By now, countless words have been written about the horrors of this past week. But if this week has taught us anything, it’s how much words really do matter. They have the power to incite fear and disgust, to lift up, to help heal, and to move us forward.

And so we share words of prayer for the victims of the terror attack in Barcelona, and send our condolences to the people of Spain, who have endured what has become a sickening and all too familiar scene.

Closer to home, we are appalled and deeply saddened by the events that took place in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Just a week ago (though it feels far longer), I returned from Berlin, my first time in Germany, where I saw the many memorials dedicated to the millions of Jews killed during the Holocaust. Earlier that week, I had the privilege of meeting in Budapest with about 15 Holocaust survivors, who spoke in painstaking detail about their experiences during the Shoah. Perhaps, more than any of us, they know what words mean. That’s why they tell us their harrowing stories, difficult as it is to revisit the past, so that we will be inspired to always stand up to hate, and to disavow the silence that drove so many to their deaths.

It is in their names, honoring their lives, and the memory of those who perished, that every American — starting with the President of the United States — must unequivocally denounce Nazis, white supremacists, xenophobes, and those who brandish symbols of hate and spew anti-Semitic and racist rhetoric. We must reject false moral equivalence.

We must also share the grief of the families whose loved ones died that day in Charlottesville.

I share the words of Alan Zimmerman, the president of Congregation Beth Israel in Charlottesville, that have now been widely circulated. He wrote about the fear he felt that Shabbat of the march, and how his heart broke as he advised congregants to leave in groups through the back, rather than the front. He talks about the threats the synagogue received, and how they had taken the precautionary measure to remove their Torahs, including one recovered from the Holocaust.

Sadly, this account is not all that different from the stories told by the survivors I met with in Budapest. Think about that. Jews in a synagogue threatened by Nazis. As Alan wrote, “This is 2017 in the United States of America.”

But Alan also wrote about the complete strangers who stopped by the synagogue to talk with the congregants, offer their help, and to stand with them. We’ve also reached out to the Charlottesville Jewish community — the synagogue, the Hillel on the campus of the University of Virginia, the local Chabad — to ask them what’s needed and show our support and solidarity.

In this week’s Torah portion, we read about the laws of tzedakah. Tzedakah isn’t only about money. The Torah says: “Do not constrict your heart and do not close your hand to your fellow person in need. Rather, you shall open your hand to him, and give to him what he needs, whatever he is lacking.”

There’s still much to be done to achieve our vision of a more accepting world, where people come with open hearts, speak with dignity, and work together to help address the needs of our community.

We will continue always to pursue that vision. And we hope that every American will find the right words. Most important, we pray for more peaceful days.

Shabbat shalom