Our recent event, “Media Bias in a Post-October 7 World”, was preceded by a commemoration of the hostages whose bodies had recently been returned to Israel. The following are Rabbi Russ’ remarks from that memorial.
There are moments in the course of human history when the combined weight of the whirlwind of emotions we are capable of experiencing renders one mute. Unable to put together any meaningful pattern of thought or expression. We are living though such a moment at this time.
When the news reached me of the fate of Shiri, Kfir, and Ariel Bibas, and Oded Lifshitz — the horror of that moment, adding to the weight of the other 1835 lives that have been taken from our people during this war, rendered me truly incapable of any meaningful response. I could not have felt more impotent.
Then, as I was berating myself for my inability to process what I was going through, I remembered two words of Torah that I was studying in preparation for seeing a bar mitzvah student. Those words were Vayidom Aharon. And Aaron was silent. In Parashat Shemini, in the book of Leviticus, Aaron has to witness the deaths of his two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu, who are consumed by fire from the alter. Experiencing this moment, Aaron was struck mute. He was, at least for that moment, unable to continue in any way as he was.
I sat with these profound words from our tradition. I didn’t feel so powerless anymore. If anything, I felt that at least one of our great ancestors knew and appreciated what we are all going through.
I repeated these words over and over, sitting with God, and I asked that the Divine move my heart in such a way that I might be able to reclaim my voice and bring me to an expression that was both true to who I was as a human and as a Rabbi. Finally, it led me to a place where I could express myself in the words of a prayer.
I ask you now to please rise for a moment of silence and remembrance for Shiri, Kfir, Ariel, Oded, for all 1839 lives of our people taken from this world by the current conflict. And then I ask your indulgence so that I may share with you the prayer of this rabbi’s heart, as I need to no longer be silent.
Elohei HaRuchot le-khol basar—God of the spirits of all flesh, we come before You in grief and heartbreak, our souls shattered by the brutality inflicted upon our brothers and sisters, who were torn from their homes, held in darkness, and murdered in cruelty.
We lift up their names and their memories before You. Each one, beloved by their families, precious in the eyes of their friends, a soul filled with light, was taken from us in violence. Their lives were stolen, but their dignity remains, their neshamot, their highest souls, held in the embrace of the Divine Presence.
Harachaman, Compassionate One, spread Your shelter of peace over their souls. Gather them beneath the wings of the Shechinah and grant them rest among the tzaddikim. May their cries be heard in the highest heavens, and may their names never be forgotten.
God of Justice do not remain silent. See our tears, hear our prayers, and bring an end to this cruelty. Strengthen those who fight for righteousness and protect those still in captivity. Bring them home speedily, in life and in peace.
We pledge to remember. We pledge to honour. We pledge to build a future where no child, no mother, no father, no grandparent, no human being will suffer such terror again.
May their souls be bound up in the bond of life. May their memory be for a blessing.
And let us say, Amen