Artist Statement by RAYJ: Ami Weintraub
This poster was created by the RAYJ collective and wheat pasted in Pittsburgh to mark the two-year anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting. The poster depicts a tree with 11 leaves falling from its branches to symbolize the Tree of Life and the 11 people who died in the massacre. The tree is a paper cut which is a common Ashkenazi folk art tradition. The main Hebrew and English texts says, "L'dor v'dor (from generation to generation), we remember, we rise, we fight, Aleynu (it is upon us). The text connects the 2018 massacre to the history of oppression and violence that Jews have faced. The phrase "Aleynu" derives from a major Jewish prayer that was popularized by the martyrology of the Jews of Blois. In 1171 they were the first Jews killed for a blood libel accusation. The Jews recited the Aleynu while their neighbors burned them alive. Several days after these posters were put up, comrades noticed that many were torn off of the street signs in Pittsburgh with the Hebrew text purposefully slashed through.
Artist statement by RAyj: Naomi Weintraub
הִנֵּה מַה טוב ומַה נָעִים שֶבֶת אַחִים גַם יָחַד
Hineh Mah tov umah na'im shevet achim gam yachad.
Here! What good! What sweetness! Siblings, friends and comrades sitting together!
When we embrace ritual, we stand in the threshold between
community and isolation,
sacred and profane,
this moment and our history.
Ritual is not just a veneration of what we hold dear, but a daily choice to build the world we choose to live in. By practicing and holding on to that which roots us in our dreams, values, and history we relinquish our role in upholding normalcy.
Join this rebellion against all we have been told is inevitable.
We are the Disloyal Ones
BY RAYJ: AMI WEINTRAUB
We are the disloyal ones.
We are the ones who refuse to bow down to rulers on horseback. Whose only Melech / King is the life giving force of Breath / Ruach.
We are the ones who find home not in your conquered places but in our sacred times. We are people of the book not the borders drawn onto your maps. We find ourselves in curling black letters etched into parchment not in waving flags.
We are the ones who wrestle with G-d whenever we dream. While we stand and pray we ask our ancestors, not your armies, to gather and shield us.
We are the ones who desist from domination with candles and bread and wine. We are the ones who reject your calendar so we can grow with the waxing and waning of the shimmering moon.
We are the ones who refuse your food when we remember the pain of destruction, who sit for a week as we grieve our dead. We are the ones who sing songs of joy as the flames consume us.
The disloyal ones create defiant encampments with the mixed multitudes who remain ungovernable.
Together, our beauty turns your curses into blessings.
מַה טּבוּ
Mah Tovu