Josh Levine's Speech at Shabbat Dinner After Bibas Family Deaths Confirmed

We are together here in Isla Vista, an oasis, and it is now Shabbat, an oasis in time. But I want to talk to you all for a few minutes on this Shabbat about some heavy things. Because doing so matters. Because you matter. And because we respect you.

(And, before I begin, I want to remind you that Hillel is here for you always. We’ll gather here on Monday afternoon for a program and a walk to the beach at sunset, so we can be together. If you need our support sooner, or even tonight, we’re here for you. Lean on us; lean on each other.)

Some of you have heard these words before –- the Priestly Blessing:

“May you be like Ephraim and Menashe” - the first two brothers in the Bible who did not compete against one another, but who lived in peace and harmony.

“May you be like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah” -- our matriarchs, our life-givers.

“May God bless you and protect you.

“May God show you favor and be gracious to you.

“May God show you kindness and grant you peace.”

This is the Priestly Blessing. Parents often give this blessing to their children on Shabbat. Here at Hillel, we are all each others’ guardians, so let us say it for one another. I invite you to ask to put your arms around the shoulders of the people sitting next to you, so we can give this blessing to all who are here tonight:

יְשִׂימְךָ אֱלֹהיִם כְּאֶפְרַיְם וְכִמְנַשֶּׁה

יְשִׂימֵךְ אֱלֹהיִם כְּשָׂרָה רִבְקָה רָחֵל וְלֵאָה

יְבָרֶכְךָ יְהוָה וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ

יָאֵר יְהוָה פָּנָיו  אֵלֶיךָ וִיחֻנֶּךָּ

יִשָּׂא יְהוָה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלום

Yesimcha Elohim k’Ephraim v’chi-Menashe.

Yesimech Elohim k’Sarah Rivka Rachel v’Leah

Yivarechecha Adonai v’yishmerecha

Ya’er Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka

Yisa Adonai panav eilecha v’yasem lecha shalom

As we observe Shabbat together, I ask for a few minutes of your time here at Hillel, a Jewish space. We’re a space that welcomes all -- welcomes all to this Jewish space. And, while we are often a place of Jewish joy, we are ultimately a place of Jewish everything -- all the feelings -- and of community.

Earlier today, with everything happening in the world and in particular in the Middle East, a friend asked me: “Are you still hopeful?” 

I paused. And, I answered her: I am. Right now, it is a hope in the unseen – but I hope. Indeed, the National Anthem of the State of Israel is called Ha’Tikvah – The Hope: “As long as in the heart within the Jewish soul yearns, and toward the eastern edges, onward, an eye gazes toward Zion,  our hope is not yet lost…” These are the opening words of Ha’Tikvah, translated.

Tonight here at Hillel, to the Jewish and to the friends of the Jewish, I’m going to talk about some of the pain being experienced in the last 36 hours by the Jewish people. Pain as hopes were crushed. Pain, it may sound weird to hear me say, that I hope is felt by more than the Jewish people. Pain … and hope.

Hamas yesterday returned four bodies as part of a ceasefire agreement with Israel. Hamas returned the bodies of four people it murdered.

Friends, I am going to spare you some of the details. They’re all online. But I am going to share some details, because it is important that we bear witness. Because Yarden Bibas, the surviving husband and father of three of the victims, has asked the world today to bear witness. It’s the least we can do for him.

One of the bodies was that of Oded Lifshitz, a peace activist who helped transport Palestinians to Israeli hospitals across the border for medical care. Oded was a piano player and a grandfather. He was 83-years old. Oded was kidnapped from his home on October 7th, brought into Gaza, held hostage, and murdered. May Oded’s memory be for a blessing.

Three hostages’ bodies were, we thought, those of Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir Bibas. I say “we thought” because the body Hamas claimed to be Shiri’s in fact wasn’t -- a vile trick. (And for those who haven’t heard: It’s been reported that that the body of Shiri, the mom of the Bibas family, is finally being delivered to Israel this evening. ) 

Ariel and Kfir Bibas – the youngest hostages. The red-headed children kidnapped while in their mother Shiri’s arms, whose fates filled our prayers. Our hopes have now been dashed and our worst fears have been realized. Ariel, 4 years old; Kfir, 9 months old. Hamas claimed they died in an Israeli airstrike – lies.  My heart breaks to say it: Ariel and Kfir were killed by their evil captors’ bare hands. 

I’m saying these difficult things to you because you are adults. We all need to see with clear eyes the world that is broken and that needs you to help repair it.

But I also want you to hear the words of the Kibbutz where the Bibases are from. They shared: 

“We will remember Ariel by his rolling laugh and Kfir by his innocent smile. Ariel … a smiley, rambunctious child — a true redhead who loved superheroes, tractors and cars, and who never stopped jumping and climbing. Kfir ... was a calm, smiley baby, with red hair and a heart-melting laugh. Wherever he went, he smiled at everyone who waved. May their memories be for a blessing.”

“May their memories be for a blessing.”

That phrase doesn’t just mean “may we remember them.”

When we bless children on Shabbat, we ask that they be like Ephraim and Menashe; that they live like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. 

Above me on the wall here is the art project that was made last year during Israel Week at Hillel. “We will dance again.” It was inspired by the horrors of the Nova Music Festival on October 7th – and the conviction that even after that pain, there is purpose. There is a small flame of hope we must nurture and breathe life into. “We will dance again.” We will dance for those who now cannot. With those who now cannot. We will dance again.

This weekend, as you live your lives here:

May you dance with the neshamas – the souls – of those who have been lost. 

May you care for the stranger and bring music into the world like Oded Lifshitz.

May you hold your friends and loved ones tightly like Shiri Bibas.

May you smile like Ariel did as he wore his Batman costume with pride in the kibbutz. 

May you laugh like Kfir did when his dad kissed his back and made him giggle with delight.

May their memories be for a blessing to you, to us, wherever you are this Shabbat, and always.

And may their memories inspire you to continue to reach out, to hug, to smile, to laugh – to hope.

And, please, let us say, Amen.

-Josh Levine: Edgar M. Bronfman Executive Director, Santa Barbara Hillel