Rabbi Heller's Blog

This Thanksgiving Shabbat, there will be an open seat in our B'nai Torah sanctuary. Since shortly after October 7^th, we have had seats reserved in our sanctuary for two young Israelis believed held captive in Gaza, Hersh Goldberg-Polin and Shani Gabay.  The open seats were signs of concern and solidarity, and hope that those seats would be filled with their return. We were one of dozens of Conservative synagogues that were paired with captives, and we were asked to include Shani because she grew up in Yokneam, our sister city. Overnight, even as we heard the hopeful news that as many as 50 of those hostages could be released in the coming days, we heard the sad news that Shani’s body had been identified, and she would return but only in death. We have taken down the sign calling for her release, and the seat reserved for her is-- for the moment-- open.

As you gather at your Thanksgiving table, there may be discussion-- even heated-- about this moment. Some may rejoice at Israel’s temporary ceasefire with Hamas, others may debate the wisdom of making as close as can be to a “deal with the devil.” I was interviewed by Fox News on how to navigate a Thanksgiving meal with guests whose views may diverge from your own and will post a follow-up with a link if the story is picked up. Speaking for myself, I will feel free to disagree (sometimes quite vigorously) with the Israeli government over many matters, but I am loath to second-guess their judgment on how to best save the lives of those in danger where I am not the one who will live or die as a consequence of those decisions. 

At this moment, I want to ask a more spiritual question. How do we balance feelings of gratitude that we may have for the blessings that we have joining with our loved ones around the Thanksgiving table with fear for the divisions and hate that we may be experiencing as we make our way through the world? How do we hold hope for those returning home in Israel and grief for those who will not?

Shani’s family are feeling unimaginable grief. What I have heard from some of my friends in Israel is that as even as a few of those thought captive have been identified as murdered, that grief is sometimes accompanied by gratitude. I find that emotional response hard to grasp; would we not want to have hope? I am told that some feel relief that their loved one did not endure the horrific abuse that Hamas forces perpetrated on some of their victims, or at least that there is a sense of finality that there can be a burial. 

That same paradoxical emotion is found in our ancient traditions and our liturgy. The Talmud (Berakhot 48b) indicates that the 4^th blessing of the grace after meals, (Birkhat HaMazon) which speaks of gratitude for God’s goodness, was instituted in gratitude that those murdered in Beitar could be brought to burial with dignity. The evil emperor Hadrian refused to allow the dead to be buried as a way of furthering the crushing oppression he sought to impose. In our own era, one of the reasons Hamas perpetrated such brutalities on the dead as to make them unidentifiable, or brought the remains back with them to Gaza, was to deny their families the comfort and finality of burial. Indeed, Hadar Goldin was an Israeli soldier, killed in an ambush during a humanitarian ceasefire in Gaza. Nine years later, Hamas is still holding his body at one of the hospitals that they use as bases of operation.

At your Thanksgiving table you may well have chairs literally (or at least metaphorically) empty for those who will not come to their loved ones in Israel. Their loved ones are praying most of all for a safe return and if they are not granted that, then their hopes may turn to dignity and certainty. You may also have empty spaces in your heart for those closer to home, your own loved ones whose absence is palpable. Perhaps you will choose to conclude your feast with a spirited rendition of Birkhat HaMazon, including the blessing that speaks of gratitude in the face of the unfathomable. Even if you proceed directly from pumpkin pie to prone on the couch, I would ask that you pause to think about what gratitude you can have-- expected and unexpected-- in this moment. You have many obvious causes to give thanks. You may be facing dire challenges. Our nation certainly is. Our tradition asks us to seek out all the blessings we can find, even in the pain of an open chair.