A few days ago I had a conversation with my sister, who is a physician, and worked as a genetic counselor for years before starting medical school. I was asking her for some advice. Without getting into the details, because of our family history I was advised to seek genetic testing and I was asking her about the pros and cons of knowing certain things. She said, basically, if the knowledge will be able to lead to prevention, then it’s worthwhile; if it will just lead to you walking around anxious about possibilities that you can’t do much about, then it’s not so worthwhile.
Migrant children rest on cots inside the house of Refugee in El Paso, TX
I said, me walking around anxious over things I can’t do much about? Who do you think you’re talking to? And then we had a good laugh. She’s known me all my life. I do have a tendency on occasion to walk around anxious over things I can’t control which, ironically, might be genetic.
And of course Jewish tradition, going back to Biblical times, urges us to take steps to prevent inequality, to prevent injustice - starting with our own emotions - לא תשנא את אחיך בלבבך lo tisna et ahikha bil’vavekha - you should’t hate a fellow human being in your heart - and including a range of preventive acts - making sure others can’t be harmed on our property, for example - or ensuring just weights and measures, equal treatment of both parties in a civil case, and I could go on.
But sometimes, too often in fact - damage is already done. Injustice is done. Suffering is inflicted. We’re way past prevention. What could have been prevented, should have been prevented, was not prevented.
And then what?
The Torah provides blueprints for prevention, but it also provides blueprints for restoration. What do we do to try to restore decency, to try to restore justice, after damage has been done?
I’d like to refer to this morning’s Torah reading and then to describe areas where we can help to restore decency and justice after damage has been done, damage for which we may or may not bear responsibility.
This morning’s Torah portion provides templates for how to restore balance, how to restore justice.
The law of the Jubilee year, requiring the land be returned to its original owner after 50 years, was designed to restore ownership so that wealth would not amass in the hands of a small few.
Additionally a person who came on hard times, who needed to sell his services to someone else, was given the opportunity to “buy himself back” and, in addition, his family was encouraged to help him do so.
Prevention is ideal. But restoration is necessary when something bad already happened. Restoration is often not complete, but it moves the needle back toward decency, back toward justice.
This past Wednesday Deanna and I attended a program presented by the school where she works, Solomon Schechter of Manhattan. The program, called Names, Not Numbers, brings together survivors of the Shoah with students who interview them about their experiences and create a documentary film featuring the survivors’ testimony.
Fortunately Vera Eden, a longstanding member of our congregation, a survivor of Auschwitz, and a longtime Judaic studies teacher, was among three survivors who participated in this program.
The Schechter students created a book and, under the guidance of a journalist and a filmmaker, they created a documentary which we shown on Wednesday at the Marlene Meyerson JCC in Manhattan. Unfortunately Vera couldn’t be there since she is recovering from a pinched nerve, but her son was there to accept a gift from the students on her behalf and to hear individual students tell him how meaningful it was for them to get to know his mother.
Vera and the other two survivors spoke honestly and in great detail about their experiences. When asked what she wanted the students especially to learn from the experiences she was sharing, she said, I’m paraphrasing, she was more eloquent, “when people are being mistreated, any people, for any reason, you need to protest.”
When we speak of the Shoah, it is very delicate to use the word restoration. Vera’s family, and the families of other survivors, cannot be “restored." The three individuals who participated in the project lost nearly all of their immediate and extended family.
Restoration also doesn’t mean that the trauma that Vera and other survivors suffered can be undone - not even close. And those of us who did not experience what they experienced can’t begin to understand that trauma.
When I spoke to Vera’s son about her reaction to the project, he said, she doesn’t like talking about her experiences, not at all, but she realizes that it’s important for her to do.
When Shoah survivors share their experiences with those who are truly prepared to listen, it provides restoration in the following way. It moves the needle toward decency and justice by validating the experiences of the survivors as true and significant, by ensuring that a new generation will bear witness to these experiences, and by using the horrors of the past to challenge all of us to act differently in the future.
On Memorial Day we will walk up Middle Neck Road to honor the memories of those who died serving this country.
I believe that our participation in this event every year provides a vital restoration, but I have to be more specific.
I mean - what can restoration possibly be about for soldiers who are no longer alive?
Restoration for those who died serving our country can mean remembering their sacrifices and also committing ourselves to the values for which they fought and died. Abraham Lincoln expressed this in words that have since become ironic as he was dedicating the Soldiers’ National Cemetery:
“The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." (Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address, November 19, 1863)
When we recall those who died serving our country, we validate their sacrifice in general and we express our appreciation to their loved ones who are still alive. We also affirm that we will continue their efforts.
All this provides a measure of restoration, it moves the needle from senseless loss to a sense of appreciation and a sense of purpose.
And finally, I want to say a word about some restoration that is called for in a situation that is ongoing.
More than 2600 children were separated from their parents at the US border last February as part of Trump and his supporters' efforts to discourage asylum seekers to the US. Since that time most have been released, but are still at least 100 children that have not been released and reunited with their families. People may have different views on what immigration policies should look like, but I hope we can all agree that the forced separation of parents and children is un-Jewish, un-American and downright cruel.
Citizens of this country, whatever our faith, bear a responsibility to restore decency and justice to those families who are still separated.
One organization that works on immigration justice is HIAS, Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. It has a long history of helping Jews and others seeking refuge in this country and it deserves our support.
I wish that the separation of these families had been prevented; it was not prevented, it took place, to our collective national shame, and we need to help achieve some restoration, to move the needle closer to dignity and justice.
The Hebrew word for restoration is tikkun. When we speak of tikkun olam, it really means the following. As we recognize the wrongs that have been done to people, we pledge to do what we can to bring restoration.
Sometimes that involves validating the people who were wronged, whether they are still living or have died, by valuing their stories and internalizing their lessons. Sometimes this involves helping to right a wrong that has been done.
Prevention is the much better option. But when damage is done, we must do our best to restore.
Migrant children rest on cots inside the house of Refugee in El Paso, TX
Of course we want to do whatever we can to prevent bad things from happening. Medically, for sure. But also societally. If we can take actions to ensure that discrimination and persecution not take place, that people live with decency and receive just treatment, we are morally obligated to do so.
And of course Jewish tradition, going back to Biblical times, urges us to take steps to prevent inequality, to prevent injustice - starting with our own emotions - לא תשנא את אחיך בלבבך lo tisna et ahikha bil’vavekha - you should’t hate a fellow human being in your heart - and including a range of preventive acts - making sure others can’t be harmed on our property, for example - or ensuring just weights and measures, equal treatment of both parties in a civil case, and I could go on.
But sometimes, too often in fact - damage is already done. Injustice is done. Suffering is inflicted. We’re way past prevention. What could have been prevented, should have been prevented, was not prevented.
And then what?
The Torah provides blueprints for prevention, but it also provides blueprints for restoration. What do we do to try to restore decency, to try to restore justice, after damage has been done?
I’d like to refer to this morning’s Torah reading and then to describe areas where we can help to restore decency and justice after damage has been done, damage for which we may or may not bear responsibility.
This morning’s Torah portion provides templates for how to restore balance, how to restore justice.
The law of the Jubilee year, requiring the land be returned to its original owner after 50 years, was designed to restore ownership so that wealth would not amass in the hands of a small few.
Additionally a person who came on hard times, who needed to sell his services to someone else, was given the opportunity to “buy himself back” and, in addition, his family was encouraged to help him do so.
Prevention is ideal. But restoration is necessary when something bad already happened. Restoration is often not complete, but it moves the needle back toward decency, back toward justice.
This past Wednesday Deanna and I attended a program presented by the school where she works, Solomon Schechter of Manhattan. The program, called Names, Not Numbers, brings together survivors of the Shoah with students who interview them about their experiences and create a documentary film featuring the survivors’ testimony.
Fortunately Vera Eden, a longstanding member of our congregation, a survivor of Auschwitz, and a longtime Judaic studies teacher, was among three survivors who participated in this program.
The Schechter students created a book and, under the guidance of a journalist and a filmmaker, they created a documentary which we shown on Wednesday at the Marlene Meyerson JCC in Manhattan. Unfortunately Vera couldn’t be there since she is recovering from a pinched nerve, but her son was there to accept a gift from the students on her behalf and to hear individual students tell him how meaningful it was for them to get to know his mother.
Vera and the other two survivors spoke honestly and in great detail about their experiences. When asked what she wanted the students especially to learn from the experiences she was sharing, she said, I’m paraphrasing, she was more eloquent, “when people are being mistreated, any people, for any reason, you need to protest.”
When we speak of the Shoah, it is very delicate to use the word restoration. Vera’s family, and the families of other survivors, cannot be “restored." The three individuals who participated in the project lost nearly all of their immediate and extended family.
Restoration also doesn’t mean that the trauma that Vera and other survivors suffered can be undone - not even close. And those of us who did not experience what they experienced can’t begin to understand that trauma.
When I spoke to Vera’s son about her reaction to the project, he said, she doesn’t like talking about her experiences, not at all, but she realizes that it’s important for her to do.
When Shoah survivors share their experiences with those who are truly prepared to listen, it provides restoration in the following way. It moves the needle toward decency and justice by validating the experiences of the survivors as true and significant, by ensuring that a new generation will bear witness to these experiences, and by using the horrors of the past to challenge all of us to act differently in the future.
On Memorial Day we will walk up Middle Neck Road to honor the memories of those who died serving this country.
I believe that our participation in this event every year provides a vital restoration, but I have to be more specific.
I mean - what can restoration possibly be about for soldiers who are no longer alive?
Restoration for those who died serving our country can mean remembering their sacrifices and also committing ourselves to the values for which they fought and died. Abraham Lincoln expressed this in words that have since become ironic as he was dedicating the Soldiers’ National Cemetery:
“The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." (Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address, November 19, 1863)
When we recall those who died serving our country, we validate their sacrifice in general and we express our appreciation to their loved ones who are still alive. We also affirm that we will continue their efforts.
All this provides a measure of restoration, it moves the needle from senseless loss to a sense of appreciation and a sense of purpose.
And finally, I want to say a word about some restoration that is called for in a situation that is ongoing.
More than 2600 children were separated from their parents at the US border last February as part of Trump and his supporters' efforts to discourage asylum seekers to the US. Since that time most have been released, but are still at least 100 children that have not been released and reunited with their families. People may have different views on what immigration policies should look like, but I hope we can all agree that the forced separation of parents and children is un-Jewish, un-American and downright cruel.
Citizens of this country, whatever our faith, bear a responsibility to restore decency and justice to those families who are still separated.
One organization that works on immigration justice is HIAS, Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. It has a long history of helping Jews and others seeking refuge in this country and it deserves our support.
I wish that the separation of these families had been prevented; it was not prevented, it took place, to our collective national shame, and we need to help achieve some restoration, to move the needle closer to dignity and justice.
The Hebrew word for restoration is tikkun. When we speak of tikkun olam, it really means the following. As we recognize the wrongs that have been done to people, we pledge to do what we can to bring restoration.
Sometimes that involves validating the people who were wronged, whether they are still living or have died, by valuing their stories and internalizing their lessons. Sometimes this involves helping to right a wrong that has been done.
Prevention is the much better option. But when damage is done, we must do our best to restore.
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