Just got back from a vigil for the victims of the Pittsburgh shooting. There were a lot of people there. I didn't know most of them. You'd think that right now, people wouldn't want to be self-identifying as Jewish, but that's not how this has ever worked.
At the times when it seems most dangerous to be Jewish, that's when the Star of David necklaces come out and the kippot go on. "Stiff-necked" gets used as a criticism in the Bible, but it's one of the things I love most about the Jewish people. That defiance.
And it was a defiant vigil. There was a lot of grieving, but we read out loud a prayer written today, by Devon Spier, for the Tree of Life Synagogue.
"Our grief is not the end.
And our tears will be our seeds."
"Our grief is not the end.
And our tears will be our seeds."
We read another poem by Devon Spier, about Hannah Arendt.
"She walked to the outer limit
And in outrage, took out her pen
And drew her own path far from home."
"She walked to the outer limit
And in outrage, took out her pen
And drew her own path far from home."
We said an El Malei Rachamim. We quoted from Jeremiah, "Rachel weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more." And then we read a transcript of Rabbi Annie Lewis's speech at a vigil for Charlottesville. 
That's not all of it. It's long. But as we read, everyone's voices kept getting louder and louder. By the end, the walls were ringing. With that defiance. That determination.
And then we sang Kol HaOlam Kulo--all the world is a very narrow bridge; the important thing is not to be afraid. It's a lament that turns into a dance tune. The kernel of Judaism, right there: we will have the sweet even amidst the bitter, we will sing in the face of despair.
If our tears are our seeds, they have already sprouted.
