Showing posts with label Israel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Israel. Show all posts

Sunday, March 12, 2023

Israel Today and Tomorrow

A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple B'nai Torah - A Reform Congregation on Shabbat Ki Tissa 5783, March 10, 2023

            I became a citizen of the United States in 2006.  After the one-sentence English test and the 10 question American History oral exam, all the new citizens are brought into a room to take the oath.  Just before taking the oath, the group and any visitors are shown two videos.  One, a message from the sitting president, welcoming us as new citizens.  Then, they show us the music video for the song “God Bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood.  Don’t get this confused with Irving Berlin’s God Bless America.  No this is the country-rock anthem.  The chorus has the following lyrics.

            “I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free.

            And I won’t forget the men who died who gave that right to me.

And I'd gladly stand up next to you, And defend Her still today

'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land

God Bless the U.S.A.”

         On that day, I was so proud to finally be an American.  I had waited so long to take that oath.  I was denied citizenship once, which is a story for another time, but on that day, I was proud.  Flag-wavingly proud.  I finally had the right to vote and the ability to add a US Passport to my Israeli one.  But, it was 2006.  And the sitting president whose greeting I heard was George W. Bush.  And, without getting into it too deeply, and in what is no shock to any of you, I’m sure, I was not so proud of that man as our President.  I was not proud of the anti-gay marriage fervor that helped keep him in office in 2004.  I was not proud of the unjustified and destabilizing vanity war being waged in Iraq.  And so there I was, a new American, deeply proud of my country, raising my hand, swearing allegiance, and at the same time not proud of its government and many of its actions. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the juxtaposition of those two videos they showed us and how they brought up conflicting emotions of pride and shame.  These are emotions I’ve felt comingled again as Israel’s government has not lived up to the promise of its founding documents and principles, most recently with the crisis over the courts.  In the last few years, Israel has had election after election, a byproduct of its fractured society.  In that respect, Israel is no different than many other nations in this day and age of polarization.  In the last few years, Israel has barely had a stable government for more than a year at a time, as factions which used to get along or at least be willing to work together have polarized and decided that they will not work with each other.  In this most recent election, a governing coalition came together with the most extreme right-wing-religious parties.  This is not a government to be proud of.  This is not a government that is seeking to promote a Zionist vision for Israel that I believe in.  But, just because we have issues with the government, does that mean we stop our support for the nation?  Do we stop waving that flag?

How are we supposed to respond to this current crisis?  How can we be proud of and support Israel at a time like this?  Can and should we even be Zionists in a time like this?  Should we be Zionists anymore if this is what Zionism has come to, a government where ministers call for the wiping out of an Arab town, a government that is predicated on expanding settlements rather than achieving a lasting peace?  A government that traffics in antiquated religious sensibilities that run contrary to the majority of Israelis’ viewpoints and practices?

The short answer is yes, we need to be Zionists.  Yes, we need to support Israel.  But it may be time for us to change what that means for our community and for ourselves as individuals.  As this evening’s worship shows us in deep and powerful ways, as much as Judaism survives throughout the eras and generations, it also constantly adapts.  It is nimble, our Judaism, and it always has been.  Anyone who tells you otherwise is at best misreading history.  Our relationship with Israel hasn’t always been one way.  As is often demanded of American Jews, our relationship has been: yes Israel, right or wrong.  As the times change, so too must our relationship with our homeland.  And as Judaism and humanity progresses, so too must our Zionism. 

In 1885, a meeting of the Central Conference of American Rabbis in Pittsburgh declared the following: “We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.”[1]  We are no longer a nation, these Rabbis said, but a faith group.  We are no longer expecting to go back to Zion.  We do not hope for a Jewish State.  This is 1885.  Before Dreyfuss, Before the first Zionist Congress.  This is 1885 in a time of expanding rights for Jews across Europe and America.  What need did our people have for a homeland when every nation was now a homeland?  It was also, of course, a time of violence and pogroms across Eastern Europe, leading to waves of immigration of more traditionally minded Jews to these shores.

            But of course, these Pittsburgh ideas were not universally shared beliefs among American Jews, and Zionism became a fixture in Jewish circles.  By the early 1920s Rabbi Stephen Wise opened his Jewish Institute of Religion in New York in competition to the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati.  The JIR was proudly Zionist and in favor of free pulpits, rather than clergy hemmed in by their boards, prevented from speaking as they wish.  In the long run, we know Rabbi Stephen Wise’s direction for Reform Judaism, once on the fringe, became the norm.  Pulpits are by and large free, and as a movement we are unabashedly Zionist.

            In 1937, Reform Leaders once again gathered, this time in Columbus, OH.  Fascism was on the march in Europe.  The era of expanding rights for Jews and other minorities in Europe had ended.  An era of contraction and unimaginable destruction was on the horizon.  That, coupled with the growth of the Zionist project in Palestine, meant that Reform Judaism had to shift its perspective.  The Columbus Platform stated about Israel: “In the rehabilitation of Palestine, the land hallowed by memories and hopes, we behold the promise of renewed life for many of our brethren. We affirm the obligation of all Jewry to aid in its upbuilding as a Jewish homeland by endeavoring to make it not only a haven of refuge for the oppressed but also a center of Jewish culture and spiritual life.”[2]  By 1937, Reform Jews in America were supporting the project of Israel, in favor of it, even if not necessarily for themselves, and cognizant of its potential role and importance as a place of refuge for their coreligionists.  How prescient they were, and how unfortunate that the land did not become such a refuge for 6,000,000 of our siblings. 

            By the 1976 conference in San Francisco, the Reform Platform included the following:

We are privileged to live in an extraordinary time, one in which a third Jewish commonwealth has been established in our people’s ancient homeland. We are bound to that land and to the newly reborn State of Israel by innumerable religious and ethnic ties…We have both a stake and a responsibility in building the State of Israel, assuring its security, and defining its Jewish character. We encourage aliyah for those who wish to find maximum personal fulfillment in the cause of Zion. We demand that Reform Judaism be unconditionally legitimized in the State of Israel.[3]

This is in the aftermath of the six-day war and the Yom Kippur War.  Israel is no longer a small little nation; it’s now asserted itself.  Jerusalem is now under Jewish control and the Reform Movement has already established its campus there.

            By 1997, the Reform Rabbinate focused a declaration solely on Zionism.  In that document, we read: “Even as Medinat Yisrael serves uniquely as the spiritual and cultural focal point of world Jewry, Israeli and Diaspora Jewry are inter-dependent, responsible for one another, and partners in the shaping of Jewish destiny.”  The responsibilities enumerated for those of us in the diaspora deal with security, peoplehood, connection and focus on Hebrew.  The responsibility for Israel was described as follows:

Medinat Yisrael exists not only for the benefit of its citizens but also to defend the physical security and spiritual integrity of the Jewish people. Realizing that Am Yisrael consists of a coalition of different, sometimes conflicting, religious interpretations, the Jewish people will be best served when Medinat Yisrael is constituted as a pluralistic, democratic society. Therefore we seek a Jewish state in which no religious interpretation of Judaism takes legal precedence over another.

Has Israel lived up to its end of the bargain?  Given that Israel had no say, perhaps it’s better to ask whether our hopes for what Israel could be for us have been met?  The answer, particularly today, as we orient our hearts to the east is no.  Israel does not allow for equality of the various streams of Judaism.  Israel does not recognize our leaders as clergy, nor our life cycle as valid under religious auspices.  Israel allows for discrimination against women, minorities, and liberal Jews in the religious sphere.  And because religion and life are so intertwined there, it bleeds over into the society as a whole.

And yet, as the nation of my birth, and the homeland of our people, I still love Israel and still hope for the best version of Israel to emerge from this melee, for the prophetically called people to live up to the aspirations of peace and justice and light, for the society to allow for the variety and diversity that makes Israel so beautiful and special.  I believe it is still possible.  Because to be a Zionist today must mean not just supporting Israel, but pushing Israel to be the best version of itself.  The protestors in the streets these last two months agree.  They want an Israel that is democratic, predicated on social justice, and free for all.  They desire an Israel that strives for peace and security, that follows the rule of law, and that is not led by cult of personality.

            So, what’s happening now, and how do we respond to it?  If our heritage is one of looking at the changing times and adapting alongside them, what ought our next step be, and how do we do that in such a way that also keeps our connection to our history and our emotional and spiritual connection to this place that we call our homeland?  How do we maintain our pride?

At the root of the current crisis is the reality that Israel, though a parliamentary democracy, has no constitution.  There is no document that guides the way the government works.  There are laws that have been passed by the Knesset known as “Basic Laws” which guide and govern the functioning of the state and its institutions, and those laws together form a sort of constitution, though not codified or ratified by the populace.  Because Israel is a parliamentary democracy like the UK, what we know of as the Executive Branch of government is formed by members of the legislative body.  So the law makers are also the law enforcers.  This works well when there is a robust and independent court system whose role it is to overturn any laws that undermine certain basic human rights, or which go against the Declaration of Independence.  The Supreme Court of Israel is then the only place the minorities or protected classes can find any recourse from a law passed by the Knesset or a municipal policy.

The governing coalition is seeking with great haste to pass a law which will give the legislature, the Knesset, the ability to overturn any supreme court decision with a simple majority of 61 votes.  They have rebuffed President Herzog’s request to slow down the process.  The changes mean that any governing coalition, right, left, or center, can overrule the Supreme Court, on any case.  Rights of Arab Citizens of Israel, the Druze, Women in the public sphere, liberal Jews, Bedouins, the LGBTQ+ community, all minorities really are all therefore at the whim of whoever happens to be in charge. 

According to the coalition, this is a reform meant to check the power of a corrupt and overly powerful and influential state institution.  According to the opposition, while the court may indeed need reforms, this is a judicial putsch designed to centralize power in the Prime Minister’s office.  It is a turn away from a democracy, imperfect though it may be, to an illiberal democracy akin to Hungary, where the leader is not questioned or challenged.  According to the former VP of the Supreme Court, who spoke to the assembled Reform Rabbis in Jerusalem, Elyakim Rubinstein, this is akin to removing the Senate from the judicial confirmation process in America.  It removes a check and balance on which the society relies in order to function for all.

This is a leap toward dictatorship, or at least a step, the opponents say.  They are right.  Israelis have been coming out into the streets for the last number of weeks against this bill.  The most recent round of protests counted some 400,000.  That’s somewhere between four and five percent of the population.  That’s no small number.  In addition, the protests are growing.  There are reservists from elite units of the military, fighter pilots, security officials, entrepreneurs, and investors, all warning of the ramifications of the passing of this bill.  It will weaken the democratic character of Israel.  It is already causing a questioning of the chain of command, which for a nation whose military service is compulsory unless you’re Orthodox is a scary thought.  The pilots don’t want to serve for a nation that doesn’t live up to its ideals.  The reservists don’t want to serve a military which fights for a nation that doesn’t protect and preserve rights for all its citizenry.  The investors are worried that money will leave the country, alongside the talent.  Start-up nation may shut itself down.

At the protest I attended in Tel Aviv, along with 160,000 others, the chants were for first and foremost democracy: “de-mo-cra-tia!”  The chants were pro-democracy, pro-Israel, and pro-checks and balances.  At that protest, Rabbi Rick Jacobs, leader of the American Reform movement said:

We're here out of solidarity and out of concern, a concern shared by the vast majority of Diaspora Jews.  The Israel we love is Jewish AND democratic.  We can’t imagine a Jewish State that isn’t democratic but unfortunately there are those who can.  We know how precarious it can be to live as a minority. But we also know that our concepts of equal rights for all, our rule of law, our independent courts --our democracy—is what protect us.[4]

This is indeed a message that the leadership of the Reform Movement in 1885 could not have predicted.  Judaism changes.  Jews change.  Israel changes.  None of us should sit by as the land of our 2000-year hope becomes less than it could or should be after 75 years as a nationstate for the Jewish people.  None of us should be ok with this change because we feel that eternal connection, we know that something is different there for our people, no matter whether we drive on Saturday or not.

            It is time for us to change how we approach Israel and our Zionism.  It is time for us to invest in the places where the vision we have of Israel are most coming to fruition.  It is time for us to support wholeheartedly, and with all the shekels we can, the Reform Communities of Israel and the Israel movement for Progressive Judaism.

            One of the most powerful aspects of my recent trip to Israel was seeing the beauty, the diversity, and the joy in the Reform Jewish community in Israel.  Unlike a generation or two ago, where Reform Judaism was seen as an import from overseas, an American or European brand of Judaism incompatible with Israeli society and Israelis, today, Reform communities are thriving From Jerusalem to the Aravah to Haifa, even without government funding matching Orthodox institutions.  Thanks to the Hebrew Union College Jerusalem campus, Israelis are being trained as Reform Rabbis, bringing a different Judaism to the people: a Judaism that is inclusive, joyful, egalitarian, grounded in respect and dignity for all, and homegrown.  The melodies are familiar, but also there is a growth of Israeli Reform liturgy and music for it.  You know some of it from pieces we sing here.  Reform Judaism of Israel can establish the infrastructure to challenge racism, classism, inequality, and patriarchy.  They already do.  Israeli Reform Judaism is the product of and torch bearer for a Zionist vision that I can be proud of.  You want to support Israel, don’t plant a tree, don’t buy a bond, don’t send your money to AIPAC.  Send it to the IMPJ. 

            Just like at my citizenship ceremony, there are two videos playing before us today.  In one is an Israeli government which seeks to contract rights, mandate a particular form of Judaism, and consolidate power.  In the other, we see Israel brimming with potential, with those who seek a Jewish and Democratic state, with those who see that there is room for everyone and every expression of Judaism.  They see an Israel ready to make peace, an Israel ready to defend herself when necessary, and an Israel inspired by the prophets of God to do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly.  They see the Israel of my dreams, of our hopes, and they need our help to make it so.  They represent the potential for a Zionism we can be proud of.  Let us help liberal Judaism thrive in our homeland, and let us work together to bring about the best iteration of our 2000-year old dream!  For, if we will it, it is no dream.

            Shabbat Shalom



[1] Pittsburgh Platform of Reform Judaism

[2] Columbus Platform of Reform Judaism

[3] Centennial Platform of Reform Judaism

[4] Rabbi Rick Jacobs's speech to the demonstration in Tel Aviv, February 25 2023

Wednesday, September 28, 2022

Rosh HaShanah Morning 5783: This Year is Next Year!

 A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple B'nai Torah - A Reform Congregtion in Wantagh, NY on Rosh HaShanah Morning 5783.


Every year, as these High Holy Days approach, rabbis across the country debate whether or not to touch on topics that might be too divisive.  “Shouldn’t we come up here onto our pulpits and speak words which unite?” many would say.  “Aren’t there enough things that we agree on?  Do you have to focus on those things which divide us?”  Well friends, we take our cues from the Prophets.  From Isaiah who calls us to righteousness.  From Jeremiah who calls us to end corruption in our institutions.  From Ezekiel who saw far into the future.  And so, I know that when the times call for it, it must be done.

Therefore, I begin my remarks this morning with some trepidation, and I ask that if what I am about to say offends you, you at least hear out my argument.  A couple of weeks ago, in Queens, not that far from us, The Chicago Cubs swept the New York Mets at CitiField.  It was so far the only sweep the Mets have suffered this season.

Now, trust me, I don’t bring this up to rub salt on a wound, because let’s face it, not only would that be a not great way to start 5783, but also it was not two weeks later that the Cubs were eliminated from the playoffs while the Mets have secured their spot.  I don’t bring up these three games, whose aggregate score was 15-6, to insult the Mets or their fans.  I don’t mention these three late season games to make myself feel better about a mediocre rebuilding year for my beloved North Siders.  No, I bring it up because of what those three games represented for Cubs fans like me.  

After a season of fewer ups than downs, a season of selling off some of the last pieces that came together in 2016 to finally win the World Series, a season of treading water, those three games in mid-September allowed for us wayward devotees of Wrigley to hold on, for just a little longer, to our most precious of commodities, our hope.  There was no real chance for the Cubs, yet those three games rallied the fans and made it all the easier when the time eventually came to say: “There is always next year.”  

Can you think of a more hopeful statement?

Even though we’ve had a rough go of things of late, experiencing more downs than ups, suffering so many losses one right after the other, even though it may feel like the last two years were an exercise in watching the world around us spin more and more out of control, our tradition teaches us that we are not allowed to give up on hope.  We are not allowed to look at our world and only see the problems before us.  We are not allowed to consider the world as unredeemable, our neighbors as unredeemable, ourselves as unredeemable.  We believe in redemption, calling out to God as the ultimate Redeemer.  We believe in a better future, even when our present is complicated.  We believe in hope.  It has been passed down to us.

As we take our first steps into 5783, let us do so with hope in the future and for the future.  Let us declare that today is next year!

What is it in our tradition that calls us to hopefulness?  The first of our ancestors to use the term was Jacob, who, from his deathbed, blesses his children in turn.  In the midst of his blessing for Dan, Jacob utters the phrase: “liyishuatecha kiviti Adonai, for your redemption, I have hoped, O Adonai.”   In this moment, Jacob is in the middle of blessing his sons and grandsons, setting them up for their future without him, teaching them one final lesson, and seemingly out of nowhere, he utters this call to the Eternal.  Some commentaries  explain this as separate from the blessing, as an aside by Jacob, perhaps due to his faltering health.  Others redouble the prophecy and read in an allusion to Samson.  

Jacob declares his hope at the end of his life, surrounded by the next generations.  Jacob has experienced all of life’s ups and downs.  He is the weaker twin, born second.  His mother manipulates him into coercing his father to giving him his brother’s rightful blessing.  He has to flee his home.  He is conned by his father-in-law.  The love of his life is taken too early from him.  His daughter is sexually assaulted.  His sons conspire to massacre a town and then sell one of their brothers to slavery, only to tell Jacob that Joseph is dead.  He endures so much trauma and hurt, enough that anyone would lose hope.

Yet we also know that God chooses Jacob over Esau.  That in being forced to work so many years, Jacob grows more powerful and wealthy than he could ever imagine.  The son he thought dead later becomes his and his family’s lifesaving provider and has risen to be vice-pharaoh of Egypt.  Along the way, he has seen angels come and go, and he even bested one angel in a wilderness wresting match.  His victory prompts the angel to rename him Yisrael.  

Rather than consider these words of hope in the midst of blessing as merely an aside, what power there is in considering them a part of the blessing to his progeny.  Jacob has lived a life.  And then, at the end, unprompted, Jacob reveals to us how he survived it all.  Hope.  God, I always hoped for your salvation.  It takes more than a blessing from a parent; and Jacob ought to know.  It takes hope.  

We are B’nai Yisrael, descendants of Jacob, blessed with that same hope in our spiritual DNA.  

What blessings of hope will we utter as we make our way into this new year?  What lessons about hope will we teach our children and grandchildren?  

Jacob teaches the generation after him an important lesson about what it takes to make it through this world.  It takes hope.  Jacob’s lesson is passed down through the generations.  Because, while the seed of hope is planted in Jacob’s sons, it is the daughters of Israel who will sow its yield.  

When the people of Israel cross the parted waters and are reborn into freedom and covenant, they honor God’s wonderous act with song.  In famous words, Moses and the people Israel sing a song of salvation and redemption: Who is like, you, O Adonai, among the Gods that are worshipped!?  And then Miriam, the Prophet, takes out her timbrel to lead singing and dancing, followed by all the women taking out their timbrels.  Nowhere earlier in the Torah does it tell us that the women readied their instruments.  Nowhere does the Torah indicate that the women were packing their drums.  We read about the unbaked bread, but no timbrels.  So, the sages, understandably, ask where the women got these “tupim,” these rhythmic instruments in the desert.

Well, sometimes the rabbis answer out of logic.  If the women had them, they must have packed them.  But, why would they?  The Midrash answers that the women packed them, because they were righteous, and because they knew that God would redeem them.  The women’s righteousness is their hopefulness.  Packing for celebration in the shadow of the devastation of Egypt is an act of hope.  The Israelite women have hope, even in the aftermath of enduring a terrible, genocidal regime, they hope in God’s salvation, they believe in it, they expect it.  So, they pack their instruments, always ready to break out into song.  Hopeful at every turn.

Imagine the scene in Egypt as they’re packing to go.  Imagine what their families say to them as they are packing the seemingly useless instruments.  You didn’t have time to raise the dough, but you remembered your drum?!

The drums are only useless if we think we’ll never have occasion to use them.  What timbrels will we pack for the year ahead?  What can we have at the ready so that we are prepared when our hopes come to pass, when we have no choice but to celebrate and dance?

As the inherited hope passed from of Jacob to the generation of the exodus, so too has that hope been come down to us.  Hope is our inheritance!

But is hope enough?  Is hope supposed to pay our grocery bills, our energy bills, our synagogue bills?  Is hope enough to end the difficulties we see all around us?

Of course not, and our tradition understands that alongside hope, more is sometimes needed.

When the people are ready to enter the Promised Land, Moses sends scouts to check it out before they make their way into it.  Is it even possible to conquer?  What’s in there anyway?  When the scouts return, 10 of them tell the people that they will not be able to conquer the land.  There are giants there and they will devour us!  There is no hope to fulfill God’s promise.  They spread this story among the people, causing them to lose hope as well.

But Joshua and Caleb come back and say that it is true that there will be challenges, but that with some hope, and knowing that God is on their side, they will be able to overcome anything laid out before them.  

What does this story teach us about hope?  It teaches us that the place of hope can sometimes be a lonely place.  Joshua and Caleb, the two scouts who come back hopeful, are the minority.  They are outnumbered.  It’s only through God’s intervention that their plan to move forward takes hold.  In spite of overwhelming negativity, they remain hopeful.

But Moses understands, perhaps from this episode, that hope is not enough.  And so at the end of his life, when he passes the mantle of leadership to Joshua, Moses tells the people and tells Joshua exactly what they need.  Chazak v’ematz, Moses tells the people, and then Joshua.  Alongside hope, you need strength and courage.  Alongside hope, you need strength to make it through the difficult times.  Alongside hope you need courage to try and also courage to be ready for when, inevitably, hopes are dashed.

It is for this reason that the Psalms teach us to put these two ideas together.  At the end of Psalm 27, which we have been reading each day of the month leading up to the High Holy Days, in the last verse of that psalm, we read: קַוֵּ֗ה אֶל־יְ֫יָֹ חֲ֭זַק וְיַאֲמֵ֣ץ לִבֶּ֑ךָ וְ֝קַוֵּ֗ה אֶל־יְֹיָֽ Hope in the Eternal, be strong and courageous in your heart, and hope in the Eternal.  As we have been readying ourselves for these High Holy Days, these last words of Psalm 27 reverberate in our ears, leading us to next year.  Hope, strength, courage, and hope.  There is hope for our future, if we are only strong enough to make it there and courageous enough to fight for it.

I want to share one more story about hope, about Tikvah, because I know that when we use that word, we cannot help but think of Israel, whose National Anthem, Hatikvah, announces that we are a people of hope.

Some of you know that I spent about a week in Israel this past summer.  While I was there, I have to tell you, the traffic was…ungodly.  Why?  Everywhere you look, construction and infrastructure projects.  In Tel Aviv, I don’t think there’s a highway that’s not torn up, and major parts of the city are enduring a big dig for a new subway and surface construction for a new light rail.  Imagine if the LIE, Southern State, Northern State, Meadowbrook, and the Wantagh were all under construction at the same time, and also Hempstead turnpike and Jerusalem were too.  It was a mess.  It certainly took strength and courage to drive around!

And then, just a couple of weeks ago, Israel announced and touted a brand new tunnel that is a part of the entrance to Jerusalem, which will hopefully reduce the traffic burden on the holy city.  That tunnel and all that construction in Israel are symbolic of the od lo avda tikvateinu attitude, of the sense that our hope is not lost.  The tunnel represents a sense that the future is bright and busy and peaceful enough that this major highway tunnel was a good investment.  The tunnel and the subway and the light rail represent the hope that Israel is not going anywhere anytime soon.

So, what am I supposed to do about the Cubs?  Well, with all the strength and courage that I can muster, I hope for next year.  There is always next year.  Next year is unformed and void; it hasn’t been created yet.  It is potential awaiting formation, promise awaiting fulfillment.  Next year is a winning season.  Next year is traffic free.  Next year is a chance to do it right.  Next year is opportunity granted.

There’s always next year is a statement of hope.  Next year starts today!  Rosh HaShanah is a celebration of hope, called from mountaintop to mountaintop by blasts of the horn, celebrating the hopeful future that is laid out before us.  It reminds us that where we are going is not yet determined.

Will we bring our timbrels with us?  Will we teach our children the importance of hope, even when life can be difficult?  Will we maintain our hope, even when we are outnumbered, and trust that our hopeful vision is worth the strength and courage we will need to bring it about?

For we certainly know that it will take courage and strength to make the world into what we want it to be.  It will take courage and strength to make ourselves into what we aspire to be.  All of that is sure.  What is also sure is that we cannot and will not accomplish either of these sacred tasks without hope.

Shanah Tovah.

May this year be your next year!


Thursday, January 22, 2015

Reflections on Our Recent Trip to Israel and Voting for the Zionist Congress

A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple Emanu-El of East Meadow on Friday, January 16, Shabbat Va'era, 2015

I’m glad to be able to share a little bit about our recent trip to Israel.  We had a great time.  We did lots of amazing things.  Saw many amazing sites.  Walked on history.  Learned a lot about what it means to be a part of the people of Israel and a part of the Jewish people.  We experienced our Judaism in a way that can only be done in Israel.

To begin, we were in the city of Tel Aviv.  We had an opportunity to tour around the ancient port city of Yaffo and learn about how and ancient port became a modern port and its role in pre – state Israel.  The city of Yaffo is an interesting and important city.  It is mentioned in the book of Jonah as the port from where Jonah flees God and it’s served four hundreds of years as the only port for the land of Israel. Anyone coming to any part of the holy land would have disembarked at that port. 

We walked up the beautiful cobblestones and overlooked that beautiful coastline of the modern city of Tel Aviv.  In Yaffo we learned about the beginnings of the modern city of Tel Aviv.  We learned how a small group of Jews decided to leave the confines of the walled city of Yaffo, and stake their claim on the sand dunes just north of this ancient city.  They selected their plots by putting their names and the plot number is on shelves they collected from the shore.  This was the humble beginning to what is now the modern city of Tel Aviv.

Much of Israel is like this.  A combination of the old alongside the new.  A combination of the ancient and the modern.  One culture grappling with its ancient roots and its modern destiny.  This is on full display not just in the ancient city of Yaffo and its new sister of Tel Aviv, but throughout the country.  We saw this as we sat in the room in Tel Aviv where Ben Gurion declared Israel a state.  The house, which is now a museum and is called Independence Hall, was one of those first houses in Tel Aviv, from those first families who moved out of Yaffo.  In that room, the ideas made famous in Theodore Herzl’s Altneueland (Old-New Land), became reality.  Israel was to be, for Herzl and his followers, a combination of the old and the new.

But the old and the new don’t always get along.  Even what was once considered a great idea, for example draining swamps in order to make room for more people, in a modern context is now understood more for the environmental impact it may have had than the progress it may have achieved.  Because of this, Israel has been on the forefront of trying to reclaim some of the nature that was altered in the name of progress. 

This rethinking of past successes is not the case in all aspects of Israel’s many innovations, for example the national water carrier, but where Israel can, it takes ecology into consideration more deliberately than at any time in her past.  Our group had the opportunity to visit the Hula Valley Nature Preserve which was re-flooded in order to provide place for the many migrating birds to land on their long trek from Europe or in Asia to Africa.  Did you know that Israel was a bottleneck in a bird highway?

All across Israel what was once the way is no longer the way, and what is now the way may no longer be the way in the near future.  And it has been that way forever.  One group would come in and take over, only to make way for the next.  A difficult history to follow, to be sure.

In the north, we stayed on a Kibbutz, Kfar Blum.  This Kibbutz, like many, if not most, in Israel has had to adapt to a changing economic landscape.  As Israel transitioned from the necessary communal living of its early days into an economic driver in the world, the Kibbutzim have had to change their way of doing business.  Many of them still specialize in one product, but many now also include beautiful hotels or guest-houses for tourists and Israelis looking to get away.  Kfar Blum, situated in the very north of Israel, is like this.

We traveled to see the borders of Syria and Lebanon.  And, while we were not in any danger, we did see plumes of smoke rising in the distance in Syria, as their civil war rages on.  This serves as a reminder that while there is a cold peace with Egypt and Jordan, Israel’s northern-most border is still a concern.  With the rise of a new generation of Islamic Extremists, because let’s not forget that Hezbollah and Hamas are in many ways the progenitors of ISIL, Israel has to be ever-vigilant and maintain a strong military presence.  We witnessed this as we saw tank exercises and heard and felt munitions drills as we were travelling and exploring.

In the North, we also learned about the Druze, an ethnic and religious minority in Israel, who are proud Israeli citizens and proudly serve in the Israeli Army, at rates even higher than Jews!  The Druze are a secretive group when it comes to their religion, so we learn more about their history as a people than about their sacred story or understanding of the nature of God.

After a number of days in the north, we traveled south to end our trip in Jerusalem.  Looking upon the walls of that ancient city never ceases to excite me, no matter how many times I’ve seen them.  It’s also a very powerful moment to enter Jerusalem with those who have never been before.  We learned about the Old City and how it came to be in Israel’s control.  We learned about the ancient history of the city by exploring the City Of David excavation site, which also gave us a glimpse into the complicated and political nature of archaeology in Israel.  Every find adds to our knowledge of history.  Archaeology is about more than the artifacts.  For many, each find is also more proof of to whom the land and the city belongs as well. 
          
Jerusalem also is the home to Yad Vashem, the Israeli Holocaust Memorial and Museum, which we visited.  Every head of state is brought to Yad Vashem, and almost every tourist comes as well.  This is to show the necessity of the existence of the State of Israel.  It is a fine line which is walked by the Museum, which strives to make the case that Israel is necessary, but also prevent the idea that it is only because of the Holocaust that Israel exists.  The truth is somewhere in between the two, as we learned of the decades of work which went into the founding of the state before the Holocaust, but also learned how Israel’s existence was a reaction and a response to the Holocaust.  There are no simple answers in Israel.

We were able to see the old alongside the new in Jerusalem.  Outside of the old city’s walls thrives Israel’s biggest city, with residents of all religions and levels of observance.  There is no doubt that, compared to Tel Aviv, Jerusalem is more religious.  The ongoing fight over the role of Judaism in the public sphere in Israel, and what that Judaism ought to look like, begins in Jerusalem.  The fights over how Israel will choose to understand the Torah for state purposes begins in Jerusalem. 

The catch phrase for our trip was undoubtedly: “It’s complicated!” Seemingly every question posed to our amazing tour guide resulted in two answers.  First an: “it’s complicated” followed by a second, more nuanced answer.  There is no way to understand Israel simply.  Anyone who tries to explain it to you simply, or who believes it can be explained simply, is most-likely not all that interested in anything but a specific and one-sided agenda.  Truly, Israel is complicated.  It is complicated because of its history.  It is complicated because of its location.  It is complicated because of its present and it is complicated because of its unknown future.

One element of the unknown future for Israel is the role of religion in daily life, namely Judaism.  This refers not only to how people practice and pray, but more importantly, what definitions of Judaism are acceptable and which ones are not.  This relates to everything from which restaurants are Kosher, to who can be married, as Israel doesn’t have civil marriage, to which congregations get funding from the government to lead prayer.

We had the opportunity to join in formal prayer 3 times.  Our first Friday night, we were welcomed to Congregation Beit Daniel in Tel Aviv, the Reform Community in Tel Aviv.  There, we learned about the growing Reform Movement in Israel.  Our final day in Israel, Shabbat, for our third prayer experience, we were welcomed to the Reform Movement Seminary, HUC-JIR for Shabbat Morning services.  HUC-JIR doesn’t just train American Jews who want to be reform Rabbis cantors or educators, there is also an Israeli Rabbinic Program, which trains Israelis to be Reform Rabbis.

What was unknown to most Israelis a decade ago, has flourished into a movement which contains almost 50 congregations and which is making inroads among the 80% of Israelis who consider themselves “Secular.”  In Israel, one is classified as Secular or Religious.  There was, for quite some time, no in between.  And, for most Israelis, that was ok.  The Israel Movement for Reform and Progressive Judaism is working to make an in-between, because the truth is most Israelis live like American Reform Jews.  They don’t go to Temple all that often, but are looking for and want a Judaism that speaks to their modern lives.

Unfortunately, the only Judaism that is accepted in Israel is of the Orthodox variety, and more and more only an ultra-orthodox variety.  But that is changing…Let me tell you a little bit about our second prayer experience.

We were running a touch late, as the days are short in the winter and Shabbat doesn’t wait for 8:00pm, 7:00pm on the first Friday… We had planned to witness Kabbalat Shabbat at the Western Wall.  This was not our first time seeing the holiest site in Judaism. In fact, we had already seen the entirety of the wall, not just the part exposed at the Kotel Plaza.  So, a little late, but still energetic, we returned to see the joy and the passion with which Jews approach the Western Wall to welcome the Sabbath Queen with Psalms and songs like Lecha Dodi and Shalom Aleichem, which we had learned about in the mystical city of Tzefat. 

The Wall on a Friday night is a study in organized chaos.  Each of the different communities of Jews, each Yeshivah, sends its men down to the wall to pray and sing and dance and joyously welcome the day of rest.  You can differentiate the groups by the hats and the socks and the style of payes.  Typically, the Wall is also a study in contradictions.  As the men are dancing and singing and joyful, the women’s side, separated by a high wall, is much quieter.  I can explain more about this another time, but it’s important to understand that the place which is intended to be the holiest for all Jews has become an Ultra-Orthodox Synagogue, under the authority of an ultra-orthodox rabbi who sets the policy.  The Kotel is for all Jews, but the rules of the Kotel are made by one Jew, with one very rigid point of view.

So, we watched.  We watched and I was surprised, because on the women’s side, there was singing, loud and proud, and prayer in ways I had never seen before on a Friday night.  Granted, I’m not an expert, but I have been to the Kotel on Friday Night enough to know that this was new.  And the reason that this is happening is because the future of what Judaism will look like in Israel is changing, and it is changing because of the work of progressive, liberal and Reform Jews in Israel, in particular the Israel Religious Action Center, or IRAC, the legal advocacy arm of the Reform Movement.  Their work, as well as the work of Women of the Wall, a group of women who meet monthly to pray out loud at the Kotel, have made tremendous strides in changing the culture of the Kotel specifically and Israel in general.

After we watched the chaotic joy at the Kotel plaza, we made our way to the newly minted Egalitarian Plaza, known as Ezrat Israel: The area for Israel.  This is also new.  It was a compromise between the Jewish Agency and the Rabbi of the Western Wall, to provide a place where men and women can pray together.  It is separate and apart, and it is definitely not equal in terms of the amenities, but the fact that it exists is a great step forward, and a step in the right direction.  It was at this egalitarian section of the wall that we prayed together as a community.  It was on this platform that we gathered, men women and children, just as God commands in Deuteronomy, to praise God, to Thank God and to honor our commitments as Jews. 

I will say that while I lead prayers on a regular basis, this time and place was special for me.  This moment was a highlight of my life, because until this trip to Israel, it was not possible for me to lead my entire congregation in prayer at the Kotel.  It just wasn’t an option and now it is, and I am glad that we made use of it, and I look forward to making use of it again!

There is much that can be said about our trip, and I’m not going to tell you everything tonight.  I need something left for next High Holy Days!  But I want to end with an opportunity we all have to help ensure that the egalitarian prayer spaces will remain and that the holiest site for all Jews will indeed be open to all Jews and their many and varied practices.  As I mentioned at the High Holy Days, this year, there is an election for the World Zionist Organization, which forms the backbone of the Jewish Agency, which was responsible for the compromise creating the egalitarian prayer space.  You can all participate, well almost all of you.  Every Jew over the age of 18 is eligible to vote.  It does cost $10 per vote, which is used for administrative fees, but you can each vote, and while the pulpit is not usually, or ever, a place to tell you for whom to vote, tonight, I urge you to vote for the Reform Slate under the banner of ARZA, the Association of Reform Zionists of America. 

In the 2015 World Zionist Congress election, ARZA – REPRESENTING REFORM JUDAISM is campaigning for the following principles:
  • Women’s Rights & Gender Equality: We strive for an Israel in which gender equality is the rule – where men and women can pray as they wish and work and live together as equals, deserving of the same respect and honor.
  • Religious Equality: We envision and work for a society in which all denominations are treated fairly and with respect; an Israel in which all of us are accepted as Jews, regardless of our level of observance.
  • Two States; One Path to Peace: Lasting peace, security and stability for Israel, the Palestinians and the surrounding Middle East region is possible through a commitment to a two-state solution. Although the road may seem long, we must pursue the path to that peace every day.

A vote for ARZA ensures that funds from the Jewish Agency are allocated to Reform and liberal causes in Israel.  If the Reform Movement wins a large enough number of seats on the US delegation, then we can ensure that religious liberties will continue to expand in Israel.  We can work to ensure that all conversions will be accepted by Israel.  We can work to ensure that Reform Judaism in Israel gets funding on par with the government funding of Orthodox Rabbis.

This week we read in our Torah that Moses implores the Pharaoh to let the people go not because slavery is bad, but rather he tells the Pharaoh on God’s behalf to “Let my people go so that they may worship me!”  Freedom of worship, and freedom to worship how we choose is a right all Jews have in America.  It is not a right all Jews have equally in Israel.  You can help to change that.

Shabbat Shalom.

Monday, October 6, 2014

YK Morning 5775 - Our Legacy

This past December, a friend and I traveled to Austin, Texas.  Neither of us had ever been to Texas before, and so we decided to take a trip to see a part of the country we had never before had the chance to see.  And so, we went down to Texas, explored the area, tasted of the local delicacies, met up with a colleague, and had a chance to see the important sites, including a brief sojourn to San Antonio in order to see The Alamo.  Among our first stops upon our arrival in Austin was the LBJ library and museum on the campus of the University of Texas at Austin.  The building is quite imposing and its place on the University campus unmistakable.  A behemoth of a white rectangular building, up on a slight hill, surrounded by paved courtyards with the giant football stadium in the background, the Presidential Library and Museum walks a visitor through the life and career of LBJ.  From his humble beginnings in rural Texas teaching immigrant children, to the Oval Office, I learned much about LBJ and his legacy.

And that is what a museum is all about isn’t it, legacy?  What is it that a person did which is worthy of keeping forever?  What is it that a person made or painted or sculpted that society has decided is worthy of preservation?  In the case of LBJ, his legacy is clear, at least according to the museum.  The museum makes the case that were it not for the historic legislation that LBJ caused to be passed, President Obama would never have been elected.  Now, the museum doesn’t go so far as to say that, but the video clips and the thrust of the permanent exhibit make it clear that the curators and preservers of LBJ’s legacy believe, and want us to believe, that a distinct line of this nation’s progress as relates to race can be drawn from LBJ to Barack Obama.

And what a legacy that is.  Our nation has seen itself torn in two, again and again, over the issue of race.  Today, the museum tells us, things are better.  Today, the museum tells us, thanks to LBJ, the race issues which plagued our nation are more a thing of the past than the present.  LBJ was, after all, responsible for the passing of the Civil Rights act, the Voting Rights Act and the Great Society Legislation, which gave aid to education, Medicare, Medicaid, and fought against poverty.  The LBJ Museum wants us to know that it’s thanks to LBJ that we have many of the laws and rights we take for granted.

And his legacy endures, in some ways.  This year was the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Civil Rights Act.  The desk on which LBJ signed the legislation into law is on display at the Museum, as is the pen he used.  50 years ago, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.  It removed obstacles to voting and removed segregation in schools, places of business and public institutions.  50 years ago, the Civil Rights Act changed this nation and moved us toward a more perfect union, toward a better society.  And, in truth, LBJ’s legacy endures in these landmark pieces of legislation that continue to form the backbone of racial equality in this nation.

With 50 years working toward racial equality in this nation under our belts, one would think that this nation would be more evolved when it comes to race.  The Library and museum seem to tell us we should be.  And yet, in the last months, and most prominently this summer, our nation’s old wound was opened again.  Michael Brown, an African American young man, was shot fatally by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri, just outside of St. Louis.  If only this were a solitary incident.  Closer to home, on Staten Island, Eric Garner died in police custody after a choke-hold was used to subdue him during an arrest.  Last month, in South Carolina, at a seemingly routine traffic stop, Levar Jones, an unarmed black man was shot multiple times by a police officer after he went back into his car to retrieve his license, as instructed by the police officer. 

This is not an indictment on the police.  The overwhelming majority of police officers work hard and put their lives in danger and in harm’s way each and every day to keep their communities safe.  They are family men and women, who show kindness, compassion, bravery and care on a day to day basis, as they face more complicated threats and more and more lenient gun legislation.  There are some questions about the particular police officers involved in these incidents and the amount of force and firepower that is becoming commonplace among police departments, but more striking, and more important for our nation to grapple with, is the fact that in each of these incidents, and the many others over the last many years, the victim was unarmed and was black.

It has been 50 years since LBJ signed the civil rights act into law, and we, as a nation, still have some soul searching to do about what we value and what we believe civil rights and equality really mean.  It has been 50 years since the Civil Rights Act became law, and there is still a wide gap between what it means to be white in this nation and what it means to be something else.

As modern Jews in 21st century America, we have been subsumed into white culture.  Or maybe, we pushed ourselves in and demanded a place.  Yes, Jews are still distinct, but the fact of the matter is, we are a minority primarily living and working as a part of the majority.  But it wasn’t so long ago that signs reminded us of who we weren’t.  No Dogs or Jews allowed, the signs told us.  As a minority, the rights of other minorities ought to be as important to us as our own.  And, we have a legacy of being a part of the solution to societal inequality that we ought not forget.

“The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were drafted in the conference room of Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism [in Washington DC], under the aegis of the [Southern Christian] Leadership Conference, which for decades was located in the RAC's building.  During the Civil Rights Movement, Jewish activists represented a disproportionate number of whites involved in the struggle. Jews made up half of the young people who participated in the Mississippi Freedom Summer in 1964.”[1] Among those Jews were Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, of blessed memory, who gave their lives, alongside James Charney, in the fight for freedom and equality in what has come to be known as the Mississippi Burning.

“Leaders of the Reform Movement were arrested with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in St. Augustine, Florida, in 1964 after a challenge to racial segregation in public accommodations. Most famously, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched arm-in-arm with Dr. King in his 1965 March on Selma.”[2]  As Jews, and as Reform Jews in particular, we have a legacy of working toward equality in this country and doing whatever we can in order to further the causes of life, liberty and happiness for all.  Of late, however, our voices have been too quiet.  Of late, we have not spoken out enough about the issues of race that continue to plague our nation. 

These United States, from the outside, seemed to be doing better than ever in terms of race.  After all, the first family is African American.  Doesn’t that mean we are post-racial, even if the election of the president brought out the worst among some of our countrymen?  No.  It doesn’t.  It means we’ve made progress, but there is much more to do.  This summer’s protests in Ferguson in reaction to the shooting death of Michael Brown and the other young black men in this country show us exactly how far we are from being post-racial, how far we are from having race be a thing of the past.  They show us that the mask of tolerance and acceptance under which we go about our daily lives is only just that, a mask, hiding the reality of inequality based on race that continues to this day.  An inequality that is systematized into the penal code and played out in incarceration rates and policies like Stop and Frisk.  An inequality that tells the authorities that they can, and indeed should, be listening in on calls and communications just because someone happens to be Muslim.  An inequality that plays out in employment rates, graduation rates and access to loans and mortgages.  An inequality that continues to try to disenfranchise voters.  An inequality that persists even as the Supreme Court rules that voting rights and discrimination are no longer at issue, as they gut the preclearance elements of that same Voting Rights Act that LBJ signed into law.

Fifty years after the Civil Rights Act and 49 years after the Voting Rights Act, the inequality in our land cries out to us, and it demands that we work to create a new legacy for the next generation.  A legacy of equality and justice for all.  A legacy which puts into action the motto of this great nation: out of many, one.

But this summer, as the mask of a post-racial America was torn off another mask was torn off as well.  How can we focus on race in this country, while throughout this nation and in other nations, the ugly face of anti-Semitism was front and center again.  We focus on it because the Anti-Semitism whose resurgence we witnessed with shock and dismay, and which infiltrates quickly due to the New Media is related to the racism which we see continuing in this nation.  They are related because this summer we have had the opportunity to witness that we as a species are not as evolved as we had hoped to be by 2014.  We are not as open to others and differences as we would have thought in the aftermath of the disastrous conflicts of the 20th century.  We haven’t learned our lesson yet, as humans on this earth, and we seem to forget too easily that we are more alike than we are different.  That we are all created in the same image.

In response to the war between Israel and Gaza many protests against Israel included, in commonplace incidents, placards, posters, and chants the likes of which we have not seen in many years.  Throughout Europe’s capitals, those bastions of tolerance and culture, riots and protests against Jews continued, putting Jewish communities in danger and on high alert.  But the posters and the slogans weren’t the extent of the violence.  Jews in Europe and even here in America, faced violent attacks.  Antiemetic incidents were so prevalent that a Twitter and a Tumblr feed were started called “Everyday Anti-Semitism” which tried to catalogue the numerous attacks in print, at protests, and which people reported. 

But the war in Gaza was simply pretense.  In Brussels, in May, well before the war began, four tourists were shot at the Jewish Museum in that city.  This is the kind of incident with which we have become all too familiar.  Whether it was the Chabad in India or the attack on the JCC in Argentina, we are used to a certain number of lone wolf attacks, and perhaps we will never rid our world of this danger. 

But this summer, we saw more than just an isolated incident.  Jewish-owned stores and a pharmacy in Paris were firebombed and destroyed.  Synagogues in Germany have been firebombed, Jews in Sweden attacked and bludgeoned, a Synagogue in Paris besieged and its members forced to defend their place of worship from violent anti-Semitic protests posing as anti-Israel protests.  In London, shouts of “Death to the Jews,” or “Hitler was right” among other chants, were heard as a part of the more than 100 reported anti-Semitic attacks in England in July.  Posters depicting Israel as equal to the Nazis were commonplace.  And even on New York’s Upper East Side, a Jewish couple was harassed and attacked.  More recently, a rabbi in Mississippi was asked to leave a restaurant because he was Jewish and took offense to the waiter’s description of a “Jewish salad,” though that incident is disputed by the restaurant's owner.

There are, of course, differences between what is happening now and what happened in the Europe of the 1930's.  The Anti-Semitism today is not state-sponsored as it had been for many centuries.  In fact, many leaders of Europe, notably France, Germany and Italy, have publicly and loudly condemned the attacks and have done their best to try and stop them.  In Germany, a country for which firebombing of a synagogue dredges up memories of a hate-filled past that nation has worked hard to overcome, a rally against hate and against anti-Semitism drew thousands of people and was headlined by the Chancellor and Prime Minister.

None of this is meant to be alarmist nor to scare us into staying at home or force us all to decide to move to Israel.  But it is important that we are aware of what is happening in the world.  According to an Anti-Defamation League poll[3] completed over the last year, fully 26% of adults worldwide harbor anti-Semitic attitudes.  That number jumps to 34% in Eastern Europe and 74% in the Middle East.  The numbers are much lower closer to home.  Only 9% of Americans and 19% of people in the Americas harbored negative views of Jews.  None of this is surprising.  Anti-Semitism has existed for as long as there have been Jews.  It existed before the conflict in Gaza, and sadly, it will exist even after a true and enduring peace is established, may it happen in our days.

I have been studying Sefer HaYashar with some colleagues over the last few months.  Sefer HaYashar is a midrashic collection, which means that it takes the stories of the Bible and elaborates on them to fill in the gaps and answer some of the questions that come up when reading the Bible.  For example, what was Abraham’s childhood like?  This question is raised because the Torah introduces Abraham as an adult with no description of his youth.  Sefer HaYashar answers some of these questions.  And, since this collection most likely dates from a post-crusader time frame, the stories take on a slightly different cultural resonance.

Sefer HaYashar talks at length about Abraham and why he left his land to go to Canaan.  The Torah tells us that it is because God told him to go with the famous words “Lech Lecha”.  But that’s only part of the story, according to this Midrash.  Sefer HaYashar posits the young Abram as a believer in the one God, as opposed to the rest of the population, especially Nimrod, the King of Ur.  The King makes multiple attempts to kill Abram including by throwing him in a furnace and by shunning him.  None of these work, and Abram hides from the king for many years, taking refuge in Noah’s home, and continuing to learn the ways of God. 

At a certain point in time, the king has a dream which is interpreted to mean that Abram will cause the king’s death and destruction to the kingdom.  Abram hears of this and says the following: “Let us arise and go to Canaan, out of the reach of injury from [the king], and serve the Eternal…and cast away all the vain things.” (Sefer HaYashar, ch. 12)

It is Abraham who makes the decision to flee Ur, making it as far as Haran.  And he flees because the powers that be don’t like the religion he practices.  By putting Abraham in the same position which the Jews of the Middle Ages found themselves, namely forced to flee on account of their belief, this Midrash makes a point to say that as Jews we have always had to deal with this.  Since Abraham, we have had to contend with people who dislike us merely because of who we are and what we believe.

From this story, we see that in the Middle Ages, Jews projected the animosity they felt back in time, believing it to be something we have no choice but to contend with.  The ADL survey makes the same point.  Anti-Semitism exists and we need to be aware of it, and work to combat it in every way we can.  Just because it exists, though, doesn’t mean that Jewry is necessarily in danger.  One of the many legacies that has been passed down to us is a resilience of the Jewish people: a legacy of endurance even in the face of difficulty, even in the face of hatred.

Anti-Semitism persists, just as racism persists.  And this summer we witnessed a shattering of our complacency and the breaking of a sense of security we may have felt, as we recognized that the Gaza protesters weren’t talking about Israel, or just about Israel, but they were talking about Jews, all Jews.  They were talking about us.  They were talking about you.  And they were talking about me.

And so what can we do?  How do we combat these pernicious elements of our world that seem to never be abated?  There are a number of actions we can take. 

First, let us recognize what we are already doing.  By being a part of a congregation, and bringing your family here with you, you help to foster a strong Jewish identity in yourself and your family.  Don’t underestimate this.  Recognize the gift that you are giving your family: the gift of Jewish community.  The gift of Jewish community is a gift of finding pride in who we are.  And regardless of what others think, we can counter that with our pride and our sense of self.  Studies show that once Jews are no longer an abstract to people, meaning that after someone meets and befriends a Jewish person, their opinion of Jews in general tends to be more positive.  How much more so will this be the case if we exhibit a tremendous and unabashed pride in who we are.

Next, we can support worldwide Jewry by making our voices heard as a part of the upcoming Zionist Congress, though our votes and our donations.  The Zionist Congress distributes billions of dollars annually to fund Jewish education and shape the Jewish nature of Israel and communities worldwide.  Every Jewish adult is eligible to vote.  By voting, we make known that we care about what happens to Jews all over the world, and that we will not abide living in a world where Jews are under attack and threat.  By voting we put into action the axiom “kol Yisrael arevim zeh l’zeh,” that all Jews are responsible to one another. 

Next, we must look inside ourselves.  We ought to take care with the words we use and work to combat any latent prejudices we might harbor.  It is not easy to look inward, but if this day, this Yom Kippur, can teach us anything, it is that we have the ability to look inside ourselves, find those parts of us we wish to make better and then resolve to make those parts better.  In our public confessional, we comment on the ways we have harmed others, whether by baseless hatred or xenophobia.  Let us work every day against these most base parts of who we are.  Let us also speak out against hate speech.  Hate speech is destructive and if left unchecked easily adopted as normative.  And it is not just hate speech against Jews we ought to concern ourselves with.  We can follow and continue the legacy of the previous generations of Jews who fought and died to make this nation better and more tolerant for everyone, regardless of race, religion, national origin, gender, or sexuality.

We can hold our officials to task.  If we believe in Voting Rights, we need to tell our representatives.  If we believe in non-discrimination policies, we need to make our voices heard.  We may not have the ability or time to put our lives on hold and get on a bus to go make change, but we can all pick up the phone or send an email to our congressperson or senator, both state and national.  By speaking up for what we believe, we work toward what we thought we had all along.  We work toward a nation and a planet neither of which will be putting on airs of tolerance and acceptance, but rather will be veering toward justice. 

Perhaps we thought everything was taken care of because laws have been passed and changed to make this nation more equal, and to provide equal rights for all.  But we forgot what is required alongside legislation like the Civil Rights Act.  When he signed the bill into law, LBJ said the following:

This Civil Rights Act is a challenge to all of us to go to work in our communities and our States, in our homes and in our hearts, to eliminate the last vestiges of injustice in our beloved country…So tonight I urge every public official, every religious leader, every business and professional man, every workingman, every housewife—I urge every American—to join in this effort to bring justice and hope to all our people—and to bring peace to our land.”[4]

Let us continue to join in the efforts to bring justice and hope to all people.  Let us work to ensure a bright future free from hatred and division for the Jewish community worldwide, and for our nation. 

Let that be our legacy.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah




[1] http://rac.org/Articles/index.cfm?id=21347
[2] Ibid
[3] http://global100.adl.org/
[4] -Remarks upon Signing the Civil Rights Bill (July 2, 1964)http://www.lbjlibrary.org/exhibits/civil-rights#sthash.w7KFMazC.dpuf