Darfur Redux

Some years back I attended a powerful rally at the UN to protest the genocide in Rwanda.  Below is my account.
By any standards the response has been lethargic and lackluster, at best.  One can say with utter sincerity that scant attention has been paid to the cry of millions.  It does not seem fair or just that the earth itself does not convulse with pain.

In one of the most difficult biblical passages we are told that if act inappropriately the land will “vomit us out.” Leviticus 18.  That imagery is at once terrible and nauseating.

Yet, at times in history when humans behave with such depravity the picture of the earth rejecting its inhabitants does not seem so far out of place.

One survivor wrote: "From morning till night we cried out for a sign that God was still with us... We sought Him, but we did not find Him. We were always accompanied by the crushing and unsettling feeling that God had disappeared from our midst."
(Machshavot Magazine, Vol. 46, p. 4)

As a rabbi, I am struck by the fact that we exile God whenever it becomes convenient.  The move to throw out God was present with the Armenians, the Jews, the Cambodians, the Tutsis, and now…. None of the despots of the past century had any need to invoke or be reminded of God.  God was an anathema to them.  Better He should just pack His celestial bags and take an extended vacation while factories of death could be built and made fully functional.

We, on the other side, at home in our religious havens and sanctuaries had good reason to loathe the unfolding horrors that began with the Exile.  God’s departure was just the foreshadowing of the far greater evil.

When I was young, I was horrified that the preceding generation did nothing to stop the machinery of death.  “Where were you?’  I cried out desperately.  “Why were there no marches?  Why were there no sit-ins?  Rallies?  Demonstrations?”

The answer I received was one of acknowledged guilt.  My parents did nothing because they felt powerless to control world events.  I felt their shame as I accused them.

With the savagery of the murders of one million(?) Tutsis in 1994 I was caught off-balance.  We all were.  How could have predicted such intense hatred?  Brutal tortures?  Even now, with the knowledge that so many people were brutalized in Rwanda in a few weeks I am struck into silence by the immediate, swift action of the persecutors.

It is easier to forgive myself, the nation, the world for its indecision and inaction.  The blitzkrieg wholesale massacre and affliction of so many hundreds of thousand in such a short span of time in unfathomable. My mind cannot get around this fact.

For two years I have hammered the notion of the present-day genocide in Sudan to our community.  Far too many people have heard me preach, yell and weep over the same issue time and again.  Repetitive?  Yes.  Redundant?  I do not think so.  After two years, nothing has halted the inexorable persecution in the southern reaches of this largest African nation.

How many have been murdered?  Three hundred thousand?  Four?  Five?  What does it matter?  How many women have been raped?  How many of the living are physically and psychically scarred for life?  How many have been driven from their homes to live in what they thought was the safety of Chad?  Two million?

All the numbers pale beside the fact the world has stood motionless, silent during the years of these crimes. 

At a protest at the United Nations recently I had the privilege of shouting in public.  At the same time, listened and sparred with the Ambassador to the United Nations, John Bolton.  A fearless and outspoken challenger to the genocide in Sudan, Bolton is clearly an ally for those of us who want the United Nations to be more aggressive in confronting brutality.

After speaking with counselors for Kofi Anan and listening to their verbal hand-wringing, I asked Bolton, We have heard from the office of the Secretary General of the United Nations that they cannot get a resolution to arm the African Union or send in United Nations troops without strong backing from the world powers.  The world watchdog passed the buck. Ambassador, where does the buck finally stop?”

John Bolton reddened.  I saw the same sense of fragility and powerlessness in the eyes of my parents some generations before.  I know the John Bolton is doing the best he can with the mandate he has been given and the power afforded to the United States in the Security Council.

One person may not have the power to effect a change. Still, one person cannot remain silent while the atrocities continue.  It is said that Abraham tried to change the ravages of his time, attempting to save humanity from the abyss.  He may have failed in his task but the lesson must not be lost on the living: we are our bother’s keeper.

Yet, the burning question remains, has anything really changed since then?  If the answers is "no" we are faced with two choices, one is to give up knowing we wield such insignificant power.  The other is the learn to shout louder, get more voices involved.  Which are you?