This darkness

THIS week . . . what a heartbreaking week. Between the heartstopping evil of Itamar and the natural disaster in Japan, it is a lot.

There is something really weird about going about your routine or regular life in a state of blissful ignorance, while in fact things are happening out there in the world, terrible things that can permanently hurt your heart, but the news just hasn’t reached you yet.

The moment Shabbat ended and we all heard the news of the human butchering in Itamar was just such a moment. Since it was Shabbat here in America when it happened, I had no idea.

I happened to have had Shabbat to myself and for some reason, even though this story would not be not read in shul for another two weeks, I studied the story of Nadav and Avihu in depth. That is what I was focused on, the fiery death of the two sons of Aharon, and his famous and mystical response to the tragedy of losing his two children: Va-yidom Aharon, and Aaron was silent.

I wept. I lit memorial candles for Udi and Ruthie and for innocent little Jewish kinderlach, Yoav, Elad and baby Hadas . . . butchered, a literal bloodbath while peacefully sleeping in bed on Shabbos in their  homes. The Itamar massacre was simply incomprehensible.

Read the related IJN editorial

The story of Purim took place over many years, with a spectrum of emotions, including mourning, as the decree of Haman came to the Jewish people — “there was great mourning among the Jews, and fasting and weeping and wailing” and Mordechai “rent his clothes and put on sackloth with ashes . . . he went out in the city and cried a loud and bitter cry . . . ” We are all crying a loud and bitter cry.

This week will be Purim. This week, the Jewish people will experience the range of emotions of the Megillah not over many years, but in one week. Literally, from Shabbat to Shabbat. As we celebrate Purim, we will celebrate “the month which turned them [the Jews of Persia] from sorrow to joy, and from mourning to holiday . . . ”

But it won’t be easy.

We will be thinking of the Fogels and of Tamar and her two brothers. . . bereft and alone. Traumatized. Purim, the day they get up from shiva . . . orphan children bereft of their nuclear family for one reason alone: because they are Jewish.

It is Esther’s question in the Megillah to King Ahasuerus that is echoing the most:

“For how can I endure to see the evil that shall befall my people? How can I endure to see the destruction of my kin?”

I MADE the mistake of clicking on to see the photos of the slaughter. I hadn’t meant to. I thought I was clicking on to read another, related article. And there they were. The photos that made us all weep. The photos that made us all react in audible pain and horror. The photos that made us heartsick.

Those photos . . . of those beautiful innocent children that make you think of the children in your life you love so much . . . those photos . . . that really mess with your heart and soul.

The numerous articles about what to do — apologetics for the Palestinians on the left, understandable emotional rage on the right — about how to retaliate for this deliberate, vicious, savage bare-hands murder. The articles about what the consequence should be to these savage and satanic, inhumanlike evil humans.

I have no idea what the consequence should be, but one thing is clear: there must be a consequence. A wise consequence that doesn’t walk into the trap this murder has set. What it should be I have no idea, but one thing is for sure: If the Palestinians have a shred of decency they would conduct, or would have conducted, a serious hunt to nail the murderous monster and have him turned over.

I am still waiting.

I am waiting for the Palestinians to close down the relevant Arab villages with a collective ultimatum to the communities that aided and abetted this murderer.

To all those whose village is protecting him or her, I am waiting for Palestinian people who stand up for people and for human life and for childhood innocence to come forward.

Instead, on the Palestinian streets, there was yet again a Purim holiday image, one reminiscent of mishlo’ach manot, this time, though, Purim in reverse, a v’nahafoch hu of v’nahafoch hu. It is the creepy contrast and imagery of Palestinians celebrating this wicked suffering of innocents by handing out celebratory platters of sweets to fellow Palestinians on their street.

The irony. We are baking hamantashen, the symbolic pastry of our people’s genocide averted long ago, and they are handing out pastries over the joy of slaying Jewish children.

I don’t care what side you are on politically, on the left right or the right side or in between. Itamar is not a massacre about sides, but about human beings. It is about being on the human side. Period. Regardless of what your opinion is about settlements being disputed land or not, nothing, absolutely nothing justifies the savage murder of a family.

Purim just seems all mixed up this year. Not like the usual fun mixing up, but an all too dark and creepy version.

In the usual spirit of endings in Jewish tradition, the Megillah in its final passage concludes with the only words that we can think of and pray right now, even though after Itamar I find it hard to believe it will come to pass in my lifetime: “For Mordechai the Jew . . . was accepted by the multitude of his brethren, seeking the good of his people, and speaking peace to all his seed.”

As a response to this darkness, there is a woman-unite movement encouraging us to all light Shabbos candles this Friday at sundown. Let’s bring some healing an light into the world. Please light Shabbat candles in memory of the Fogels.

Copyright © 2011 by the Intermountain Jewish News