As we observe the first anniversary of October 7, 2023, we invited three leaders in Jewish Buffalo to share their reflections on how that day and its aftermath has impacted them.
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When asked for my reflection on what the first anniversary of October 7th means to me, I knew I needed to add and how has this last year changed me and my community’s song at my pulpit. My music during worship embodies the innermost expressions of my soul. I share my soul with my community, and they share theirs with me, in song. We have this tender relationship.
The horrors of October 7 and this last ensuing year have weighed very heavily on us all. For the first month, our worship in song was muted, peppered with d’veykus (a spiritual clinging to the almighty). Eventually I understood that we also came to worship together for release; release from all the tragic news we experience every day; from sorrow and aching.
So, I went back to my normative prayer style of joyous singing and delight in Jewish prayer. Everyone follows in song and for the one hour that we share together, each Friday night, we escape tragedy, hatred and barbarism and let our minds wander to better places. Certain musical settings, though familiar to us all, now carried deeper meaning. Those settings, we sing delicately to acknowledge the undercurrent of sorrow that flows in all of us.
The Sages of old told a story: A Bridegroom amid a joyous celebration on his wedding day runs up to the attic to retrieve another cask of wine for the throngs of lively celebrants. He is startled by a snake, trips, and smacks his head on a wine cask and dies. The Rabbi and his students upon finding the groom discuss what they should do. The Rabbi tells his students to say nothing right now, it’s not the right moment; the music and dancing were at its peak of celebration, and it would be too much of a shock. The Rabbi would wait for the moment when the crowd settled down a bit.
The Rabbi told a student to carry down a cask of wine as if all was well. He then said softly, “I say of the wine; It is mixed.” We understand now that there is never really complete joy without an undercurrent of sorrow, or, for that matter, any sorrow without some small light of hope peeking through. This is where we now exist. It is mixed.
Cantor Arlene Frank
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I have an intimate relationship with the State of Israel. It began 46 years ago when I kissed the ground beneath my El Al plane and was greeted with “Welcome Home.” I’ve toured, led numbers of tours, studied at the University of Haifa, slept on the beach, worked on a kibbutz, met cherished friends and colleagues, and fallen in love with the land, my home, and her people, my family.
I began to understand the precarious safety of Israel on Yom Kippur in 1973. I sat in my home conservative synagogue as my rabbi broke all the “rules” and asked for monetary contributions on the holiest day of the year. Everything changed for me in that moment.
I woke up on October 7th and was immediately confused, angry, and terrified. Each and all those feelings continue to this moment, unabated, indeed heightened.
What can I do? How do I express myself to those who do not understand? What role do I play? I search for these answers and turn to prayer. I pray for the hostages all hours of the day. I pray for the impossible- a solution. I pray for my home and my family.
And I pray, desperately, that the dream is fulfilled, and we will dance again!
Cantor Mark Horowitz
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What have we learned from a year of trauma?
Have we learned to Heal the wounds of The Holocaust, because they’ve been ripped open and spat upon with the vile venom of hatred. Do we recognize the scar? Do we believe in Healing?
Have we learned that a “we” which excludes our neighbors is too small to feel safe having neighbors?
Have WE realized that להיות עם חופשי בארצנו isn’t a big enough dream?
Have WE chosen Love and Life over victory? Can we admit that WE even could?
Have we repeated the mantra of ‘everyone hates us’, forgetting that WE ourselves are the source of Love?
Where is God in all this? Dare we even ask? Or are we too busy pointing fingers? Better to point at an idol than ask the hard questions of an invisible God?
A year later are we safer? Are WE safe?
Anonymous
