Top of the evening to all....
The director of the Jewish Welfare Board asked one of the military rabbis to write something in response to the events that took place in Texas. I volunteered. Below is my article.
R/SCG
-----Break-----
When Words Fail Us
There was a time when such disturbing events took place far away. We would read about a terrorist attack in Europe or on a subway in Japan. We might have glanced at the article, but quickly turned to the crossword puzzle. Even if it involved the local Jewish community, this was still elsewhere. This did not happen in our country. This was not the United States.
The last several years have shattered that sense of distance. Pittsburgh, Poway, and now Texas...these are places we know. Our friends live in these communities. These are shuls where we might daven. When violence takes place in our backyard, we find ourselves without words, wondering what to say. How do we find comfort in words when circumstances leave us speechless?
I have been privileged to witness reaction without words. In December, I took part in rehearsals for Dignified Transfers at Dover Air Force Base (AFB). When the remains of US combat deaths are repatriated, Dover AFB stands ready to honor our Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, Guardsmen, Airmen, and Guardians. Dover AFB neither slumbers nor sleeps.
Quiet conversations on the tarmac come to an abrupt halt at the words "family in sight." Inside the C-130, a chaplain offers a short prayer. The carry teams lift each transfer case. Uniformed personnel execute a slow salute, holding that salute until the transfer case is placed in the vehicle. Throughout the transfer, those present will hear only the commands of the officer in charge. Dignified Transfer is otherwise silent.
In January, I accompanied my colleague and friend, Rabbi (Major) Steven Rein, USAF, to the funeral of a Jewish Air Force officer at Arlington National Cemetery. Again, the absence of spoken word was striking, broken only by terse orders to the casket team during the transfer of the casket to the caisson and a muffled drum beat as the deceased is borne on this final journey. As military honors conclude, the concussion of a rifle volley tears through that silence. A lone bugler sounds "Taps," the gentle lament of a nation in mourning.
The aura of military ritual is gripping. To witness Dignified Transfers and Military Honors...to hear the clipped phrasing..."family in sight..." orders to the carry team...slow salutes...walking behind the caisson...rifle volley..."Taps..." and silence. That silence is part of the ritual. It is as heart-rending as the bugle call. That silence reminds us that for many situations, there are no words.
Words of solace will come only in their time. They will have meaning only when we are able to hear them. For now, we remember Aharon's reaction at the tragic death of two of his sons (Leviticus 10:3). וידם אהרן - Aharon fell silent. As we struggle to find words, as Aharon's silence is suddenly, unwillingly our own, let us remember that words often fail to capture magnitude of trauma or depth of emotion. We hear instead the power of ritual and hopefully find comfort in the solemnity of silence.
May we be comforted from the Heavens - מן השמיים ננוחם.
Shabbat Shalom.
Rav Sean Gorman
LCDR, CHC, USN
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