To the Editor:

My family name is Soloveichik, and that may tell you something about lineage in the Orthodox world of Judaism. From that background I grew up believing in empathy, the importance of living in another's shoes, the ability for which comes from the principles of teshuvah, or turning. As Abraham Joshua Heschel put it, "There are three prerequisites for turning. Eyes that see, ears that listen, and an understanding heart." Increasingly, I have felt that Jews (and Israel) lost this spirit, till I found TIKKUN and its voice--a voice which restores my faith in the knowledge that there are maybe many more Jews than I realised who are as disturbed as I am by what Jews are perpetrating in Israel/Palestine. And I couldn't agree with TIKKUN more in so many ways. For several years I have spoken up in whatever ways I can, but I send you this poem in thanks. I am glad that there are more than just a few voices rising up. With your efforts, maybe it can lead to concrete results. You are everything a Rabbi should be. Nightingale Kaddish As now as the next breath but one, as everywhere as air: Remember Us, Remember Us. The Holocaust and milking it is hot hot hot. The Mother of all Victims rules aloof her jewelry of numbers blue not earned by other victims too insignifi- cantly nothing to tattoo. Enough already of Never Again. It this sounds like a fart in schul maybe I better bubble out again until I fill the holy space of ark and torah scrolls with gas enough to force a flight outdoors and down the marble steps into the arms of ghosts of dead Armenians Cambodians Tutsis Balkans mixed Ebos as remembered as a swarm of gnats long dead. Lebanese abandoned. For their friend- ship with the Jews they'll disappear but please don't concern yourself. Of Diasporas, again there's only one. Not Palestinians as freshly wronged as your last breath by the helluva rousing echo of the Song of Lebensraum. Who can talk? We, who must. Those of us who are the tribe itself. My great-grandfather rabbi stirs. Sing, he says. For why is our might different than any other's might when used so wrongly? For We, he says, are not the only ones pogrommed against, the only Unwilling Wanderers the only holocaust worth a flame. Holocausts aplenty simmer now. Swiss banks weep now. Stolen artworks creak. But of those who sole possession was: themselves, not even individuals but groups of bugs exterminant how do lawyers settle the worth of life? They don't. Never a gain. My great-grandfather's name was Soloveichik-- "Nightingale" In his name I sing today a short and many-noted Kaddish for all the Holocausts that were, lit by tribal hate or maniacal despotism towards a people by their own. And now, Enough Already for the dead, all equal in their tragedy of death. With all the power of one little throat I lift my voice for all the Holocausts to come.

ANNA TAMBOUR

Nowra, Australia

Source Citation

Nightingale Kaddish. Tikkun 17(6): 3.