Waking Up Is Hard To Do

Rabbi Noa Kushner

April 24, 2020 / Parshat Ekev

First, let’s just grieve.

Let’s grieve the people who had to die alone

Let’s grieve with the many who cannot be at the bedside of someone they love

Let’s grieve for the 50,000 people who are gone 

Rabbis and holocaust survivors, people from every walk of life

A disproportionate amount people of color,  

Americans, people who all just wanted to live their lives

Let’s take in the staggering amount of loss 

Let’s not pretend we have all the words 

Let us grieve the ongoing economic tragedy 

The businesses and agencies and communities and art forms trying to continue to exist, some collapsing under the strain 

The millions of people without work, without a way to be secure, worried about healthcare bills, worried about paying for groceries 

Let us allow ourselves to feel the deep insecurity of the many, 

The many our country has failed, often with our tacit support 

Let us take in the enormity of the pain and fear, the loss

Let us understand that any system that regularly and predictably elicits pain and fear for pretty much the same portion of our society 

Whether we admit it or not, infects us all 

Let us not be distracted now from what we see, no matter how difficult —

Let us not look away at just how much has crumbled. 

Let us grieve our collective loss. 

Now, there’s a conversation recorded in the Talmud about some students who were also mourning, they were mourning the the destruction of the Temple

And I have to admit:

For as many times as I have heard about and taught and even ritualized the destruction of the temple, as many times as I have visited the ruins in Jerusalem

I have never felt real sadness over it

I understood the loss intellectually, 

I understood that to lose THE PLACE where we ALL went for our festivals, the pilgrimages, the experience 

I understood the loss was big but I never felt it

It was not until I realized last week that we in our community of The Kitchen

Will not likely be gathering for a very long time, maybe more than a year 

(and thank god, this situation is not permanent) 

But no shabbat, no shabbat in person for a very long time 

It wasn’t until that moment that I think I started to feel 

A measure of what it must have been like when the Temple was destroyed

A previously inconceivable loss 

A resounding loss 

Back to the story in the Talmud — there are some students who, after the Temple is destroyed, tell R. Yehoshua that they are no longer going to eat meat 

“Because we once used to sacrifice animals on the alter of the Temple

And the temple is gone

so in honor of the loss we will no longer eat meat.”

“And also” they added, “We’re not gonna drink wine because in the Temple the wine was used as a libation and the temple is no more, so no more wine.”

R. Yehoshua thought about this and then he said,

“Then you probably don’t want to eat bread, either, because, you know, we also offered flour.”

The students cleared their throats and said, “You’re right, and from now on we can sustain ourselves on fruit.”

“But,” R. Yehoshua said, “You know, we probably should not eat fruit, because, you know, sacrifice of the first fruits.”

The students said, “You are right. We will not eat of the seven species of fruits that we once brought to the Temple and we’ll just eat the other kinds of fruit. You can live on that.”

R. Yehoshua thought and said, “You know, I hate to bring this up, but we used to pour water on the alter of the Temple, you know, for the water libation.”

And the students were finally quiet because they knew they could not live without water. 

Then R. Yehoshua gathered them very close and said,

“Let me tell you what we will do. 

It is not possible not to mourn

There was a decree, we’re commanded  

And also, we’re heartbroken that so much has changed and we can no longer do what we once did 

And even if we can do it again, we ourselves might be different by then 

And so it is natural for us to want to grieve so much for everything that we stop living altogether 

But our teachers have taught us that we cannot issue a ruling unless the majority of the people can sustain it. The way to grieve cannot be so harsh that we cannot live. 

See we need both, we need to grieve, but we also need to live. 

And as we live

Of course, we must comfort one another

We must remember that each of us is more vulnerable, more frightened and more aware of our dependency

We must summon generosity and chesed like never before 

We must be fountains of generosity, springs of kindness for one another

And as we live 

We must also remember, even now 

Comfort is not enough, not in our Kitchen community 

Not when our country is so broken and the injustice of our systems so exposed 

Now that we understand we still have the gift of our lives 

Than we also many understand that we have a chance to move beyond platitudes and slogans 

Smoke and mirrors 

False optimism based shallow diagnoses. 

There is a midrash (one I have been thinking about all year)

You see Solomon was very wise

One of the wisest leaders our people has ever known

And he was very diplomatic, strategic

In fact he was so diplomatic he used to marry princesses, one each from a whole host of countries just to keep ties with those countries

I didn’t say he was perfect, I just said he was diplomatic 

In fact, tradition condemns him for the accumulation of wealth, of horses, of material possessions, not to mention people / wives 

Anyway, one night 

Turns out the very night Solomon completed the work on the Temple

— surely the culmination of all his efforts in life — (not to mention the efforts of many other people)

On that same night, he was also getting married to yet another princess

The daughter of Pharaoh 

Of course this is many, many years later after the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt

But still, you might think such a marriage, on all nights (!) would raise an eyebrow or two 

However, not only was no one bothered 

the sources say that the celebration for the wedding was a little bit more joyous than the celebration for the Temple. 

Not only that, but that night, Pharaoh’s daughter ordered 1,000 musical instruments to be played, 

And she taught Solomon the names of each and every idol that went with each of the 1,000 instruments. 

Not only that but Pharaoh’s daughter had put a canopy above Solomon’s bed encrusted with all kinds of precious stones and pearls that shimmered just like stars and planets. So that all during that night and into the next morning, whenever Solomon was about to wake up, he thought he was seeing the night sky, and kept going back to sleep. 

The next morning, as every hour went by

Israel grieved, continued to grieve

because after all that waiting

although they finally had a Temple, 

although it was the day of the consecration, the offering could not be brought 

No one could pray or seek justice or peace 

Because King Solomon was asleep and 

So in awe were they of his royalty 

No one dared to wake him up

And so Solomon slept and slept, he keys to the Temple under his head. 

I think we in America, pre-Corona, and even some now, we are like Solomon.

We have great wisdom, talent and resources, everything beyond measure

We are one of the richest countries to ever exist 

But bit by bit, over many years and many decisions, we have squandered our integrity and our values and our dream of freedom for all 

Now all we have is the equivalent of 1000 songs for 1000 idols

Now, through the lens of the pandemic, it is clear 

We cannot say we are a society that provides for the many 

We can only say we have accumulated far too much for the very few 

The holiest places are within our reach but we cannot enter them because we are half asleep 

And we are afraid to even admit we let things get this far 

and so we pretend the country is better than it is, 

we pretend all kinds of shiny objects are stars, 

so we don’t have to wake up.

We need to comfort each other, yes. 

But we also also need to realize the keys are under our heads! 

But we also need to use this moment to look at what truths are rising to the surface

What our country has really become 

How we do and do not use our power. 

Because if we do not look, if we are not honest

The kings will stay asleep, we will stay asleep, barely conscious, surrounded by decoys 

And anything we might learn from this costly chapter in our history will be quickly forgotten. 

Thank god for Batsheva, Solomon’s mother. 

Who, as soon as she hears what’s going on, barges into Solomon’s room, 

and yells at him saying, 

“Is this who you want to be? Is this what you want for our world? Is this how I raised you? Are you so willing to throw everything away?”

We have to comfort each other now, yes.

I know we are grieving for lost people and lost events, pieces of our lives that were and are elemental and fundamental 

We have to comfort each other but we also must 

Like Batsheva 

With love for one other and for this country

Tell one another the truth

Wake one another up 

We cannot afford to be distracted by the spectacles, and there will be more spectacles than ever

We cannot afford to be overly awed by royalty or anyone who doesn’t consistently work to earn our trust

We must instead remember who we wanted to be in this country

the daring promise of justice for all

It says in Shir hashirim / song of songs that Batsheva, Solomon’s mother gives Solomon a crown on his wedding day

Only, says R. Isaac, I have looked up and down all over the Tanakh, and I can’t find it, it is not mentioned anywhere. 

So on this shabbat, I say to R. Isaac and to us, 

The crown that Batsheva gave to Solomon is

right here in this story 

When, out of love for family, god, and country 

She demands that Solomon wake up and find the keys.

See, Batsheva does give Solomon a crown, she gives him the crown of truth 

She gives him the crown of responsibility 

It is heavy, that crown 

Not always so easy to wear

But we know it is the only crown worth having.