Shabbat Shalom, Shabbat Shalom.

You know, when you raise kids, there’s an incredible amount of chaos in the house. And so recently, one of my kids said, “Abba, what’s it like to be a parent?” So for the rest of the day, I interrupted him every time he opened his mouth.

That’s what it’s like to be a parent. And now, finally, after 18 years of parenting, Rebecca has realized how we keep the house clean. With two boys at home, you lock them out. That’s how you keep the house clean. There’s a lot of chaos when you’re parenting. But I hear from those of you who have done the parenting thing and are now empty nesters that it gets a little quiet in the house when the chaos goes away.

And you start even to miss that chaos a little bit. But that is the natural course of life, right? And then, God willing, the chaos comes back when you have grandchildren. And I hear that’s an even more blessed chaos.

Why don’t we kill our own children? It’s because we want to have grandchildren, right? There’s a—there’s a thing there.

But I was thinking about the blessing of the chaos of kids because, you know, when you’re raising kids, sometimes it becomes a lot. And I was thinking, of course, of the Bibas family this week—how Yarden Bibas returned home after being a hostage for 500 days only to find out that his wife and kids had been murdered. How he must yearn for what we call chaos. How he must long for that noise, that blessing of hearing children and family in the home. We continue in shiva this week for the Bibas family.

May they rest in peace.

It’s a tough time for the Jewish people right now. We are feeling the heaviness of the chaos that is our world. When we lose a loved one, when we experience a death, that is considered the ultimate form of chaos. And so our rabbis tell us that when we hear of the death of another person, we say three words. What are the three words we’re supposed to say when we hear of someone’s passing?

Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

So I’ll invite everyone to say: Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

And the words mean: Blessed is the true judge.

It’s a strange phrase to say, but it comes directly from our Mishnah, and the Talmud comments further on it—that just as we give thanks to God for the good times, so too do we need to offer a blessing in the difficult times to remember all that was good. Our response to grief and the ultimate chaos is to bring blessing into the world.

Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

And when we ourselves experience a loss, we’re supposed to utter the fullness of the blessing:

Baruch atah Hashem Elokeinu Melech ha’olam, Dayan HaEmet.

Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the Universe, who is the Dayan HaEmet, the true judge.

And it seems a little counterintuitive to say blessed is the true judge when we ourselves lose a loved one, in the midst of that chaos and that sadness.

Rabbi Marcia Prager teaches a beautiful D’var Torah when she says that the word HaEmet, which we often translate as truth, contains three letters: the first letter Aleph, the middle letter Mem, and the last letter Tav—the very first, middle, and last letters of the Aleph-Bet.

And it’s a reminder, in our saddest of times, when we lose a loved one, that this is not chaos. This is actually God’s way of the world. Because for every person, there is a beginning, there is a middle, and there is an end. And that is God’s plan, even if we ourselves don’t fully understand it.

But when we hear of the incredible chaos that is in our world—when we hear of death, God forbid, of children, when we hear of the murder of our brothers and sisters, when we hear of any of the chaos that is this world—we say the words Baruch Dayan HaEmet, Blessed are You, God, the true judge.

And in this way, we acknowledge an incredible statement of humility: that we don’t understand how this world works.

And I think even more so—when we hear of something terrible that has happened and we respond with Baruch Dayan HaEmet, we are choosing in that moment to say blessing rather than curse.

Because think of the words that could come out of our mouths in that moment—of anger and sadness, in the moment in which we fully feel the chaos of the world. There’s a lot that could come out of our mouths. And I’m willing to bet—because sometimes it comes out of my mouth—that it might come out of your mouth too.

So instead, when we hear news of bad tidings, instead, when we hear about the chaos of our world, in that moment, we say Baruch Dayan HaEmet, and we pause, and we ask how we can bring blessing into this world in response to the chaos.

As I was processing everything that has happened this week—near and far—trying to make sense of the chaos, as I uttered those three words Baruch Dayan HaEmet, I was reminded of two beautiful midrashim about Adam HaRishon—about the very first Adam.

It is said in the Midrash that at the very beginning of creation, just as Shabbat was coming to an end, Adam HaRishon looked and saw the sun setting and then ultimately disappearing into night.

And Adam panicked.

And in his fear and his dread at the darkness, Adam looked around for what to do. He felt like he needed to do something to address the darkness in his world. And so he picked up two pieces of flint, and he brought them together, and he created fire.

And with that fire, Adam brought light into the darkness.

And because God made sure that in the midst of that first darkness, there were two pieces of flint with which to bring fire into the world—when we recite the Havdalah blessings, we say:

Baruch atah Hashem Elokeinu Melech ha’olam, borei me’orei ha’esh.

Blessed are You, God, Creator of fire.

And every Saturday night, when we light that candle and give thanks to God for bringing fire into this world, we are reminded that whenever we see darkness, we are empowered to look around and ask: How can we bring light?

As we continue in this week of shiva for the Bibas family, as we see Israel on the precipice of perhaps war once again, as we note the chaos that is around us—at home and around the world—as we feel the weight of the chaos and we note the darkness, I’ll encourage all of us to utter those three holy words:

Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

And then choose—whether through action or through prayer—how we’re going to respond to the chaos and the darkness.

Both are legitimate. Both are holy.

And so this week, I pray that God should grant us the wisdom to know which response is the right one for us today.

May God lead us on a path toward light and love, toward kindness and hope. May God inspire us to holiness.

Adonai oz l’amo yiten, Adonai yevarech et amo v’shalom.

May God grant us the strength to combat the darkness.

And may God truly bless us all with peace.

And let us say together: Amen.