Our ancestors had a kind of hope. The Book of Lamentations - a devastating account of the destruction of the Temple - contains a single phrase that screams out above the wailing and weeping: אולי יש תקוה “…Maybe there’s hope?” There is a story in the Talmud that whenever Rav Ami would read this verse, he would begin to weep. כולי האי ואולי, - “all of this” - all of this pain and suffering - and only maybe?

Each one of us - in our own way, should be on this list. ּּּּּBecause, when I asked you, “Can I include you” as a little bit of a joke, I actually did mean it.  Each of us makes our contributions, sometimes in known ways, sometimes in invisible ones. And so many of the most influential and important deeds will never appear on a list. Because they are unrankable. But no less important.

If we truly are to be the flag bearers of the prophetic tradition, we must read them seriously. We must let them break us open like Jeremiah. Their fierceness - their inability to turn away - must compel us to more. What is that more?

The act of questioning is a gift. If certainty is hubris, doubt - in the words of our teacher, Rabbi Larry Hoffman - is a blessin. Because the search for truth - the act of one question - leads to new questions; questions of meaning.

We are the descendants of Jacob in the tent: We immensely value the pursuit of truth and knowledge. We are the people of the book. We aspire always to be wise.

And yet we are also the descendants of Jacob wrestling. We are the people of Samson who brought down an entire house with his bare hands. We are the people of the Israelite women who birthed quickly and fiercely to avoid Pharaoh’s evil decree. We do not run away from strength when strength is required.

Part of the anxiety [of asking] when do we know if it really is antisemitism - reflects the nature of antisemitism itself.

Dear Rachel,

We don’t know each other. You live on the other side of the world - But our circles are not so far apart. It is not impossible that we someday we would, we might meet. And if that day comes. I will tell you this.

Perhaps the sin of the spies is that they demean the creature of the grasshopper. They reject its wisdom and the lessons it can teach us. And they forget that it is the grasshopper who does not need a King to have a community. They forget that it is the grasshopper who knows that if it must - it can become a locust, but that it desires not to consume but to eat just enough - and to spend its time singing.

One of the ways that humans attempt to understand the world is by putting things in categories. Judaism is full of this. What is ok to eat and what isn’t? What constitutes work and what is rest? And how do we understand the difference between different group of people? Categorization on its own is not the problem - it can actually be helpful to understand things in this way. The issue is when we turn people into their category.

This is what it might mean to be in kin - to be each others counterparts - K’nego - beside each other - In proximity. And to know that we are from each other. We belong to each other.

Suddenly, we are no longer in community.

We are no longer in conversation.

We are in a shouting match.

We are deciding who gets to be a Jew. Whose opinions are acceptable. Who is in- and who is out - or at least who isn’t deserving of repentance. And for some, this sounds like we are deciding who gets to be a Jew. I want to be careful here.

I wonder how many of us are Jacob walking through the world, sleeping - unaware or apathetic to the idea that we are living in impossibility. We are living in a beautiful contradiction. And so we must do what he did - Look around - and acknowledge the moments that feel beyond comprehension. To not brush them off- but instead, to name them.

Rather than the world to come arriving fully formed one morning when we wake up in a new year, like a figure from the dream we have spent millennia dreaming.

We start. We bring the world to come. Afterall - it is starting tomorrow . And the next day. And the day after that. And who knows, maybe if we find ourselves binding the wounds of those society has cast aside. We might even greet the messiah

We never throw away peace. And yet - that does not mean that we don’t ever fight - That we do not wage war. That we do not have the right to protect ourselves. What it does mean - Is that all of our fights must be done in pursuit of peace. Power for the sake of bringing peace - not power for the sake of bringing more power.

The Rabbinic tradition teaches that when the Holy One, Blessed be He, remembers His children who are suffering among the nations of the world, He sheds two tears into the great sea. The sound of their reverberation is heard from one end of the earth to the other. And that is an earthquake.

God will weep for us. Will weep with us. Are we open to bewailing the suffering that God sees?

What would change? Would antisemitism go away? Would it perhaps never have existed at all? With no antisemitism - there is no Holocaust, no Pogrom, no crusader massacres or inquisition. Perhaps even no exile from the land of Israel. No destruction of the Temple. This sounds like a dream - Jewish children growing up without fear of persecution. Growing up without trauma that lives in our bones and collective memory. And not just that - there certainly are Jewish teachings and ideas that I think the world would significantly benefit from, If they were moved from the margins to the center.

I weep for the children.

I weep for their families.

And I cry for the mothers - So many mothers.

And I plead and cry out to my God.

Why did you create the world this way?

And I realize - It has always been this way.

The Torah is full of weeping mothers.

And my heart breaks again.

Love is commanded in our texts. Not as a demand - or coercion by a lonely God. But from a God who understands isolation - and who does not want the same for her creation. You MUST love - and if you can not love another human, God whispers - practice on me - Here is your freedom, God says - Use it to love. Here is your power - Please, use it to love.

Easy is not something I would say about Judaism. Wonderful - full-- beautiful -- joyous -- rich. But not easy. We are, after all, Am Yisrael - the people of wrestling.

We could have been named after anyone.

Am Yitzhak -- the Nation of Laughter. B’nai Yosef- the Children of Abundance. Klal Rachel - the community of gentleness. Khilat Moshe - A Group of Prophetic Leaders. We’re not even “Abrahamic” like people say in English.

But no - we are “Blessed” W.ith Yisrael