Breaking the Glass
by Rabbi Ari Perten, VP, Jewish Learning Department
In a post-October 7th world, while over 200 Israeli citizens, including non-combatants ranging from children to seniors, are held hostage by Hamas, I keep struggling with the question of how to navigate my daily existence. While separated from Israel physically by over 5000 miles (9000 KM) but connected by relationships and social media, I feel so proximally close. Each day has been a seesaw of emotions. This reality especially hit home just two weeks ago as my family prepared to mark the Bar Mitzvah of our middle child on Shabbat Bereishit (October 14). As my wife and I considered how to honor the year-long preparation our son had made towards this moment of ceremonial Jewish adulthood, we kept asking how can we celebrate amidst the raw and continuing memory and reality of so much pain and suffering?
In our weekly Torah portion of Lech Lecha, we read the story of Avram and Sarai’s journey into an unknown new world. Their shift is marked not just by geographical relocation, but by adjusted names. Avram becomes Avraham and Sarai becomes Sarah. And yet, this change seems like no change at all. Comparatively, when our forefather Jacob receives the new name of Israel, his previous name is fully lost (יַעֲקֹבà יִשְׂרָאֵל). In Parashat Lech Lecha, while Avram and Sarai have their names adjusted, the shift is by only a single letter (אַבְרָםà אַבְרָהָם + שָׂרִיà שָׁרָה). Abraham and Sarah enter their new reality fully carrying with them a lasting memory of their past.
Jewish history is replete with experiences and ritual designed to acknowledge that progress forward (even towards joy) must be held jointly with memory (even of pain). This duality of emotions is evoked in many traditional Jewish rituals ranging from the breaking of a glass at a Jewish wedding, to the removal of drops of wine during a Passover seder, to leaving a small portion of a house unpainted. Powerfully, in our rituals surrounding mourning, Jews don’t “end” shiva but rather “get up” from shiva, emerging from their homes, to re-enter society by ritually taking a walk around the block. These first steps are traversed carrying the pain and sadness of loss while simultaneously acknowledging our need to continue towards life.
In our post-October 7th world, we in the Diaspora are now tasked with crafting our own rituals of memory as a much needed tool allowing us to pursue life. Like Abraham and Sarah, our journeys must continue forward, not escaping from, but rather carrying the totality of our lived experience. As a people of memory, we cannot forget the captives being held by Hamas.
How might we mark this moment? Some starter ideas: building on the outdoor installation in Tel Aviv leave an open space at your shabbat table for a hostage, consider joining the Blue Ribbon campaign, take a moment to acknowledge those who continue to be forcibly held before immersing in an activity.
