There is a moment in the traditional liturgy of the seder in which Jews would open their doors and literally shout angry words at their enemies: " Sh'foch ha-Matcha... May God pour out His wrath on them!"
I have never included these lines in my Passover, but this year, I was sorely tempted. I wanted to open the door and yell with anger. I wanted to rage.
At essence, the Jewish People is my family- a giant, diverse, maddening, often dysfunctional, but deeply wonderful family. And so it is that when a vicious madman walks into a Jewish community center and senior center, a building that he knew would be full especially with Jewish children and the elderly, it feels like a personal assault.
I believe that God joins us in pouring out anger on those who target the vulnerable and those who find motivation in the icy depths of hatred.
I believe that God joins us in pouring out love on the families of the victims, on the wounded-- physically and spiritually-- and of the first responders.
I believe that God wants us to feel anger, but not give in to the urge for vengeance.
That is the reason that we conclude our seder with the song Chad Gadya, which retells an absurd parable that begins with a cat biting a goat, and quickly escalates into a cycle of pain and destruction until God Himself has to enter the fray to sort things out. Violence cannot be allowed to beget violence; hatred cannot be permitted to breed more hatred.
And so, we can curse and shout and shake our fist - and that is more than legitimate - but ultimately it is our duty to do a lot more than that. God demands of us real action to combat violence and hatred, not just curse it. Because, its victims are always members of someone's family.
Please consider joining me in taking a first step by making a donation to an organization promoting tolerance and combating violence in honor of those who lost their lives, and in hope for a more healed world:
Wishing you a meaningful festival of freedom.