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January 6, 2024
Author(s): Rabbi Wes Gardenswartz,
Parashat Shemot
When We Feel Weariness
January 6, 2024 —25 Tevet 5784
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
If a picture paints a thousand words, then a screen shot I saw this week conveys a truth that we need to reckon with. The screen shot shows the different realities of New York City and Israel on New Year’s Eve. New York: fireworks. Israel: taking fire, the glare of missiles and rockets that Hamas still manages to fire into Israel. New York: people on the streets, reveling, counting down in anticipation, 5-4-3-2-1, Happy New Year! Israel, another night in the bomb shelter.
What do we do with this asymmetry? And if we are being entirely honest with ourselves, what do we do with the desire that many of us have to go back to life not worrying fulltime about the war in Israel and the rise of anti-Semitism? I feel this desire myself. At the end of December, Shira and I went to the Bay Area to visit our adult children. It is 60 degrees, sunny, lovely, having meals and doing hikes with our grown children. And I constantly felt two things. Yes, this feels good. Going on a hike without mentioning Hamas or anti-Semitism or Jew hatred on campus feels good. Normalcy. It’s about time. I need more of it. And, guilt. Wait a minute, Israelis don’t get to push pause. My own brother and sister and nephews and nieces don’t get to push pause. The hundreds of thousands of soldiers in Gaza or up north don’t get to push pause. The families of the fallen soldiers don’t get to push pause. The hostages, and the families of the hostages, don’t get to push pause. Who am I to push pause and yearn for normalcy?
From what I have gathered by talking to members of our congregation, I believe I am not alone. Several people shared that they loved at the end of December being away from the pressure cooker, they loved the normalcy, and they felt guilty all at the same time. I have heard feedback, Rabbi, while you were gone I loved hearing sermons that were not about Israel–which made me feel particularly good because my last four sermons have been about Israel. So how do we process the screen shot, the split realities of American and Israeli Jews?
Tomorrow is January 7, the three-month yahrtzeit of October 7. Each day has a different energy and vibe.
October 7 was obviously a total crisis. We are good at crisis. We did what so many other congregations did: lots of immediate action for Israel, for the IDF, for the hostages, and against anti-Semitism.
But now it is three months later. If October 7 was about crisis, January 7 is about a different existential condition: namely, weariness.
The word weariness in the dictionary has two related definitions. The first definition of weariness is “extreme tiredness, fatigue.” As in: I am extremely tired of the war in Gaza and the war on college campuses, I am extremely tired of all the bad and sad news, I am extremely tired of talking about Israel and anti-Semitism all the time.
The second definition of weariness is “reluctance to see or experience any more of something.” As in, I want out. Please give me another sermon. Please do a different sermon. About anything else. Not about Israel. Sorry about that.
On October 7 our question was how do we respond to a crisis? On January 7 our question is how do we respond to weariness?
And here our weekly Torah portion, as always, is so helpful. We are Jews. But we are American Jews. We could pass as Americans. Nothing forces us to identify as Jews. We could opt out. Opting in is a choice. We don’t have to make it.
Guess who else had multiple identities? Moses. Moses was the son of Hebrew slaves. And he knew it. But he was also raised in the palace of Pharaoh. He was not only Egyptian. He was Egyptian royalty. Moses was both Egyptian royalty and the son of Hebrew slaves—which meant that he could have passed. Moses could have opted out. Instead, famously, when Moses sees the Egyptian taskmaster striking the Hebrew slave, he cares. He acts. He strikes down the Egyptian. He saves the slave.
That first act had October 7 energy. A crisis. A moment of violence that summoned an immediate response. Moses stepped up.
The rest is history. Moses is summoned by God not just for a one-moment encounter, but for the long haul. Confront the Pharaoh. Lead the people out of Egypt, through the wilderness, into the promised land. That has January 7 energy. That is about weariness.
The Torah has a signature way to convey weariness. It is the number 40. How long does Moses lead the Israelites through the wilderness? 40 years. 40 is not just 39 plus 1. 40 years in the wilderness means 40 years of weariness, where every grain of sand looks the same, where every day looks the same.
But here is the point. Weariness is not just Moses’s problem for 40 years. Weariness is not just our problem now three months into the war. Weariness is an existential reality that we all face all the time.
We face weariness when somebody we love is not doing well. They have an illness. A physical illness. A mental illness. A psychological illness. It is not two Tylenols and they are better. It is the opposite. For years after years, there are better times and worse times, two steps forward and two steps back.
We face weariness when we have gone on a thousand bad dates and still cannot find our bashert.
We face weariness when we are trying to start a family but month after month we have no mazal.
We face weariness raising a young family, doing carpools, meals, laundry and school issues without end, what pirkei avot calls tzaar gidul banim, the angst of raising children.
We face weariness when every day we go to a job we don’t love, but we’re stuck, and we cannot figure out how to create a work space where we thrive.
We face weariness when we, or our loved ones, face the debilities and indignities of aging.
If we live long enough, there is a 100% chance that we, or somebody we love, will get hurt by life, in a way that is not easily solved and leaves us all weary.
What do we do then? What do we do in the wilderness? What do we do with our weariness?
How we each summon the energy we need when we are in the wilderness is a problem that each of us can only solve for ourselves.
But I do know this: The measure of a person is what we do in the wilderness. It’s showing up when it’s hard to show up. And doing that day after day, week after week, month after month—even and especially when we would rather not show up. It’s about making that daily call when there is nothing left to talk about. What did you have for dinner? Did you have dessert? Did you watch any shows? It’s about radiating calm and reassurance that we may not always feel. Everything is going to be just fine. It’s about never giving up on. I am here for you. Forever.
My role model here is a friend whose wife died of ALS after five years of living with the disease. I remember being nervous going to see him at the shiva. What do you say to a husband whose wife had died of ALS. I’ll never forget what he said. He said: “it was such an honor, such a privilege, so deeply meaningful, to be with my beloved wife all the years of our long and beautiful marriage, including those last five years. Every day with her, supporting her, being with her, was a blessing.”
It is in the wilderness, it is in the weariness, where our deepest character is revealed, and where our deepest blessings are felt. And so yes, let’s admit it, on January 7, three months later, we are weary. OK. Weariness, we can deal with that. May we keep showing up for Israel. May we keep caring about Israel. May we keep going to Israel. May we keep Israel at the center of our hearts and lives. May we keep on keeping on for Israel. And may the love we show for Israel when we are weary be a source of deep blessing for Israel and for our own lives. Shabbat shalom.