There’s one crucial Talmudic lesson we must act on in the wake of antisemitic violence
I live in Boulder. Observing Shavuot hours after an antisemitic attack struck my community taught me a deep truth
Local faith leaders and members of the community conduct a prayer vigil for the victims of a fire attack outside the Boulder County Courthouse on June 3 in Boulder, Colorado. Photo by Chet Strange/Getty Images
BOULDER, Co. — Six hours after Sunday’s brutal attack on peaceful Jewish demonstrators in my city of Boulder, Colorado, I, along with my Jewish congregation, was honoring the holiday of Shavuot by learning Torah.
Outside, four police vehicles and several officers stood guard. Inside, the rabbi reported that the most badly injured victim’s condition had stabilized from “critical” to “severe,” to an audible sigh of relief that swept across the sanctuary.
Nothing about the night was normal. But we still gathered to do what Jews have done for millennia, in times of peace and crisis alike — take comfort in community, and study our sacred texts. Tradition dictates that on Erev Shavuot, one should spend all night — dusk till dawn — studying. And in one session, about Jewish teachings on compromise, I learned about a concept that threw some lessons from the day of terror into sharp relief: That of “elu v’elu,” or “these and those.”
“Elu v’elu divrei Elokim Chayim,” the teaching goes. “These and those are the words of the living God.”
This concept, in Talmud, represents the idea that two contrasting views — as those regarding Jewish law, between the schools of Hillel and Shamai — can both represent valid interpretations of God’s will, even if one view takes precedence day-to-day.
I’ve been repeating these words over and over again, as I reflect on the attack. They are helping me reconcile my anger and grief with my desire for peace and justice for all — Israelis, Palestinians, and all of us here in the United States.
The plight of Palestinians in Gaza has gained — deservedly — a national platform in the U.S., and I am grateful that there is widespread awareness of the unimaginable death and suffering there. But justice also demands a platform for the hostages — a platform that Run for Their Lives, the hostage advocacy movement for which those attacked on Sunday were demonstrating, has aimed to provide.
Even before Sunday, speaking out about the plight of the 58 hostages who remain in Gaza, many of whom are believed to be dead, was an act of bravery. Pro-hostage students on a college campus might fear retribution, in the form, say, of criticism from their peers or even a failing grade from an instructor. Run for Their Lives marchers prepare for shout-downs and antisemitic slurs during their peaceful weekly demonstrations.
That bravery, after Sunday’s attack, is even more important. It’s now incredibly clear to me that the Jewish community must raise our voices for the safe return of the hostages, and for the memory of every victim of the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023. As Rabbi Hillel famously said: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”
And yet, in the same breath in which we call for the return of the hostages, we must also express a genuine desire for the suffering in Gaza to end. Elu v’elu. These and those. Support for the hostages, and support for the innocents who are suffering in Gaza, are both valid interpretations of God’s will.
In my very next Shavuot study session, I saw this value applied in practice.
The session’s leader challenged participants about the silence he perceived in the American Jewish community when it comes to speaking out against the Israeli occupation of the West Bank. He asked us to consider difficult questions about living up to our Jewish values in the face of injustice.
In the room was a survivor of that day’s attack, who has been actively planning to make aliyah to Israel. Even after the horror they had experienced, which could reasonably cause anyone to recoil at criticism of Israel, this survivor, along with the rest of the group, engaged in thoughtful and energizing dialogue.
That was, to me, a truly radical act — a willingness to be challenged, to experience discomfort, even when at our most vulnerable.
An inability to listen to each other is tearing many of our Jewish communities apart. And too many pro-Palestinian activists find themselves unable to listen to Jews, instead spreading the kind of irresponsible and violent rhetoric that risks catalyzing the very antisemitic terror and violence my community experienced.
We all must do better, all of us. Sunday made clear that not just our communities, but our lives, depend on it.
These and those: Israel and Palestine; anger and acceptance; justice and peace. I believe that the Jewish community of Boulder will come out of this crisis stronger than ever before, with dialogue, partnership, love and learning keeping us steady.
But we cannot, must not, do this work alone — or else we will all face a long, long night ahead of us.
