(RNS) — I enjoyed watching Paul Simon on “SNL at 50.” He chose to sing “Homeward Bound.” It was gorgeous.
Perhaps a better choice would have been “The Sounds of Silence.”
It has now been almost a week since the macabre return of the abused corpses of the Bibas children, and the morbidly botched return of the body of their mother, Shiri, and that of the elderly peace activist Oded Lifshitz.
Because in response to the sadistic ceremony that accompanied the return of the bodies — in which residents of Gaza sat on lawn chairs — silence is precisely what Jews have been hearing.
And in response to the revelation that Palestinian terrorists murdered Ariel and Kfir Bibas with their bare hands, and then committed “horrific acts,” silence is precisely what Jews have been hearing.
The sounds of silence.
Silence from our supposed allies and partners on the left.
Silence from college campuses, which we might have hoped would have become the scenes for renewed demonstrations — this time, in horror over the savagery of Hamas.
Silence from most media pundits.
Silence from international rights organizations.
And, worse still, mostly silence from organized Christian churches, leaders and, according to an informal, unscientific survey of my colleagues, local ministers. With notable exceptions.
It adhered to the same pattern of silence that occurred after Oct. 7.
It reminds me of the words of the late literary critic Irving Howe: “In the warmest of hearts, there’s a cold spot for the Jews.”
If it is possible to hear the echoes of silence, then this is precisely what we have heard — the echoes of the silence that we experienced in the days after Oct. 7.
Which was itself an echo of the silence during the Shoah.
Perhaps you have read Elie Wiesel’s classic Holocaust memoir, “Night.”
But that was not its original title.
The original title: “Un di Velt Hot Geshvign (And the World Remained Silent).”
Precisely because that silence has been so hateful, there is something Jews can do.
To not replicate that silence.
Which brings me to what happened recently in Congo when 70 decapitated bodies were discovered in a church in the war-torn country, according to the Christian persecution watchdog group Open Doors, which said the victims had been kidnapped on Feb. 12.
“Local sources suspect the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), an Islamist group of Ugandan origin affiliated with the Islamic State, as well as local armed groups of being responsible for the massacre. These groups have maintained a climate of terror in the region for several months,” Open Doors said, according to Newsweek.
Unless you were specifically looking for this macabre piece of news, you probably did not hear about it. It did not receive much media attention.
Nor, as far as I can tell, typing in “Jew Jewish beheading Congo,” attention from Jewish groups either.
So, this would be that Jewish leader crying out about this.
Let me be abundantly clear. Some would use this horrific incident as a way of issuing a blanket condemnation of Islam. “You see, that’s what they do … ”
“They” — as in Muslims. But, please, this is not mainstream Islam.
We need to see this for what it is — a manifestation of radical Islam, of Islamism — which is a large operation. It has many different “franchises”: Hamas, Taliban, Boko Haram, Houthis — and, yes, ISIS. There are important differences between these groups, but let us agree, they all spring from a malignant, dangerous theology.
So, that would be one reason why Jews should be speaking out. We and Christians — and other religious groups — have a common enemy in militant Islam. Any Jew who is paying attention right now, and who aspires to a global vision and embrace, might look at what happened in Congo and say: It could have been Jews.
In fact, it was Jews. I will not nauseate you, dear reader, but that is precisely what happened on Oct. 7.
Why am I back on Oct. 7, you might ask. It is rather simple, and starkly so: If we Jews thought we had moved on from Oct. 7, the events of this past week — the savagery of what happened to the Bibas family — has reignited that.
That reignited trauma should make us hyper-aware of the trauma of others.
My friend and teacher Rabbi Donniel Hartman likes to cite his favorite rabbinic quote, from the sage Hillel: “What is hateful to you, do not do to others.”
Which is itself a subtle transformation of the Golden Rule: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets” (from the Christian Book of Matthew). It is telling that the New Testament version expresses this in the positive — “do … ” whereas Hillel puts it in the negative: “do not do … ”
Which is itself a first cousin of Leviticus 18: “Love your neighbor as yourself … ”
I am going with Rabbi Hartman and Hillel. Because I could not endure the cynical silence of the world, I will not engage in my own version of that cynical silence. Deuteronomy 22:3 puts it this way, regarding the obligation to return lost objects to their rightful owners: “Lo tuchal l’hitalem — you must not remain indifferent.”
But, actually, the real translation is: “you will not be able to remain indifferent.” You will find yourself with an indifference disability. Jewish history will make it impossible for you to remain indifferent.
Edmond Fleg put it this way: “I am a Jew because in all places where there are tears and suffering the Jew weeps.”
Now, more than ever.
