On the night of 22 Kislev 4957 [1196], Rabbi Eleazar ben Judah of Worms was engaged on his commentary on Genesis; he had reached the parashah VaYeshev. Suddenly two crusaders entered his house and killed his wife Dulcina, his two daughters Belat and Hannah, and his son Jacob.
Rabbi Eleazar went on to author HaRoke’akh, a work of halakhah and ethics, along with many other ethical and mystical works.
This Shabbat is called Nakhamu, after the first lines of the special haftarah always recited after Tisha B’Av:
נַחֲמ֥וּ נַחֲמ֖וּ עַמִּ֑י יֹאמַ֖ר אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶֽם
Comfort, oh comfort My people,
Says your God.
דַּבְּר֞וּ עַל־לֵ֤ב יְרוּשָׁלַ֙͏ִם֙ וְקִרְא֣וּ אֵלֶ֔יהָ כִּ֤י מָֽלְאָה֙ צְבָאָ֔הּ כִּ֥י נִרְצָ֖ה עֲוֺנָ֑הּ כִּ֤י לָֽקְחָה֙ מִיַּ֣ד ה’ כִּפְלַ֖יִם בְּכׇל־חַטֹּאתֶֽיהָ
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and declare to her that her term of service is over, that her iniquity is expiated; for she has received at the hand of HaShem double for all her sins. (Isaiah
The voice inviting us to find consolation comes from a great distance – a prophet who promises us that life will go on, and HaShem is still there. That word resonates through the life of Rabbi Eleazar ben Judah of Worms, who heard it, responded by somehow discerning how not only to keep living but to keep giving of his Torah to his students. And that voice is now in our ears.
It’s not easy to hear, and even less so to understand. But we are the people who are commanded to shema, listen, for a still, small voice – called in Hebrew a bat kol – that is there underneath the chaos of sirens, screams, and our our heartbeat pounding in our ears.
This is what the voice says: getting up off the ground after Tisha B’Av and starting the work of consolation does not indicate that everything will be all right. The voice – which we might call our inner voice, although it is connected to our history and community – is more subtle than that. It calls us to get back to the work of our lives, to do teshuvah, to return.
We are fifty days from Rosh HaShanah, and the voice in our spiritual ear is calling us to return. Teshuvah, return,isn’t only or maybe even primarily about atonement from the harm we do in our lives. The real challenge of Return is the invitation to discern as far back in our lives as we need to in order to draw forth the gossamer thread of belonging. Where have you been at home and whole with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your wherewithall?
For us to hear this still small voice and follow it toward wholeness, we have to rise above a natural desire for “fairness.” Conditioning our belief on reward for the just and punishment for the wicked is transactional Judaism, and just like most household and human beings, we run at least as much on trust, and faith that debts and imbalances will be addressed over time.
Teshuvah is the art of learning to rise above transactional ethics and seek intrinsically meaningful life, not rewards and punishments. After the pogrom, Shabbat will still come. During the climate crisis, Torah study will still be a mitzvah. Our ancestors forced into a synagogue in Blois in 1171 and murdered en masse when the building was set on fire were said to have sung the Aleynu as they died.
All the words we need have been given to us; in prayers composed by those who came before us, especially the Psalms:
אַל־תַּסְתֵּ֬ר פָּנֶ֨יךָ ׀ מִמֶּנִּי֮ בְּי֢וֹם צַ֫ר־לִ֥י הַטֵּֽה־אֵלַ֥י אׇזְנֶ֑ךָ בְּי֥וֹם אֶ֝קְרָ֗א מַהֵ֥ר עֲנֵֽנִי׃
Do not hide Your face from me in my time of trouble; turn Your ear to me; when I cry, answer me speedily.
כִּֽי־כָל֣וּ בְעָשָׁ֣ן יָמָ֑י וְ֝עַצְמוֹתַ֗י כְּמוֹקֵ֥ד נִחָֽרוּ׃
For my days have vanished like smoke and my bones are charred like a hearth.
הוּכָּה־כָעֵ֣שֶׂב וַיִּבַ֣שׁ לִבִּ֑י כִּֽי־שָׁ֝כַ֗חְתִּי מֵאֲכֹ֥ל לַחְמִֽי׃
My body is stricken and withered like grass; too wasted away to eat my food. (Psalm 102 3-5)
The holy Presence is here for us if we are able to feel it; we are here for each other if we are able to discover for ourselves what it means to be resilient. Not because life is fair, but because life is, and remains, and will always be, a beautiful gift which we redeem with a simple, single mitzvah.
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 