Our God and God of our ancestors.
You who watch and weep at the death of your innocent children
On this eve of Passover, as we tell our story/Your story, help us to find a safe place for our fear, our grief, our anger.
"In every generation there are those who rise up against us."
This week ugly truth has once again raised its head.
"In every generation we are required to view ourselves as though we, individually, went forth out of Egypt."
This week, we taste the dust and feel the degradation of our ancestors.
Tonight, as we gather around our tables; as we open our books and see the crumbs from seder's past spilling into our fingers; as we count the wine-stains on our pages and remember how our cup is always lessened with human suffering, help us to find perspective, strength and faith.
We pray for the victims of violence in Overland Park and everywhere hatred bursts forth from the barrel of a gun. We hold them and their loved ones in our outstretched arms.
There will be empty seats around our tables this year. We remember them.
There will be old nemeses stopping by as well: uninvited, unwelcome, but part of us nonetheless - our past present and future. *(see below)
When we open Elijah's door, who will be on the other side? Hope? Futility? Dream or nightmare?
May our worship, our laughter, our tears and our stories bring to fruition the ancient hope of peace. May violence and hatred be drowned out in a final Halleluyah as we sing from our hearts.
We will never be defined by brutality. We will always be defined by our vision of a better world.
L'shanah Haba-ah B'yirushalayim. Next year in Jerusalem. AMEN
Rabbi Joseph Black - Denver, CO
*Some say that t