This shabbat is usually one of my favourites to talk about the portion. It contains within it a command that most people would never even notice, but which, through midrash, is now an integral part of the course I teach to student Rabbis at Leo Baeck College on World Religions and Interfaith Encounter. But in a week of so much pain, so much cruelty, and after over 500 days of so much distress, it is serving as a reminder of how much harder, and how much more important this work has become.
The law as given in the portion comes a little later than the piece Sebastian so expertly read.
“If you see the donkey of one who hates you, collapsed under its burden, and you hesitate to unload it – you shall surely unload it with him.” (Ex: 23:”)
A Midrash (Tanhuma Mishpatim) from the 1500’s, first published in Turkey, gives an example of a time this actually happened. According to the midrash a donkey driver saw his enemy standing by the side of the road with his donkey collapsed under its burden. He initially walks past, not wanting to engage, but is reminded of the law from Exodus, and so turns back and helps. Together they raise the donkey, and with a common task to work through, the man whose donkey had collapsed begins to wonder to himself if the other driver really hated him as much as he thought. Having completed the job, the two of them head to a tavern, where they eat and drink together, and become fast friends. The midrash concludes by explaining that this is how God makes peace between people, with the law forcing them to reach out to one another even when their natural instinct is to walk past and ignore them.
When I study this with my students, I ask them what is missing from this possible model for interfaith dialogue, where folk who have learnt to hate each other undertake a common task, through which they start to chat and get to know each other, and understand the story of the one they thought they couldn’t hear, cemented in a normalising of their relationship when they are able to sit down and enjoy a meal together. Of course it is a gross oversimplification, but the missing piece for me is the next step, where because they have been able to sit down and become friends, they can begin talking about what it is that drove them apart, and to tackle the difficult conversations together.
This has been the most unbelievably painful week for us as a people, and for us as a community we have felt it particularly acutely as Oded Lifshitz, the 85 year old retired journalist and peace campaigner kidnapped from kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7th, was the close friend since childhood of our member Nurit Heath, who has spoken about him both here and at the weekly hostage vigil held in Borehamwood. Rabbi Mark has also visited Nir Oz and seen for himself the burnt-out shell of the Lifshitz home. We are holding Nurit, and the Lifshitz and Bibas families in our broken hearts this week. And despite this darkness, hopefully more hostages were released this morning, bringing the most unknowable joy and pain to their families.
Over the last 15 months, creating space for interfaith dialogue has been more challenging than at any time I or my colleagues can remember.
And yet at EHRS we have done it. I’m not going to pretend we have made the slightest amount of difference in the conflict itself, or brought anyone closer to understanding their enemies, and I have seen that word used a lot this week. But we have made a difference locally. Last year we held our first interfaith Iftar – a meal to break the fast in Ramadan, which over 100 people attended, after initial fears that no one would. We are repeating this on the 5th of March. And less than 2 weeks ago we hosted over 50 friends and members to celebrate an interfaith tubishvat seder. We have also been part of a local interfaith walk, collaborated with neighbouring communities on mitzvah day and eco projects, and held a beautiful interfaith shabbat service.
One of the comments after last year’s Iftar that most surprised me came from my long-suffering husband. I and a Muslim colleague, Mustafa, each spoke briefly about the traditions of fasting in our respective faiths. I mentioned Tisha B’av, Sheva assar b’tammuz, and assarah b’tevet, and that these fast days, still observed today, were commemorations of different times Jerusalem was laid to siege or destroyed by the ancient armies of Babylon and Rome. He was shocked that in a Muslim-Jewish conversation I would dare to mention the land of Israel, our historic ties to it, and that it has continued to be a part of the Jewish story even in exile. When we come to dialogue, we bring all of ourselves, all of our pain, even though we might consider how we express it. Likewise we will need to hear the pain, the ties, the story of the other side, and not only listen to ourselves. And often the voices are more diverse than most experience during a time that the donkey drivers remain enemies who cannot extend a hand of help to one another and acknowledge each other. When each is so deep in the pit of anger and agony. Yet even in Israel today we see pockets of hope where this is still possible, though in many ways this kind of dialogue will take decades to repair.
It is hard to be hopeful in weeks like these. But we know that today our community is strengthened by Sebastian who has taken his place as a young man, ready to make a difference, inspired by the examples of your family in particular who have been volunteering in Israel over the last 15 months. And by Lyla, whose journey through life lies ahead of her, and who will be guided by the love and care of all those around her. Indeed Lyla’s grandma Janet has just taken up the mantle of chairing our interfaith committee, and ensuring we continue to talk and to walk together here in the UK. This is also the goal of a newly signed accord, presented to the King last week by Muslim and Jewish leaders, including the heads of Progressive Judaism, the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations, and my friend Imam Sayid Razawi who came and taught with me here at EHRS on Rosh Hashanah. Their goal is in large part to ensure relationships between faith communities here are able to grow and strengthen, even when we all feel so much has been lost. Being present with one another and hearing each other rather than shouting over each other. This week it is one of the hardest things to imagine. But perhaps that also makes it one of the most important.
For me a central part of this process will always be the ability to make that final, unwritten part of the midrash happen. For everyday people to get ourselves to a point where we can hear each other in our pain, understand the complexity and difficulty together, and stand together against injustice and cruelty, perhaps even for Sebastian and Lyla’s sake, to say ‘we see each other, we see your pain, and together we want to ensure it ends’.
We begin with raising the donkey, one step at a time. Tonight you are welcome to join us for a Havdalah for the Hostages at 6.30, for 45 minutes, in support of the Hostage Families Forum, where we can bring our pain and grief from this week together. And on the 5th of March, please join us for our second interfaith iftar where we can come together to try to build the world as we want it to be, not as it is.
May God give us all the strength to continue. Amen.
