Make it a “Day On”

As we prepare for this weekend’s commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I share the thoughts of a friend and colleague from the Main Line in Philadelphia:

 This weekend, we celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday.  Even more, as we celebrate Dr. King’s legacy, and remember his teachings and challenges to us, we hopefully can embrace Todd Bernstein’s challenge to us (Todd is the founder of the Greater Philadelphia MLK Day of Service) to make Monday not a day off, but a day on–a day of service.  We will commemorate Dr. King’s visions, dreams and hopes as we join with the members of Zion Baptist Church and Rev. Jim Pollard, and of Beth Am Israel and Rabbi David Ackerman, and our Unity Choir at services on Friday night at 8:00 pm and Sunday (note-Sunday services will also be at MLRT) at 11:00 am, and in two service opportunities on Monday-one at MLRT and one at Calvary Baptist Church.

 Rabbi Joachim Prinz, himself a refugee from Germany (my parents were members of his congregation in Newark, NJ), introduced Dr. King before he delivered his now famous I Have a Dream Speech on August 28, 1963.  His words seem as relevant and moving today as then.  He said:  “When I was the rabbi of the Jewish community in Berlin under the Hitler regime, I learned many things.  The most important thing I learned under those tragic circumstances was that bigotry and hatred are not the most urgent problem.  The most urgent, the most disgraceful, the most shameful and the most tragic problem is silence…. America must not become a nation of onlookers.  America must not remain silent.”

 I look forward to being with you for this wonderful weekend of prayer, music, fellowship and service.

 Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Straus

Who is your Person?

 The URJ Biennial was an amazing conclave, several days of camaraderie and learning. It was powerful time reminding us that we are more than just ourselves; we belong to something greater, something that helps shape us and support us.  The core message of the Biennial was about the power of Relationships and Values.

 Many of us talk about relationships; It is a hot topic.  Noted Rabbis such as Larry Hoffman and Richard Address and academics like Dr. Ron Wolfson have delved into this idea.  I am a strong believer in relationships and how we find meaning in the Synagogue because of the relationships we form with each other.  But there is another piece.  That other important piece is the Values of Judaism.  How we find meaning and wisdom in our tradition not only for ourselves, but also how we transmit those values to others including the next generation.  The combination of these two powerful ideas, relationships and values, creates an important role for the synagogue as a place where they come together to form connections of deep and enduring meaning.  Now, like never before, these ideas resonate.  We live in a world where individualism is held in such high esteem that so many of us risk being cut off completely from each other.  Meaningful relationships, relationships imbued with values, are more important than ever.  Finding people to share life’s moments becomes ever more challenging and we find ourselves increasingly alone at precisely the times when we need others the most.  Sometimes it is a special someone who can make all the difference.

 For those of us who have been glued to the television set Thursday nights, we have watched with varying degrees of bated breath the unfolding saga of the lives of the people who work at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital on the show Grey’s Anatomy.  Two of the main characters Kristine and Meredith have bonded as kindred spirits.  Much more than close friends, their lives are inextricably intertwined, each referring to the other as “their person.”

 Does each of us have “a person?”  This goes right to the heart of what it means to be a part of a synagogue.  When we come to our congregation, the relationships that we form become our special family.  We are in relationship with others who care about us, and likewise, we care about.  We are there to celebrate each other’s joys and carry each other in their sorrow.  Each of us is challenged to consider how we interact in our congregation and to ask if indeed we have such relationships.

 Rabbi Leora Kaye of Temple Rodeph Sholom in New York casts this idea of having “a person” in a Jewish way. She asks, “ Does each of us have our own Minyan?”  This change in the concept is important; for in the synagogue we find community, not just a single person.  So as the Minyan is defined as the minimum number required for a community to be present, we then appropriate ask “who is our community?”

 Your clergy is supposed to care about you, but you are also supposed to care about each other.  It is not sufficient to say, “it is the rabbi’s job”; for it is our job, every one of us, to create the space where we can become invested in each other.  As our clergy spend much of their time providing pastoral care, so too all of us here can console the bereaved, attend the sick and be present at moments of need.  We need to reach out amongst ourselves and continue to build this aspect of our community.  How many people have we not attended to because we simply did not know there was a problem? Often a person in need is unable to reach out.  But if there was a circle of invested friends, a minyan, someone would likely know about the illness and that person could call upon the rest of us so we too could lend support. And in the interim, this minyan is already present offering love and support.  We aspire to this idea with every Mishebeyrach prayer we chant.

 But what if we do not know how to create our minyan?

 Moses provides insight into this question in parshah Shemot.  We see Moses reach out to help those unable to help themselves.  In particular, Moses strikes down the Egyptian Taskmaster in defense of the Hebrew slave.  Later, he singlehandedly fends off marauders at the well protecting the Midianite women.  This famous type-scene leads Moses to meet his future wife and being welcomed into the clan of his future father-in-law and most trusted advisor, Jethro.  Moses, the solitary leader of our people, finds comfort and a home in his new community.

 Like Moses, we then can help others who find themselves alone or unable to create community on their own.  We can invite them in and help them create their caring community.  Many of us already engage in these extraordinary acts of kindness, what Rabbi Rick Jacobs, President of the URJ, calls Audacious Hospitality.  What if we all practiced this approach to our relationships?

 We would strengthen our relationships here within our synagogue and we would welcome the outsiders into our tent who also seek relationships and meaning.  Our family grows and no one need finds themselves alone.  We create a place of extraordinary love and strength and support, a place of relationships and Jewish values.  And, hand in hand, we can make it through anything together, and continue to prosper.

 Cain yehi ratzon, May this be God’s will and our action.

Harvard and Yale Slam American Studies Association Over Israel Boycott – Tablet Magazine

Some American academics have decided to “decry injustice” in Israel deciding to ostracize and boycott Israeli universities and the professors affiliated with them.  It is disingenuous at best, and anti-semitism masquerading as pro-oppressed, anti-oppressor (Zionism) in reality.

Harvard and Yale Slam American Studies Association Over Israel Boycott – Tablet Magazine.

I’ll Be home for Christmas

I miss Christmas.  Maybe that is an odd thing for a rabbi to say.  But some of my fondest childhood memories are centered on that most special time of the year.  We would pile into the car and make the trek down to Schenck Avenue in Great Neck from the northern New York suburbs, the holy city of Monsey.

Their second floor apartment was warm and inviting, the aroma of grandma’s cooking the holiday meal and the warmth of the radiator steam heat dominated the distinct and usual grandma and grandpa smells. In the living room was the red velvety tufted Victorian-style couch, in one corner was the chair where grandpa sat, complete with an ottoman where he rested his feet when one of us was not sitting there by him.  Next to the chair was a rack filled with magazines and a small wicker rocking chair used by each of the grandchildren until we were too big to fit.  In front of the sofa was the coffee table with the glass top, painted with a floral design of greens, gold and a touch of red, which miraculously survived all of us.  There was always strange food arranged on top, dried fruits and nuts.  The figs, dates and apricots were arrayed in circles with small ivory picks to spear them and the holiday napkins stacked along side. I remember the walnuts particularly since they were in the shells and the necessary utensils, the metal nutcracker and the pick, were lined up like a surgeon’s tools waiting to be called upon for their specific and important duties.  Although, I never really liked the taste, I loved cracking the nuts open and prying out the meat embedded inside.

 In the corner was a small tree, with presents piled around its base.  The tree shimmered and glowed with the colored lights and silver tinsel hanging.  The distinct smell of pine filled this room.  We distributed the presents, there was always something for everyone no matter who showed up.  We then dutifully waited our turn to open out gifts.  We usually went from youngest to oldest, and even though we were among the youngest, the wait to open the presents seemed interminable.  I usually got a pair of cowboy boots and a fancy cowboy shirt with mother-of-pearl snap buttons from grandma.  It wasn’t a surprise since we all made the trip to the store on Route 17 in New Jersey to get our fittings.  These were a tribute to grandma’s past.  She was a Texan, swept away from her family in Dallas by her new husband to a very foreign place called the Bronx.

 Part of Grandma’s legacy was her upbringing as a Southern Baptist.  Grandma worked hard to raise her children and her grandchildren as Jews, always participating and engaging.  But she never converted. Christmas eve was our family’s way of acknowledging her past.  I never would get the chance to ask her about how she felt about leaving all that behind when she went to New York, but I think I understand it now.

I profoundly miss Christmas.  Although we never celebrated it as a religious holiday, it was a time filled with love and family.  I will remember always the joy of those wonderful times we spent together.  I cherish the memories and grandma will always hold a special place in my heart.

Presence is an active not passive activity

 We think of “being present” for the other as being available to hear them and be with them.  We say we reach out to them but often we are really offering to wait for them to come to us.  I have learned that is not enough.  Offering to be there is a far cry from going to where they are.   And I have also learned that when someone needs another, they rarely have the presence of mind to reach out to someone else, instead they are trapped, caught in a place of aloneness.

 A friend recently lost a son, a tragedy that words cannot adequately describe.  He was loved by many, as was his mother, my friend.  People packed both the funeral and the Shiva minyanim, expressing their love and support.  At one minyan, I approached my friend and I said in earnest, “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.” She responded, “Thanks, you’re the third rabbi who has made that offer tonight.”  She was appreciative, but her  matter-of-fact response was very instructive.

 Two weeks later I called her.  She had heard that I weaved the story of her son into a sermon and was overflowing with gratitude that I had remembered her and him.  The simple act of making a phone call, reaching out to her, rather than sitting waiting for her to call me, was received as a profound gesture of caring.  In those few minutes I truly did something important and meaningful.  I went to her and provided comfort.  Realistically, she never would have called me, and it was unrealistic for me to think otherwise. She was unable to reach out to me.  Whether we are providing pastoral care or being a friend, it is what we do that makes the difference in the lives of others.

Hannukah, Maccabees, Soviet Jewry, Freedom. We remember.

On the eve of Hanukkah thoughts turn to the meaning we glean from the ritual and what we remember, particularly the cause of freedom and what is necessary to achieve it.  As we recall the Maccabees, I think of the words of acclaimed anthropologist Margaret Meade who once said, “Never Doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Many of us remember to that momentous time on December 6, 1987 when a quarter of a million people came together on the National Mall to protest during Premier Mikhael Gorbachev’s visit to Washington demanding that he “let my people go,” and grant the right of Soviet Jews to emigrate to Israel.  But before 250,000 people could gather and speak with one voice, people needed to galvanize them.  In fact it was on May 1, 1964, outside the Russian Legation to the United Nations in Manhattan, that the first mass public rally to support Soviet Jewry was held.  This was the original committed core that started the process, and as they say, the rest is history.  Those Soviet Jews that wanted to were eventually granted the right to make aliyah and go to live as Jews in the Land of Israel.

We celebrate those brave souls who risked their personal safety to stand for the ideal of freedom that is embodied in Judaism.  We rightfully pay tribute to those who stood up and spoke to power there knowing free speech did not exist in that place, that such speech came at a great price.   Those of us here in the United States were encouraged and energized by their voices and we joined ours to theirs.  The cry for freedom grew louder and louder until it could no longer be ignored.  The doors opened and the great exodus of the twentieth century began; the Jews of the Soviet Union came home.

We saw the power of the word defeat the mighty.  We can and should celebrate this modern miracle.  But the past is only prologue.  For not all the Jews left.  What of those that remained behind?  They could have been forgotten as our attention focused on the new Olim and we reveled in our accomplishment.  But that small committed group continues to make its voice heard and the Jews of the Former Soviet Union have also entered into a new era.

The Jews of the FSU are actively reconnecting with their Judaism that others had tried to take away two generations ago.  With the help of outside groups such as the JDC there is a Jewish revival happening.  It is not the whispers of Jews practicing their faith behind closed doors, but Jews being and doing Jewish in the open.  To visit major urban centers in the FSU, Synagogues that had been shuttered or once repurposed as things like warehouses are now open for business as places of worship.  We saw with amazement not only synagogues but also day schools  and Jewish Community Centers.    And even more remarkable, not only Chabad is there, but so are other streams of Judaism. An organic Judaism is taking hold as Jews rediscover and reconnect to their past, themselves, and their future.

The work is far from over.  Rabbi Tarfon tells us in Pirkei Avot that “You are not duty bound to finish  the work, but neither can you desist from it.”  Judaism’s rise in the FSU, from near extinction to flourishing, is nascent.  It remains our sacred obligation to use our power and influence to nurture Jews around the world seeking to connect with our sacred wisdom.  We are there to open the doors and welcome our brothers and sisters to join Klal Yisrael.  Our true tribute to those who have done so much for the cause of freedom is to continue the work that they started and help the next generation of Jews.