academic · poem

Immanuel of Rome’s 9th Machberet

Emmanuel of Rome –in Hebrew, Emmanuel haRomi; in Italian, Manoello Giudeo – was born to an aristocratic Italian-Jewish family in 1261. Although only a minor poet by comparison to his pre-Renaissance contemporaries, Emmanuel was the first ever poet to write sonnets in any language other than Italian. Around 1300, Emmanuel produced a series of Hebrew sonnet collections that dealt with both secular and religious themes.

Using Dov Yarden’s edition of the Hebrew, I have created English translations of Immanuel’s 9th Machberet, which is a series of sonnets for each month of the Jewish year. So far, there has not been any systematic effort to translate all of Emmanuel’s works and only a few contemporary scholars show much interest in him. By putting these translations into the public domain, I hope others will take up interest in him.

I tell my story and say: וָאֶשָּׂא מְשָׁלִי וָאֹמַר 

TISHRI 

In Tishri, I rejoice; as the feasts to God 
Awaken me, to songs of passion sing  
I will delight in honey and nectar 
A time when willows string up violins 
And I shall surround myself  with youth 
I’ll eat a banquet fit to feed a king 
While staring at the apple of my eye, 
The juice of grapes and pomegranates drink. 
My face in battle, like before a flame 
I won’t be mute, but surely I will sing 
As her warden, I open up my lips  
I borrow kisses from Ofra’s wellspring 
And thank the Lord who made humanity 
Complete with all the perfect openings  
בְּתִשְׁרִי אֶשְׂמְחָה כִּי מוֹעֲדֵי אֵל
 יְעִירוּנִי לְשׁוֹרֵר שִׁיר עֲגָבִים
 וְאֶתְעַנַּג בְּנֹפֶת צוּף וּפַנַּג
 וְכִינוֹרַי תְּלוּיִם עַל עֲרָבִים
 וְאַצִּיבָה סְבִיבוֹתַי נְעָרַי
 וּמוּל פָּנַי לְאַיֶּלֶת אֲהָבִים
 וְאֶסְעַד מַעֲדַן מֶלֶךְ וְאֶשְׁתֶּה
 עֲסִיס רִמּוֹן וְאֶשְׁכַּר דַּם עֲנָבִ
ים וְאֶשְׁכַּח רִישׁ וְלֹא אַחְרִישׁ וְאָרֹן
 וּפָנַי בַּקְּרָב כִּפְנֵי לְהָבִים
 וְאֶלְוֶה מִשְּׂפַת עָפְרָה נְשִׁיקוֹת
 וְלִפְרֹעַ שְׂפָתַי לָהּ עֲרָבִים
 וְאוֹדֶה אֵל אֲשֶׁר יָצַר בְּחָכְמָה
 בֵּני אָדָם וּבָרָא בָם נְקָבִים 

MAR-CHESHVAN 

In Mar-Cheshvan, we’re lifted up by light 
I long to stand on dark borders of clouds 
And cry out from the fastened fires of night 
So sticky honey drips on land unploughed 
Upon the borders of the fields I press 
The nectar into syrup and the olives into chow 

I drink until I forget poverty 
And drive out all the grief from hearts somehow 
I bless each bairn to any woman born  
I see this as the time for seeds to sow 
The autumn plants assert this as their hour 
Nothing has thorns that sting as sharp as now 
But shoots will spring from barren earth again 
Like men from graves, accomplishing God’s vow  
בְּמַרְחֶשְׁוָן מְאוֹר יַעְלוֹת וְזִיוָן
 אֱהִי עֹרֵךְ לְמוּל אֹפֶל עֲנָנָיו
 וְקָרָתוֹ בְּאֵשׁ חֵשֶּׁק אֲגָרֵשׁ
 וְתַמְרוּרָיו בְּנֹפֶת צוּף עֲדָנָי
 וּמוּל פִּרְשׁוֹ יְהִי חֵשֶק וְדִבְשׁוֹ
 וְאֶל מוּל בָּאֳשׁוֹ רֵיחַ שְׁמָנָיו

  אֲנִי אֶשְׁתֶּה וְאֶשְׁכַּח רִישׁ וְאַחְרִישׁ
 וְאָסִיר מִלְּבָבִי עִצְּבוֹנָיו
 וּמִכָּל חַי יְלוּד אִשּׁה אֲבָרֵךְ
 אֲנִי נֹחַ וְנִטְעֵי נַעֲמָנָיו
 אֲשֶׁר לוּלֵי נְעִימוֹתָם יְכֻסֶּה
 זְמָן חָרוּל וְעָלוּ קִמְּשׁוֹנָיו
 עֲלֵי יָשְׁרוֹ אֲחוֹנֵן אֶת עֲפָרוֹ
 בְּתוֹךְ קִבְרוֹ וְאֶרְצֶה אֶת אֲבָנָיו 

KISLEV 

In Kislev, God’s horseman I will be 
And through calm pride I surely will agree 
A light on high supports a needy man 
To lift the dust of earth to build freely 
We light each night an eight pronged candel’bra 
Drink whiskey like the finest smooth honey 
The beauty of the girls’ arms, so exposed 
Whose eyes, like light’ning, shine in front of me 
One woman sets the table for the meal 
Another one runs after her to clean 
One coyly turns aside and rends men’s hearts 
Another bakes up biscuits for high tea 
I need not wonder what the meal will be 
The main course is spread out in front of me
בְּכִסְלֵו אֶהְיֶה שָׁלֵו וְאוֹדֶה
 לְצוּר רֹכֵב בְּגַאְוָתוֹ שְׁחָקִים
 וְאוֹר עֶלְיוֹן אֲשֶׁר אִישׁ דַּל וְאֶבְיוֹן
 מְרִימִי מֵעֲפַר אֶרֶץ וּמֵקִים
 וְנֵרוֹת אֶהְיֶה מַדְלִיק שְׁמֹנָה
 וְשִׁקּוּיַי כְּנֹפֶת צוּף מְתוּקִים
 וְהַיָּפוֹת זְרוֹעֹתָן חֲשׂוּפוֹת
 וְעֵינֵיהֶן יְרוּצוּן כַּבְּרָקִים
 וְאַחַת עֹרְכָה שֻׁלְחָן וְאַחַת
 תְּשַׂדֵּד אַחֲרֶיהָ הָעֲמָקִים
 וְאַחֶרֶת תְּלַבֵּב הַלְּבִבוֹת
 וְאַחֶרֶת תְּבַשּׁל הָרְקִיקִים
 וְצַפִּיחִת וּמַעְשֵׂה הַחֲבִתִּים
 וּמַרְחֶשֶׁת מְזָוֵינוּ מְפִיקִים 

TEVET 

The tenth Tevet: a fast for those who died 
When God’s children, like roaring seas, shall thrive 
They come in waves before the courts of God 
Where fools can dream and helping hands can strive 
To dig the chilly ground; this cold man shakes  

Those muscly men who work the harsh outside 
Who pull the jumpers round their necks and hide 
On snowy roads beneath the winter sky 
On days like these, I look for doe-eyed dames 
In secret surfaces where they reside 
My life is like a dead stalk in decay 
And yet, with only a gaze, I revive 
I know that God will crush all those who hate 
But meanwhile, I’ll be fortified by wine 
בְּטֵבֵת בַּעֲשָׂרָה בוֹ יְצוּמוּן
 בְּנֵי אֵל חַי וְכַיַּמִּים יְהִימוּן
 לְבוֹא צַר בֵּית אֱלֹהִים וַחֲצֵרָיו
 בְּכֵילַפּוֹת וְכַשִּׁיל יַהֲלֹמוּן
 וְהַקֹּר יַחֲלֹף הָאִישׁ וְיִדְקֹר

  פְּנֵי שָׂרִים הֲכִי חָבוּשׁ בְּטָמוּן
 וּמִטְרוֹת עֹז וְטִיט חוּצוֹת וְקֶרַח
 וְשֶׁלֶג עַל מְסִילֹּתַי יְרֻמוּן
 לְעֵת כָּזֹאת אֲשַׁחֵר הַצְּבִיּוֹת
 אֲשֶׁר סוֹד עַל יְגוֹנִים יַעֲרִימוּן
 וְעֵינֵיהֶן וְהוֹד צִיצַת לְחֵיהֶן
 יְחַיּוּנִי נְבֵלָתִי יְקִימוּן
 וְאֵיךְ אִירָא וְיֵינִי לִי לְעֶזְרָה
 וְהוּא יִמְחַץ מְשַׂנְאַי מִן יְקוּמוּן 

SHVAT 

Your face is harsh as bastards’ are, Shevat 
You send your time and frosty ice like loaves 
The whizzing snow breaks skies and cools my heart 
I spot the lovers hiding in alcoves 
They thrust and grab with their bosoms exposed 
Their voices cry out loud within their homes 
I cursed the stupid sermons as I froze 
And realised I was better off alone  
שְׁבָט אַכְזָר וְעַז פָּנִים כְּמַמְזֵר
 וּבוֹ יַשְׁלִיךְ זְמָן קַרְחוֹ כְפִתִּים
 וְהַשֶּׁלֶג גְּאוֹן הַלֵּב יְפַלֵּג
 וְהַדּוֹדִים בְּחֵיק יַעְלוֹת נְחִתִּים
 וְרָצֵי הַצְּבִיּוֹת הֵם דְּחוּפִים
 וְכָרוֹזָא בְּקוֹל קָרֵא בְּבָתִּים
 אֲרוּרָה דֹּרְשָׁה צֶמֶר וּפִשְׁתִּים
 לְעֵת כָּזֹאת לְבַד מַעְשֵׂה חֲבִתִּים 

ADAR 

Adar arrives to teach the bawdy tale 
Of how Haman and Zeresh caused such shame
If I had not such wealth and dignity 
I could not feast upon these geese and game 
In my right hand, a cup of toddy wine 
I shout each time I hear Haman’s curs’d name 
I join my mates and drink myself insane 
Until the heroes and the brutes are same 
We cheer with throats full of liquor and food 
For tyrants who will never rise again 
Only good wine can expel pain and strife 
And so we praise its healing holy name  
בְּאַדָּר אֶהְיֶה ישֵׁב וְדֹרֵשׁ
 וְאַזְכִּיר חַסְדֵי הָמָן וְזֶרֶשׁ
 וְלִי יוֹנִים וּבַרְבֻּרִים אֲבוּסִים
 וְלֹא אָחוּשׁ הֲאִם לִי הוֹן וְאִם רֵישׁ
 וְהַיַּיִן מְבֻשָּׂם אֶל יְמִינִי
 בְּקוֹל קֹרֵא וּבַדִּבּוּר יְפָרֵשׁ
 וְאִם אֹמַר אֲרוּר הָמָן וְזֶרֶשׁ
 יְשִׁיבוּן אַל תְּקַלֵּל דּוֹד לְחֵרֵשׁ
 וְקוֹל קֹרֵא אֱכֹל וּשְׁתֵה לְשָׁכְרָה
 וְלֹא תַשְׁאִיר לְנֹחֵל אוֹ לְיוֹרֵשׁ
 בְּיַעַן הוּא לְבַד רִפְאוּת וּמָזוֹר
 וְכָל רַע וָחֳלִי גָּרֵשׁ יְגָרֵשׁ 

NISSAN 

Nissan, I will recall God’s miracles 
Come see our homes, delight with joyous Jews 
How good and pleasant are these former slaves 
Our ancestors whom God opted to choose 
Once cloaked in cloud, they wandered in deserts 
But now delight and wonder are our views 
Up from these blossomed trees call turtle doves 
Our doorways filled with special treats, infused I fall
in love with her between the flower beds 
And couples ride the heavens in pursuit 
I will sacrifice the flesh and wool 
Of lambs and rams and farmers’ choicest ewes 
Let me cry out to all my famished friends: 
Jerusalem and food wait here for you!  
Upon the Torah’s head a diadem 
And graceful bracelets embedded with jewels 
Her crown reveals her lovely wonderment 
Each heart lights up to listen to her news 
Although a broken world encroaches now 
When morning comes, the world awaits her truth 
בְּנִיסָן אֶזְכְּרָה נִסֵּי אֱלֹהִים
 וּבֹו אוֹרָה וְשִׂמְחָה לַיְּהוּדִים
 וַּמה טּוּבוֹ וַּמה יָּפְיוֹ אֲשֶׁר בּוֹ
 אֲבֹתַי יָצְאוּ מִבֵּית עֲבָדִים
 וּפָשַׁט הַזְּמָן עָנָן לְבֻשׁוֹ
 וְעָטָה אוֹר וְכֻלּוֹ מַחֲמַדִּים
 וְקוֹל הַתּוֹר עֲלֵי מִפְתָּן וְכַפְתּוֹר
 וְאֶרְאֶה עַל פְּתָחַי כָּל מְגָדִים
 וְחשֵׁק עִם חֲשׁוּקָה בֵּין עֲרֻגוֹת
 בְּשָׂמִים רֹכְבִים יַחְדָּו צְמָדִים
 וְאֶזְבַּח שׁוֹר וְשֶׂה נָקֹד וְטָלוּא
 לְבַד מִן הַתְּיָשִׁים הָעֲקֻדִּים
 וְאַעְבִיר קוֹל לְכָל צַד כָּל דְּכָפִין
 וְצָרִיךְ לֶאֱכֹל יִהְיוּ עֲתִידִים
 וְאַצִּיב יַעֲלַת הַחֵן לְנֶגְדִּי
  בְּרֹאשָׁהּ צִיץ וְעַל יָדָה צְמִידִים
 וְהִיא תַעְנוּג לְכָל לֵב נוּג וְלַחְרֹט
 פְּאֵר הוֹדָהּ יְדֵי הָעֵט כְּבֵדִים
 לְדַעְתָּהּ יֵצְאוּ יָדַי גְּדוּדִים
 וְעַד בֹּקֶר הֲכִי נִרְוֶה בְדֹדִים 

IYYAR 

Iyyar asks me a joyful oath to swear  
I join my hands, both left and right, as pairs 
With lustful oxen, all Hebrews will unite 
By seeking dreams and chirpy birdsong pray’r 
I will never see liberation come 
Nor hear lads singing in the streets somewhere 
The world removes the mourning clothes she wears 
To swap for fancy garb, with lovers shared 
I free myself from books I have to read 
The Talmud’s texts, to which I am an heir 
Instead, I’ll set myself beside a doe 
Her body giving life beyond compare 
And though the heat of morning beats us slow 
When death does come, we will be holy there  
בְּאִיָּר אֶשְׂבְּעָה שׂבַע שְׂמָחוֹת
 וּבִשְׂמֹאלִי וּבִימִינִי נְעִימוֹת
 בְּשׁוּרִי חשְׁקִים מִכָּל עֲבָרִים
 בְּצִיץ צִצִּים לְשַׁחֵר הָעֲלָמוֹת
 וְלֹא אֶרְאֶה לְבַד גִּילַת וְרַנֵּן
 וְלֹא אֶשְׁמַע לְבַד שִׁיר עַל עֲלָמוֹת
 וְתֵבֵל תַּחֲלִיף סוּת אַלְמְנוּתָהּ
 וְלִכְבוֹד חשְׁקִים תִּלְבַּשׁ רְקָמוֹת
 וְאֶתֵּן גֵּט לְעֵרוּבִין וְגִטִּין
 וְסַנְהֶדְרִין וּמַסֶּכֶת יְבָמוֹת
 וְאֶבְחַר לִי לְצֵידָה הַצְּבִיָה
 לְחִי שׁוֹשָׁן נְשָׁמָה לַנְּשָׁמוֹת
 פְּנֵי חַמָּה אֲשֶׁר כָּל שֹׁחֲרֶיהָ
 קְדֹשִים יִהְיוּ בָהּ אַחֲרֵי מוֹת 

SIVAN 

Sivan makes me remember all God’s deeds 
How by wonder, He lifts us up, proceeds 
He brought His treasur’d people to freedom 
His children follow after where he leads 
They see his words and statutes as their light 
Enlightened by the Torah’s sacred creed 
Hear us, O God, as we cry out to You 
Comfort our fears in this, our hour of need 
O, show us Moses, whom we need so close 
Who came from mountains in the clouds, decreed 
To us the ten statutes by which we live 
For Jeshurun bowed down and found he’d heed 
Then Esau saw that God fulfilled His will 
And Ishmael learnt that God would be his steed  
בְּסִיוָן אֶזְכְּרָה פִּלְאוֹת אֱלֹהִים
 אֲשֶׁר נִשָּׂא וְגָבַהּ עַל גְּבֹהִים
 אֲשֶׁר יָצָא לְיֵשַׁע עַם קְרֹבוֹ
 יְלָדָיו הֹלְכִים אַחְרָיו וְנִנְהִים
 וְנָתַן הוֹד וְנֵר מִצְוָה וְתוֹרָה
 לְעַם קָדְשׁוֹ לְאוֹר יִשְׁעוֹ כְמֵהִים
 וְשָׁמַעְנוּ אֱלֹהִים חַי מְדַבֵּר
 וְנַחְנוּ פֹּחֲדִים מֶנְהוּ וְרֹהִים
 וְרָאִינוּ אֲזַי משֶׁה בְּגִשְׁתּוֹ
 לְעַרְפַלָּיו וְעָמַדְנוּ תְמֵהִים
 וְהִתְוָה תָו עֲשֶׂרֶת דִּבְּרוֹתָיו
 הֲתִשְׁתּוֹחַח יְשֻׁרוּן עוֹד וְתָהִים
 שְׁאַל עֵשָׂו הֲרָאָה כֵן בְּעֹשָׂיו
 וְיִשְׁמָעֵאל הֲשָׁמַע קוֹל אֱלֹהִים 

TAMMUZ 

Stripped bare and broken, in Tammuz, I go 
To play and say the eulogies of woe 
My contrite heart cries out in broken pain 
My clothes are drenched in blood and wet sorrow 
That soaks the valleys of God’s holy home 
The plunder and destruction of my foes 
Those heathens burn the sacred sites they hate 
And tear up Torah scrolls, they overthrow 
An idol stands upon God’s conquered throne 
It breaks my heart in ways I’ve never known 
I take my sword, prepare myself for war 
The huntsman within me readies his bow 
So all of my tears will break down these walls 
In grieving the lost ones, I cry alone 
בְּתַמּוּז אֵלְכָה עָרוֹם וְשׁוֹלָל
 וְלִשְׂחוֹק אֹמְרָה נַפְשִׁי מְהוֹלָל
 וְאֶתְעַנֶּה בְּלֵב נִשְׁבָּר וְנֶעְכָּר
 וּמַלְבּוּשִׁי בְּדַם דִּמְעִי מְגוֹלָל
 אֲשֶׁר בּוֹ הָבְקְעָה עִיר בֵּית אֱלֹהַי
 וְהֵצַר צַר וּבָזַז בַּז וְשָׁלָל
 וּבָטְלוּ הַתְּמִידִים בּוֹ וְשָׂרַף
 אֲפוֹסְטוֹמוֹס לְתוֹרַת אֵל וְחִלָּל
 וְצֶלֶם הֶעֱמִיד תּוֹךְ הֵיכְלֵי אֵל
 מְשׂוֹשׂ לִבִּי לְזֹאת חָרַב וְדָלָל
 הֲיַעְרֹךְ צִיר אֱלֵי צִירִי וּמַכְאֹב
 לְמַכְאֹבִי אֲשֶׁר בָּא לִי וְעוֹלָל
 וְלָכֵן כֹּל אֲשֶר דִּמְעָה יְפַכֶּה
 וְיִתְאַבֵּל לְפִי שִׂכְלוֹ יְהֻלָּל 

AV 

Throughout the month of Av, I will cry and grieve 
I’ll pump out reservoirs of tears of pain 
For desecration of God’s wasted home 
The refugees removed by Rome’s campaign 
On one long day, like Haman’s sons we hang 
While God destroys His seat of holy reign 
With fuming rage, my life force God destroys 
I sob out floods of salty tear-filled rain 
Now traitors and cynics surround me 
But I won’t eat or make love for the slain 
And were it not for God’s endless mercy 
My mouth would never know to laugh again  
בְּחֹדֶשׁ אָב אֱהִי נִכְאָב וְאֶדְאַב
 וְאֶשְׁאַב מֵי דְמָעַי מִכְּבֵדִי
 וְאֶתְעַנֶּה לְחָרְבַּן בֵּית אֱלֹהַי
 וְעִיר קָדְשׁוֹ וְעַל הָגְלַת כְּבוֹדִי
 בְּיוֹם אָרוּךְ כְּמוֹ וָי”ו וַיְזָתָא
 בְּחֻמּוֹ נֶהֱפַךְ חֹרֶב לְשַׁדִּי
 וְהַמַּיִם אֲשֶר אֶשְׁתֶּה לְשִׂכִּים
 בְּמוֹ עֵינַי וְלִצְנִינִים בְּצִדִּי
 וְאַרְחִיק הַצְּבִיָּה מִיְּצֻעַיְ
 וְאֶתְגּוֹלֵל בְּמִטָּתִי לְבַדִּי
 וְלוּלֵי נַחֲמוּ בִּבְנֵי אֲוָזָיו
 יְמַלֵּא פִי שְׂחוֹק אֶבְכֶּה בְעוֹדִי 

ELUL I 

The nobles’ daughters now are frollicing 
On flower beds of Elul’s evenings 
And balls run down the rafters of downswings 
Like those who made our rabbis into kings 
O, let us go and see the vineyards spring 
We’ll search for fresh grown figs until ev’ning 
Where trees not only grow but even sing 
And they will speak words kind and flattering 
Lift up your hand and don’t forget a thing  

I wrote these words of verse when I was young 
So ev’ry month could have its praises sung 
Today, in age, I wrote another one 
In sacred oil to praise the Elul month 
And now my greatest poem has begun…  
בְּאֵלוּל אֶעֱלֹז עִם בַּת נְדִיבִים
 בְּעֶרֶשׂ רַעֲנָנָה עַל עֲרָבִים
 וְהַגֻּלּוֹת יְרֻצוּן בָּרְהָטִים
 כְּאִלּוּ יִתְּנוּ שָׁמַי רְבִבִים
 וְנַשְׁכִּימָה וְנֵצֵא לַכְּרָמִים
 לְשַׁחֵר הַתְּאֵנָה עַד עֲרָבִים
 וְאָז אֶרְאֶה גְפָנַי אֹמְרִים לִי
 בְּפֶה חָנֵף וּבִדְבָרִים עֲרַבִים
 הֲתִקַּח הַתְּאֵנָה דּוֹד לְמָנָה
 נְשָׂא יָדְךָ וְאַל תִּשְׁכַּח עֲנָבִים

  אֵלֶּה הֵם הַשִּׁירִים הַמְפֹאָרִים
 אֲשֶר חִבַּרְתִּי עַל הֶחֳדָשִׁים בִּימֵי הַנְּעוִּרים
 וְעוֹד חִבַּרְתִּי שִׁיר עַל חֹדֶשׁ אֱלוּל
 בֶּשֶׁמן מִשְׁחַת קֹדֶשׁ בָּלוּל
 וּלְיָפְיוֹ הוּא עִלָּה וְכָל שִׁיר זוּלָתוֹ עָלוּל
 וְהוּא זֶה 

ELUL II 

If only you would bless my eyes, Elul, 
For you I would become an Amora 
A lord of words, a student to Rava 
And I will fast and search for sweet Mannah 
Within the vineyards I will sit pretty 
And sing and dance although my death’s not far
And I will leave my soul behind in words 
I’ll suckle breasts from vine shoots as they are 
בְּאֵלוּל תְּבַלּוּל בְּעֵינַי יְהִי אִם
 אֲקַנֵּא לְרָבָא וְלִהְיוֹת אֲמוֹרָא
 אֲנִי הַתְּאֵנָה אֲבַקֵּשׁ לְמָנָה
 לְנַפְשִׁי וְאֶדְרשׁ אֲנִי רֹאשׁ אֲמִיָרה
 וְתוֹךְ הַכְּרָמִים אֲנִי בַנְּעִימִים
 אֲכַלֶּה יְמוֹתַי בְּשִׁירָה וְזִמְרָה
 וְאָשִׂים גְּפָנַי סְבִיב צַוְּרֹנַי
 לְעָנָק וְאִינַק שְׁדֵי הַזְּמוֹרָה 
israel · sermon · torah

This is Torah. This is its reward.

Loving others will not make you popular.

Pursuing peace will not make you safe.

Choosing life will not protect you from death.

But, if you do not love others, if you do not seek peace, if you do not choose life, who will you be?

When Moses ascended Sinai, he found God adding flourishes to the Torah’s letters, which only Rabbi Akiva would ever be able to read. Moses asked to see what became of Akiva.

The Holy One showed Moses how the Romans flayed Rabbi Akiva’s skin as they martyred him, then sold his flesh in their marketplace.

Moses threw his hands in the air and demanded: “Is this Torah, and this its reward?”

“Silence,” said God. “Such is My will.”

This is Torah. This is its reward.

Vivian Silver was murdered by Hamas on October 7th.

Vivian Silver founded the Israeli peace organisation, Women Wage Peace. She worked for human rights groups like Btzelem and ALLMEP. She lived on Kibbutz Beeri, near the Gaza border, where she engaged in solidarity work with Bedouins, Gazans, and Palestinian construction workers.

Three days before October 7th, she organised a march of 1500 Israeli and Palestinian women for peace.

On October 7th 2023, terrorists broke into her home and murdered her.

Even as she hid from the militants, she gave an interview to Israeli radio, where she said the very fact that she was under attack showed the need for a peace deal.

A year later, her son, Yonatan Zeigen, eulogised her. He said:

“Being a peace activist is not something to save you from being killed in war. It’s something to prevent a war from happening. And to create a reality where war is not an option.”

Silver’s love of others did not make her popular.

Pursuing peace did not make her safe.

Choosing life did not protect her from death.

But it made her fully human.

This is Torah. This is its reward.

On Monday evening, as my community sat down to listen to poetry in preparation for Tisha B’Av, I received a text to say that a Palestinian peace activist I knew had been murdered.

Awdah Hathaleen was shot in the chest in his home.

Awdah lived in the village of Umm al-Khair in the south Hebron hills. I visited his village twice last year with Rabbis for Human Rights. The second time, I stayed in the bunk beds adjacent to his home. In the morning, he brought breakfast to me and the other solidarity activists.

A delegation of Progressive rabbis met Awdah earlier this year when they went to the West Bank with Yachad.

Awdah was an English teacher. He was born in the south Hebron hills and had known tanks, guns and occupation all his life. He worked with Israelis to protect his home and build a peaceful future.

This did not make him popular. For some Palestinians in neighbouring villages, this meant that he was engaged in normalisation with the Israeli occupier.

Indeed, after the Oscar-winning movie about his village, No Other Land, gained international recognition, the BDS movement called to boycott it, because it showed Israelis and Palestinians working together.

Awdah chose the path of non-violence. Even after his uncle, Haj Suleiman, was crushed by an Israeli police tow truck; yes, even after his elder was cruelly murdered; and yes, even after those who killed his uncle were never brought to justice; after all that, he still chose the peaceful path.

For the settlers who wanted to capture his home and ethnically cleanse his village, his activism made him a target.

He and his family never knew safety.

Awdah wrote for 972 Magazine, a joint Israeli-Palestinian publication, about the struggles of raising his traumatised son in this village under attack. He wrote: “He even knows some of the settlers by name. Sometimes I tell him that they went to jail; I’m lying, but I want to make him feel safe.”

He was lying. Settlers who carry out murders do not go to jail.

The man who murdered Awdah was called Yinon Levi. He was filmed doing it. Still, the only person who has been taken into custody by the Israeli police is Awdah’s cousin, Eid, a fellow non-violent activist.

Yinon Levi was already subject to EU sanctions and recognised internationally as a terrorist. But he is protected by government minister, Ben Gvir, who has dedicated his life to helping settlers get away with murder. Even before the far right coalition took power, plenty of settlers had been able to perpetrate atrocities with impunity.

Loving others did not make Awdah popular.

Pursuing peace did not make him safe.

Choosing life did not protect him from death.

No; you will not be better off if you do the right thing.

But God does not ask us to live lives that are comfortable.

There is no commandment in the Torah that we should be popular.

All of us, regardless of religion, are placed on this earth to be God’s stewards; to uphold God’s most sacred commandments; that we must choose life, pursue peace; seek justice; and love the stranger.

This is Torah. This is its reward.

This sacred work comes with no promises. But who else would you want to be?

It is a charge often laid against woolly moralists like me that we do not really get how militants like Hamas think; that we just cannot understand the mentality of the settlers.

That is true. I do not want to think like them. I do not want to become like them.

Who will we be if we let our hearts become warped and set our minds to cruelty?

Loving others will not make you popular. But it will make you loving. And pursuing peace will make you peaceful. And seeking justice will make you just. And that is what your God asks of you.

We are approaching Tisha B’Av, when we recall every catastrophe that befell our people. If you believe that peace is possible and that these assaults on basic humanity are wrong, you can add another disaster to the roster. On Monday, Awdah was murdered.

Yes, a Muslim murdered by a Jew is a tragedy for us all.

A man who was committed to non-violence was shot in the chest by a settler, leaving behind 3 children. He was 31.

Do not give in to cynicism or try to calculate what you might gain for kindness. This world has no guarantees. And we know nothing about the hereafter.

You do what is right because it is right. Because if you do not, who will you be?

This is Torah. This is its reward.

May God have mercy on us all.