December 1, 2017 |
13 Kislev 5778
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Photo taken by Alan Teller in Corsica of a boy walking through an enclosed alley. Alan writes, "I think it does convey the pressures of life (with the seemingly boxed-in feeling of the walls and street) and thus the need for sanctuary. There is also something childlike and carefree about his arms, which is hopeful.”
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Finding Sanctuary in Declaring our Solidarity
by Alan Teller
For me, “sanctuary” always conjured up scenes from old movies, where hounded outcasts took refuge in a church, crying “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” This is particularly ironic to a Jew, since if any people as a whole needed sanctuary, it was us
—
and historically the church has rarely been an ally. Chased; hounded; beaten; murdered via pogroms, the Holocaust or individual hate crimes; “they” have often come for us.
Grace Paley has written in a Haggadah introduction (which we use every year in our own iconoclastic version of the never-ending story), “We had been strangers and slaves in Egypt and, therefore, knew what we were talking about when we cried out against pain and oppression." This is why it is so crucial for us as a people to declare our solidarity with those currently hounded and oppressed, those who face the closing of borders once seen as doorways of tolerance and opportunity. We were denied entry to this country while trying to escape the Nazis. People in Europe remained silent while we were dragged away. We cannot evidence the same indifference. We know the consequences.
The word itself, from Latin, means a contained, safe space. With the world raging around, the concept is marvelous
—
that a place exists, free from fear. This of course is not really possible. There is no such place, not even within ourselves. But the word implies that someone else has built that safe place for us, that we are protected by others, that people of good will understood that the need for protection might arise. It is not coincidental that the holiest part of the synagogue is the sanctuary, where it is possible to exclude the reality of an often threatening world, at least for a few moments, so that we may seek refuge in words, song, community. By coming together in a protected space, we grow both as individuals and as a people. It is not just the refugee, the person seeking refuge and sanctuary, who is saved. It is all of us.
I am proud that Beth Emet has declared itself a sanctuary. Quoting Grace Paley again, “we are obligated by knowledge to do so.”
If you’d like to share your thoughts with the congregation on what sanctuary means to you - a time in which you felt like a sanctuary dwelled within you, or how we can extend sanctuary to those who need it, feel free to reach out to
Ellen Blum Barish
and
David Barish
.
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Alan Teller
is a second generation photographer who also develops museum exhibits nation-wide. His projects range from the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library to the Spertus Museum's Zell Holocaust Memorial. Alan was ethnographic photography coordinator for the Field Museum and has taught at Columbia College, Purdue University, the School of the Art Institute, and Lake Forest College. He received a Fulbright award for
Following the Box: Exploring an Archive of Anonymous Photographs from India
, co-directed with his wife Jerri Zbiral. Alan and Jerri have been Beth Emet members for over 20 years.
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Indivisible - a film about the fight to reunite families separated by deportation
This Saturday, December 2 at 4:00 p.m.
Indivisible is an award-winning, feature-length documentary film about the real people at the heart of our nation's immigration debate. Renata, Evelyn, and Antonio were young children when their parents brought them to the U.S. in search on a better life; they were teenagers when their mothers, fathers, and siblings were deported. Today, they are known as Dreamers.
Free and open to the community.
RSVP
appreciated or call 847-869-4230 ext. 301.
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In Exodus 25:8, God says to Moses, “Create for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.” These words set the building of the Tabernacle into motion. But the verse’s ending has an interesting grammatical anomaly. Instead of telling the Israelites to create a sanctuary so God can dwell
within
it, the wording suggests that the dwelling may be
amon
g the people, or
within
them, suggesting that God can live
within
us rather
than exclusively in a physical sanctuary. This year at Beth Emet we’ll explore the multiples meanings of sanctuary—as physical space to gather as a community for prayer, as spiritual space where we feel safe and whole, and as an attitude that is welcoming and accepting of everyone.
This weekly e-mail project, curated by David and Ellen Barish, allows congregants to express themselves in any of a variety of media: speechmaking, poetry, essay, story, photography, film, paint, sculpture, printmaking, textile, sound or music. If you'd like to contribute, please email
Ellen
and/or
David
.
Logo designed by Marco Siegel-Acevedo
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Beth Emet The Free Synagogue
1224 Dempster Street
Evanston, IL 60202
847-869-4230
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