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Pittsburgh One Year Later
One year ago, a naming was to be celebrated at a bris at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh. Only the sacred occasion and joyous ritual was interrupted by an intruder and gunfire. In honor of the tragedy in Pittsburgh I want to share with you a poem. I only know the author’s first name, Zev, and I have adapted it. To understand and truly appreciate its meaning, it helps to understand the meaning of a few Hebrew terms and the names derived from them:
L’nahem – to console or comfort, from which we get the names Nahum and Menahem
Rofeh – means healer. A doctor is a rofeh
Arieh – Lion
Barak – Means lightning, but it also refers to a courageous leader in the time of the Judges who led the Israelites in battle.
Simcha – joy, happiness
Yaron – song
Matan – Gift
Zev writes that he dedicated the poem to the boy who was to be named at his bris scheduled to take place at the Tree of Life Synagogue on Shabbat morning, October 27, 2018.
Little boy, what’s your name – do you have one yet?
Sweet baby, just eight days old, what shall we call you?
I have heard of a bris being postponed for jaundiced yellow, but never for bloodshed red.
Will your name be Shalom? We long for peace in this troubled world. I hope you will be called Shalom.
Will your name be Nachum or Menahem? Oh, how we need to be comforted and consoled in our grief. I hope you will be Nachum.
Will your name be Raphael? Our broken hearts and bleeding souls need healing. I hope you are Raphael.
You should have been carried high into the congregation on Shabbat morning – passed from loving hands to loving hands, on a cushioned pillow to receive your Hebrew name.
Instead your elders fell and were carried out on stretchers and in plastic bags, their names on tags.
Will you be Moshe? Our anguish, rage and despair demand justice. I hope you will be a Moshe.
Will you be Ariel? We need the ferocious strength of lions to protect our people. I hope you will be an Ariel.
Will you be Barak? We need courageous warriors to vanquish our enemies. I hope you will be a Barak.
The blood on Shabbat morning was supposed to be covenantal, not sacrilegious; sacramental, not sacrificial, sacred, not shed in violence. The tears were supposed to be of boundless joy, not bottomless sorrow. The cries were supposed to be “mazel tov”, not “Yitgadal veyitkadash.”
Is your name Simcha? We need an end to sadness and for you to bring joy to us and our world. I hope you will be called Simcha.
Is your name Yaron? We need an end to mourning by bringing song into our lives. I hope you will be a song, Yaron.
Is your name Matan? We need the gift of children to bring us hope of a better tomorrow, and to remind us of that life is a gift. I hope you will be Matan, a gift.
Perhaps you should be called, Chaim, for you represent life and continuity in the face of death and evil.
So little boy, what will you be? What will we call you? Take all these names. May you be peace and comfort and healing, justice and strength and courage, joy, happiness and song and a gift to loved ones. Be every good name and every good thing. Be filled with life. Love life, little Chaim.
And, sweet baby, take one more name. I hope you will be blessed with a long, beautiful and meaningful life. I hope you will be a blessing to all.
I hope you will be Baruch, a blessing.
Rabbi Stuart Weinblatt
October 26, 2019
Congregation B’nai Tzedek
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