This week, for my weekly email to the congregation, I was planning to share the remarks I delivered this past Friday evening at TGIShabbat, when I spoke about the racist massacre in a Buffalo, New York grocery store on the basis of, according to some iterations, an antisemitic conspiracy theory.
The thought crossed my mind to send it out earlier in the week than my usual Thursday email because news happens so fast. Never did I think — even though it was thoroughly predictable in today’s tragic America — that, with smoke from the candlelight vigils mourning the people killed in Buffalo not yet fully cleared, another gun massacre, this time with children as the primary victims, would shake our cores.
Nineteen 9- and 10-year-old children, with lifetimes in front of them, dead. Along with two teachers who devoted their lives to the kids. And that’s just so far: Jailah Silguero, 10, was the youngest of four children, the “baby” of her family. Jackie Cazares and Annabelle Rodriguez were cousins in the same classroom. Amerie Jo Garza was a friendly 10-year-old who loved Play-Doh. Jose Flores, 10, had a pink T-shirt that said: “Tough guys wear pink.” 9-year-old grandson, Uziyah Garcia, was a “special, special boy” who loved video games, football and brought joy to his family. Eva Mireles, who was in her 40s, loved teaching the children. Tess Mata. Ellie Garcia. Rojeliio Torres. Nevaeh Bravo. Jackie Cazares. Annabelle Rodriguez. Eliahana Torres. Makenna Lee Elrod. Lexi Rubio. Irma Garcia. The descriptions accompanying some of these names are taken directly from a New York Times Report that hasn’t yet exhumed all of the names. Names representing lives. Worlds. Sparks, now snuffed out.
My girls, Lila, just under three years old, and Nina, just under three months, are the best things to ever happen to me. I cannot — cannot — fathom what it would be like to not have one of them come home one day. My heart breaks for the parents, grandparents, loved ones, who have to go through this. I say this as someone who has known tragedy. But not like this.
Hovering in the air over all this is, of course, the “debate” about guns. I put “debate” in quotation marks because debates typically involve an exchange of ideas, the putting forth of a set of facts, additional facts leveled as a rebuttal, clarity and renewed understanding being the result of the dialogue. A makhloket l’shem shamayim it is called in Jewish tradition — a division for the sake of Heaven. Such exchanges are what Jewish conversation is all about; the Talmud — along with the Torah our foundational text — is composed seemingly exclusively of these exchanges.
When one side isn’t even open to learning the effects of different potential policies to solve a public health crisis, then the subject of the debate — guns — has taken on a deification. And what do we call it when a man-made object has been raised above all other considerations, all other countervailing forces, including life itself? Well, that’s idolatry: the worship of a physical, lifeless object above and beyond its creators. Above and beyond its bystanders. Above and beyond children.
“You shall have no other gods besides Me,” says the second of the Ten Commandments. “You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image,” continues the third. O how we fail you, Adonai, Source of Life, Maker of Heaven and Earth.
We’re a long way from getting things right. We have a political system weighed down by Conservative interpretations of the Second Amendment that would stay the hand of an active legislature, which we do not have in the first place. To truly see change on this issue there will need to be a cultural shift on guns among those who are currently staunchly anti- gun safety legislation, which would require leadership by those who influence their opinions — politicians, members of the media — who currently either see no incentive in doing so or are true believers themselves.
The road is long but not futile. I’m reminded of a famous story that came out of the Talmud, that famous dialogue. One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking along the road when he saw a certain man planting a carob tree. Honi said to him, “How long will it take this tree to bear fruit?” “Seventy years,” the man replied “Are you sure you’re going to live another seventy years?” Honi asked. The man replied, “I found carob trees in the world; Just as my ancestors planted them for me, so I too plant these for my children.”
It may not be that in our own lifetimes we see significant change to our gun culture and the legal architecture that facilitates it. But we can, I believe, plant the seeds that will lead to its eradication. The lives of our children apparently depend on it.
