Jewish Community of St. Gallen

It's hot... still summer, and even for me, as an Israeli, that's not easy. It's even harder because practically every home in Israel has air conditioning—something that's still unusual or even uncommon in many parts of Europe. But that will come, no doubt, with global warming progressing year after year. And like everyone else, I wonder: What will become of us? We work so hard to shape and improve human society, and some of us also strive to correct what humanity, in its folly, has disfigured in the Earth's natural balance over the last 150 years. And there's a connection between these two issues, and immediately, as usual, it becomes political: Those who have a "green" outlook usually also hold certain political views. So, what will become of us?

These and other thoughts have accompanied me in recent weeks, and now we are ending the summer break and resuming synagogue activities and community life. This coming Shabbat, we announce the arrival of the month of Elul, the month of mercy and forgiveness according to Jewish belief, in the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah, when creation is renewed anew each year.

Jewish tradition states that we humans, too, must renew ourselves. Actually, not "too," but "only," and above all, we are to recalculate our course in relation to our understanding of creation—physical, spiritual, and social.

And suddenly I remembered a very special person who lived on this earth eighty-three years ago. Her name was Etty Hillesum. I'm sure some of you have already heard of her and perhaps even read her diaries, which illuminate a unique path of profound inner development amidst the horrors of the Shoah. If you don't already own this book, you should definitely get it.

Hillesum (born January 15, 1914 in Middelburg, Netherlands; died November 30, 1943 in Auschwitz concentration camp) was a Dutch-Jewish author and thinker. Her diaries and letters, written between 1941 and 1943, made her posthumously known worldwide.

Hillesum firmly believed that external oppression could not destroy inner freedom. Despite the persecution, she cultivated a space of peace and faith within herself. She refused to feel hatred towards her oppressors. For her, hatred only led to a spiral of destruction. Instead, she chose love for all people and tried to alleviate the suffering of others in the Westerbork transit camp.

Hillesum had an optimistic, divine view of the entire universe. In Hebrew, her book is called "The Heaven Within Me" (known in German as "The Thinking Heart of the Barracks"), and many in Israel follow her writings and form discussion and study groups around her teachings. Her religiosity was undogmatic and individual. She did not see God as a power that prevents suffering, but as a presence within a person that must be protected and preserved. Even in the face of impending death, she never lost sight of the beauty of the world and nature. She considered life, despite everything, to be something precious and whole.

Hillesum wrote: “One must take the inner world as seriously as the outer.” This means that even in the darkest times and under the most extreme pressure, a person retains the freedom to choose how they respond mentally and emotionally to suffering. Hatred is no solution to injustice. True strength is shown in the ability to forgive and to preserve human dignity.

How does one do that? This Shabbat we read the section of the Bible "Re'eh," which begins with the verse: "Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse." The choice lies in our hands whether we accept and view all of reality as a "blessing" or a curse. Classical commentators already point out that the verse begins with a personal address in the singular and immediately continues in the plural. This teaches us that the decision rests with each individual as to how they view reality, and this will determine what society as a whole and the natural world around us will look like.