This week’s violent, horrific attack on people gathered for the weekly Run For Their Lives event (which calls for the release of Hostages held by Hamas) can leave us without words. And for a time, that is ok. Shocked silence is a legitimate response.
Unfortunately, this is not the first time a Jewish community has been moved to outrage and silence. Historically, when we have lived in places that normalize this rhetoric of hate turned into action, we have looked to the stories of the Torah for inspiration.
I propose at this moment, we look to the Torah as a whole, and take note of its composition; black letters surrounded by white spaces. The writing of a Sefer Torah (the physical Torah scroll) is a precise and particular physical task, which imbues the pages themselves with powerful symbolic qualities.
Tradition requires, that the black letters be surrounded by white spaces; and that both are necessary. As Rav Kook teaches:
When we think about a Torah scroll, we usually only consider the letters themselves, written in black ink. Yet, the Talmud (Menachot 29a) rules that every letter in a Torah scroll must be completely surrounded by parchment. This requirement is called mukaf gevil. In other words, the white parchment around the letters is an integral part of the Torah; without it, the Torah scroll is disqualified. In fact, the white space is a higher form of Torah. It is analogous to the white fire of Sinai — a sublime, hidden Torah that cannot be read in the usual manner.
The defined, precise, decorated black letters form the words. We dig into them, we debate and wrestle with them. We intellectualize and (hopefully) find meaning in them.
We also have white space between the letters. These silent spaces can give us room to breathe and be. They can give us presence without needing to define meaning, and comfort without needing to understand. They are the living, emotional component, that gives us space for (at least right now) outrage. They remind us that understanding, details and meaning will come. For now, we can spend time in the communal spaces between the letters.
Just as both the white letters and black spaces are necessary, so too are our reactions; white hot outrage of the spaces, and the defined letters through which we find meaning. Together, they move us into action. Together, Am Yisrael Chai.
