By Jeff Levy-Lyons, JCAN NYC Co-Director
As we move into a new year we turn to Exodus, which contains so much to learn from, so much for rabbis and scholars to unpack.
In Exodus, we see how quickly fortunes can change and how precarious freedom and a sense of safety are, which is certainly something we’re experiencing now.
And of course there’s Moses, who claims to be “not a man of words” but grows into a man who speaks truth to power and ultimately utters more words than everyone else in the Torah combined. We can learn from his example and trust that when we need to speak up for climate justice we'll find the words.
So much to learn in Exodus.
But I’d like to highlight how the story of our enslavement and ultimate liberation has been used for generations to remind us that we are called to remember the stranger and care for the stranger–our history of enslavement reminds us that the lives of others are our concern.
I’ve noticed that concern for the other drives our climate work–almost every time we use the word “climate,” it’s followed by the word “justice.” Our belief that all lives should be our concern has been tested in ways we couldn’t have imagined a few short months ago. In the immediate aftermath of the horrific attack on October 7, many in the Jewish community did not feel that kind of concern coming towards us from others; for some it felt like quite the opposite.
I’m not a psychologist, but my understanding of trauma is that it causes individuals to withdraw into themselves and moves groups to get a lot more tribal than they otherwise might be. But as I look out at this patchwork, this mixed multitude of humans we call Am Yisrael, it’s not our achievements and accomplishments, it’s our humanity that makes me most proud to be Jewish.
Our challenge right now is to find the hizuk (the strength) to hold onto our humanity; even when we are told that we shouldn’t; even when we’re just not feeling it. We must let Exodus remind us that no matter the circumstance, the lives of others are our concern.
Just as we work for climate justice with the understanding that our vision may not be realized in our lifetimes, we need to stay focused on a vision of peace in the Middle East that may seem impossible right now. Because that’s what visions are, a stubborn belief in something that seems far away. And by keeping that vision alive, we’ll hold onto our humanity and won’t let it become another casualty of this terrible time.