I want to share with you two thoughts on High Holy Days this year I originally shared with my Keshet colleagues. 

The Talmud tells a story of Rabbi Yochanan, who was known to be a great healer. Rabbi Yochanan’s student fell ill and when he went to visit this student Rabbi Yochanan took his hand and restored him to good health. Then one day Rabbi Yochanan fell ill and Rabbi Hanina visited him and asked if he wished to be suffering to which he replied that he welcomed neither the suffering nor its reward. Rabbi Hanina took Rabbi Yochanan’s hand and restored him to good health. The Rabbis then ask, if Rabbi Yochanan was a healer why then did he need Rabbi Hanina to restore him? The rabbis answer, “A prisoner cannot free himself, but depends on others to release him.”  (Berakhot 5b)

When I realized I was going to be giving a d’var during Yamim Noraim — the Days of Awe — I didn’t know what I was going to say that could be sufficient for this moment. As I’ve written in the past, I have a tumultuous relationship with the High Holy Days. After my grandpa passed away just before the chaggim thirteen years ago I was so devastated I couldn’t concern myself with the monotonous nature of tashlich and the recitation of vidui, which resulted in me distancing myself from Jewish practice for a number of years.

Currently, we have a daily bombardment of devastating news, some of which directly impacts LGBTQ+ Jews, and through all of this we have to prepare ourselves to be sealed into the Book of Life for another year? Being a trans person living in the United States, I have felt like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me over and over and over again — especially the last few weeks. I’m sure some of you can relate. So again, I’m finding myself feeling distant from the holiest time of year. 

It is my belief that we are all created B’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God, the Divine, the Cosmos, Great Mystery, Love, and every other way that can be interpreted. While I believe this means that we all carry that sacred spark within us and are inherently worthy of dignity, safety, and respect, like we teach at Keshet, I also believe this to mean that because of that sacred spark we are all responsible to do some of that God work. Perhaps most crucially when we don’t feel a presence of God with us at all.

Last Shabbat we read parashat Vayeleich, where Moses has all but wrapped up his epic speech to the Israelites before they continue to the promised land. At one point God says to Moses that this people will go astray and evil will befall them — and when that happens God will turn Their face away from the people and they will not know God’s presence. God means this so much They say it two times. (Devarim 31:17-18)

My friends, there are many evils that have befallen us and while we pray to be sealed into the Book of Life for one more year I can’t help but think about those who are under attack and regardless of what their Divine sealing is, because of the worst displays of humanity, their lives might still end up cut short. 

Then it occurred to me. We are created B’tzelem Elohim. We have Divine Spark. We have a hand in writing a Book of Life. It is all of our responsibility to do that holy work of showing up to ensure the safety of all people. 

I am lucky to work with incredible colleagues at Keshet who participate in this process every day. Not only that, but we get to inspire others to do their share of the same work. 

Together we write a Book of Life. 

On Yom Kippur we read from Parashat Nitzavim where we are commanded when presented with Life and Death, we must choose Life. (Devarim 30:19) 

When I discussed this d’var with my mom she asked what if I say this to someone who takes this as me insulting God’s ability to do Their work, and to that I say, then I am misunderstood. It is with immense gratitude for the agency we’ve been given that we can pursue Life with a capital L. So we must do it.

However, this brings me to my next thought about going into 5786 and how we pursue Life amidst chaos—

I was reminded of the story about Rabbi Yochanan two weeks ago when I was on the phone with a Chassidic man for two hours. We were speaking because he was a friend of my dad’s and is currently trying to help my mom through a difficult situation. Halfway through the conversation he said to me, “Eliana, what Jewish organization do you work for?” Nervous about his response I said “Keshet.” He paused for a minute and then said, “Keshet. Well Keshet means Rainbow. Rainbow is the color of those flags so I take it you work for an LGBTQ organization.” and I said “Yes, that’s right.” Then he laughed and said “You know Eliana, some people think I’m not smart, but I can be smart with it. I know those flags! And you know the Rainbow is the symbol of the covenant?” I said yes and we continued talking and it was after that moment that he shared the story of Rabbi Yochanan and the importance of community showing up for each other.  

This struck me in a profound way because there are many things I am positive that me and him disagree on, but still the act of extending a helping hand triumphed. “A prisoner cannot free himself, but depends on others to release him.”

It is our responsibility to do that holy work of showing up to ensure the well being and the safety of all people. Even when that showing up looks like an older chassid and a purple haired nonbinary rabbi.

I’m reminded of a practice shared by The Management Center, an organization that helps social justice leaders build equitable organizations, in their book Management for a Changing World. They offer this idea called The Green Lens offering five statements to ground in relationship building. Those five statements are:

• This person is a hero, whole and complete.
• This person has goals and dreams and a desire to make a difference.
• This person has their own answers.
• This person is contributing to me right here and now.
• This person deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. 

While this offering comes from an internal organizational standpoint, I think, reframed, it can be a helpful tool in approaching dialogue where the hope is to move hearts and minds. In order for these moves to occur we have conversations with people who may not be where we would like when it comes to equal rights and LGBTQ+ belonging.

This is holy and just work that at its best is soul nourishing, and sometimes it can be frustrating or even feel dehumanizing. To be clear, I’m not calling someone who is committed to dehumanizing LGBTQ+ people or anyone a hero, but I can at least say, well, this person has their own answers, and walk away knowing I tried my best.

Still when we show up we have an opportunity to connect with people in a way that gives them a new perspective — hopefully inspiring them to make choices that work for a liberatory future.

And what I’m really really saying is that to show up, provide tools and resources, and shifting hearts, is a good piece of this Book of Life work. And let’s be honest, for many of us, this exists in different ways — even offline — advocating for ourselves and other marginalized communities.

During High Holiday services when we recite vidui, we confess not from the “I,” but by using “we” language. We take responsibility as a collective. We resolve together. 

“A prisoner cannot free himself, but depends on others to release him.” 

Well, this was a lot so to recap—

1. We are living through a hellscape
2. I don’t know if God is here, but I do know that WE are here and we are doing holy work
3. We must contribute to the writing of a Book of Life and inspire others to do the same
4. It takes community to help community
5. We show up 
6. We take care breaks 
7. And we show up again 

My hope for you, Keshet partner, is recognition of the work you have done AND a continued call to action working for a future where all people can thrive. It is undoubtedly some of the most incredible, sacred, badass, work of our time. This is an opportunity to deepen your commitments to collective liberation and, with your agency, choose to spend time fighting for a more just world ensuring a Book of Life for everyone. How remarkable we get to do this. We show up. When it’s hard we lean on each other. We lift each other up. We show up again. How powerful. How resilient. 

Changemaker, you give me hope on the worst days. And I am honored to work alongside you, witness you, lean on you, and celebrate with you. Blessings on blessings — and may we all continue to feel that sacred spark and have moments of complete sweetness in the year ahead.