Nechama: 9 Av

A few days after many in Southern California panicked about the “devastating” impacts of closing ten miles of Interstate 405 over a weekend in mid-July, I spotted a news item about a real disaster that gave me pause. I read that Omaha, Nebraska would be suspending their sandbagging operations due to extreme heat. This, I thought, was double jeopardy and completely unfair to Omaha, which has been fighting flooding on the Missouri River day after day for nearly two months. The city has deployed nearly 200,000 sandbags and installed 79 emergency pumps to keep the water back. Battalion Chief Shane Hunter of the Omaha Fire Department spoke about Omahans, “The city has stayed dry for one reason and one reason only: The people who are out there working — with boots on feet, gloves on hands … that are getting muddy and dirty in horrible conditions — with insects, heat exhaustion — they’re doing that work, they’re keeping the city dry.”

The image of the citizens of a city fighting to protect themselves from an outside force reminds me during this time of year of the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans in the year 70 CE. Indeed, the day that the Omaha sandbagging ceased temporarily due to extreme heat was the 17th of Tammuz on the Hebrew calendar, a day that is remembered as the day that the Romans broke through the city walls of Jerusalem some 1,941 years ago. The 17th of Tammuz marks the beginning of a period of mourning in the Jewish tradition simply known as “the three weeks,” a time when it is inappropriate to hold weddings and other celebrations. The three weeks recall the time between the breech of the Jerusalem city walls and the destruction of the Second Temple.

The destruction of the Temple, which we remember on Tisha b’Av (literally, the 9th of the month of Av on the Hebrew calendar), has become a catchall day for the remembrance of Jewish catastrophe and disaster. We connect a series of tragic events to Tisha b’Av: the First Temple in Jerusalem was also destroyed on that day, the Jewish revolt of the second century had its final defeat, the Jews were expelled from England in 1290 and from Spain in 1492, and World War I began (which was a precursor to the Second World War and the Holocaust). Like Yom Kippur, the 9th of Av is a solemn day which includes a 25-hour fast from sunset to sundown the following day. In synagogue we recite Lamentations and sit on the floor as mourners would.

While we can’t possibly compare the destruction of the center of Jewish worship in the first century with a flood threatening a Midwestern city, in both cases citizens battle day and night to fend off an external threat. Once the waters abate in the region, Nechama will be there, providing comfort and hope to those whose homes have been damaged by the flood waters. Our prayers go out to those who are fighting this modern siege of their city and pray that the efforts of those who are working against nature will succeed.

Matt Rosenberg is a Rabbinical Student at American Jewish University in California and a Nechama volunteer. He can be reached at rosenbergmatt@gmail.com

Pesach 5771

By Matt Rosenberg

As a former disaster manager turned rabbinical student, I have been thinking much about March’s catastrophic earthquake and tsunami in Japan and the role of God in disasters. In his book When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Rabbi Harold Kushner describes a disaster theology that resonates with me, “The flood that devastates a town is not an ‘act of God,’ even if the insurance companies find it useful to call it that. But the efforts people make to save lives, risking their own lives for a person who might be a total stranger to them, and the determination to rebuild their community after the flood waters have receded, do qualify as acts of God.”

This theology contrasts completely with the story of the Exodus that we read and study during the upcoming Passover holiday. Passover is a celebration of God’s direct involvement in the escape of the Israelites from slavery under Egyptian oppression. Exodus 6:6 speaks of God’s involved role, “I am the Lord. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements.” ‘Extraordinary chastisements’ indeed! The ten plagues that afflicted the Egyptians are nearly beyond comparison. Yet, during the Passover seder we are taught to feel as though we personally were slaves in Egypt and thus were delivered by the miracles of God. Our Passover seder takes us through the story of the Exodus so that at the end of the seder, we individually feel liberated just as the Egyptians were. However, for me, this Passover will be different.

While I prepare for Passover, Japan will be constantly on my mind. As I think of the Egyptian army that was pursuing Moses and the Israelites that drowned in the sea, I will also think of the horrible effects of the tsunami washing away thousands in the waters of the ocean. As I think about the death of the firstborn, I will think about the thousands killed in the earthquake and ponder the innocence of life lost. While I do not believe that an angry God was the cause of this modern disaster, I do believe that God is within each of us who give of our time or money to help those stricken by disaster, locally or globally.

As we come together during Passover, even if we aren’t able to rush to Japan to assist the suffering there, we can act much closer to home. Our tradition teaches that the world rests on three things – on Torah, on service to God, and on deeds of lovingkindess. During the seder we will speak words of Torah — let us, with our time and energy, do the latter two as well — serving God and performing deeds of lovingkindess by helping those who we can help with our own hands during this time of spring flooding throughout the Midwest. This Passover, I invite us all to pray for God to give strength and solace to the survivors and to the volunteers who work to sustain life and recover amidst tragedy, no matter where these occur.

Matt Roseberg is a Rabbinical Student at American Jewish University in California, a Nechama volunteer, a former Red Cross director, and the father of a toddler and brand-new twins.

The word Hanukkah means “dedication” and refers to the rededication of the Second Temple following the Macabee Revolution in ancient Israel. Tradition teaches that after the Romans destroyed the Temple, the Macabees had to rebuild and restore it for use as a holy place. Today we celebrate Hanukkah in remembrance of that rededication.

At what point during disaster recovery is rededication possible? When is the rebuilding “done” and home to the family that was displaced? As we all know, a home damaged or destroyed after a disaster can never be made completely whole. There are always irreplaceable items that have been lost – the special toy, a family heirloom, a quilt. Nonetheless, we at Nechama work to help families rebuild so that they can try to re-create that sense of “home.” At some point rededication has to occur – perhaps once the last nail is hammered or the last window is replaced. For Jewish families, the dedication or rededication of a new home often takes place by installing a mezuzah in the doorpost on the front door.

Hanukkah is a meaningful holiday for those of us who support Nechama as it is the holiday of rededication. Regardless of the method of rededication, whether through lighting a menorah in an ancient temple more than 1800 years ago, the placement of a mezuzah today, or the celebration of finally returning home after a natural disaster, the holiday of Hanukkah is all about recovering from tragedy.

-Matt Rosenberg

Sukkot and Nechama
5771

The central symbol of the holiday of Sukkot is the Sukkah, recalling the years the Israelites spent in the wilderness living in temporary structures following the exodus from Egypt. It is traditional for families to construct a Sukkah as a temporary dwelling place for the week-long holiday. The roof of the Sukkah is made from natural plant material allowing us to feel even more intimately the temporary nature of this structure by seeing the clouds in the sky, feeling the rain as it falls, hearing the whistle of the wind and even experiencing the shiver of a cool night under the twinkling stars. These moments in the Sukkah help us to better understand the power of nature and the value of having a solid roof over our heads. We are reminded of this fragile existence by the words of the Medieval scholar Isaac Aboab who wrote, “The Sukkah is designed to warn us that a person is not to put their trust in the size or strength or beauty of their home, though it be filled with all precious things.”
Those of us who work to rebuild lives and homes as Nechama volunteers following a disaster know that the wind and rain can be a blessing but also when too much can cause devastation to individuals, families, and communities. Sukkot helps us to appreciate and value the power of the natural world in our lives.

Ufros aleinu sukkat she’lomecha
‘spread over us (Adonai) the shelter of peace’

May your holiday of Sukkot be blessed with friends, family, and enjoyment in the Sukkah while keeping in mind the natural forces that can sometimes make precarious the roof over our heads.

Hag Sameach!