Dear Friends,

 

This afternoon as I sat with colleagues on a beautiful day here in Adelaide, I was devastated by the news out of Israel.  Four people were brutally murdered as they sat in a Jerusalem shul praying the morning service.  

I am sure that all of us are horrified by this brutal and horrifying attack in Jerusalem today.  At times like this we must stand together in support of the bereaved families, and with Jews both in Israel and across the globe.  There is never any justification for terrorism, and this attack on a Jerusalem synagogue is a hilul hashem, a desecration of Gods name.

At times like this I hope that all of us will pray for the families, and that one day this insanity will end.  It is time that the people of Israel can live in peace, and no longer have to fear from terrorism, or attacks from their neighbors.

 At the end of the Kaddish we pray the words, “Osey Shalom….  May the One who makes peace on the highest, bestow that peace on us, on Israel and on all the worls.”

 Rabbi David A. Kunin

This morning at the Commonwealth Remembrance Day service I decided that I would repost the essay I wrote last year.  But, as I thought about it I realized I could not do so without adding some thoughts.  At the service this year as last, clergy-people from Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism (last year also Islam), asked that as we remember the sacrifices of those who were killed in war, we also dedicate ourselves to create a world where such sacrifices are unnecessary.  Yet, looking at violence across the world, I was struck by how little we (as a human race) have been successful in creating a world of peace and justice. 

Today the Buddhist priest raised an important question -- what message is sent when we as people of religion use our traditions and beliefs to justify war and hatred.  Some have claimed that religion is not a source of violence, yet for me it appears that it is at the least a useful excuse.  As one colleague once metaphorically expressed it, "if the knife was not sharp, it could not be used as a weapon."  We, as people of religion, must ensure that our traditions are not even used as an excuse for violence.

Last year (and this year as well) thoughts of Bernie, my father-in-law, have come to mind.  He and many others left Winnipeg to fight for freedom.  Today I saw the graves of many young Winnipegers, some as young as 21.  This week Bernie will pin his medals to his jacket in preparation for Remembrance Day.  I have no doubt that he will think about and remember the sacrifices of his generation to create a better world.  I don't think I can turn to him and say that we have yet made these sacrifices worthwhile.

Today at the service, I read the following prayer.  It is my belief that its values and hopes will not be realized till we wake up as a human race, and work as God's partners to transform the world.

     Grant universal peace, with happiness and blessing, grace, love, and mercy for us and all people
     of the world.  Bless us, our Creator, one and all with your light; for You have given us, by that
     light, the guide to a life of caring, filled with generosity, contentment, kindness and wellbeing -- 
     and peace.  May it please you to bless all people, in every season and at all times with your gift of 
     peace.  Praised are you O God, who blesses all people with peace.


* * *

Yesterday was Remembrance Sunday, the Sunday closest to November 11th.  Originally called Armistice Day, it marked the end of World War I at the 11th hour, of the 11th day in the 11th Month of 1918.  Now in the Commonwealth of Nations (the historic British Empire) it is called Remembrance Day, while in the United States it is referred to as Veterans Day.  For countries like Britain, Canada and Australia (and other Commonwealth Nations) it is the primary day set aside for remembering all of the young men and women who gave their lives in war -- in the United States, Memorial Day in May, established after the Civil War, serves this purpose.

For ten years I marked this occasion, coordinating and helping to lead (in conjunction with B'nai B'rith) the services held at the Jewish Cemetery in Edmonton Alberta.  This service was made much more meaningful as I stood in the presence of my father-in-law Bernie (who served in the RCAF) and the other veterans of World War II.  Their courage and sacrifice helped to preserve the freedoms that we cherish today.  They also played a real part in the preservation of the Jewish people, as they each played an important role in the defeat of the Nazis.

This year I took part in a much larger service, held at the Commonwealth War Cemetery near Yokohama.  It was not a Jewish service. Instead six diverse religious leaders (Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist) each prayed for peace and an end to war throughout the globe, and wreaths were laid, not only by communal leaders, but also by the ambassadors of nearly all the Commonwealth.  There were also representatives from the Japanese government, and from the city of Yokohama. 

The location of the cemetery was not fortuitous.  Instead, it was placed near where most of the young men had died, most of illness not wounds.  Nearly all had been captured early in the Pacific war, following the loss of Singapore and Hong Kong.  For me, at the Canadian section, it was especially poignant to find that many of the graves marked the resting places of young men from Winnipeg  -- my father-in-law's home city.  As he went east to fight from British shores, these young men went west.

Quite a lot is now known of the young men and their time as prisoners of war.  Two Japanese women dedicated themselves to finding and sharing all that they learned.  Apparently they speak little English, but they have dedicated themselves to ensuring that each of the young men was remembered.  They too were here, and they laid a wreath.  
There were young men of every religion and tradition buried in the cemetery.  I came upon graves with the cross of Christianity, the star of Judaism, the ohm of Hinduism, and the crescent of Islam.  Epitaphs on many contained reminders that these young men fought for peace and justice.  They lie together, whatever their traditions, perhaps calling on us to remember their sacrifice, demanding that we together create a world of peace and justice.

As the service progressed, there were reminders of Canada.  Of course all of us wore red poppies, fulfilling a Commonwealth Remembrance Day tradition.  But apparently not all poppies are created equally.  The Canadian Military Attaché gave me a Canadian poppy -- like ones I have worn for the last ten years -- mentioning that these were much better than the standard Commonwealth poppy.  I also noticed that the Canadian wreaths, with the name of our country emblazened, were unique among all of the standard Commonwealth wreaths.  These little details reminded me of Edmonton, and connected me with Bernie and many others, who are joining together at the Jewish Cemetery today to commemorate Remembrance Day.

Yesterday was a pleasant but windy 18 celsius, and the hillside cemetery could not have been more beautiful with its forest of trees covered with autumn leaves.  Even the occasional light rain did not distract from its beauty.  But despite its beauty, grave after grave of young men who never had a chance to live their lives, was a reminder of the horrible cost of war.  For me it was a cry of "never again."  It was a prayer that one day humanity "will beat its swords into plough-shears and its spears into pruning hooks, and that nations will know war no more".

A few weeks ago Japanese class seemingly transmorphed (perhaps not a real word but I like it) for a short moment into a mystical meditation, reminiscent of the Zohar passage that I am studying with Prof. Francis Landy.  During a class on な adjectives, we somehow moved into the discussion of transmigration, in this case of words rather than souls.  Just as souls, in the Jewish (and many other) tradition can move, following death, to a new body, so too words can move from one language to another and take on a new life of expression.

Our teacher, Mana-san, introduced us to  もったいない mottainai which currently is transmigrating from Japanese, to English and other foreign languages.  While metoposcopy is an effective mystical tool to read the migrations of the soul, Google may be its modern equivalent in the migration of words.  While most entries of Mottainai are in Japanese, there are a growing number in English and other languages.  It is possible, however, to detect that the transference process for mottainai, is incomplete, as my spell checker does not recognize it.

 Translation is always an imperfect art, often simplifying or sticking with the denotation, while missing the deeper connotation of a word.  Mottainai can be translated as waste, but in truth in Japanese it means so much more.  More than waste, mottainai implies a sense of regret that an object, which still has use, is being discarded.  This regret stems from the inherent divinity found within every object.  

 This understanding of mottainai was reflected in an epigram used during meals by Mana-san’s grandmother.  If the children did not finish their rice, she admonished them say that “there were seven gods [perhaps the seven lucky gods] in each grain of rice.”  I have no doubt that this witticism engendered sufficient piety – or is it guilt – to encourage the young children to finish all their rice. 

Among older Japanese the sense of mottainai is very strong.  Thus, it was traditional not to waste old Yukata (the light summer weight kimono), but instead to use the cloth for diapers and dust rags.  It was also considered mottainai not to repair an object that could be fixed and reused.  Today, a sense of mottainai is used in regards to the environment.  Wonton destruction of the world around us is seen as mottainai in the deepest sense of the word.  It was in this sense that Nobel laureate Wangari Maathai (former Kenyan Minister of the Environment), introduced mottainai into English usage, calling on the world to have a deep respect and care for the world in which we all live.  (For those interested in the Mottainai movement I suggest you check out their website, http://mottainai.info/english/).

 Mottainai creates an ontology of respect and humility as we realize humanity is not at the centre of the universe, and that it does not exist just for our sake.  It teaches us that everything around us is imbued with divinity.   This same teaching is at the centre of the Hassidic mystical worldview.   

The Ba’al Shem Tov asks us to open our eyes, because everywhere we look we would see that bushes were burning, but not being consumed.  He is reminding us that we often walk through the world and we only see materiality – which we have the hubris to think we can control, and that we own.   Yet, with a mystical eye, we have the opportunity to see God’s presence and being within everything. 

 To a mystic God’s all encompassing presence is set forth in the Torah, “Know this day and set it upon your heart that the Eternal is Lord…there is none else.  The Hasid reads the last two words, as “there is nothing else.”  Everything is God, though we don’t always see it.

Yet, for the Hasid there is a definite level of valuation between the knowable and the unknowable.  The material world of gashmiut, or corporeality, is considered a mask that can impede us from seeing the unknowable unity of ruchniut, or spirit.  Despite this, however, since the divine is in everything even in materiality, we can serve in every aspect of our lives.  Just like sacred activities, all mundane activities – everything we do – awaits and invites elevation, achieved through the realization that the divine is hidden within it.  Eating, drinking, singing, dancing and even sexual intercourse all can be, and should be, holy activities.  The Hasidic does not require a withdrawal from the world or from other people, but rather it demands that we seek to make everyday and every moment an opportunity of elevation.

I move even further away from the negative valuation of this world.  I see the process of emanation not as the creation of a materiality that masks or prevents the true essence, which is God; instead, I envision a process of revelation where the divine is made known in the world.  The divine is perceived, not only as the underlying essence, which expresses unity, but also in the truth of the world’s materiality and diversity and our interconnectivity to it – that is to say through the beauty of many different flowers and plants or the comfort of a hug.   The rabbis speak of this diversity in the midrashic analysis of creation.  The text points to the difference between the divine and a human king.  When a king mints coins with his image, the image on each coin is identical, but when the divine mints human beings, all in the divine image, each male and female is unique.  Our diversity, and indeed all diversity is a revelation of the divine.  It is not, however, just humanity that is in image of God, rather it is the entire diversity of creation.

The spirit of mottainai and the Jewish mystical tradition demand that we recognize the divinity that surrounds us.  They demand that we act as faithful stewards to preserve, and not destroy, the world in which we live.