July 27, 2024
Author(s): Rabbi Michelle Robinson,
Parashat Pinchas
From Camp to Congress
July 27, 2024 — 21 Tamuz 5784
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
Did you or your children go to summer camp? If so, do you remember the songs you or they sang? For me, my childhood soundtrack of classic summer camp songs is filled with silly ditties like “I Said a Boom-Chicka Boom” and “Sippin’ Cider through a Straw.” Throw in a “Zum Gali Gali” and a “Shalom Rav” or two, and it always made me smile that my kids are singing those same summer songs – a joyful summer soundtrack filled with ruach (spirit) and a camp legacy.
Last week, I visited our Temple Emanuel kids at Camp Ramah and found them singing a very different tune. After lunch, they gathered in the middle of the dining hall, swaying in large circles, serious and spiritual. Mournfully, they belted out Acheinu, a prayer for the hostages: “As for our brethren, the whole house of Israel, who are in trouble or captivity… May the Almighty have mercy upon them, and bring them from trouble to abundance, from darkness to light, and from subjection to redemption, now speedily and soon.”
My heart broke, as all our hearts break. So proud. So moved. And yet, so broken that Acheinu is this summer’s camp soundtrack – that the world our kids inhabit is one where hostages have been held in Gaza now for 295 days.
It was with the echo of the campers’ plaintive prayers that I went this week to Washington, D.C., at the generous invitation of our Congressman, Jake Auchincloss, to hear Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s address to a joint session of Congress. I don’t need to tell you the hopes, the fears, and the politics that surrounded this moment – especially taking place, as it did, in the midst of our own historic moment here in the United States.
I have been there a few times over the years. Never have I seen, not just there, but anywhere, so much security. With the surrounding streets cordoned off and entry strictly screened, in the halls on the way to the congressional offices you could hear a pin drop.
Together with our members, Mark and Lauren Rubin, we were warmly welcomed by Congressman Auchincloss, who showed up strongly for the premise that the Israel-America relationship is too important to not be in that chamber.
I won’t take your time this morning dissecting Netanyahu’s speech itself. You all have the same access to articles and news profiles I do, and have, I am sure, come to your own informed opinions. But I do want to share some things I noticed on the ground that felt very different from the reporting I have seen then or since.
First of all, if all you saw were the media reports, you would think our nation’s capital was besieged by massive hordes of protestors. The megaphone given by the full start-to-finish coverage of vitriolic hatred spewed from the stage against Israel and reports of “thousands” gathered made it seem very large and very scary. Whereas when I walked by the protestors, I was surprised by how small, given the national nature of this moment, their numbers seemed. Later news reports estimated 2,000.
By contrast, the March for Israel last November, which I and many of our Temple Emanuel members attended in D.C., was also reported at the time as “thousands” but is now recorded now as having had an estimated 290,000 people standing in solidarity with Israel post-October 7th.
In contrast to that, in person, I couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t just political theatre when Netanyahu referenced the “not many” protestors outside.
While the megaphone and constant amplifying media attention they have is exceedingly dangerous, and even one violent protestor is one too many, I found some comfort in seeing with my own eyes and hearing with my own ears the loud voices of hate far outweighed by so many of our lawmakers in the chamber. With the sheer abundance of standing ovations, it was like Yom Kippur on 3x-speed in there.
Even the terrifying violence and anti-American flag-burning, vandalism, and graffiti at Union Station was quickly and publicly condemned by politicians across the American political spectrum.
Now this may not do it for you, but for me, I found some renewed strength from this clear communication by our Congressman and others that we are not alone.
Secondly, I was struck by the preciousness and precariousness of our great American home. I couldn’t help but be taken in by the House’s historic paintings and architecture depicting the cost of freedom. That same cost pertains today to every one of us.
In the hallowed staircase leading up to the gallery, I imagined our ancestors spotlighted in this week’s Torah portion, the daughters of Tzelofchad, who have always been a particular favorite of mine, having named my own daughter, Noa, after one of them.
They are not satisfied to be turned away from participating in their nation’s destiny. They stand up for their place. As Jews in America today, we must walk in their footsteps. A representative democracy requires participation.
Whether you lean left or right, whether with your vote or your advocacy, do something in this season to participate in the great project that is our nation – a nation which even in today’s torn age remains one of the two most robust centers of Jewish life the world has ever seen, and which continues to be a beacon of hope for our world.
Finally, while the news reports mostly partisan politics, I was deeply moved by the tapestry of political and personal complexity both on the floor and in the gallery. The seats were assigned and phones were prohibited. So the obvious thing to do was talk to our neighbors. I learned that on one side of me sat a fervent, vocal Republican; on the other, an outspoken liberal Democrat.
Directly across the room sat released hostage Noa Argamani, and right behind me, Leat Corrine Unger, cousin of 21-year-old Omer Shem Tov, currently still in captivity, who stood stoically through the Prime Minister’s words and was later removed for bearing a shirt that read, “Seal the Deal Now,” a plea to bring all the hostages home.
As Prime Minister Netanyahu called attention to the soldiers he brought with him, who served so bravely, the chamber erupted with applause. But their eyes conveyed the heavy cost they have borne. While charismatic calls for victory may make fantastic speech material, the story told by their poignant presence, and that of the delegation of hostage families who stood outside the chambers, was much more complex. I walked away with a sense of deep humility. None of this is easy.
And so, leaving the Capitol, I took home a profound sense that we must, in the words of the Prayer for Our Country, “ask [for] blessings for our country – for its government, for its leaders and advisors…[that God may] teach them insights from [the] Torah… [so] that peace and security, happiness and prosperity… may forever abide in our midst.” So that the hostages will be brought home. So that there will never be another summer where Acheinu needs to be our camp-kids’ anthem, but instead they, and we, will lock arms and sing together Shalom Rav again.
Shabbat Shalom.