he is a childhood friend of Rabbi Daniel’s).

Please don’t worry about us–we are safe and happy here in Jerusalem–and engaging in deep and meaningful learning.

bivracha (with blessings),

Rabbis Daniel and Karen Bogard

–

May it be Your will, Adonai our God and God of our ancestors, that You abolish all wars and bloodshed from this world and extend a great and wonderful peace in the world. Nations shall not lift up the sword against one another, neither shall they learn to make war any more. May all the inhabitants of this universe acknowledge the one great truth; that we have not come into this world for friction and dissension, nor enmity and jealousy and vexation and bloodshed. We have come into the world solely that we might know You, eternally blessed One.

And therefore have mercy upon us that through us the written word will become a reality. “And I will grant peace in the land, and you shall lie down untroubled by anyone; I will give the land respite from vicious beasts and no sword shall cross your land.” (Lev. 26:6) “But let justice well up like water, righteousness like an unfailing stream.” (Amos.5:24) “For the land shall be filled with devotion to Adonai as water covers the sea.” (Is. 11:9)

(Based on the prayer of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, from Siddur Ha’avodah She’ba’lev, Service of the Heart.)

From the Rabbis' Desk: The Crisis in Israel

Shalom Bayit: A Different Kind of War and Peace

When I think of the theme for our study this year at the Shalom Hartman Institute, A Time for War, A Time for Peace, I can’t help but immediately understand it in an external way – literally, all of the fighting that takes place in the Middle East. This is only reinforced by the events that have been going on since we arrived mid-June. And last week, many of the sessions also looked at war and peace from this standpoint, approaching it through a variety of lenses: Torah, Talmud, Midrash, etc. One professor, Yehuda Kurtzer, who is also the President of the Shalom Hartman Institute in North America, flipped this theme on its head and had us look at it through other lenses, one of which was domestic. This can also be defined as shalom bayit, peace in the home. The text he used was a midrash from Deuteronomy Rabbah, and is one example of how the Rabbi’s domesticate peace. The text reads:

What is the meaning of “seek peace, and pursue it?” (Psalms 34:15) Once Rabbi Meir was sitting and expounding, etc., that a woman went home, it being Sabbath evening, and found that her [Sabbath] light had gone out. Her husband asked her: “Where have you been so late?” She replied: “I have been listening to R. Meir’s discourse.” Now that man, being a scoffer, said to her: “You will not enter my house, whatever happens, until you have gone and spat in the face of R. Meir.” She left the house. Whereupon Elijah, of blessed memory, appeared to R. Meir and said to him: ‘It is because of you that the woman has left her house.’ Elijah, of blessed memory, then acquainted R. Meir of the episode. What did R. Meir do? He went and sat down in the Great Beit Hamedrash (house of study). Now that woman came in to pray, and on seeing her, R. Meir pretended to be blinking. He asked [aloud]: “Who knows how to cure a sore eye by a charm?” Whereupon the woman replied: “I have come to cure it by a charm;” and she spat in his face. Thereupon he said to her: “Tell your husband: ‘Lo, I have spat in the face of R. Meir.” He further said to her: “Go, and become reconciled with your husband. See how great is the power of peace.”

This text is taking war and peace out of a militarized context and domesticating it; looking at the importance of peace in the household, and just how far one is willing to go to create that peace. As Yehuda Kurtzer said, “So great is the power of peace that I’m (referring to R. Meir) willing to subordinate Torah to the power of holiness between a husband and wife.” Here, peace becomes a phenomenon that manifests itself in family relationships, and is so important that a revered rabbi would do whatever possible to maintain it.

I have loved everything that I have learned at Hartman and have had an incredible experience. I especially love when a text makes me reevaluate an entire theme, and forces me to look at it from a perspective I never would have connected with it. I look forward to another week of study!

 

By: Rabbi Karen Kriger Bogard

Shalom Bayit: A Different Kind of War and Peace