Concert Across America

Shabbat Shalom! I missed you all! It was nice getting to check in and catch up with a few of you last Shabbat. Gavi and I were away for most of the summer in Florida for an internship I had down there. It was a lot of really hard work. Slaving away day after day without a moment’s rest. And it is really nice to be back home.

You know…I’m starting my 5th and final (God willing!) year of rabbinical school. I’m trying to soak in all of the academics I can before I have to go out into the real world. And the good (or maybe bad) news for all of you, is that you are going to have to listen to me ramble about all of the stuff I’m learning in class!

The topic right now that’s grabbed the strongest hold of my attention is a course in “ritual studies.” That’s right. I go to school to talk about the theory and creation of sacred rituals. I’m not sure why there’s anyone who doesn’t want to be a rabbi. We’ve been talking about what defines a ritual. What rituals are for. Sociological, psychological, political, and anthropological critiques of rituals. And what makes for good (or bad) ritual.

And, wouldn’t you know it…this week’s parsha kicks off with a really important biblical ritual moment. Moses describes to the Israelites not just what they will do once they enter the land of Israel, but what they will do once they have their first harvest in the Promised Land. They will collect their choicest first fruits, place them in a basket, present them to the priest at the altar and recite a specific phrase: “...ארמי אבד אבי” (Arami oved avi.)

Now…before, I translate this, does this sound familiar to anyone? Does anyone know what which holiday we say this at?

Passover! It lies in the heart of the telling of the Passover story. ארמי אבד אבי. A wandering Aramean was my father. He went down to Egypt and sojourned there, few in number; and he became there a nation, great, mighty, and populous.

This ritual, whether situated in Temple times or in our modern day tellings of the Passover story have an incredibly important purpose. The ritual recitations for us to take intentional time to recall our past and to tell important stories we might otherwise forget or neglect.

But, slow your roll rabbinic intern. Let’s get through the High Holy Days before we start interpreting the Passover Seder.

So, instead, let’s talk for a moment about a key ritual moment that we’ll experience in the next few weeks. The vidui. The confession. We recite our alphabet of woe. אשמנו בגדנו גזלנו (Ashamnu, Bagadnu, Gazalnu). And then we say על חטא שחטאנו לפניך (Al cheit sh'chatanu l'fanecha), the sins we have committed before you. And tradition teaches us to beat our chest, over our heart, for each sin with list. But. Did each of us necessarily commit each of the sins we recite? אשמנו בגדנו גזלנו. Are we guilty, betraying thieves? Maybe. But, the whole list? I’ll venture to say that no one here qualifies for every single one. You can come on Selichot on Saturday night to confirm for me.

Rather, when we say על חטא שחטאנו, the sins we have committed, we claim collective responsibility. Even if we are not directly responsible, this recitation requires us to consider the role we play in the preponderance of violence and suffering that we see in our community and in our world.

And, this Shabbat in particular, I am thinking about the nearly 33,000 people who die each year in this country as a result of gun violence. Now. I know that I’m not directly responsible. I didn’t shoot anyone this year. I’ve never even touched a gun. But I believe that, especially in this season, we are called to consider what causes the ills of our society and how we might be complicit in their continued ability to afflict our communities.

I don’t want to bog down your Shabbat with too many facts, but here are some of the more compelling statistics from the Brady Campaign website.

According to a study by Harvard’s David Hemenway, the U.S. firearm homicide rate is 20 times higher than the combined rates of 22 countries that are our peers in wealth and population.

Everyday in the United States, 306 people are shot and 90 are killed by firearms.

And, despite the information that we hear on the news after mass shooting upon mass shooting, 40% of gun sales, that’s nearly 6 million guns, still happen without a background check.

We may not be responsible, but if we know the problem exists and we permit it to persist…what responsibility do we incur? The sin we have committed against You by our indifference and our inaction.

And this realization. These feelings. They are why we need ritual.

Earlier in the service I mentioned the congressional sit in from the summer. It was incredible to watch it all unfold. I was glued to MSNBC…from my couch. It was surely exciting to watch, but that’s what I did. Watch. Sure, there were people who “joined” the sit in, posting photos on social media. But, rituals, the most successful rituals, are those that bring the community together for a shared experience. For a shared recitation of words that speak to the values we hold most dear. And for a call to action.

This weekend there will be over 350 (!) concerts across America in the aptly named Concert Across America. Musicians will raise their voices to bring awareness and attention to the scourge of gun violence in this country.

This series of concerts…this is ritual at its best. Like the recitation at the beginning of our parsha, like the vidui, this ritual is a moment for people to come together to make a communal declaration. To proclaim shared responsibility and shared commitments.

And what incredible resonance with the Jewish calendar. The music is like a shofar blast. Teruah, nine staccato notes symbolizing brokenness. Shevarim, three cries of anguish from loss and suffering. Tekiah, a single, loud call awakening us and calling us to action. This weekend, the music we hear at Woodlands and that others will hear across the country can do just that. It can give voice to our sorrow and give us the courage to stand up for our values. It can tell stories that we need to hear. Stories we need to remember. It can motivate in the face of intransigence. It can give us hope in the face of tragedy.

And, it’s more than that. We act in ritual moments, at services or sit ins or concerts, as if it matters. Ritual speaks with a language that adds meaning and power. We perform rituals as practice for the real world. We can declare our values and affirm our principles in here…but only so that we can leave and manifest them in the world around us.

I pray that this Shabbat, whether at Selichot or the Concert Across America, that we heed to call to wake up. That we raise awareness of the gun violence epidemic in this country, that we see ourselves as powerful to enact change, and that we recommit ourselves to affirming life, hope, and sweetness in the year to come.

כן יהי רצון.