Category: Peace

College Students and Esther – What Purim might teach us about power and our future

Tonight we start the holiday of Purim where we read Megillat Esther, the Book of Esther.  Purim is a Jewish story.  And like so many Jewish Stories, it has multiple levels of meaning.

 Purim is a lovely children’s story- good triumphs over evil, a savior rescues us from the clutches of despair.  Righteous deeds are rewarded and the people rejoice and live happily ever after.

 Purim is also a great adult story, the story of sex, power and palace intrigue.  As gripping as any modern drama on cable; forces vie for control, often ruthless in tactics.  The heroine uses all her skills and wiles to rescue her people. Shonda Rhimes has at least a full season of Scandal right here in our Megillah!

 Purim is also a story with a deeper and darker side, which I believe is the reason why the Book of Esther is included in the Bible; it is a cautionary tale.  Purim admonishes us about the use and abuse of power.

How power can work and how it can corrupt.

What happens when power is not challenged and what happens when it seduces.  What might happen when we move from being drunk with complacency, to being drunk with power.  Megillat Esther portrays when the powerless are subjected to the whims of the powerful- those who are consumed with only their own power driven by the sense of self importance that comes from it.

 Haman plans to destroy the Jews because Mordechai does not bow before him.  Mordechai and Esther work together, conspiring if you will, to overthrow Haman’s power and gain power for themselves.  To achieve these ends they use nothing less than seduction and lies to lure Haman into a trap and inflame the wrath of King Achasverus.    The book of Esther demands us to question, “to what lengths are we willing to go to acheive power?”

 But then Megillat Esther continues to push us and asks,“What do we do with power once it has been acheived?”

 In a kind of  “Perverse Dayenu” we learn that it is not enough that the Jews triumph- Esther is the Queen and Mordechai becomes the King’s Vizier.  Nor is it enough that in an ironic twist of fate that Haman is executed on the very gallows he built to hang Mordechai.  The Jews then demand the execution of all of Haman’s sons and then 50 and then yet another 750 people in Sushan.  But it is still not over; for then there is a wholesale slaughter of 75,000 Persians in retribution.  This is a place where the phrase “Absolute Power corrupts Absolutely” could surely have been coined.   (Lord Acton 1887)

 We go from powerless, to powerful; from innocent to corrupt; from holding the moral high ground to losing all moral authority giving way to the basest of human emotion.

 So how this story resonate for us today?

 We are taught that with power comes responsibility.  That responsibility includes protecting those who are less fortunate and powerless, protecting our system of free expression, and protecting our ability to remain a full and vibrant part of this nation we call home. We have come a long way to achieve our comfortable public place in American society. But like our Purim story it was not always so.

 Esther concealed her identity from the king until Mordechai gave her the strength to step forward.  But what if she did not have the strength?  Who would have spoken for the Jews of Persia?  Mordechai says that if it was not Esther, someone else would step forward, but in the story we know only two, Queen Esther and her Uncle Mordechai.

Our tradition suggests Mordechai placed his hope in a higher power, but he knew his life was actually in Esther’s hands.  And likewise, the future of our next generations is in our hands.

 But ominous signs are on the horizon.  What if we became unable to advocate for ourselves?  It is not as outlandish as it may sound.  Many of you can recall the deafening silence of the American Jewish community in the 1930s and 40s. With only a few exceptions such as Rabbi Stephen Wise, our American community retreated into its fear as the Nazi’s systematically executed the Holocaust.  Today we can hardly imagine such gripping fear.  But this fear is alive as is the hatred.  It lives on our college campuses around the country and the implications are foreboding.

 We have just finished the national Israel Apartheid week.  This is a week of consciousness-raising held on campuses around the country protesting that Israel is no more than an apartheid state dedicated to the oppression of the Palestinians.  The attempt to De-legitimize the State of Israel also finds a voice in the growing organized economic boycott of Israel known as Boycott Divest Sanction or BDS.  This group was responsible for the commotion surrounding the Soda Stream company’s factory in the West Bank.  Students for Justice in Palestine (the SJP) is vehemently anti-Israel and actively protests against the State and its legitimacy on campuses across the country.  Not to be outdone, the academic community has, in real terms, taken up the Anti-Israel cause of the Palestinians by supporting the boycott of Israeli scholars through the American Studies Association, the ASA.

 The groups on campus have used thuggish tactics to bully and intimidate our college students. And as their teachers align with these politics, the classroom becomes a very uncomfortable, threatening place, instead of a place that is supposed to nurture.  The effect on our youth is profound.

 Many kids become turtles.  They withdraw into their shells and hope that it will all blow over.  Many of our kids find themselves fearful.  Unable to express an alternative point of view, students on campus are ostracized.  They are alienated from their Judaism and any relationship they may have to Israel. These young people are scared to think for themselves or express their opinions. And if they are courageous enough to try, they are subjected to public ridicule and humiliation.    If we do not work to support our youth, then we risk raising a whole generation of Jews, our future, unable to withstand the onslaught of hate and bigotry.  We will have completely ceded our power to those who would oppress us.

 So we must heed the lessons of Megillat Esther and embrace our power with respect.  We need to reach out to our youth by giving them a solid understanding of their Jewish identity and Jewish values before they leave for school and begin to explore the world.  But we must also support them in these college years of discovery by continuing to be present.  We can do this by supporting vibrant Hillels on campus, and as Congregations by remaining in contact with them while they are away and by making them feel warmly welcomed back into our temples when they return.  Finally, but so importantly, we must place a Reform Rabbi on every college campus with a significant Jewish population to nurture and care for our children.

The future is theirs, but the power to make that future bright lies with us and what we do now.

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

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.

How special must it be to be really special? Thoughts on Thanksgivukah.

Thanksgiving and Chanukah coincide this year.  You may have already heard that.  You may also have heard that according to the people who calculate such things, this event will happen again in 70,000 years, give or take.  So for us it is safe to say Thanksgivukah is a once in a lifetime event.  It is the first time the two holidays occur at the same time and, as much as I love my country, I am not sure if it will be around 700 centuries years from now for the next one.  Thanksgivukah is a big deal if only because it likely will happen only this one time.  Let us celebrate!

 So break out the sweet potato latkes and the turkey menorahs with candles for tail feathers.  I am sure that there are all kinds of tie-ins, dreidels and chocolate gelt meeting funny looking black hats (maybe no change there) along side pumpkin pie and turkey with dressing.  And on the more serious side, there are the opportunities to learn and make meaningful connection; how do we as moderns understand the two holidays?  How do we tell the intertwined story?  How do we relate to the people both Native American and Pilgrim and their respective narratives from a Jewish point of view?  What a special celebration this will be.

 The thing of it is, each day of our lives is truly just like Thanksgivukah; a unique moment that is ours for as long as it lasts, and once gone, only a memory never to be relived but possibly recaptured as myth and retold because it was special.  What if we greeted each day with such a profound sense of awe and anticipation?  How much better might life be if we lived each day to its fullest?

The need for connection runs deep

Toledot, last week’s Torah portion, holds one of the most poignant moments in the entire Tanakh for me.  The story of Esau before his father is heart wrenching.  We know that Esau sold his birthright to his brother for a bowl of stew and that Jacob completed the deed by deceiving his father into giving him the blessing.  But I cannot help but feel a profound empathy for Esau’s anguish.

 There Esau stands, this strong brute of a man, sobbing before his father beseeching him: Is there nothing left for me?  Can I not also have your blessing?  This is more than a demand for his portion of the family wealth.  This is the yearning human need to belong.  There is the deep heartfelt desire to believe that there is love enough in his father’s heart to share a blessing, a hope an aspiration for something that is Esau’s inheritance from his father. The best Isaac could muster was that Esau would be free of his brother’s dominance only when Esau moved away.  And so an estrangement began so brutal in its nature, that Jacob fled and when the brothers next meet twenty years later, Jacob still fears for his life.

 When our father died, my brother and sister and I respectfully shared the material possessions that remained.  My brother took a desk that he always loved and I took the vanity mirror that sat on my dad’s dresser since he was a boy.  But I think the blessing that my father left my brother was his knowledge that he was dad’s primary caregiver and their bond grew very strong and close.  For me it was the knowledge that this new path I embarked upon into the rabbinate was a source of pride and admiration.  These are the truly valuable legacies that will remain with us.

 May we always find that our inner wellspring of love and compassion is never exhausted.  May we always have something to give to those seeking our love and support, even when it is challenging.  May we learn from Isaac that there is a better and more empathetic way to embrace another.

Go Forth, But not Alone

Lech Lecha

I had the privilege of officiating at the funeral and first evening Shiva Minyan of a lovely man.  It came time to share a D’var Torah during the Minyan and I spoke to Lech Lecha, our Parashah and God’s command to Abraham to “Go Forth- to a land that I will show you.”  The Hebrew is in the singular, in other words God is speaking directly to Abraham, instructing him what to do.  As we learn in the story, Abraham does indeed venture out from his father’s house and into history, becoming our Patriarch, a father to those as numerous as the stars.   Abraham did need to respond to God’s challenge, but he was not alone.

Sarah was Abraham’s wife and partner.  Although God does tell Abraham to “Go forth,” Sarah stood by his side throughout the process.  The two of them acted together.  And there is significance in that.  As I ruminated over the circumstances in which my D’var Torah would be shared, I wondered if in fact the beautiful story of my friend, as related to me by his widow, was a representation of what Abraham and Sarah experienced.  It takes an extraordinary person to embark on an extraordinary venture.  But would he or she have the courage to do it without the love and support of a trusted partner? Could someone reach for the stars without a companion to provide strength, someone willing to walk with you by your side?  And even if a person were capable of achieving “greatness” without any one else’s support, could such a person be the progenitor of a people?

I believe the answer is no.  And herein lies a teaching of our Torah portion.  We cannot achieve true greatness without the support of others.  One can achieve, but without others to share and give strength, the venture is selfish.  Lech Lecha, you must do it but you cannot do it alone.

Grieving for our loss in the Washington Naval Yard, Where do we go from here?

It is truly heartbreaking.

The events in Washington this week have left me wondering.

12 people with stories of life and love were all catastrophically taken away in an incomprehensible moment of horror.  The voice of the mother thankful that her boy is now in a place where he cannot hurt anyone else makes the tragedy even sadder, if that is even possible.  Right now it is time to grieve the loss of those precious souls.  But then we must move on.

 We are at a crossroads of sorts and we can go one of two ways.  First, we can accept as sad fact that this level of violence is the price we pay for living in a free society.  These tragic events are bound to occur and we must accept that every 90 days or so, we will find ourselves mourning the loss of another group of tragic victims.  We will walk around with heavy hearts, and perform the rituals that we will use to move through the loss.  We will lower the flags, offer condolences to the survivors and then continue to live or lives as best we can. But we run the risk of becoming so callous to the pain and suffering that our hearts will harden and each passing slaughter will become easier to bear.   I am not prepared to accept this path.

 Our alternative is to recognize that this tragedy is not only senseless, but it is unacceptable.  We must rise and say this must end.  Human life is precious and deserving of protection.  We therefore must begin the conversation to try to understand why this level of violence persists.  What are the underlying causes and what might the remedies be?  Honest discussion and study needs to occur.  Preconceptions must be set aside.  We must search deep within our society and ourselves and grapple with the extraordinary level of violence that permeates our otherwise civil society.

 Certainly one issue is that of mental health.  Access to mental health treatment is apparently a major issue.  But access requires that we remove the stigma associated with seeking help and even more; provide adequate treatment when help is sought.  Other issues are the pervading place of violence in our culture, access to weaponry regardless of competency, lack of enforcement of existing laws as well as loopholes within existing laws that make those laws toothless.  There certainly is more, but this is a good place to start our analysis.

 In a country such as ours, these events affect us all.  Those who are victims of violence are on some level our brothers and sisters, regardless of their background; we are all Americans.  And if we do not stop this, one day the one who will be mourning the direct loss of a loved one might likely be you.

Central Conference of American Rabbis Statement Concerning Syria

September 12, 2013

The Central Conference of American Rabbis condemns the Assad regime’s use of chemical weapons to kill more than 1400 persons, including some 400 children, as a violation of international law and a crime against humanity. As Jews, we are well acquainted with a tyrannical regime’s use of lethal gas to commit mass murder and of the failure of democratic governments to intervene.

The CCAR applauds the President’s decision to respond to the Syrian authorities’ illegal and morally reprehensible conduct and to seek the complete, prompt, and verifiable removal of chemical weapons from Syria by means of diplomacy, if possible, before resorting to the use of military force.

We reaffirm the principle that the use of force should be undertaken with utmost reluctance, only when reasonable alternatives have been exhausted or prove unavailable.

We call on other governments throughout the world to join the effort to ensure that Syria does not commit another such atrocity.

We believe that effective action regarding the Assad regime’s use of chemical weapons is essential to deter the use of weapons of mass destruction by others and reinforce the credibility of U.S. policy concerning such weapons.

We support the firm and unequivocal determination of the President and Congress to prevent Iran from developing or obtaining nuclear weapons.

We express our deep concern for the State of Israel and its citizens, who have been threatened with retaliation in the event of American military action, and reaffirm the CCAR’s steadfast support for Israel’s right to defend its citizens from all who seek to harm them.

We yearn for the arrival of “the days to come” that Isaiah foresaw, when nations “will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war.”

We pray that the Jewish New Year, recently begun, will see the dawning of peace for the entire human family.

 

Rabbi Richard A. Block, President
Rabbi Steven Fox, Chief Executive, and
CCAR Board of Trustees