Dear TBZ community:
.לעילוי נשמת הרב עזריאל בן נחום ופרידה קריימן ז.ל
Today, the 5th of Sh’vat is my father, Rabbi Angel Kreiman-Brill, 8th Yartzeit. I write these words in his memory.
I was born almost one year after a group of military officers led by General Augusto Pinochet seized power in a coup d’etat, thus ending civilian rule in Chile. The first fifteen years of my life were under the Pinochet dictatorship. I have clear memories of living under curfew, of knowing the dangers of being on the streets at certains times, of knowing that if I didn’t follow the rules I could be at risk, real risk. I could be killed. Disagreement was not acceptable. Dissent was dangerous. Standing up in protest meant putting your life in jeopardy. Many people who had dared to speak out against the Pinochet regime had been forcibly “disappeared.”
But the day came when the Chilean people voted Pinochet out - October 5, 1988 - and it was a day of celebration. It was a day of recognition that all humans have worth and value. It was a day when I truly understood that we have the capacity to change the world around us. For the first time in my life, at the age of 14, I experienced democracy. We went out into the streets, singing, and celebrating, without fearing for our lives.
Here in our country, one year ago, insurrectionists attempted to overturn the results of a fair and democratic election. Their actions threatened the very pillars of our democracy as well as the physical safety of the people who worked inside the Capitol. One year ago, I was thrust back into my own experience growing up in Chile. I and others who have experienced dictatorships felt the same chill of recognition and fear.
Although I was not yet born on September, 11, 1973 the day of the Pinochet coup d’etat, that day has become part of my life’s narrative. That infamous day was followed by seventeen years of killing, of people being “disappeared,” and of injustice. That day was the beginning of a very dark time in Chile but that darkness was lifted when the people, together, recognized they could take control, that they had power, that they could make change.
I wish I felt more positive about our country these days. Though the insurrectionists “did not succeed” that day, we know that our democracy is at risk and that we are far from being out of danger. As president Jimmy Carter wrote this week in in oped in the New York Times:
One year ago, a violent mob, guided by unscrupulous politicians, stormed the Capitol and almost succeeded in preventing the democratic transfer of power. All four of us former presidents condemned their actions and affirmed the legitimacy of the 2020 election. There followed a brief hope that the insurrection would shock the nation into addressing the toxic polarization that threatens our democracy.
However, one year on, promoters of the lie that the election was stolen have taken over one political party and stoked distrust in our electoral systems. These forces exert power and influence through relentless disinformation, which continues to turn Americans against Americans.
This week's parasha, parshat Bo, continues the story of Moses pleading with Pharaoh to let the Israelites go, to let them leave Egypt. Pharaoh's heart continues to be hardened and plagues continue to bring suffering to the Egyptians in an attempt to convince their ruler to stop this oppression.
The ninth plague is the plague of darkness:
וַיֹּאמֶר יְהֹוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה נְטֵה יָדְךָ עַל־הַשָּׁמַיִם וִיהִי חֹשֶׁךְ עַל־אֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם וְיָמֵשׁ חֹשֶׁךְ
Then the LORD said to Moses, “Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched.”
Rashi explains:
A darkness that can be touched: A darkness more dark than the dark of night. The dark of night grew darker still. The word translated as touch is really a form of the verb "to grow dark.....The midrash takes this verb to be from "to grope," indicating that the darkness was so thick it was doubled and redoubled, until it became a darkness of substance, mamash.
And the Torah describes the plague further:
לֹא־רָאוּ אִישׁ אֶת־אָחִיו
People could not see one another
This of course, in the context of the texts, refers to the Egyptians., only.
And then the verse continues and says:
וּלְכׇל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הָיָה אוֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָם
but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings
The literal reading of this verse, of course, comes to explain that the darkness was only found in the Egyptian homes but that the Israelites enjoyed light – they were not struck by the plague of darkness.
Perhaps a way for us to read this is that the Torah calls to us in times of darkness: When people can not see each other any more, when people can not see each other’s faces, each other’s humanity, and when darkness, selfishness, greed, power, is all that exists between people, we must hold the light and we must shine the light in any way we can and not let darkness win.
My father, Rabbi Angel Kreimam, z.l, who I remember today, taught me that lesson.
My strongest memory during the Chilean dictatorship as a child was that we were not allowed to speak up. Speaking up was a daring act, a dangerous one. Yet I knew that my father was doing precisely that. Faced with the imperative to protect the lives of thousands of Chileans in the dire situation of repression following the coup of 1973, the Chilean churches quickly organized an ecumenical service to protect people in distress. This effort was attended by some Christian Churches, such as the Baptist, Methodist, and Orthodox churches and also by the Jewish community, which my father represented. Thus was born the Cooperation Committee for Peace in Chile. This Committee was the first step in the defense of human rights during the military regime. It was created through the Archbishop's Decree signed by Cardinal Raúl Silva Henríquez on October 4, 1973, less than a month after the coup. The memory of my father’s voice, raised in resistance alongside Christian clergy is one of the most fundamental building blocks of my rabbinate.
Today in my father’s memory,
Today a year after the terrible insurrection of the Capitol,
Today as every day,
I continue to invite you to fight for light, to hold light, to believe in light, so we can see each other’s faces, each other’s humanity, and so that we can restore dignity to our country and our world.
May this Shabbat bring renewal and blessings to all of you and your loved ones.
May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing.
May we have a joyful and restful Shabbat!
Shabbat Shalom,
