Ancient fragments of raw glass
Ancient fragments of raw glassAssaf Peretz, courtesy of Israel Antiquities Authority

“We’re going where dreams really come true

And we won’t be held back by our fears…

We’ll trust there’s a life for us here this way…

Even though we’ve been dancing on broken glass…”

(Poets of the Fall, “Dancing on Broken Glass”)

Once again, I am in the garden of dreams, of hope and salvation. The darkening gloom of the garden mirroring a persistent feeling within. Light glimmers through the darkening branches of towering trees. The soft glow of sunshine soothing and yet not succeeding in dispelling the darkness. The garden is engulfed by the tranquility of silence, mirroring the deep silence which is within.

Further down through the overgrown vegetation, is the bank of a stream. In the winter, the calming sound of flowing water could be heard. But now, all is quiet, all is still. The water has ceased to flow. As if life in the Land of Promise is on hold, waiting.

We try to speak, and there are no words. Try to find the voice to communicate the hope, but sorrow muffles its voice, until all is hushed, in a mute cry for our salvation.

The silence is broken by the sound of calling of the birds. As from afar, their cries enter my reverie. And in the silence which is within, in the echo of the calling of the birds, I hear another Voice. The voice of hope, of faith, of liberation and freedom. A cry which is persistent, though heard as from afar. An insistent reminder of life, of hope, of the eternity of God’s presence in our seemingly darkening world.

Yes, the birds are still calling, the grass is still growing, and the sun which is setting will surely rise again tomorrow morning.

I watch as two birds soar above, together in wild freedom and motion. Can they see the Arrival? What are they watching from their high viewpoint?

Solemnly perching on the highest of the tree branches, they seem to be waiting.

As am I.

A reminder. That we can only soar as high as we dare to dream.

What are our dreams? What is our vision for the future? Do we still dare to dream? What is in our hands to perform, and what is only in our hearts to pray?

Soon it will be nighttime. The faint glistening of stars can be seen in the darkening sky. I sit and wait. I listen to the silence, to the rustle of the wind in the leaves of the dark trees. A whisper of hope, an eternal prayer for Peace.

A flock of birds wing their way past in the the darkening sky. And then another. They seem to be heading toward the sea. To where are they going? I wonder. Are they heading toward a better future?

I try to remember. Life is cyclical, our current situation temporary. Water will once again flow, the current of Life will one day be restored to glory. If only we have the courage, the patience, the faith, to wait.

“Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?”
(Fleetwood Mac, “Landslide”)

Yesterday was the 17th of Tammuz. A day on which many calamities befell our people, the day on which the walls of Jerusalem were breached, which led to the destruction of the Second Temple.

But it is told of Rabbi Akiva that, upon seeing a fox emerging from the ruins of the Second Temple, he laughed. He explained to his surprised disciples, that since the prophecies of destruction had been fulfilled, so now too would the prophecies of Redemption. “With Zechariah it is written, “Old men and women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem…now that Uriah’s prophecy as been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled.” (Talmud, Makkot 24b)

Our eternal fate as the Jewish People. Caught as it were between waves of destruction and redemption. The ability to be seared by anguish and pain and yet, deep within us, a core of faith, of hope, of light and purity remains untouched. We know somehow that life was meant to be different. That one day, it will be different.

As if a test of faith, from one generation to the next. To remain who we are, no matter the circumstances surrounding us. To retain our goodness and kindness in the face of utter cruelty, to retain hope in the face of despair. To keep alive the sacred despite the distress, for it is written,“You shall be holy, for I the Lord Your God am Holy.” (Leviticus 19:2)

But how? How do we retain the flame within, how do we retain our holiness, our sacred light despite the gloom by which we are engulfed?

FoFor it is dark now. The darkness of the night sky threatens to cloud the brightness of the soul, the despair of the events of the past two years threatens to dull our hopes, our dreams, our vision of the future.

Night blurs into darkness, the edges of reality blur into a whirl of gray.

In the garden of blackness, all is quiet. And within, all is quiet as well. The voice of despair is silenced, the voice of hope, a bit numb. An all-pervasive stillness of nature mirroring the stillness of my soul.

An atmosphere of life on hold, of shock which continues, one wave after the next, Sometimes silence speaks louder than words. The dark silence of confusion, of sorrow. Words no longer have the power to express our human condition, and we remain with silence and a prayer.

Do we still dare to hope, to dream?

The eternal issue - the why of existence, in the persistence of such evil. How to continue with faith and optimism as the world as we knew it crumbles before our eyes.

The heart cries “Lama azavtanu”, but in the darkness of the night we hear clearly a different Voice

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

It was only a few days ago that, still sitting in the shelter long after the powerful sounds of explosions had ceased, reluctant to leave my haven of safety, I discovered a faded copy of remarks by a close friend of my father (z’l). Benjamin Meed (z’l), at the American Gathering of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, Jerusalem, 1984. (It could have been written yesterday, I thought to myself):

“We came to Jerusalem to speak of our journey, from Holocaust, to rebirth, for in Jerusalem, the Jewish past and the Jewish future are united…

What should a survivor say that is meaningful to the sons and daughters of survivors? You are a new chance for humanity. What is important, my children, is for you to be humane - a ”mensch”.

My children, there are clear indications that the reservoir of compassion, left after the Holocaust is evaporating. Every evidence we have suggests that brutality and bigotry are once again moving out of the closet…Demonstrate and rally your support for all institutions of freedom and democracy… but remember your unique responsibility for the State of Israel. You cannot be a whole Jew if any Jew is not free…

You must try to teach and sensitize the world to the fact that madness was unleashed more than forty years ago (then, ed.) and that madness is still dominating the minds and souls of too many countries. You must tell the story again and again, even if few listen, even if little is changed.”

Night has almost passed, while I have been musing and dreaming. It is now that eerie time between darkness and dawn, and I am watching a unique sunrise. Black clouds fill the sky, the border between sky and earth gradually lightening in intensity. Shades of gray, from dark gray, to light gray, to a fuzzy whiteness. Even the sky seems to have lost its color, in these days of sorrow.

All is still. No one is outside. Soon morning will arrive, but the streets will remain empty.

I walk down a hill, through the weeds, to what was once a flowing stream.

“Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true

Or is it something worse

That sends me down to the river

Though I know the river is dry

That sends me down to the river tonight…”
(Bruce Springsteen, “The River”)

Can we overcome desolation, destruction, grief? Leave for our children and grandchildren a world which is better, hopeful, joyful, with a vision of holiness and hope?

In Parashat Balak we read of Balaam’s words, the words of a man who, despite his intentions, could only convey God’s blessings upon His people.

How can I curse whom God has not cursed?…

God is not a man that He should lie, nor is He a mortal that He should reconsider. Would He say something and not do it? Would He speak and not fulfill what He said?… (Numbers 23: 8-19)

“How good are your tents, Jacob, your encampments, Israel! They will extend like streams, like gardens by the river…Water will flow from your wells…

You will settle and dwell like a lion, like a fearsome lion that no one would dare rouse. Those who bless you will be blessed, and those who curse you will be cursed.” (Numbers 24: 5-9)

And once again, we remember who we are. We hear a Voice. A voice from above, or is it from within, that speaks of a different possibility. An inner voice speaks to us of peace, of kindness, of blessings. Of strength from above, strength from within. Of a light that will yet shine brightly on this generation.

We know that life, could, should be different. We have dreams, hopes for the future of our children and grandchildren. Those hopes will never be dimmed.

Sunlight glistens on morning’s dew, as tears sparkling on the grass. In the silence of the early morn I hear the words: ”For the Lord will not forsake His people…” (Psalms 94:14)

Was it only a few days ago that I was in a small grocery store? Me and another lone shopper. I glanced down the deserted aisle. As her father explored the shelves in the shop, a little girl of about age six was serenely dancing. Oblivious. Alone with the beat, alone with the freedom and the rhythm of life. To what music was she dancing, I wondered? What did she hear? The rhythm of life, of joy, of freedom, blossoming in a time of tragedy.

The innocent belief and hope that cannot be quelled.

May our children and grandchildren be blessed to dream of tomorrow, today.

“…From the depths I cry out to you, O God.

My Lord, hear my voice….

I wait for the Lord; my soul waits

and for His word I hope

My soul waits for my God

More that those who watch for morning

More than watchmen for morning “ (Psalms 130:1-6)