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Homily prompts for remembering Israelis in our hearts and prayers this Christmas As Christian homilists finetune their Christmas messages for 2023, words and images highlighting the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza, and in Bethlehem in the West Bank too, loom front and centre, along with prayers for peace in the troubled holy land. One poignant image circulating Christian networks is the figure of the Christ-child lying in a manger of concrete rubble. As a depiction of the Christmas crib, it is indeed a powerful image. There is no doubt that Palestinians, including our own Christian brothers and sisters in Gaza and the West Bank, along with many more Palestinian Muslims suffering as casualties of the war in Gaza, deserve our heartfelt concern, love and prayers. At any time, and certainly at Christmas. At the same time, let not our well-intentioned messages be subtly twisted into subliminal messages of hatred or lack of empathy for Jews and Israelis. Let's not oversimplify the bloodied, anguished complexities of the war in Gaza by overlooking the goodness of ordinary Israelis and the brutalities they have suffered at the hand of Hamas. Among the Israelis murdered or kidnapped on October 7 there were those who had spent their lives trying to build the foundations for peace and had been actively involved in humanitarian outreaches to Palestinians in Gaza. Yes, let’s pray for peace. Let us grieve for the suffering of innocents in Gaza. Let us advocate for justice for Palestinians, for a safe and secure home for their children to grow and thrive in peace. And let us also be credible witnesses to the suffering of Israelis who are so often denied their right to live in their own State in peace and security. Let us be advocates for justice for Jewish people everywhere in the face of the worst outbreak of antisemitism since the days of Nazi propaganda and their accompanying atrocities. In what follows, I write from the premise that no Christian homilist needs reminding of the horrors of war that are being experienced by the Palestinian population in Gaza. We hear and see their terrible suffering detailed every day in the secular and religious press. However, Christian homilists may need reminding to speak words of compassion for Israelis and for Jews. They may need reminding that October 7 was not just a day; it was a massive act of terrorism that continues to unfold in the lives of countless innocent Israelis and in the lives of Jewish families around the world who have been profoundly affected. No Christian homilist needs reminding of the horrors of war that are being experienced by the Palestinian population in Gaza... However, Christian homilists may need reminding to speak words of compassion for Israelis and for Jews. Our remembrance of Israelis and Jews at Christmas time in 2023 could include any of the following facts: The child in the manger is a Jewish child, born in the homeland of the Jewish people, a people torn from their land by the Romans, exiled for 2,000 years, and persecuted through the centuries, including in Christian societies. The antisemitic and genocidal forces that, historically, have wreaked havoc in the lives of Jews and in the cause for peace, were at work again in unspeakable ways on 7 October 2023 in peaceful communities in southern Israel. What occurred on October 7 in Israel was a major pogrom (mob violence) of premeditated murder, torture, mutilation and abduction of civilians, including sexual violence against Israeli women and girls of extraordinary ferocity. The traumatic impact of these atrocities continues in the lives of those victims who survived and for the families of all victims. E.g., Homes are being found for Israeli children who lost both parents on October 7 and who witnessed their parents’ murder. Many more have lost one parent, through death or kidnapping. Psychological trauma is part of the unseen wounds carried by Israelis, children and adults alike, especially in light of the history of the Holocaust. The entire Israeli population directly affected by these events, in what were the townships and small communities bordering Gaza, have been displaced since October 7. They cannot return to their homes, even if they were to be rebuilt. While Hamas remains in power in Gaza, they can no longer live safely in their own homes. As well as the ongoing attacks from Gaza, Israelis elsewhere in their country are living under the threat of attacks from Hezbollah in the north and the aggression of Iran-aligned Houthi rebels in maritime settings in the south. Violent unrest in the West Bank is also part of the picture. On October 7, more than 240 men, women, children and a nine-month-old baby were taken hostage by Hamas. An estimated 129 remain in captivity, while the remainder are either recovering from their traumatic ordeal since their release, or they have been killed. Each of the hostages has a family and community that is gravely impacted by their abduction. Israelis have been attending funeral after funeral as they mourn the deaths of victims of October 7, the deaths of sons and daughters in the army and the deaths of hostages. They also mourn the devastating loss of Palestinian lives in war, and the death of dreams for peace. Vivian Silver was one of the 1200 murdered on October 7. She was an Israeli peace activist devoted to causes seeking justice for Palestinians. In her spare time, she drove Palestinians in Gaza to Israeli hospitals to obtain life-saving medical treatment. Since October 7, Jewish communities around the world have been subjected to unprecedented levels of antisemitic violence, harassment and hate speech. In Australia, antisemitic incidents have surged by 738 percent since October-November the previous year. Our Jewish friends and most Israelis won’t be celebrating Christmas — it is not their tradition. But it would be a terrible injustice and distortion of the gospel, to airbrush them out of our Christmas messages – or worse, to refer to them in negative ways - and to speak only of compassion for Palestinian Christians and Muslims. May our Christmas messages this year be inclusive, loving and wise. Photo: A different kind of image of 'mother and child': Terrified mother, Shiri Bibas, is seen being taken hostage, along with her baby Kfir and 4-year-old son Ariel. They have not returned from Gaza. Source: Set Them Free To participate in a prayer initiative for the hostages held by Hamas, go to change.org Teresa Pirola is a Catholic freelance writer, and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press/Stimulus, 2023).

On 12 November 2023, a significant voice — indeed, a ‘cry of the heart’ — went out from the Jewish community, specifically directed to Catholics. Entitled “An open letter to His Holiness, Pope Francis, and to the Faithful of the Catholic Church”, the letter is signed by Jewish scholars, religious leaders, and practitioners in Jewish-Christian dialogue, in Israel, America and Europe. Reaching out “in a time of distress and anguish for Jews all over the world”, the signatories of the letter begin by reminding us Catholics that, according to our own testimony, there is a bond that spiritually connects Christians to “Abraham’s stock” (see Nostra Aetate, 4). Pointing to the events and impact of October 7, they ask us to understand that Jews everywhere have been profoundly affected "in ways we haven't even begun to fathom". October 7 “will be forever marked in Jewish memory”. On that day, in “the most horrific attack on Jews since the Holocaust”, Hamas and their collaborators “abused bodies, burned entire families, brutally raped women, and committed other atrocities which the hand hesitates to write”. It was a “full-fledged pogrom of the kind we all hoped was no longer possible”. Further, it has led to a global surge in killings, assaults, threats and harassment of Jews – “the worst wave of antisemitism since 1945”. Their plea is that our listening transcend politics in order to grasp the depths of the fear and sense of abandonment of Jews in the face of existential threats. “The heavy grief for the lives that were taken is joined by a sense of deep loneliness, and a loss of confidence in the possibility of a life of safety and freedom in the sovereign state of Israel and elsewhere.” They summon us to honour our long-held commitments flowing from the Second Vatican Council which assured Jews that they could put their trust in the “strong bond of friendship between Jews and Catholics” (CRRJ, 2015). Calling upon that trust, our Jewish friends ask Catholics to be a beacon of moral clarity, to unequivocally condemn Hamas’ terrorist massacre, and to make critical distinctions such as the difference between legitimate political criticism of Israeli policy and the hateful negation of Jews and Israel. In accordance with our own principles of justice, they appeal to us to join them in “the memory of the victims of October 7th massacre, to advocate for the release of the…hostages, and to acknowledge the vulnerability of the Jewish community at this moment”. Please take five minutes to read the Letter.* Share it, talk about it with your family, friends, students, staff or parish community. Then, consider your next step as Catholics, especially in view of the appalling antisemitic expressions that have spilled into our own Australian streets in these past two months. Taking this Letter seriously is just one thing we can do to show care for our Jewish sisters and brothers, at a time when they most need to know that we hear them and that we are there for them. And that we "walk with" them, as we said we would. **************************************************** Teresa Pirola, ThD, is Sydney-based freelance writer and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press, 2023). This article may be reproduced with acknowledgement. *Open Letter accessed at the Jewish-Christian Relations website of the International Council of Christians and Jews. To participate in a prayer initiative for the hostages who are still being held by Hamas, click here at change.org. All welcome.

The six people seated before us are Israeli Jews, a small delegation visiting Australia – not dignitaries or VIPs but ordinary family members. Each has an anguished story to share, and they do so, one by one, to a gathering of hundreds of members of Sydney’s Jewish community. One is the uncle of 19-year-old Roni, killed by Hamas terrorists in southern Israel on October 7, as she and other young female soldiers heroically defended the communications room near the border of the Gaza strip. Some made it out alive, some were taken hostage. Sadly, Roni perished. “Mum, I love you, don't worry for me” was her final text. Another speaker is the mother of Yotam, 28, a young man with a love for music, a drummer who was looking forward to playing at a concert later that day on October 7. Instead, he was taken into Gaza by Hamas as a hostage. His final message, as terrorists entered his home and set it alight and smoke filled his lungs: “I don't know if I can survive this. I love you.” His family has had no word from him since, but he is believed to be alive. Another in this little delegation is a close friend of Noa, the 26-year-old Israeli woman with Japanese heritage whose kidnapping was filmed as she was taken screaming on a Hamas militant’s motorbike. Her boyfriend, Avinatan, was also abducted. Earlier that day, as the pair fled the music festival with hundreds of others — amidst 360 corpses, stench, confusion and the barrage of bullets — she sent a desperate text: Praying that someone will save us. Each speaker represents an individual family. Yet they all belong to one great family – the Jewish people – united in this room and throughout the world as they confront the devastating aftermath of October 7. The terror of that day continues to torment families, their lives held hostage by ‘not knowing’ the fate of their loved ones still held captive. “It’s like being on Schindler’s list,” says one, with reference to the recent hostage negotiations. “Who will live, and who will die?” “All of you, with your thoughts and prayers, give me and Yotam strength,” says Yotam’s mother. “He is not just my son, he is yours too; he is truly a son of the Jewish people.” Her words capture the message of this hour: there is a unity, solace and extraordinary strength that comes from being Jewish, from knowing that Jews everywhere – whatever their differences in culture, spoken language, political or religious opinions – share a common sense of family, of peoplehood. “He is not just my son, he is yours too; Yotam is truly a son of the Jewish people." Historically, the Jewish people have defied the odds. Powerful ancient empires have come and gone, yet this numerically tiny people has survived and thrived over millennia; and this despite the repeated and most heinous attempts to destroy them. Sitting here amidst Sydney’s Jewish community, it is abundantly obvious why they don’t take to the streets with hate-slogans to define themselves. Their resilience is manifest in the dignity of their united stance that positively affirms their identity, their relationships, their faith. They have their love for each other and their ever-practical willingness to ‘pitch in’ to assist in a crisis. “I don't need to tell you how to help us,” says one relative to the gathering. “Because the Jewish community already knows how, and does it.” During this hour of storytelling, I notice that, despite the grief, this courageous little delegation of Israeli Jews impart no words of hatred. They could, with complete justification, brand their enemies with the hate-labels of genocide, rape, torture, mutilation and kidnapping. But they don’t. Incredibly, their words are focused on gratitude: gratitude for those who have come to hear them and for their worldwide Jewish family supporting them. I am aware, too, that each speaker asks for prayers. “We need to show the world who we are in our prayer and in our belief that they are coming back. We believe in our country, in our love and unity as a Jewish family. This is our strength.” “Love has no geography,” says another. “Am Yisrael chai”, rings out through the room. “The people of Israel live.” Teresa Pirola is a Sydney-based freelance writer and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press, 2023). You are invited to join in a prayer initiative for the safe return of the estimated 135 hostages still held in captivity by Hamas. Go to: change.org/Pray for the Release of the Hostages held by Hamas. See too: www.setthemfree.com.au And we pray for all in Israel and Gaza who are suffering so terribly at this time. We grieve the loss of all innocent human life and pray for a swift conclusion to the war in Gaza and a credible path to peace. We pray that all parties on the international stage, as well as ordinary people on the ground, will play a responsible role in bringing about security, stability and just solutions in the region. Photo: Family members and friends of the hostages and victims of October 7 address a gathering at a Sydney synagogue, 4 December 2023. (c) Teresa Pirola, 2023. This article may be freely reproduced with acknowledgement.

In pro-Palestinian protests by school students in Melbourne and Sydney, some students were quoted as saying “Hamas is doing a good job”. Others posted images depicting themselves dumping the Israeli flag bearing the Star of David symbol into a rubbish bin so as to “clean the world”. Young and impressionable, these students know little, if anything, about the history and contemporary reality of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. They are easily manipulated and oblivious to the fact that there are sinister forces in the world today that are reactivating latent antisemitism and giving it social license, as a tool to pursue a political agenda. What follows is a set of “talking points” for parents who are concerned about young minds being unable to distinguish between a legitimate social justice cause for the rights of Palestinians and the violent antisemitic goals of a terrorist organisation like Hamas. My hope is that parents will teach and discuss these points with their children at an appropriate age. What is antisemitism? It is hatred of Jews. Antisemitism is expressed through thoughts, words and deeds. In every case, antisemitic prejudice is harmful and unjust to Jewish people. It also diminishes the humanity of the antisemite and of the societies in which antisemitism is tolerated. Prejudice towards Jews has existed for more than two millennia, which is why antisemitism has been called “the world’s oldest hatred”. It is a prejudice that has a habit of reappearing, especially in a crisis, whenever people are looking for someone or a group to blame. Antisemitism is a poisonous attitude that twists human thinking and even infects causes that seek human progress. For example, over the centuries we have seen toxic distortions of Christianity (Jews depicted as “Christ killers”), science (Jews described as a distinct, and inferior, biological “race”), and socio-political causes (Jews blamed for “global dominance”). These generalisations are designed to dehumanise Jews: to conceptualise Jews as a collective abstract “other”, instead of seeing each person in their uniquely human individuality. In the 21st century, antisemitic ideas are increasingly infecting social justice movements in their attitudes towards the State of Israel (75% of whose citizens are Jews). Of course, all governments can and should be subject to robust critique. Not all criticism of Israeli governments is antisemitic. However, to call into question the right of Israel to even exist is seen by almost all Jews as quintessentially antisemitic. If it is racist to deny the peoplehood and right of collective self-determination of the Palestinian people, it is equally racist to deny the peoplehood and right of collective self-determination of the Jewish people. Further, some forms of political criticism of the State of Israel draw upon a contemporary rehash of very old, deeply ingrained ideas, images and memories that signal hatred of Jews. For example, when some pro-Palestinian protestors chant “Gas the Jews”, they imply agreement with what Hitler’s regime did in the 1940s to murder millions of Jewish men, women and children using a lethal chemical. We must be awake to these poisonous slogans, identify them and reject their influence. Hamas is not all Palestinians. Hamas is one Palestinian organisation which since 2007 has governed the territory of Gaza, which borders Israel. Hamas has a founding covenant based in an extremist Islamist ideology that calls for Israel and its majority Jewish population to be “obliterated”. In Australia and in other western countries, Hamas is listed as a terrorist organisation. Supporting Hamas is not a smart way to seek peace and security for both Palestinians and Israelis. To support Hamas is to support violence against Jews – including Hamas’ brutal and premeditated crimes of murder, rape, torture and abduction of civilians on October 7 in southern Israel. Within any national, ethnic or religious community, one can find people who do bad things. However, generalising the judgement about the bad actions of one person or subgroup to a whole nation, ethnic group or religious community is a form of prejudice, racism, bigotry. We should never judge all Palestinians by the actions of Hamas. Neither should all Jews be judged by the particular actions of any individual Jew or group of Jews or any Israeli government. Antisemitism is no joke; it is a very serious matter. It is the mindset that led the Nazis to murder six million Jews. Antisemitic thoughts and words lead to violence. This is why our politicians and all responsible citizens are so concerned about the Jew-hatred expressed on Australian streets and on social media in recent weeks. In Australia, some expressions of antisemitism can be prosecuted as a crime. The Catholic Church firmly condemns all forms of antisemitism. It “decries hatred, persecutions, displays of antisemitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone” (Nostra Aetate, 4). Other Churches have made similar statements. Antisemitism is diametrically opposed to the teachings of Jesus. We each have a responsibility to ensure that our Australian society is a safe place for all, whatever one’s race, ethnicity or religion. If we don’t want the hatreds and violence of overseas conflicts to be imported into our peaceful, multicultural society, we should speak up and challenge antisemitic and other prejudicial behaviour. This is not always easy. It takes the courage of our convictions, especially in the face of peer group pressure. Remember: “The standard you pass by is the standard you accept.” Be an ‘upstander’, don’t be a ‘bystander’ to antisemitic prejudice. Teresa Pirola is a Sydney-based freelance writer and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press, 2023). (c) Teresa Pirola, 2023. This article may be freely reproduced with acknowledgement. Photos: placards in recent Melbourne protests; graffiti in a Melbourne suburb. Photos courtesy Executive Council of Australian Jewry.

One would think that a massive act of terror involving murder, rape, mutilation and the abduction of civilians would constitute a clear case for moral condemnation by Catholics. One shouldn’t need to consult Catholic social teaching in order to ascertain that the beheading of babies, the torture of children, or the gang rape of women are heinous crimes. However, in those initial days, as the carnage of Hamas’ attacks upon Israeli communities on October 7, 2023 began to come to light, an uncomfortable silence descended upon my church, the Catholic Church in Australia, and it has been deafening ever since. What made the silence particularly disturbing was that that these attacks were directed at Jewish communities, with a brutality and sadism that mirrored that of the Nazis’ attacks on Jews during the Holocaust. They were carried out by a listed terrorist organisation whose founding charter is openly and violently antisemitic. October 7 had all the hallmarks of a 21st century pogrom, in the same vein of pogroms carried out against Jews many times before in history. Further, the distressing silence of too many Catholic leaders in Australia was magnified by the fact that Christianity has been a carrier of antisemitism over much of its history, a tragic fact that the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) had the courage to face, setting the Church on a sincere path of repentance and reconciliation with the Jewish people which has been pursued for nearly 60 years. How is it, then, that a 21st century pogrom, unleashed upon Jewish communities in the quiet of a Jewish holy day and sparking waves of antisemitic outbursts around the world, could be met with overwhelming public silence by Catholic leaders in Australia? Has the Church learned nothing from the lessons of the Holocaust? To its credit, within two days after the October 7 bloodbath, Catholic Religious Australia, the representative body for leaders of 150 Catholic religious institutes in Australia, issued a brief statement condemning the attacks and calling for the release of the hostages. A national interfaith body, the Australian Council of Christians and Jews, which includes Catholics, also promptly publicly condemned Hamas’ atrocities. However, it took another two weeks for one lone Australian Bishop, in the Diocese of Parramatta, to come out with a public statement expressing concern for Israeli lives. Encouragingly, the statement of the Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne just released (11 November) offers clarity regarding an appropriate Catholic response in light of the sharp uptick in antisemitic incidents that we are witnessing in our own Australian streets and neighbourhoods. Still, the public silence of other Australian Catholic bishops and other Catholic leaders is a disturbing. Of course, public statements are but one means of exercising leadership. Were there other ways by which bishops, clerics, religious and lay Catholic leaders shifted gear and responded to what happened on October 7 in those initial days and weeks? Did they speak up with important words in quiet, unpublicised ways? I know of some that did and I like to presume that many more did. Obviously, I can’t speak for what our leaders say and do in their private communications. But what I can offer is a perspective from the grassroots experience of what things look and sound like among the general Catholic population, at least in Sydney and with an ear to the rest of the country. With the exceptions mentioned, we did not hear our leaders speak up. In the days following October 7 there was no clear, audible, united voice to constitute any kind of robust collective Catholic ‘front’ in response to a gross manifestation of the evil of antisemitic terror and its global after-effects. Further, this silence has only been compounded by the recently released statement of the Australian Catholic Bishops Conference (10 November) addressing the current crisis in the Holy Land. Amidst motherhood statements calling for “peace”, the bishops’ collective voice offers not a word about the October 7 attacks, nor about the hostages held by Hamas or the flare-up in antisemitic incidents. This silence from the Australian Catholic Bishops Conference is bewildering in a post-Holocaust, post-Nostra Aetate era. The Catholic silence is shocking in a post-Holocaust, post-Nostra Aetate era. Certainly, in these past weeks, there were those who promoted and embodied the ‘prayer and fasting’ called for by Pope Francis and the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem. Such calls have their place. However, in terms of what happened on October 7, these generalised gestures for ‘world peace’ did not cut through as a clear act of compassion for and solidarity with the nation of Israel and the Jewish people. Buried within comments deploring ‘the cycle of violence’, they exuded a wearied sense of ‘more of the same’ in the Holy Land. October 7 was different But October 7 wasn’t the same. Over decades, Israelis have suffered intifadas, war, small scale massacres, and day-to-day isolated terror incidents of knifing, shootings and car ramming by those who will their disappearance. But October 7 took this deplorable violence to another level. Such was the scale and sadistic brutality of what occurred, that it rivalled many of the antisemitic atrocities committed by the Nazis during the Holocaust. Within hours of what was meant to be a relaxed Jewish holy day, Jews everywhere were plunged back into their greatest collective trauma in living memory. October 7 should have been a ‘red alert’ call-to-action for Christians. Those traumatic Jewish memories just mentioned include the recall of Christian complicity in the Holocaust and the centuries-long history of anti-Jewish sentiment, including its violent consequences against Jews in Christian societies. One might have expected the events of 7 October to cut like a razor to the conscience of the Catholic Church. One might have expected to see inspirational scenes of Catholic bishops and religious and lay leaders standing shoulder to shoulder with rabbis and their congregations at synagogues, leading their Catholic people in laying wreaths outside Jewish properties, and issuing public letters of condolence and condemnation of the attacks by Hamas. Instead, in the aftermath of more Jews being murdered in a single day than at any time since the Holocaust, it appears that most Catholic leaders in Australia did not consider it to be their priority to speak out in solidarity with Jewish communities, nor publicly stand with Israel in its national mourning for its murdered citizens. Did they not view it as significant enough? Were they (clergy and laity) too busy with the Synod of Bishops being held in Rome? Just eight months earlier, on 22 March 2023, Australian Catholics Bishops had signed a statement called “Walking Together: Catholic with Jews in the Australian Context” in which they pledged their commitment to the teaching of Nostra Aetate which includes a clear condemnation of antisemitism. Yet by October, as reports of Hamas’ crimes came to light, it appeared to be ‘business as usual’ for most episcopal diaries. Did they not understand this moment as a critical test for their leadership in the face of the rising tide of global antisemitism? “Palestinians plead for peace” was the recurring messaging headlining one archdiocesan newspaper, with barely a mention of Hamas’ atrocities in its Sunday editions following the attacks. As the body count mounted in Israel, and then in Gaza, “all lives matter” quickly became the catch cry in Catholic circles (and who can argue with that?). It seemed that Catholics couldn’t pause, even for one Sunday, to say “Jewish lives matter.” Did they not understand this moment as a critical test of leadership in the face of the rising tide of global antisemitism? My heartfelt hope is that many private messages of condolence would have been delivered to Jewish friends, neighbours and communities by Catholics of all walks of life. And I am not suggesting that good people have been callously unconcerned. To be sure, many prayers would have been privately and publicly said for peace in the Holy Land. However, for all the work of interfaith relations over years and decades, the public face of the Catholic Church was largely missing in action at that precise moment when the Jewish community needed us most, and when ordinary Catholics needed a firm and unequivocal response to antisemitism modelled by their leaders. Over time, remedial efforts by Catholics to regroup and recover will likely be graciously received by Australian Jewish communities, given their admirable commitment to seeking societal cohesion. Again, the statement of the Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne sets a much-needed example for other Catholic leaders to follow. However, much damage has been done and it difficult to see how things will ever be the same again. Where people in high positions of church leadership have faltered, it is all the more incumbent on grassroots leaders and everyday Catholics to lead from the strength of their baptismal commissioning. This includes parents and teachers, pastoral and business leaders, academics and community animators – whatever our sphere of influence, we must all put shoulder to the plough to rewrite the next chapters of the Australian Catholic response. After October 7, Catholic-Jewish relations surely cannot be ‘business as usual.’ Dr Teresa Pirola is a Sydney-based freelance writer and Catholic faith formator, and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press, 2023). (c) Teresa Pirola, Light of Torah, 2023 This article may be reproduced, in full, with appropriate acknowledgement.

What was Kristallnacht? Kristallnacht is the name given to the night of 9 November 1938, when a Nazi-sponsored violent rampage in Germany destroyed Jewish businesses, synagogues, sacred books and human lives. In the words of one eyewitness: “Until 1938 my parents never thought of leaving Germany. ‘There's no way the Germans we live with will continue to do these things. It's only an episode.’ That was the atmosphere. It was also the atmosphere on Kristallnacht. They couldn't comprehend it. It came as a blow. I remember my mother standing pale and crying… I remember her phoning her gentile friends – she had more gentile friends than Jewish friends – No answer. No one answered her.”[1] For most of my life as a Catholic, the anniversary of Kristallnacht came and went unnoticed. It took its place in my consciousness as one of many human tragedies with no direct relevance to me personally. After all, I am not Jewish, I was born in a time and place remote from the events of that fateful night, and there has been plenty of human suffering in the world of the 20th and 21st centuries to occupy my mind and heart. Over time, however, the memory of Kristallnacht came to strike a deep chord, and specifically as a Christian. Of course, all human suffering should be the concern of the Christian. What the specific memory of 9 November 1938 has helped me to understand is that Kristallnacht is regarded by historians as being a critical step on the path to the implementation of Hitler’s ‘final solution’. In the absence of international outrage, it was a moment when there was still time for good people to speak up, yet too many allowed it to pass in silence. Further, I learned that one of the factors that allowed the Nazi's ideology to flourish was the influence of anti-Jewish tropes, deeply buried in the social and cultural fabric of European societies. Most days, their poisonous presence could be overlooked; but in a time of crisis they came rushing to the surface, turning neighbours into enemies overnight. Such prejudice had a long history, and had infiltrated Christianity, leading to terrible humiliations and brutalities inflicted upon Jewish communities in Christianised societies over many centuries. From the standpoint of the Catholic Church, it took the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) for this “teaching of contempt” towards Jews to be decisively and officially repudiated. Vatican II taught that the Church “decries hatred, persecutions, displays of anti-Semitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone” (Nostra Aetate, 4). Other Churches took similar steps as they faced into the dark chapters of Christian history. In more recent years, many Christians have joined with Jewish communities around the world in their annual remembrance of the events of Kristallnacht, on 9 November. The victims are mourned, candles are lit, songs are sung, people stand in sombre silence. Jewish leaders are joined by civic leaders and representatives of other religious and ethnic groups. The words “Never again” are uttered as one voice. Shockingly, just a month ago, an event reminiscent of Kristallnacht occurred again. October 7th 2023, Israel On 7 October 2023, a pogrom took place in southern Israel, including the town of Sderot and the small agricultural communities bordering the Gaza strip. Hamas militants broke through the Israeli security barrier and rampaged throughout the day, pillaging and destroying homes while they murdered, tortured and raped unarmed civilians, and mutilated bodies. Over 200 people were abducted and taken to Gaza as hostages. Some 1400 Israelis - Jews and others among their communities - were murdered in these attacks, including whole families burnt to death in their homes and youth gunned down in the fields of a music festival. It is important to recount these two dates, as well as some of the details of these two periods of depravity, in order to call out the evil of antisemitism for what it is and to highlight the imperative for Catholics, and all people of faith and goodwill, to speak out against its violent goals and deathly consequences. We need to be very clear. Nothing justifies what occurred on 7 October. No political narrative or cause justifies premeditated murder, rape, mutilation and abduction. No appeal to the complexities of a geo-political dispute excuses the massacre which took place on 7 October. It was an act of terrorism on a massive scale and a crime against humanity, in the same barbaric vein as ISIS and conducted with the same antisemitic vehemence as Nazism. Nazi atrocities should have been denounced by the world then. Hamas’ atrocities must be denounced now. To allow excuses for such a massacre, would be to send a terrible message to the world over and to ignore the lessons learned from the Holocaust. It would sanction antisemitic sentiment and embolden extremists and their sympathisers elsewhere. It would be a betrayal of the Jewish people. Here in Australia, we have already seen a sharp increase in antisemitic discourse and incidents since the events of 7 October. Following the largest massacre of Jews in a single day since the Holocaust, public antisemitic outbursts occurred on the streets of Sydney, with chants such as “Gas the Jews” - voices we thought belonged to the days of Nazi Germany. Before 7 October, many of us would have considered such a scenario unthinkable. Yet these outbursts do not come out of nowhere. They remind us that antisemitism has been on the rise, in Australia and globally, emanating from both the right and the left of the political divide, for some time. Of course, there is no suggestion here that our Australian society is anything like Nazi Germany. However, we are reminded that antisemitism has a way of reemerging even in peace-loving societies like our own, in new and insidious guises. The strength of our usually harmonious multicultural community should never be taken for granted. Vigilance against antisemitism must be an ongoing commitment. A call to action: What can we do? In view of our history, we Christians have a particular responsibility to speak, act and pray. We are not powerless. Each of us can do something within our sphere of influence. For example: We can condemn in the strongest terms the unspeakable actions of terror unleashed by Hamas on innocent civilians in Israeli communities in the quiet of a Jewish religious holy day on 7 October 2023. As one voice we can call for the safe and immediate return of the hostages, and make this our urgent prayer intention. Catholic social justice organisations can take antisemitism as seriously as other causes for justice. In view of the antisemitic violence unleashed against women on 7 October 2023, we urge Christians to speak up in support of their Jewish sisters. We can educate our children and others about antisemitism, including its history within Christianity. Education about antisemitism is critical in a world where the term is becoming less rather than better understood, where Holocaust-denial thrives on social media and where the memory of the Holocaust is dimming with time. We can also commemorate Kristallnacht each year. The legacy of William Cooper In closing, we can recall the story of William Cooper, a proud Yorta Yorta man and a committed Christian, who lived in Melbourne in the 1930s. When the news of Kristallnacht reached him, he responded by organising a peaceful march to the German Consulate to deliver a petition protesting the treatment of Jewish citizens in Germany. His petition, of course, was ignored. Yet, he did the right thing. And his action for justice has provided inspiration for generations to come. Cooper is among the “righteous gentiles” honoured by Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Centre. May his legacy, his commitment to a just and peaceful society, where Jews can live without fear of antisemitism, inspire us all and guide our words and actions. Unite in Prayer Now: View: A Call to Prayer October 7 Hostages With Julie McCrossin AM and Teresa Pirola Visit: Pray for the 247 Hostages Held by Hamas at change.org [1] Historian and Holocaust survivor Zvi Bacharach; quoted at the webpage of Yad Vashem, World Holocaust Remembrance Centre. Text: Teresa Pirola Photo: Wikimedia commons (c) Teresa Pirola | Light of Torah, 2023 This article may be freely shared for non-commercial use, with appropriate acknowledgement.

Four years ago, I visited Sderot and other small communities in Israel which lie close to the northern border of the Gaza strip. The woman who showed us around had lived in a moshav (small agricultural community) of 900 people for over 20 years. Her children, the eldest turning 18, had slept in bomb shelters for the entirety of their young lives. Such was life, with the routine experience of sirens, Hamas rocket attacks launched from Gaza, as well as catapulted fire-bombs that would set fire to the fields of Israelis, destroying their crops. Bomb shelters were placed throughout these communities. Residents had 15 seconds to reach one when the siren sounded. These shelters were to be found in homes, bus stops, schools and children’s playgrounds, including one that was cleverly disguised as a giant smiling caterpillar (pictured). From time to time there were casualties, and the stress and psychological trauma, especially among children, was a constant to be carefully managed and treated. Still, life went on. Remarkably, despite these extraordinary daily pressures, our guide spoke without malice towards the Palestinian population of Gaza. She expressed resilience and the determination not to be driven from her home, but not a hint of hatred. In fact, she took us to the 'Path to Peace’ wall where residents had created a huge mosaic on a portion of the security barrier facing Gaza, decorating it with messages of peace. It was their way of communicating that, while they opposed the destructive agenda of Hamas who governed Gaza, they had no desire for enmity with the Palestinian people of Gaza and maintained their hope for peace. It is worth mentioning that Sderot and its surrounding communities are not situated in the “disputed territory” of the West Bank but are on land that has always been considered by the United Nations to be part of the modern state of Israel proper since its establishment in 1948. Our guide’s moshav was one of the small Israeli communities overrun by Hamas militants on 7 October 2023, where residents were brutally tortured, murdered, mutilated and abducted. We still have no news as to whether or not she and her family survived the massacre. Dr Teresa Pirola is a Sydney-based writer, faith educator and author of Catholic-Jewish Relations: Twelve Key Themes for Teaching and Preaching (Paulist Press, 2023). This article may be freely reproduced with acknowledgement. © Teresa Pirola, 2023 | www.lightoftorah.net Photos (T. Pirola): Bomb shelter in children’s playground in Sderot; ‘Path to Peace’ wall at Moshav HaAsara, Israel, near the Gaza border. Lend a hand in the crisis: Donate to Hadassah Australia and Caritas Australia.

In the Jewish liturgical calendar, the Sabbath between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuva - the Sabbath of Return. One thing I like to do during the Jewish High Holy Days is to read from the treasury of traditional Jewish wisdom compiled and edited by S.Y. Agnon for this festival period. [1] As I reflect on Shabbat Shuva, with the help of Agnon, I am touched by Judaism's sensitivity to both the just judgment and gentle mercy of our Creator-Redeemer God. These holy days, that will soon culminate in Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), are serious indeed, filled with the insistent call to repentance, eschewing lame excuses and half-hearted effort. At the same time, this call to "Return!" is filled with the mercy and compassion of the God who has no desire for crushing judgment or to force his people into a loveless submission. Rather, the God of love and gentleness speaks tenderly to his people, and is ready to walk with us all in our human woundedness and fears, hopes and dreams. Thus do the Jewish sages tell the story of a king's son who was unable to make the 100 days journey back to his father. The king replied to his son: "Go as far as you are able, and I will come the rest of the way to you." [2] We hear, too, in the voice of Rabbi Alexandri: If a person uses a broken vessel, it is considered a disgrace. But not the Holy One, blessed be he. All his vessels are broken. “The Lord is close to those that are of a broken heart” (Ps 34:19).” [3] Our return to God is often impeded by the shame and paralysis of our own sinfulness. Our inner critic admonishes us: You are not worthy of God’s forgiveness! Yet the Jewish sages remind us otherwise: God knows and understanding our wounds and blemishes better than we know ourselves, and still regards us as precious and loved, longing to be close again. How comforting to know that we don’t have to be 'perfect' or to 'have it all together' in order to turn, and to begin the return, to God. Further, teshuva (repentance) is not a 'quick fix', it is a journey into deeper relationship. Here again, the tradition speaks with nuanced insights: “Return, O Israel, to the Lord your God.” The meaning is, return until the Lord, that is, the Creator, becomes “your” that is, your own God. [4] Food for thought… as we grow in solidarity and interfaith awareness of Jewish communities moving through their High Holy Days, and as we ponder afresh our own religious tradition. Notes 1. Shmuel Yosef Agnon (1887-1970) was a great Hebrew writer of the 20th century and a winner of the 1966 Nobel Prize in Literature. His work referred to here is Days of Awe: A Treasury of Jewish Wisdom for Reflection, Repentance, and Renewal on the High Holy Days (New York: Schocken Books, 1965, 1975). 2. Pesikta Rabbati, Shuvah Yisrael. See Days of Awe, 139. 3. Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, Shuva. See Days of Awe, 140. Verse numbering may differ: see Ps 34:18. 4. Avodat Yisrael. See Days of Awe, 141. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to grow in appreciation of the Jewish tradition and to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... © Teresa Pirola, Light of Torah, 2023. This article can be reproduced for non-commercial use, with acknowledgment of website.

Shana Tova U'Metuka Festival greetings to Jewish friends for Rosh Hashanah, and a wish for all the goodness and sweetness of the new year. Rosh Hashana – Jewish New Year – has begun. If I may share one brief thought: it is simply to marvel at the deeply human, and religious, instinct for RENEWAL. With Rosh Hashana, the Jewish liturgical calendar sets aside special days as a time to ‘start life afresh’. That is, the festival ushers in a holy period of introspection and repentance; a time to acknowledge one’s shortcomings, to forgive and be forgiven, to make amends and to renew one’s life. As I understand it, the audacious message of Rosh Hashana is: Not only can human beings know of their need to repent, not only can they desire to be better people, but they can actually set about to make it happen. Far from being ‘wishful thinking’, Rosh Hashana, along with the Days of Awe that continue in its wake, is a call to take responsibility for one’s life. It is undertaken in the larger context of community life, and with full acknowledgement that God, Creator and Sovereign of the world, continues to renew creation and calls human beings to account for their decisions and actions. Despite the fragility and difficulties of our lives, we are expected to live the gift of each day as fully and as authentically as we possibly can. It is a bold calling! For there is no shortage of excuses by which human beings can ‘give in’ to the sufferings and injustices of life. How easy it is to blame others for the troubled state of the world around us! Rosh Hashana resists that path, and points out an alternative way. It calls forth that inner voice that says: not only should things be different, but they can be so… starting with me. Together, let’s start afresh and make this coming year truly good and filled with the sweetness of God’s justice and mercy. Other religious traditions have their particular and beautiful ways of expressing such a conviction and commitment. Tonight, as Rosh Hashana commences, we can be grateful for the Jewish tradition and its unique way of embodying the divine invitation to 'walk with' God and each other. A prayer Gracious God, we give thanks and pray for Jewish communities everywhere during their High Holy Days. Bless them with continuing vitality and strength in their covenantal life with You, and with good health, safety and happiness for their families and loved ones. Amen. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to better appreciate the Jewish tradition and to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... © Teresa Pirola, Light of Torah, 2023. This article can be reproduced for non-commercial use, with acknowledgment of website.

In chapter 30 of the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses continues to prepare the Israelites for the journey ahead, the journey to be made upon entering the promised land; the journey that will be made without him. Our focus today is four lovely verses, Deuteronomy 30:11-14. However, as we shall see, we will need to read the previous ten verses as well (30:1-10) to fully benefit from this discussion. Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, “Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear and observe it?” No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. (Deut. 30:11-14). Read 30:11-14 and note your reactions. To what exactly is the text referring when it says ‘this commandment’? Which commandment? Is it the call to repentance in the foregoing verses? Or is it God’s teachings as a whole? This is a question which has intrigued Jewish commentators over the centuries.[1] Read 30:1-14 and offer your view. If you and your Torah partner hold differing views, you are in good company; so do the sages! For instance, Nahmanides connects the commandment with teshuva (Hebrew: ‘repentance’). Conscious of the dispersion of the Jews throughout the world, he hears these verses as saying, whatever the geographic or cultural challenges, repentance is never inaccessible; it is freely embraced by one’s resolve. But most commentators, including Rashi, take a different approach; and in the writings of the Talmud we find sages who assume that these verses apply to the whole complex of Jewish observance. Does the question matter? What is to be gained by such a debate? How do you enter this discussion? A further question arises in Jewish Torah discussions: What significance is added by verses 12-13? Wouldn’t the meaning of the text remain intact if they were omitted? Test this for yourself by reading verses 11 & 14 only. There are two interpretations that emerge on this question, says the Be’er Yizhak. We can hear the text as saying: If the Torah were in heaven it would be inaccessible. But since it’s not, we have no excuses to prevent us from reaching for it! Even if the Torah were as far away as heaven, it is of such value that we would still be duty-bound to yearn for it, and we would be crying out ‘Who will go up to get it?!’ But since it is close, how much more duty-bound are we to embrace it! And you? How do verses 12-13 speak to you? What subtle shades of meaning are illuminated by their presence in the text? From the midrash A people close to Torah is a people close to God, as this midrashic text succinctly puts it: “‘...the word is very near to you’ (Deut.30:14). God said to Israel: ‘My children, if the words of the Torah will be near to you, I too will call you ‘near ones.’ For so Scripture says, ‘The children of Israel, a people close to him. Halleluyah!’ (Ps.148.14).” Deut. Rabbah 8.7 1. Named in this issue are the great medieval Torah scholars: Nahmanides (13th century Spain) and Rashi (11th c. France). Be’er Yizhak is a 19th c. commentary on Rashi. See Leibowitz, 321-325. Bibliography: Eskenazi & Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Nitzavim-Vayeilech (Deuteronomy 29:9 - 31:30), the (double) Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom. Now available: The Jewish and Christian Liturgical Calendar for 2023-2024 Download free, courtesy of Etz Hayim - Tree of Life Publishing

Come with us as we explore Deuteronomy 26:1-11, with the help of insights from the Jewish tradition. On the slopes of Moab in sight of the land of Canaan, Moses prepares his people for entry into the promised land. He gives them a ritual to be performed when they get there. After settling in the promised land, the Israelite is to engage in a ritual of thanksgiving. Taking some of the first-fruits of his agricultural produce he is to present it to the priest along with a verbal recitation that acknowledges the Lord who is the giver of all good things. This ancient symbolic action is packed with insights for our own lives today. “When you have come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you ... you shall take some of the first of all the fruit of the ground, which you harvest from the land ... and you shall put it in a basket and go to the place that the Lord your God will choose” (Deut. 26:1-2). Read Deuteronomy 26:1-11. Carefully note all the repetitions and points of interest. Can you imagine the action taking place? Ponder the meaning of this ritual. Describe what you ‘see’ in all its colour; e.g.: The action starts in the private sphere (the Israelite’s fields) and proceeds to a designated holy place. The ritual is limited but it expresses so much. There is no way we can reciprocate God’s bounty, but we can perform a simple action symbolizing an awareness that the earth belongs to God. It involves farmer and priest. Events in the story of the Israelite people are recounted in some detail (vv.5-10). It concludes with a feast, enjoying “all the bounty that the Lord your God has given to you and to your house” (26:11). What can you add to these observations? The sages see this ritual as promoting humility before God, selflessness and service. It is a practice that prevents one from becoming soft and complacent. It is a reminder that wealth is a gift to be used generously for the common good and for the glory of God. This stance of gratitude to God and awareness of blessing are core to Judaism. Examine the phrasing of the declaration in 26:3. “I have come into the land that the Lord swore to our ancestors to give us.” In subsequent generations the Israelite farmer would repeat this ritual declaration. Note that he did not say: “My ancestors came...” but “I have come...” In the Jewish tradition there is an intense relationship between past and present generations. Every Jew is to identify personally with his/her people, Israel’s history, and the great events by which God delivered Israel from slavery. What happened to ‘them’ (one’s ancestors long ago) happened to ‘me.’ Thus each Jew is obliged to remember with gratitude what God has done for him/her personally, and not to take for granted the blessings bestowed on their ancestors. A Catholic perspective With Christianity's roots in Judaism, I am aware that the approach of my Catholic Christian tradition to the sacraments involves a similar intensity of remembrance. In remembering past events, the celebration of a sacrament celebrates salvation touching us in the present. For Catholics, the Mass is their central prayer of remembrance and thanksgiving. Each time we celebrate the Eucharist it is not simply a recall of the deeds of Christ; we are present to the saving action of God in the life and person of Jesus; we are invited into an experience that is as transformative as it was for his disciples long ago. Reflection: Ponder and discuss your experience of remembrance and thanksgiving through religious ritual, in conversation with Deuteronomy 26:1-11. Bibliography: Eskenazi & Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996). Scripture: NRSV. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat Ki Tavo (Deuteronomy 26:1 - 29:8), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom.

At times, Deuteronomy can appear to the reader as a formidable list of rules (e.g., ch 11-16) as Moses impresses upon the Israelites their responsibilities before entering the promised land. They have a choice: listen to God’s teachings and be blessed, or turn from God and be cursed (11:26). Yet, amidst dire warnings, we also hear delightful obligations. Yet amidst the dire warnings, we also hear verses like these: “Together with your households, you shall feast there before the Lord your God, happy in all the undertakings in which the Lord your God has blessed you” (12:7). “And you shall feast there, in the presence of the Lord your God, and rejoice with your household” (14:26). “You shall hold a festival for the Lord your God…for the Lord your God will bless all your crops and all your undertakings, and you shall have nothing but joy” (16:15). These are commands to gather the family for a joyous feast. How often do we think of loyalty to God in terms of feasting? Elsewhere, in the context of ritual prescriptions, the Israelites are commanded to “eat to your heart’s content” (12:21), to “spend the money on anything you want—cattle, sheep, wine or other intoxicant, or anything you may desire” (14:26), and to hold annual festivals (16:1-17) while God provides secure dwellings (12:10), enlargement of their territory (12:20), and countless blessings. We are reminded that covenantal relationship with God is not all hard work! Yes, God is unafraid to make demands of his people. But God also provides, has the people’s interests at heart, and some divine demands are actually delightful! “For you are a people consecrated to the Lord your God; the Lord your God chose you from among all other peoples on earth to be His treasured people” (14:2). God asks much of his people, but only because his people are treasured beyond belief, and because such demands bring forth a just world where the stranger, orphan and widow find safety (16:11). Deuteronomy invites us to dwell on God’s abundant blessings. Yes, the consequences of rejecting God are dire, but the blessings of cleaving to God are lifegiving beyond measure. We are tempted to disbelieve this, for life is difficult, sometimes brutal. Bad things happen to good people; evil can appear to prevail. Even religion can be experienced as a weapon of oppression, or reduced to loveless ‘duty.’ Yet another testimony prevails through generations of those who live by God’s word: God’s blessings are real. They can be celebrated with smiles and laughter, music and dancing, feasting and lovemaking, prayer and passion. Thus, Judaism speaks of ‘Simchat Torah’, ‘the joy of Torah,’ and Christianity speaks of the ‘gospel,’ ‘good news.’ Even so, in the midst of texts which call for feasting and celebration, our eye is drawn to a verse commanding the Israelites to eat the ‘bread of affliction’ or ‘bread of distress’ (16:3). What is the power of this verse, placed as it is amidst the description of Israel’s festivals? We also find the sages asking: why does the text here twice command that we rejoice during the festival of Sukkot (16:11,14) but omits this command with regard to the festival of Passover? An explanation offered in the midrashic collection Yalkut Shimoni: “On account of the fact that [during the exodus] the Egyptians died.” The midrash immediately cites the Book of Proverbs (24:17): “If your enemy falls, do not exult; if he trips, let your heart not rejoice.” Think about it: Unless we remember the taste of slavery, can we truly feast on our freedom? In what ways do your family festivities retain an appropriate place for sober recollection of past and present struggles? Bibliography: Eskenazi & Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary (New York, 2008); Friedman, Commentary on the Torah (San Francisco, 2003); Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (New York, 1996). Scripture: NJPS. © Teresa Pirola, 2013. lightoftorah.net. Reproduction for non-commercial use permitted with acknowledgement of website. Download the PDF version. Light of Torah is a grassroots ministry arising from the Catholic community, encouraging Christians to reflect on Torah with the help of Jewish insights. More... The reflection above refers to Parashat R'eih (Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17), the Torah portion read for this Sabbath in the Jewish liturgical cycle. Shabbat shalom.