This Shabbat, we begin reading the book of Shemot, the book of the Torah that chronicles our slavery in Mitzrayim and our redemption from that narrow place of oppression. But before we get to all of those major parts of our story, in the first chapter of that book we read that there was a new king that arose over Mitzrayim and he didn’t know Joseph (Shemot 1:8). But of course he knew Joseph - Joseph was forever written into their history as one who saved them from famine. So what could the Torah mean when it says that the new Pharaoh didn’t know Joseph? He didn’t know, he forgot about the principles that Joseph stood for. He forgot about the way that Joseph dreamed of a world redeemed. He forgot values, he forgot decency.
A new Pharaoh reigns over Mitzrayim that immediately changed things with disregard for the policies and rules in place. Out of fear of the unknown he enslaved the Israelites and began his campaign to strip them of dignity, quickly shifting the ethos of a place from one that shared plenty with those that had none, to becoming a place of oppression and degradation. This chapter of our Torah is a lesson on vulnerabilities inherent in government transition and the ways that this time can bring out the worst in people, particularly people in power. Often, these times of instability expose terrible weakness.
This week, we witnessed the very worst of our country as we saw people desecrate our Capitol building. We watched in tears and pain as individuals trampled the very building where laws are made with complete disregard for the values that building represents. They trampled on democracy and they attempted to blot out the very process that makes our nation great.
The ancient Temple in Jerusalem was actually meant to be set apart from the rest of the land. According to the Biblical breakdown of territory, the city of Jerusalelm didn’t belong to any one of the tribes because it belongs to all of the people of Israel. It was for all the people, representing each of them and transcending whatever differences they had. All of the ritual that happened there was on behalf of all of the people. While we may critique the government at various times, the process - the notion that our Capitol works for the good of the entire people, that it should transcend partisan politics - what it represents is sacred. That is part of what made the horrible acts of Wednesday so painful to stomach. We must choose peace over violence; we must choose unity over divisiveness.
Our tradition teaches that King David lived in that same Jerusalem meant for all people, and looked out at the land as he wrote the Psalms. One of them beautifully articulates a vision, an aspiration - yehi shalom b’cheilech shalva b’armenotayich / May there be peace within your walls, tranquility in your palaces (122:7). This past week, this sentiment was certainly not true in our country. In our vision, in our hope for a better world, a more peaceful world, there is no place for seditious behavior against our sacred country. And so I pray for shalom and shalva, for peace and tranquility. I pray that the streets are quiet and I pray that our leaders take their responsibilities seriously. I pray that we arrive at a place where all Americans feel that the government and its process is for them, represents them, and benefits them. We aren’t there yet. But I pray.
Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Sarit
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