The Call to Choose Blessing in a Broken World (Re’eh)
Rabbi Menachem Creditor
I want to begin with something I just witnessed, and I invite you to be brave and open-hearted enough to look, to listen, and to let it in. There are still 107 hostages in Gaza, held by Hamas. Many of them are no longer alive. Yesterday, the families of these hostages traveled to the border of Gaza, calling out with loudspeakers to their loved ones. Because of my feeling of personal connection with Rachel and Jonathan, Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s parents, this morning’s experience has scarred me forever. Hearing them call out Hersh’s name broke something in me, once again.
In the ancient world, there was a practice called yelala, a wailing for the dead. Paid mourners would go to funerals to evoke the tears of the bereaved, to break through the composed and collected facades people often maintained in public. When I heard Rachel scream Hersh’s name, something in me broke again. This wasn't a paid wailing—it was a cry from the deepest part of a mother’s soul. Rachel cried out, “It’s Mama,” praying her son would hear her voice again. Please, God, let him hear those words again soon. By soon, I mean now—because it’s already too late, and yet, now.
I had planned to share some well-crafted thoughts this morning, but they’ve been scattered by the cries of those parents. Yet, there is something in this week’s parashah, Re’eh, that is crucial for us to hear. Re’eh begins with the words, “See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse. Choose the blessing, choose life. (Deut. 11:26)” As a people, as a tradition, we have always fought for life. Look at how desperately we fight for it now, even when the world criticizes us for doing what we must—what any nation would do under these circumstances. Today is not the day to discuss our imperfections, though we must always remain self-reflective, holding ourselves and our homeland accountable to be the best we can be, even as we wield power we wish we didn’t need.
Moses, at the end of his life, speaks to us about a future we are still striving to realize. He tells us there will be a day when we won’t all do what is right in our own eyes, but instead, we will have a coherent society, a shared understanding of what is right. This vision of unity is not just a dream; it is a necessity. Yet, the challenge of Re’eh is not only in the future—it is also in the present. “I place before you today a blessing and a curse.” How do we continue to choose blessing when our hearts are shattered? How do we choose life when parents are shrieking for their children still held in bondage?
We must respond to the chaos of the world not with more chaos but with love, structure, and the ethical use of power. We are called to choose blessing, to act with courage and coherence, to remember that even in our pain, we can be channels of blessing. The cries of Rachel and Jonathan at the Gaza border, the way they blessed Hersh in the midst of their agony, are a testament to the power of blessing. They raised their hands and recited the words we say every Shabbat, words they continue sending Hersh ever morning of the last 328 since he was stolen from their arms: “May God bless you and protect you. (Num. 6:24)”
This is our calling: to be blessers, to choose blessing even when it feels impossible. To stand with those in darkness and pray, act, and hope for their return. May God bless and protect them. May we be blessed to be a source of blessing. And may those still in darkness be brought home right now.
May we have the courage to choose blessing, to choose life, and to hold onto our humanity, even when the world around us seems to break apart.
