This past week we celebrated our first Bat Mitzvah since the start of the pandemic with a beautiful service led by our Bat Mitzvah, Emma Salzman.
Her Torah portion was Noah, perhaps one of the most well-known narratives in the history of storytelling. I sometimes find these to be the most challenging around which to construct a teaching—what hasn’t already been said? And yet, our Bat Mitzvah offered an innovative personal reflection.
She observed the trajectory that God created the world and human beings, saw humanity’s corrupt ways, and, essentially, snapped: destroyed the world (with the exception of Noah, his family, and the vaunted animals) in one fell swoop. Almost immediately afterward, as Emma observed, God expressed that God would never again do this to humanity.
Emma tied this to a lesser-known narrative in the Noah Torah portion. After the recovery from the flood, Noah plants a vineyard. He becomes drunk from the wine and falls asleep naked in his tent. One of his sons discovers him in his apparently unflattering state, laughs at him, and points this out to his brothers. When Noah hears of this, he curses his son and his son’s line to a lifetime of slavery.
The common thread Emma identified in these two seemingly disparate stories was a poignant one: our tendency to lash out and hurt others when we are feeling ashamed. God felt ashamed that God’s creation—us—has gone so far astray; Noah felt ashamed at his drunken behavior. In both cases they caused major hurt to others in the wake of their shame. Emma seemed to caution us to be compassionate with ourselves when we are feeling ashamed and to take care in how we respond to those around us.
It was a profound teaching and an honor to be a part of her celebration.
In Jewish history we are unfortunately all too used to juxtaposing celebrations with mourning.
This past week, we read the words of Torah that have ever since infused our collective soul, B’tzelem elohim asah et ha’adam, “In the image of God did God create humanity” (Genesis 9:6). In the image of God we were each created. So, too, do the rabbis of the Mishnah teach, “The Sovereign, Sovereign of Sovereigns, the Holy One Whose Name Is Blessed, imprinted each human being from the same seal as the first human being.” Every single human being bears that original seal of holiness. “And not a single one is the same as their fellow” (Sanhedrin 4:5). And each human being is different, unique, precious.
It is a tragedy when each human life is lost. Each human being is precious to us. Walter Wallace Jr., another Black man killed on his block, was supposed to be precious to us. He was a father. A son. A member of our community right here in Philadelphia.
Two weeks ago we read the words Cain exclaimed to God when asked about his brother Abel’s whereabouts. “I do not know,” he retorted. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9).
God does not answer.
But we know the answer: Yes. Yes, we are our brothers’ keepers. Our sisters’ keepers. Our siblings’ keepers. It is our responsibility to create a world where Black people’s lives are treated with holiness, the holiness that was imprinted on each and every single one of our souls from the onset of creation. We can and must do better to ensure Black people’s lives are treated as precious in this world.
Unfortunately, Walter Wallace’s life is not the only one we remember in mourning this week.
Yesterday was the two-year anniversary of the shocking shooting at the Tree of Life–Or L’Simcha Congregation in Pittsburgh. A reminder of the ever-present force of hate in our world.
Here, too, we need to remain vigilant. Vigilant to prevent the fanning of flames of hatred, vigilant to prevent weapons of mass killing from proliferating in our streets, vigilant to ensure that love triumphs.
We remember with love the members of this community who were killed two years ago:
Joyce Fienberg
Richard Gottfried
Rose Mallinger
Jerry Rabinowitz,
Cecil and David Rosenthal
Bernice and Sylvan Simon
Daniel Stein
Melvin Wax
Irving Younger
We remember them. We send love to their families and communities. May their memories be blessings to this world.
