Category: genocide

Torah for Jews Today – Parshat Matot

Matot offers a climax to one of the troubling stories in the formation of our people.

 

On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the children of Israel must fight the Midianite people first. Although Moses instructs his warriors, according to God’s directive, to slay all the Midianites, Moses is angered when the army spares the women and children and reiterates the command to kill.

Were the Israelite people freed so they would unquestioningly carry out God’s dirty work? Or was this a test to see if we were worthy of freedom and the responsibilities such freedom carries? Were we ready to serve God as a righteous light to the nations? The army commanders understood the implications of this barbaric act and refused to follow the order. Moses overruled them, demanding harsh vengeance.

This kind of retaliation is appalling by our standards, and it was unacceptable for the Israelites, too. The phrase “Just following orders” sends shudders down the spine. But, even where legitimate grievance exists, morality trumps brutal vengeance. Matot is a warning for us and our interaction in an often inhospitable, antisemitic world.

However, the past cannot be the only lens we use to see the future. There was legitimate grievance against the Midianites. They attempted to undermine the nascent Israelite nation, and war appeared to be the way forward. But following orders is insufficient reason to commit atrocities. God’s vengeance is best left for God to transact (the flood, Sodom and the Korach Rebellion, to name three).

When individuals assume that responsibility and act on behalf of God, it is dangerous. A humane approach offers compassion instead of annihilation and a path toward peace. This alternative does not dismiss the history but does not make us slaves to the past, repeating and perpetuating tribalistic hate. Our tradition repeatedly admonishes us to act with benevolence and, in the words of Pirkei Avot, “Even in a place where there are no menschen, strive to be a mensch.”

Against this backdrop, we might look again at the lessons of this part of the parsha and see how we can apply them in many current world affairs and, in particular, to the situation with the Russian war’s effects on Ukrainians and Poles. We cannot be indifferent to human suffering; it goes against everything our tradition demands.

Jewish history in Ukraine and Poland is fraught. Persecution and antisemitism characterize much of the Jewish experience. Periods of welcome, such as King Casimir III inviting Jews to Poland as other countries expelled them, are countered by the infamous Khmelnytskyi and pogroms, which accounted for the slaughter and terror of the Jewish population of the region. It is little wonder that approximately 2 million-plus Jews emigrated to America at the turn of the 20th century when the opportunity to leave that place presented itself.

Furthermore, we understand that deeply rooted antisemitism enabled the Holocaust. These are substantial reasons for the Jewish psyche to be wary. But if we are limited to only that, practicing hatred in response to hate, we deprive ourselves of the very humanity our tradition teaches.

We Jews are duty-bound to see and respond to the Ukrainian people’s human suffering and the Poles’ heroic efforts. We know that the support by the Poles is something no one offered us as the Shoah unfolded. And knowing this, we can nonetheless be instruments in alleviating anguish and perhaps elevating ourselves in the process.

We can serve as Or l’goyim, a light to the nations, deeply rooted in our belief that we can be agents of change; partners in the ongoing act of creation; that we hear of the suffering and do not stand idly by as another’s blood is shed. Our values compel us to be part of the solution to the problem rather than remain mired in a history where we were seen as the problem needing to be solved.

Of course, we do not deny the past or naively presume the days of Jew-hatred are over. But we can take steps to help the world become a better place. This is a lesson I learned from Parsha Matot.

Show your support for the victims of war with your donation.  For each donation of $54, we will send you the Ukrainian Sunflower to wear proudly and keep us aware you stand against the suffering.  Proceeds are going to the JCC Krakow, a leader in helping Ukrainian refugees.

 

Chag Pesach Sameach and Shabbat Shalom

 

Ha Lachma Anya

The bread of the Poor

Buses unloaded their precious cargo at the intake center, women and children from Lviv and Kyiv.  Bewildered, they started the process of finding refuge after escaping terror but leaving husbands and fathers behind to fight for Ukraine. We reached across the language barrier and handed the children lollipops. Like our children, they delighted in this unexpected treat. The smiles and laughter strengthened moms, and together they tentatively walked forward toward the refugee center (I cannot show faces to protect the identities of families left behind).

 

This is the poor person’s bread- a bread of hope and compassion. HaLachma Anya is the simple but profound gesture of giving something to those who have less, even when we do not have much to share. Together, we are one step closer to redemption.

Do not stand idly by


Do not stand idly by while your neighbor’s blood is being shed- Lev 19:16

There is something we can do; Contribute to the organizations on the ground aiding the victims of war.  Choose from among many humanitarian groups trying to ease the suffering.  Consider a donation to Doctors without Borders; HIAS, JDC, World Central Kitchen.  Everything helps, no amount is too small.  Thank you.

 

We’re making Whoopi

I found Whoopi Goldberg’s recent comments about the Holocaust both ignorant and offensive, and in that, I am certainly not alone. However, that says a lot about both of us and our different perspectives. So maybe there is something to be learned on both sides.

I believe Goldberg honestly shared what she thought. It was her opinion. After substantial pushback and some time to absorb the response, she offered a sincere apology. It seems that she learned from that experience. Unfortunately, for those of us seeking to cancel her or supporting ABC’s gratuitous “time out” as with ill-mannered children, we squander an opportunity to learn from her about her perspective. Her view does not pose a threat, and it was not a voice of hatred. But it is rightly rejected. However, I would be interested in hearing more. Her comment on the Stephen Colbert show,  “I thought it was a salient discussion because as a Black person, I think of race as being something that I can see,” offers an interesting perspective on a deeply personal subject to the Jewish community. I doubt I would agree, but I am sure I would learn something from her.

I am looking forward to her conversation with Jonathan Greenblatt from the ADL.

Let’s get Whoopi Goldberg back on the air and walk forward together.

 

The School Maus Ban

With Maus, the McMinn County Tennessee school board has highlighted issues beyond Anti-Semitism.

With the extraordinary rise in documented Anti-semitism, we rightly are sensitive to it. However, if we merely write off the TN School board as Anti-Semites, we miss some crucial things worthy of discussion. We must ask a fundamental question: Is this a matter of teaching about the Holocaust, or is this the right book to do so? Let us set aside the charge of anti-semitism and consider other reasons why Maus would be banned.

Let me give two examples from my own Jewish experience to help frame the matter:

I have regularly seen people ushering children from the sanctuary before the Yizkor liturgy in our services. And often, well-intended adults keep their children from funerals and unveilings.

The rationale common to these is that the adults thought it best for the welfare of the children to shield them from issues surrounding death. They deemed such experiences as emotionally unhealthy. Perhaps the people of Tennessee thought similarly.

Maus is an explicit graphic novel. The author, Art Spiegelman, does not hold back from exposing the horrors of the Holocaust. The scenes are brutal and sear themselves into the mind’s eye. Once seen, it is impossible to un-see it. Arguably, that was part of Maus’ intended purpose. Maus has been a challenging and controversial book on almost every level.   Bringing it to children should be careful, deliberate, and age-appropriate.

Parents try to shield their children, to protect them from the world’s harshness. The question for us to consider is whether such an approach serves a purpose?

Arguably, exposing our children to the world’s harsh realities is essential in helping them develop their understanding of the world in which we are preparing them to live.

We must also consider children’s developmental issues. We know that both the way we present materials to children and their capacity to absorb the lessons are critical components. Balancing these two is delicate, but ignoring them risks doing more harm to the psyche than good.

I understand the desire to protect children, particularly from the gruesomeness of evil. And the Holocaust is unspeakably, unimaginably evil. But if we pretend the horror did not happen, or if we sanitize it, erasing the brutality, we have likely made the case against evil no more compelling than the choice of school lunch.

We need to be vigilant in the fight against anti-semitism, and it would not be surprising to learn that anti-semitism motivated some people in the discussion surrounding Maus. But even with that, we cannot turn away from the critical conversation about what we teach our children, not as facts, but as values and how we do it without inflicting harm or destroying the humanity we are trying to nurture.

The somber and painful message of Adult Purim

A person should drink on Purim until the point where he can’t tell the difference between “Blessed is Mordechai” and “Cursed is Haman. (Talmud – Megillah 7b) “Ad d’lo yada…”

Why do we drink so that we can no longer distinguish between the “Blessed” Mordechai and the “Cursed” Haman?  Perhaps because in this world of Purim where things are turned  upside down, the two men had changed places and toward the end of this story, it is impossible to distinguish between them.  And this serves as a warning for us to take great care in how we act.  The rabbis are admonishing us that underneath this story of triumph and joy lies an ominous message. 

Towards the end of the Megillah, the story takes a dark turn.  Briefly, the Jews are saved, Haman is hanged.  The King grants the Jews permission to annihilate anyone that poses a threat to them, including women and children and to plunder their possessions. Mordechai methodically plans the Jew’s revenge;  and the oppressor becomes the victim as the Jews dominate their enemies.  First in Shushan, the Jews killed 500 men and Haman’s 10 sons, then another 300 were killed, and then across the kingdom the Jews proceeded to kill seventy-five thousand more.  The death and destruction recounted is dreadful.  Jews slaughtering in retribution are as horrible as those actions Haman had planned.  Mordechai accomplishes what Haman had plotted. 

We are admonished to destroy the Amalekite, and Haman is a descendant of Amalek himself. But if we annihilate the enemy, even one who planned to annihilate us, aren’t we just as guilty of murder and bloodshed? It is not only the Amalek who lives as another that should concern us; A piece of Amalek lives inside all of us, call it the yetzer hara, or inclination toward evil.  Our yetzer tov, or inclination toward good, is always in competition with it.  Purim asks which of these will prevail in our lives?  At its core, the destruction of Amalek and the story of Purim are existential questions of our humanity.

And perhaps that is why we drink to oblivion.  Usually, we drink wine as a symbol of our joy.  But drinking to excess is something else entirely.  Heavy drinking is a form of self-medicating.  Drinking until losing rational senses is drinking to forget.  We drink heavily to escape the brutal reality.  Although our people were saved, we committed atrocities- not as a crime of passion,  but a deliberate plot to methodically exterminate tens of thousands of people.  We drink to forget our shame and horror at what we had done. 

To underscore this grave situation, the Gemara on Megillah 7b continues with the bizarre story of Rabba and Rabbi Zeira, where in a drunken stupor, Rabba slaughtered his dear friend Rabbi Zeira.  Otherwise good people can do profoundly terrible things.  This is what can happen when you lose control, when you lose sight of what is right, betray your core and operate in the absence of God (it is noteworthy that Megillat Esther does not mention God). And it is precisely here that the rabbis insert God back into the discussion as Zeira is resurrected after Rabba beseeches God to intervene and set right what Rabba had destroyed. 

When we arise from our stupor, we have a hangover; a brutal headache from the excesses of the night before.  We know that a hangover is an indication of dehydration, a lack of water , which further intensifies the message.  Water is a metaphor for Torah, and maybe it is the lack of Torah that permitted the carnage. 

Megillah Esther warns us to be very careful.  The Megillah  cautions us to not become “like them” and react to extract revenge, sacrificing both them and our humanity.  Megillat Esther challenges us instead to rise up with dignity and respect, embracing the values that have made Judaism the extraordinary gift to the world that it is.  

Purim is a layered complicated story filled with cause for celebration and sorrow and an profound admonitory note to soberly review who we are. 

A special message for Shabbat: Remembering Kristallnacht and Veteran’s Day

This weekend is an extraordinary confluence of memories and events that I pray leads to our rededication to the values we cherish as a nation and as Jews. Kristallnacht and Veteran’s Day are times of extraordinary solemn remembrance. The lessons we learn from these can shape our commitment to the world we seek to achieve.

 

November 9 marks the anniversary of Kristallnacht, Nazi Germany’s great pogrom and genocide against the Jewish people. The oppression and persecution of the Jews of Europe entered a new and deadlier phase bringing the long-simmering anger and aggression out into the open as Goebbels encouraged mass arrests, violence against Jews and any visible signs of Jewishness, including synagogues, stores, and our sacred texts.

 

WW1 veteran Joseph Ambrose, at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He holds the flag that covered the casket of his son, who was killed in the Korean War.

November 11 marks Veteran’s Day, the time we honor those who have bravely fought to preserve, protect, and defend our country and the values we represent. Eventually, these men and women fought against the Nazi’s tyrannical regime built on hate but sadly too late to rescue the 6 million Jews slaughtered.

 

And yesterday, November 9, I was proud to accompany the Women’s Philanthropy Division of the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia on a trip to Washington, DC to advocate both in Congress and the White House for DACA, Responsible Gun Legislation, Food Insecurity and the SNAP program, and against BDS and Anti-Semitism. We championed our values and spoke truth to power with persuasive force and civility.

The struggle to realize a better kinder nation and world continues. Yasher Koach and most profound gratitude to all of those who join the fight.

Shabbat Shalom.