Ancestral Lessons for Living and Dying
Ps. 44:23-24
Our ancestors left us with lessons for how to live our lives more fully and with purpose. They also taught us how to die with dignity, and how to face the sometimes tragic, cruel, and fatal sides of life and death with as much sacred consciousness as possible.
There are tools in our collective tool boxes we may never want to use yet they are there, for times when we may need to use them, living or dying with less fear and hate, and with more acceptance, trust, and love.
Today’s psalm includes some serious life and death lessons -- in the context of one of the loudest accusations in our scriptures against God. It’s a painful tirade, emerging from trauma, that blames the Holy One Blessed Be for betraying our people, for standing by, remote, as we suffer - or worse - for being responsible for the suffering at the hands of cruel enemies.
This is an ancient text that echoes loudly and painfully, right now.
This psalm’s accusation begins with appreciation for how things once were -- a nostalgic nod to the good old days, as reported to us by our elders:
אֱלֹהִ֤ים ׀ בְּאזְנֵ֬ינוּ שָׁמַ֗עְנוּ אֲבוֹתֵ֥ינוּ סִפְּרוּ־לָ֑נוּ פֹּ֥עַל פָּעַ֥לְתָּ בִ֝ימֵיהֶ֗ם בִּ֣ימֵי קֶֽדֶם׃
We have heard, O God,
our ancestors have told us
the deeds You performed in their time,
in days of old.
Ps. 44:2
Perhaps this is a reference to the Exodus or other historical redemptions. But what good are the good ol’ days if they are just history - and the present is a series of painful afflictions and battles?
For the poet, and for us, the highlights of history are not enough to get us through the tough times. What happens when we are faced with the terrible choice: Hold on to our values, identity and religion -- or die trying? How do we face the times when it’s real bad?
The poet introduces a terrible theme that will become a known trope throughout the generations of Jewish history: Martyrdom. In Hebrew it is known as Kiddush Hashem - the Sanctification of God’s Name - even at the cost of one’s life. Throughout history Jews were faced with brutal choices - convert to another religion, or die. In other instances there was no choice given - just the need to face the hateful executioners who wanted Jewish blood. How do you die with dignity when it’s your people’s legacy that’s on the line along with your own life?
This is part of this poet’s rebuke against God, while also being a continued confession of faith, insisting on the covenant, no matter what. It’s an astounding attitude that can be adapted and practiced in very different ways:
כִּֽי־עָ֭לֶיךָ הֹרַ֣גְנוּ כל־הַיּ֑וֹם נֶ֝חְשַׁ֗בְנוּ כְּצֹ֣אן טִבְחָֽה׃ ע֤וּרָה ׀ לָ֖מָּה תִישַׁ֥ן ׀ אֲדֹנָ֑י הָ֝קִ֗יצָה אַל־תִּזְנַ֥ח לָנֶֽצַח׃
It is for Your sake that we are slain all day long,
that we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.
Rouse Yourself; why do You sleep, O my Sovereign?
Awaken, do not reject us forever!
Ps. 44:23-24
These verses bring up tough theological questions.
The notion of ‘Kiddush Hashem’ - the Sanctification of God’s Name even at the expense of one’s life is this virtue that we all hope to never need to deal with. And yet, as rising violence in the Middle East and worldwide continues to rattle us, so many innocent lives lost, it’s a phrase that’s heard again and again. And that’s terrifying.
Zealots and extremists on all sides use violence in the name of God to justify terror and violence, weaponizing religious dogma in political contexts that deny the divinity within each of us, the spark of life that we all share. Others, facing terrible violence, close their eyes and cling to faith with their last breath, last resort.
When human life is violated for the sake of power and abuse it is known as Chilul Hashem - the Desecration of God’s Name. It is not the noble way to live - or kill - or die - with virtue, compassion and love. It’s the shadow side of the religious life. And it’s powerful again, right now.
I am thinking of my ancestors today. The ones who paid with their own lives for the hatred against our people.
I’m thinking of my father’s father, Rabbi Moshe Chayim Lau, of blessed memory, who was a Polish rabbi and marched with his entire congregation to the gas chambers in Treblinka, leading them in reciting their own mourners’ kaddish and the S’hma.
Years before the Holocaust began he had an intuition that bad times are coming. In the early 1930’s he began to write a Guidebook for the Martyr, called The Path to Sanctification of God’s Name. Only fragments remain. The manuscript was lost along with him and many of our relatives during those dark years. My father tried to find it for many years.
Did my grandfather ever think he’ll need to live up to the words he wrote, interpreting this psalm and other texts from our tradition in the most literal sense? What were his final feelings and thoughts?
We will never know.
But on this day, as I honor his legacy and our ancestors, as I continue in his footsteps - in my own way , during these time tough times of trouble and turmoil, I cling to his conviction that beneath the horror is the deeper truth of hope.
I also know that we’ve been given a proud legacy of honoring every moment of life and every human being, and our precious path of living, appreciating the best of what’s we have inherited alongside narratives that no longer serve us or the world we’re living in.
To sanctify the divine name is to know that life can be a challenge and it’s on us to keep insisting on what’s sacred, and profound and loving - refuting the hateful, the divisive, the profane. It’s about remembering that all life is sacred and that religious dogmas that prioritize land or law or legacy over the dignity and freedom of all human lives are betraying our ethical, moral and essential truths.
What’s ahead? Who knows? How will our faith and trust, along with our big questions help us with both sunny and with rainy days? What tools may we need for our ongoing journey?
The psalm ends, as so many do, with hope, and with a deep, perhaps unreasonable insistence on the plea for peace, for help, for better days even when it feels nobody is listening.
Every day can bring us blessings. How we choose to live, or die, can be a way to honor the divine spark within all, passed on, the DNA of our sacred story from one generation to the next. Life is sacred. We are all holy. Live with love, with pride and purpose, until the very last breath.
Let us commit to breathing every breath, and living every day with deep commitment to holiness, to hope and human dignity.
Let there be healing, peace and kinder days, today, and every day, for all.
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