Author: Rabbi David Levin

A Time for Somber Reflection

It is more than just bad policing

We are in the throes of mourning the death of two New York City Policemen, on the heels of the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner. We are raw. Emotions have spilled like blood from deep wounds. We need time to process. We need time to grieve. We need to catch our collective breath.   We need time to come to grips with the tragic series of events that have shaken our country. What we do know is that the violence is overwhelming and somehow we must get it to stop.

The deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner have galvanized people across the country. Initial protests over the deaths of these two individuals increased dramatically in the wake of the Grand Juries not indicting the police officers involved. Uncovered a deep gulf between the police and the people they serve.

My concerns run deeper than whether indictments were handed down. There are other frankly more important issues that must be addressed. I am deeply troubled when a man repeatedly pleads 11 times that he cannot breathe and the police who have subdued him are unable to move from actively bringing him under control to actively engaging in the humanity of helping him once he was down. I am deeply troubled that a man’s body remained laying in the street for four hours rather than being treated with basic dignity. The lack of humanity is deeply distressing, and it goes far beyond bad actions of particular police.

Our problems are a deep divide separating whole segments of society from the institutions that are supposed to protect, defend and nurture them. Oppression is the result of the separating segments of society already prejudged as unsavory from the rest of “civil” society. It is more than a new approach to policing and re-examining the way our criminal justice system metes out punishment, as important as these changes are. It goes to the fabric of our country. It permeates our society and cannot be simply fixed by changes implemented at the top. All of us have responsibility to understand what is wrong and how we might change it.

Government can make the police of Ferguson look more like the people of Ferguson. But it is the people of Ferguson who must also invest in the infrastructure the schools and the families to build minds and to instill values. It is up to the locals and their police to be sensitive to each other. It is up to the broader society to bring economic opportunity and the possibility of upward mobility, the opportunity to aspire to become something more. It is up to us.

Marching is important if it serves as a first step to spur the people. Now the next step is to organize and develop goals and a strategy with political clout to effect change. And the rest of us need to support this work knowing that through this process we are all strengthened. This is the beginning of the next important phase of the Civil Rights movement in our great country.

The Attorney General of the United States seems as perplexed as many of us and has ordered a Federal Investigation into the death of Eric Garner. This might shed light on a process that many found disappointing to say the least. But this investigation cannot provide justice for Eric Garner; it is for our future. The civil rights advances of the past did not happen solely by new law or court order. The advances happen and endure only when there is sufficient will of the people to demand we overcome the status quo and demand better of our institutions and ourselves.

Our demonstrations proclaim “Black Lives Matter.” All lives matter. Everyone deserves to live. We are a nation of laws. And those laws must apply to all to protect the weak so that all may have the opportunity to pursue, free from violence and fear, the inalienable rights upon which our nation was founded.

But for now, let us take time to grieve and bury our dead. Then let us return and start the process of making change.

The best way for Israel to have a Partner is to be one

One powerful way to demonstrate Israel’s commitment to a future together with the Palestinian People would if Israel took the lead and sponsored a Palestinian State in the United Nations.

 This bold and decisive measure would show that Israel is indeed prepared to have the Palestinian people living in their own land with control over their destiny as a neighbor and partner in peace.

 The original UN Partition Plan called for the establishment of two states. Sadly, its rejection and the ensuing war left the Palestinian State stillborn. The bitter state of affairs has remained. By declaring support of the Palestinian State now, Israel would show its real commitment to a two-state solution.

 In many respects, it is the internal issue that is at the crux of Israel’s problem; Israel has not determined in her own heart the status of the West Bank, aka Judea and Samaria, or East Jerusalem. Until Israel can articulate its position vis-a-vis this land, Israel is unable to move forward, mired in her own internal struggle with what she understands herself to be. If Israel can offer most of the West Bank to the Palestinians, the time to do it is now.

 Recognition of a Palestinian State does not end the conflict between the two peoples. Those who believe only in the eradication of Israel will remain a voice of trouble. However, giving hope to the Palestinian people by supporting them in their homeland, offering hope and prosperity can marginalize these destructive voices. Peaceful coexistence is more important than a perpetual state of hostility that only serves to kill too many of our children.

 This vision of the future will take great time, patience and resources. Too many have a vested interest in maintaining belligerence. Israel must remain vigilant in protecting herself with secure borders and acting decisively in the face of threats to her people or her existence. Supporting the creation of the State of Palestine does not deter Israel from protecting her self-interests. It does precisely the opposite; a perpetual state of war cannot end well for either side, nor can a perpetual state of occupation. The only way to live together is to try, to have the courage and the strength to lead by example and support the legitimate hopes and aspirations of the Palestinian people to have a say in their own destiny and possibly learn to live side by side with their Israeli neighbors.

A Message for Peace and Hope this Shabbat

This Shabbat brings to a close a sorrowful week. The tragic deaths of five were senseless and all the more so that they were in synagogue when the assailants struck. We are left with our grief and profound sadness and a fork in the road, a choice for us to determine how we react and how we move forward.

A prayer to God in this moment is not sufficient. For I am sure God’s Will is for peace. Now, my prayer reaches out to humanity. May we find it in ourselves to refuse to succumb to blind hatred. May we have the strength to resist the temptation for sadness and grief to devolve into blind hatred and we not seduced by the desire for revenge. May we take the proper time to mourn our loss and support the grieving families. Then let us arise and find ways to move forward along a path that brings peace and compassion. May our leaders help to bring calm and not incite or place blame with incendiary rhetoric.

There has been enough hate this week to last us a lifetime. Hate has only brought us despair, distrust and deep loss. May the time of hate come to a close and a new chapter rise from the ashes of this tragedy. May we find the way to peace.

Shabbat Shalom

I Love Santa

I love Santa. As a boy growing up, my mom would dress me in my “Sunday Best” and take me to Macy’s to sit on the big guy’s lap and tell him about all the stuff I was supposed to get. This lovely tradition stopped when I started checking each Santa to see if the beard was real. The presents and the love however did not cease. Even way back then, Santa was an American experience that I enjoyed and fondly remember.

The Santa Claus experience was not rooted in my maternal line of Orthodox and Conservative Jewish generations preceding my mother. On my father’s side however, my Grandmother, a Southern Baptist, embraced Christmas and helped to push the borders of Judaism in our world.

My Grandma was a lady, full of grace in every sense of the words. She was elegant, kind, sweet, devoted and deeply loving. My grandfather and she fell in love while he was on the road as a traveling salesman staying in my great-grandmother’s boarding house in Dallas, TX (a wonderful story unto itself). They eventually returned with a child in tow to the Orthodox world of the Jewish Bronx. But Grandma never converted.   Grandpa once remarked that he would never ask that of her, and for reasons of her own, she never did. Grandma did however fully support the raising of a Jewish family and I remember her actively participating in every holiday and ritual, even including supporting the State of Israel. I recall her standing with me at my Bar Mitzvah, lighting the Chanukiah and making latkes, and so many more experiences too numerous to mention. She could not have been more involved or a more important part of my Jewish identity and upbringing even though she remained a Southern Baptist.

As a way to honor my Grandma, we celebrated Christmas. It was a time that the Levin family gathered together to share a family meal and exchange presents. In actuality, the kids received the presents. I remember sitting in Grandma’s living room in the apartment on Schenk Avenue surrounded by wrapped boxes impatiently waiting for my turn to open them up; we opened gifts one at a time according to age, so that each child would savor the experience. We usually came to this celebration wearing the new cowboy boots and cowboy shirt with the snap buttons that Grandma had already bought each of us, a nod to our Dallas heritage. My mom struggled for years with the Christmas tree, but eventually she learned to embrace it. These childhood experiences were ones of love and warmth that remain in my heart.

My experience of Christmas is not religiously Christian. It is however deeply beautiful and meaningful and incorporates some of the best values religion has to offer. It has enriched my life and filled me with wonderful memories of people I hold dear. It has helped to shape me into the person and rabbi I am today. My concern is that I am able to share the wonderful blessings that I enjoyed with others.*

* A few of my colleagues are engaged in a conversation about the topic of Santa and Christmas in the public domain.  These were my thoughts on the matter.

A prayer for Peace- Shabbat Shalom

Od yavo’ shalom aleinu Od yavo’ shalom aleinu Od yavo’ shalom aleinu Ve al kulam (x2) Salaam (Salaam) Aleinu ve al kol ha olam, Salaam, Salaam (x2) Peace will come upon us Peace will come upon us Peace will come upon us and on everyone. Salaam (owe you this one don’t know what it mean, peace I guess) On us and on everyone Salaam, Salaam

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGGZFJEKBKg

 

A Parent’s Blessing- Lech Lecha

Lech Lecha

“Go Forth from your native land and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you…” Lech Lecha

These are the words of this weeks Torah portion, “Lech Lecha” “go Forth.”

Lech Lecha- These are the Words of God, spoken to Abram. Abram has grown from child to adult In fact an old adult. For those of us who struggle, if you read just a bit further down the page, something very scary appears. As it is written and I quote, “Abram was 75 years old when he left Haran.” So for those of you wondering about your 20-something moving out of the house, be very careful. It could be worse.

But kidding aside, the story we learn about Abraham and his conversation with God are also a story is about Terach, Abraham’s father. Every parent is familiar with these words as well. For it is indeed the conversation we parents eventually have with our children. It is the understanding that the time has come for our child to venture out on his or her own.

The rabbis struggled with this text asking how could Abraham leave his father and family behind, never to see them again? One Midrash posits that maybe Terach was evil and thus Abraham leaving Terach behind might be justified. Another Midrash explains that it was God directly intervening, calling on Abraham to leave and thus exempting Abraham from the filial duties that the eldest son would normally have been required to perform.

But maybe, this issue is better explained if the words are those of Terach, the father who recognized his son’s need to strike out on his own. Might God’s words be spoken through Terach?

We constantly take lessons learned from the words of God and our relationship with the Almighty and find amazing parallels in our relationships with others, particularly parent/child relationships.  Who is responsible to whom, and for what? How does each person change as a result of the encounters and experiences with the other?

In some respects the Torah can be viewed as Process Theology overlaid on humankind. We look at this story and we can imagine these words coming from a father as he realizes it is time for his son to venture forth into the world to find a new path taking him from his father’s home to someplace far away.

Now for those of us who live in Philly, it is hard to imagine that people actually leave, but suffice it to say even if your child only moves from the Main Line to Center City that too is leaving the house of your birth.

Such a parting comes after a long and arduous journey starting at, if not before, conception. There are stages in the process.  First there is the shock, that moment when you realize you are to become a parent, and you are on the verge of leaving behind forever the life that you have known. Then there is ecstasy, that overwhelming joy that you will be having a child. Then you are overwhelmed by another emotion, fear, “How am I going to pull this off?” This is followed by somber reflection.  Then we begin in earnest, we start painting the babies room, stop drinking, start eating right, read baby books. We dream of what might be for this new life- sometimes a projection of the wishes and dreams unfulfilled in our lives that road not taken by us; what we might have been. We pray that their lives will be filled with joy that we will be good parents. We hope they will become something wonderful, and most of all we pray for their good health.

And then, there they are and the real deal begins. They are small, helpless and overwhelming. Late at night, bleary eyed after too much sleep deprivation, you find yourself looking to the heavens thinking, “Why didn’t You include an instruction manual?”

Parenting is hard. We spend our parental lives preparing, teaching, nurturing, strengthening and protecting. However, the protecting needs to withdraw we need to practice a kind of tzimtzum– so that the other things we have taught can find space to flourish and they can discover on his or her own.

We watch as our creation spreads his or her wings and learns to fly.  If we tether them– flight will falter and fail. They need to learn sometimes the hard way and we need to be able to give them that.

I remember teaching my son Derek to ride his bike, the two-wheeler bicycle without the training wheels. Holding the bike upright, walking then quickly breaking to a run, holding on to the seat until that moment when I had to let go. Somehow we know the first time would not end well. But we do it none-the-less. Derek caught on to the idea of riding, it was the stopping part that he found confounding. Pedaling forward he understood. Backpedaling to brake was not a concept he embraced initially, so hedges, lawns, cars and even the street became ways to stop. It took a couple of skinned knees on him and frayed nerves in me before biking started working for him.

And then it continues.  School, friends, relationships, achievements and love, disappointments and hurts, our children continue to develop. We spend so many years of our lives devoted to the nurturing, the teaching, investing in them, exposing them and protecting them. And once we have given them all that we reasonably can, we are to let them go, to let them be the people they are becoming.

“Go out with the tools that I have given you

with the life that I have nurtured,

go out and make a place for yourself in the world

that is yet to reveal itself to you.

Make your place in it, make it yours,

full of all the good things that might be.”

The words of God and Terach to Abraham are the blessings every parent hopes to bestow upon every child.

What does the world have in store? What lies ahead through that open door to the future that leads out of the relative safety and security of our home into the world of the unknown, a world filled with potential yet fraught with danger?

Filled with ambivalence we prepare to say “Lech Lecha” but hope maybe they might stay a bit longer. Possibly the struggle with adolescence is part of the process that helps our children cleave from us after so long cleaving to us. And our prayer, the V’ahavta takes on new meaning, may I suggest, something like this:

“I hope I have taught you well.

I hope the lessons and values I shared you have embraced,

and you will carry them and me in your heart

down whatever path you choose for your life.

May these principles guide you

in the choices you make and the actions you take

from the moment you wake in the morning

until it is time to rest at night.

Wear them proudly in your deeds and in your thoughts

so that everyone you meet will know

they have entered the presence of someone who tries to live life

virtuously and with integrity.”

So I say Lech Lecha- go forth my child. Take what we have given you and make a life for yourself. You need to go and I cannot go with you. Know that our lives have been forever changed by you; sometimes it was hard, but oh so deeply rewarding. But now it is time. But just one thing, every once in a while, especially when the time comes for you to have a child of your own, remember to call home; I miss you already.

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

Betrayal

Betrayal is an extremely powerful emotion. It overwhelms and upsets, calling into question not just the betrayer but everything about them and in turn, everything about ourselves. It takes everything that you thought you knew to be true and tests it in agonizing and uncomfortable ways and it can irrevocable change the way we see things. We ask ourselves many questions. Why did you place yourself in a position to be betrayed? Were you too trusting? Where do I go from here?   Can I ever risk placing myself in this place again? We turn inward and begin to victimize the victim.

This is all the more so when the betrayer is a rabbi, someone who holds a sacred trust and a position of esteem and authority. It is hard to separate person from title. It is almost impossible. So when an individual crosses the line, he or she takes with him the title they carry. That trust once violated shatters the vessel and we can spend our lifetime trying to piece it back together. The case of Barry Freundel is sadly only an example.

The pain of betrayal takes time to heal and often cannot be done without help. This is paradoxical, as the process requires placing trust in someone on the heels of that very experience going badly astray. But we are all responsible as rabbis and congregants for addressing this wrong. Betrayal is not the province of a particular denomination. It is a problem for all of us attempting to serve our people and maintaining the kavod haRav that the title Rabbi merits. We can take steps to help ensure that abuses of power are minimized. We must also be willing to admit that trust and respect are earned over time and every day, not entitlements based on a title. Our people must be sensitive to this as well and maintain proper boundaries. Encounters and conversations between an individual and his/her rabbi need to be sacred and private, but not secretive; Office doors need to have windows.

It takes painstaking effort to repair what has been shattered. This act of Tikkun will take much time and honest reflection. We can hope that the pain of the betrayal does not lead to permanent bitterness and cynicism. Both the community and the rabbis must do all we can to demonstrate that the despicable actions of an individual do not condemn all that is valuable and precious in the venerated position of rabbi serving the Jewish people.