Approaching this week’s Torah portion was difficult. There is so much happening in this world, and the portion is so, so rich. Granted, there has been no shortage of monumental news as of late, but two things that happened really struck me as significant. First, there was the controversy over where it might have been appropriate to bury the Boston marathon bomber. Secondly, on a much more local level, our local community college is expanding into another new campus, taking over the land formerly occupied by the Eastern State Hospital (our regional mental health hospital). In excavating the land for the new campus, the crews uncovered a relatively forgotten burial ground dating back to the mid-nineteenth century.
Approaching this week’s Torah portion was difficult. There is so much happening in this world, and the portion is so, so rich. Granted, there has been no shortage of monumental news as of late, but two things that happened really struck me as significant. First, there was the controversy over where it might have been appropriate to bury the Boston marathon bomber. Secondly, on a much more local level, our local community college is expanding into another new campus, taking over the land formerly occupied by the Eastern State Hospital (our regional mental health hospital). In excavating the land for the new campus, the crews uncovered a relatively forgotten burial ground dating back to the mid-nineteenth century.
As to the first event, a local friend wrote and asked me for my thoughts on burying Tamerlan Tsarnaev’s body. Jewish law demands that even heinous criminals deserve a proper burial. The question my friend asked was where that burial should be. Certainly, burying him in a conventional cemetery would cause a lot of angst.
Before I had the chance to respond, the second thing happened. I was asked to speak at a ceremony reinterring the bodies removed because of the excavation. A list of dignitaries spoke of the effort to handle the uncovered remains with dignity. The Department of Finance (and the many partners involved) handled this whole process with incredible dignity and respect. In comments offering thanks for the care that went into this project, the Finance Cabinet Secretary quoted the late president James Garfield saying, “There is nothing … you or I can do for the dead. … We can add to them no glory.” It was time to let them be at peace. A new land was gated off and will serve as an appropriate hospital cemetery.
We do not know the names or faith traditions of the people we are reburying, but we wanted some form of sacred remembrance at the event. After a Nun read from Proverbs, another member of her church sang the 23rd Psalm (I was very appreciative of the choices). I was then called on to speak, and I had to take exception to the late President’s words. There is a lot more we can do for the dead; we can use these moments of memory to help us do a better job in taking care of the needs of our mentally ill, today. I made the statement that I appreciated and respected the decision to honor these lives in a faithful way, seeing as they were probably never welcomed into any house of worship while they were alive. I was overwhelmed with the number of “Amen’s” that came from the crowd. We can bring honor to them simply by doing more to care for those who, like them, are institutionalized and/or marginalized by society today.
Before I could return to answering the first question I received, I had to sift through a series of emails from people whose families have been pained by a system (state law) that has veritably ignored providing competent care for those who suffer from mental illness.
I had to re-examine my initial thoughts about the question of the deceased bomber. At the cemetery, I had spoken about tikkun olam – healing the world, and how doing that work could not allow us to cast off the dignity of another person, even where he caused such incredible pain. You cannot heal the world and cast people off at the same time. I also believe that evil is the result of brokenness. I cannot heal brokenness by shunning the broken. So, I answered that a normal burial was essential for two reasons: 1. We must show that we are civilized and not barbarians; that we do understand that divinity exists even in the most broken of people. The bad acts are the sum of that brokenness and do not equal the sum of the entire man. 2. We can use this burial to teach; call the world to pay attention to the madness of the act of terror and the magnitude of the act of love. This burial can open real conversations that will call on people to hear each other, and in paying attention to each other’s plight, we will forestall the rejection that leads desperate people to do horrible acts just to be heard.
Then I looked at the Torah portion, hoping for some affirming words, and they leaped off the page at me. The High Priest comes from the inner chamber and holds his hands out over the entire congregation … the entire congregation, and says, “May God bless you and keep you. May God’s light shine upon you and grant you grace. May God’s presence be with you and grant you peace (Numbers 6:23-27).” Every worship service in our tradition includes these words, and they are spoken on behalf of all who are there and all who are not there (Deuteronomy 29:9-14), no differently than the priest has spoken them on behalf of God for thousands of years. Nowhere in the text do we carve out exceptions, for there can be no exceptions in a conversation about peace. Most certainly peace is easy with the people we like and the people we understand, but it is unqualifiedly necessary with everyone. Shabbat Shalom.
