I am really glad we have so much joy and love to celebrate in our service this morning; the love of couples, and the love of Judaism, particularly because in Jewish terms we are in the very saddest part of the year, and because as British citizens, the last week has been pretty torrid. On Monday I messaged a local dialogue group of Muslim and Jewish women – many of whom have been here over the last year at our Interfaith Iftar and interfaith shabbat service, to send love and to see how they were doing. This was exactly what our Muslim friends in the group had done on October 8th last year. One, who is a fantastic teacher in a local primary, who has warmly invited me in to speak to the children, told me she and her family were too afraid to go out. I feel I have to say ‘and she was even born here and teaches in a local school, she has done what we Jews do – integrated while creating space for her Muslim faith’. But why should I have to make such caveats? Why shouldn’t everyone feel safe to walk the streets?
Of course we know that many don’t feel that safety. Jews have felt afraid to travel into central London on Shabbat for 9 months now. Women often have to think about when and where they will walk to stay safe. These wrongs in no way justify another wrong, and the Jewish calendar this weeks asks us to recall that.
On Monday night we will gather as a community to mark the start of Tisha B’Av. It is, as I said at the start, the saddest time of the year for us as we recall the destruction of both Temples, events accompanied by unthinkable violence and the destruction of Jerusalem. Tradition also suggests that this is the date of many other tragedies, from the expulsion of the Jews from England and then Spain, to World War One breaking out on this date. This is a period when we are given permission to feel our communal losses, a process I always believe Judaism gives us in order to continue living life to its fullest afterwards.
We will be analysing the current eruption of violence for years to come I suspect. After the destruction of the second Temple, rabbinic analysis in the Talmud (Yoma 9b), wondered why the two Temples had been destroyed. The first, it concludes, was destroyed due to specific violations of Jewish law and ritual, idolatry, forbidden relationships and so on. The second, however, it says occurred when in fact Jews were following the law and rites of the Temple more or less as they should be. But they had allowed society to become poisoned by one very specific trait; baseless hatred.
There are many reasons people turn to protest and to violence when they feel abandoned, neglected, disenfranchised, impoverished. And there is a need to listen and to work for change. But finding a scape goat has led to these kinds of violent behaviours throughout human history, not least in the 20th Century. The eruption of violence on our streets against anyone who isn’t white is to me a clear example of baseless hatred. I spent the start of this week feeling the weight of all that hatred, I was exhausted and depressed from watching the news. But I had also reached out to our local women’s group, as I mentioned before, and after some toing and froing as to how we could be helpful/supportive, yesterday I delivered a wad of cards and letters from our Kaytana camp and our clergy, to my teacher friend who was scared to go out, so that she could put them up at the mosque in time for Friday prayers, in hope that the worshippers would know we were thinking of them and that there are neighbours who don’t want to destroy their tiny mosque. She texted me a little later to say that the visit and the cards had meant the world to her, and that she’d told herself she wouldn’t cry but on reading them, she had an ocean in her living room. She asked God to bless our community and to grant all of us peace, love and understanding with everyone.
Hatred and anger are poisons that damage us, and the world around us, as the Talmud makes clear. When we mourn for the Temple and for Jewish tragedies through the ages, we are given a little space to feel that loss and pain, but we must also guard that it doesn’t become anger and hatred, perpetuating cycles of violence. Jewish time suggests a different model. the Jewish equivalent of Valentines day falls just 6 days after Tisha B’Av. We mourn, we connect with our past suffering, and then we embrace life again. We celebrate love – as we have done in our service today, and try to remember cyclically that whatever the world throws at us, life will continue, we will continue, and love is the best way to do that! That’s not just wishy washy snowflake Debbie, that’s Jewish time and text, offering us hope and renewal in cycles that I pray will also come to the wider world, and that will end in a state of love, understanding and humanity for all, and from all, soon, and in our days.
Cain Yehi Ratzon, may this be God’s will. Venomar. Amen
