Category: Relationships

Conversations about Israel- it’s based in Love

In the sturm und drang that marks the conversations about Israel, those who are to the political Right accuse those who are to the political Left of center of undermining the Israeli government while they, the Right, support the government.

 This is a charge to which the Left of center must plead guilty. But realistically is it wrong?   The Left of center groups such as JStreet believe in a safe, secure, Jewish and Democratic Israel. In a part of the world that is decidedly none of those things, we believe that all four of these attributes can live here. But we have much to do in order to fully realize these ideals. Both internal and external issues pose real threats to these ideals. We point out the deficiencies because we do love Israel and we believe the State aspires to the best we can be only when we realize these four goals. So we are critical because of our commitment to an Israel whose soul and body are sound.

 Often people hear the criticism and do not hear the rest. The rest of it, the basis for all of it, is that love and commitment. Only when you truly care about something can you become invested and strive to help make it better. That message sometimes gets lost. But it is fundamental to everything we do. Israel is imperfect. we love it none-the-less and work to make her better. Leonard Cohen’s refrain from his song Anthem sums it up well:

 Ring the Bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in

Pamela Geller and the Nazis

I recall concluding that I needed to support the Nazis marching in Skokie, IL back in 1977 on the basis of free speech. I was a college student at the University of Chicago and the debate was hitting close to home on multiple levels, for me as an American and as a Jew. The need to defend the right of free speech in this country was fundamentally important to both identities. I ultimately supported the right of the Nazis to march despite the despicable hate speech they spewed.

 So too it is with Pamela Geller. Like the Nazis she too spews a venom of hate. Like the Nazis she has dehumanized her prey and tried to mock their beliefs. Like the Nazis she too has painted her victims as threats to our way of life. And like with the Nazis, I support the right of free speech including Geller’s right to fan flames of hate, bigotry and fear in this country.

 We are stronger than Geller or her bile. Her thoughts and actions are both despicable and the world she envisions is more a threat to our way of life than anything she might accuse the Muslim community of perpetrating.

 Fortunately most Muslims see her for what she is, a hateful bigot. They mock and dismiss her insults. We, the Jewish community and the entire American community, need to admire and respect their ability to shrug off her offensive rants. Many Muslims in America are much like us. They come here to build a better life for their families based on the ideals of the American system including freedom of speech, freedom of religion and the inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And they live here because this is their home.

 When we repudiate the hateful speech and thoughts of people like Geller, we all move forward. We fight her by shining light on her repugnant hate-filled talk, by coming together around our fundamental American values and together declaring there is no place in our society for her loathsome ideas; we are better than that.

To the mothers of Baltimore and mothers everywhere

My heart goes out to Ms. Toya Graham and every mother trying to raise their children and protect them from harm in Baltimore and everywhere danger threatens.

It is too easy for us to be critical in our quiet reflective and comfortable places casting aspersions on her character or questioning her parenting techniques. This was not her submission to white supremacy nor an homage to corporal punishment, rather this was a mother’s desperate attempt in the heat of a seminal moment to keep her son from spiraling into the horrible and destructive violence that threatened the lives of everyone in the riots and confrontation, including her young son. And in the moment, Ms. Graham admits she “lost it.”

 My friends of color speak of the breakdown of trust between police and people of color. They have shared the difficult and sad messages they teach their children of the special ways they must interact with police officers because they are African-American. They have shared the deep-seated fears for the safety of their children, only because of what they look like, to those who are supposed to protect them, let alone the challenges of living in a poor urban environment.

 Our society struggles with severe problems and social ills that need to be addressed. The issues with the police in the United States are a symptom of larger and systemic problems, which have been ignored for too long. The boiling over of pent up rage and anger should not surprise anyone. But engaging in lawless and riotous action in the heat of confrontation only risks life and limb. It does not effect change and likely delays or prevents constructive change to deal with these underlying issues, which have festered for years.

 Instead of criticizing Ms. Graham we should be demanding that she is given the tools and support necessary to offer hope to her son. We ignore what has been created at our own peril: a permanently disenfranchised underclass, without access to a life of peace, security, education, the ability to earn a living to support themselves and their families; A population living without hope or access to the life we hold dear.

 Some may find Ms. Graham’s physical act unpleasant, extreme or even wrong, but arguably she rescued her son Michael’s life. She had the courage to dive into the horrible sea of violence and despair and rescue her son from drowning. So although Ms. Graham “lost it,” in that moment she saved her son.

 Let us not be so quick to condemn Ms. Graham’s actions and turn instead our efforts to the important work of rebuilding our society. Let us focus on bringing the disenfranchised back into a place of belonging.   Let us work to promote justice and opportunity under the law and a system that protects all its citizens. Let us remember as a nation we are all affected, that the Michaels and Freddie Grays are our children. Now it is time for us to get to work.

Shiva at the Diner

 One of the most difficult things we experience is the loss of a loved one. Death takes them away from us. We struggle with our new reality, whether the loss was sudden or even if it was expected, the moment of truth is not as expected.

 Death is a complicated emotional process in which we experience loss, then grief and then we try to move forward. Jewish tradition gives us some wonderful coping mechanisms that acknowledge and honor the departed, our relationship to that person and a means of working through the loss.

 When we attempt to circumvent or short-circuit the process we lose out. In our fast paced world, we want to “get it over with,” and move on. I frequently hear the need to return to work, which is more a desperate attempt to escape the discomfort of the current situation and not deal with it. Some of us suppress or even ignore our feelings attempting to deny the pain, leaving things unresolved. Our feelings will however come back to haunt us. A perfunctory approach does not serve us well. Our hearts just do not work that way. Judaism has a better way to deal.

 Shiva, the traditional Jewish mourning period, is seven days (the word Shiva is Hebrew for seven). It is tempting to shorten this period to a three-day Shiva, or even a one-day observance. I did once hear of a family that decided they would sit Shiva Saturday night at the Italian restaurant/diner. These recastings of Shiva are reflections of everything but the acknowledgement of a profound loss and the grieving process that accompanies such a loss. Sadly, the people who survive are the ones who suffer as a result.

 Our Jewish tradition wisely helps guide the survivors through the process. You quite literally sit with your grief, fully acknowledging this place and the loss. Your family, friends and the community gathers to support you in your time of aloneness to share that indeed you are not alone. You experience what we all will experience and we are both connected and strengthened by this knowledge. By being together we say you will get through this with our support and love. The community continues to show its support and love through the institution of the synagogue as a place where you can find not only solace but a caring community that can help you reintegrate as the immediacy of the pain begins to find a place in your heart rather than on your sleeve.

 There is joy in life and pain in its loss. How we navigate these is what family, friends and community is all about. The traditional Hebrew phrase we share with someone who experiences a loss might be translated as: “May you find comfort in this place among family and friends.” This is among the values that makes embracing Judaism something sacred and profound.

Pirkei Avot- A new teaching for the Baby Boomers

I am pleased to share our video teaching of Pirkei Avot

We aimed this teaching at the Baby Boomers to help unlock the wisdom of Pirkei Avot as they navigate this very interesting stage of life.  The link is below, or you can find this and other insightful things at www.JewishSacredAging.com.

RabbiDavidLevinPirkeiAvot1-940x400

http://www.jewishsacredaging.com/pirkei-avot-a-short-video-study-series-with-rabbi-david-levin/

A New Chapter

 Naomi and I have entered a new chapter in our lives. A new phase in the journey that has brought us to an interesting, sobering and new place.

 I do not have a formal name for it, but people approximately my age/generation are becoming aware of it and those of you in the generation that has preceded us remember this time as well. I guess we are officially “middle age.” With all the talk of 40 being the new 30 and similar reframing, the fact is that in our 50’s we are in the place where mortality is showing itself as a real part of life. We have those krenks and pains, and some body parts are not performing as they once did. But even more sobering, some of our friends are not faring so well. They have real issues, confronting things such as cancer and heart disease, and some have died. Our parents are aging; many slipping, and many of them too are dying. We have entered that phase where these things are becoming the common and expected part of daily life, no more the stories of others from another generation, or the extraordinary event of someone we know. I am not sure precisely what this phase may be called, except for possibly “our new reality,” this next phase of our lives.

 It is strange and as a new experience it creates separation and aloneness. Yet it is a phase that we all experience. This is a time when our older generation can truly reach out to us younger people and help us make sense of this new place; for they have been here and have lived through it. Their experience gives them an understanding that we could use. If we could talk about it, the wisdom of the older would help us make some sense of it. We both would benefit from the conversation and the bonds that this sharing could foster. When we open up about our fears and how we navigate through them, we deepen the relationships between us figuratively and literally holding each other’s hand.

An Open Letter to Eric Fingerhut, President of Hillel International

Dear Mr. Fingerhut,

 I urgently write you to reconsider your decision to refuse to speak at the upcoming JStreet conference.  You are squandering an extraordinary opportunity to reach a substantial portion of our young people and sending a message of exclusion, that the young people attending the JStreet conference are not worthy nor are they welcome to be part of Hillel. 

 Personal views regarding Mr. Erekat notwithstanding, he has been a representative of the Palestinian people and authority representing them.  He speaks with leaders around the world as such.  But more importantly, it is not his legitimacy as a speaker nor his attendance at the JStreet event that is noteworthy, it is your absence.  JStreet is not endorsing his viewpoint, only asking that he share it in a peaceful thoughtful way.  His acceptance of the opportunity to speak is a chance for us to hear his point of view and possibly learn from it. 

 I dare say you do not agree with JStreet’s politics as well.  This is also okay.  Your appearance was intended as an opportunity to share your views and offer a message of support to our young people who are in a committed relationship with Israel.  You were to be welcomed with respect and we looked to learn from you.  Sadly with your withdrawal you have sent the message that those who disagree with you are not welcome in your tent, marginalizing a substantial portion of the Jewish student population.  This reflects poorly on Hillel, the organization that is supposed to be the home of all Jewish students on campus, not only those who comport to a particular political viewpoint.

 Democracy encourages diversity and through diversity comes strength.  This is a fundamental tenet of all democracies. Although we have many different political views, we all are committed to Israel.  Hopefully on that we can agree and then build.  However, we must be able to respect the viewpoints of others even when those views diverge from our own.  Welcoming you and listening to you, I might learn from what you hold as true, and likewise you from me.  Your leadership, demonstrating a strong commitment to what you believe while willing to embrace and reach out to those who disagree, is critical at this juncture.  Our young people need to hear your voice and they need to feel welcome as a fully authentic part of Clal Yisrael. 

 You need to be at the JStreet conference.  I hope you will reconsider and join us. 

Rabbi David M. Levin

God’s Miracle is not in the Thunder and Lightning but in people sheltering others from the storm

The Morning After

 At this moment we are awaiting the appearance of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu before the joint session of the United States Congress. Whether you think it is a good idea or not, it is happening. We will listen to the messages, which we can anticipate will be: Israel believes Iran cannot possess the ability to create a nuclear bomb, which would pose an existential threat to Israel and to the world; and therefore must be stopped by any means necessary. The Prime Minister will also appeal to the deep and constant support of its most important ally, the United States, and attempt to minimize the issues that exist between him and the President of the United States.

 I do not know how successful Mr. Netanyahu will be at conveying either message. I do know that we, the American Jewish population, needs to increase its voice of support for the American-Israeli alliance, to strengthen a relationship that finds itself tested harshly and deeply at this point in time. We have much work to do to repair any damage that has been done, and particularly to move past the political partisanship dangerously inserting itself into the conversation.

 We also be aware of the Iran issue and remain vigilant. And we must demand to know the terms of any negotiated deal will be and why. A rising Iran, particularly a nuclear capable Iran, is a global concern. A solid, strong unwavering alliance between the United States and Israel is also very important to the free world and particularly to us. We must work to make sure despite stress to this relationship, the relationship remains sound.

It is all about what we do tomorrow.

Thoughts for Shabbat

The swirl of events both at home and abroad makes keeping an even keel difficult if not almost impossible. The storm rages and calls out to us to react harshly, which can only add to the anger. Some may recall Jonah offering himself up to be sacrificed and when the sailors threw him overboard, the seas calmed. But that is not how it is here. Instead it is more like Nadav and Abihu, the priests and sons of Aaron who brought offerings ostensibly honoring God. But God rejected their alien fire and they were destroyed. The storms call out for more sacrifices but to give in would consume not only our offerings but us as well.

We are compelled to act against the injustice and the evil we see in the world around us, compelled to act against the injustice and evil that seduces its followers to do wrong while believing they champion a worthy cause.   Now more than ever, each of us is compelled to seek the wisdom of our texts, the Ethics of our Fathers, to guide us on straight paths. This Erev Shabbat, I share with you the poem “IF” by Rudyard Kipling:

 

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.

Shabbat Shalom

 

A House is not a Home- Thoughts on Parsha Vayechi

Living in the state of Florida, initial conversations with new acquaintances usually had two questions asked early on. The first question was: Where are you from? The second question was: Where do you live? Most of us had come from somewhere else. Most of us were immigrants to the Sunshine State. This meant that our lives and the things that brought meaning to our lives were someplace else. According to the traditional laws of the interstate highway system, our home was somewhere Northeast if you lived on the Eastern side of Florida along I-95, or home was the Midwest if you came to Florida via I-75. Regardless from whence you came, each of us brought our own question, whether we would be able to make our home in this new land. Some made the transition; some maintained a dual identity and some but a ger toshav– a resident alien.

 Jacob made his life in Egypt according to Parsha Vayechi. For 17 years he lived with his extended family in this new land opened to them by his son Joseph. But when it came time to die, Jacob made Joseph promise that he would bury Jacob in his homeland. And so Joseph brought his father Jacob back to be buried in the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron. All of those years living in Egypt as someone of privilege, whose son was so prominent, but Jacob considered his home elsewhere and never fully accepted a place in Egyptian society and culture.

 What does it mean to maintain your identity? The Hebrews remained separate and distinct from the Egyptians. In the next parsha we learn that a new Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph and feared these strangers in the midst of Egypt, leading to 400 years of slavery and ultimately an Exodus to return home.

 We struggle as we attempt to preserve our families and our values. This is especially true given our mobility today. The American story has been an active tension between the desire to assimilate into American culture and the desire to maintain a distinct Jewish identity. How do we balance these two, which often are in conflict with each other? How do we live out our days fulfilled? What roles do our families play in this process of making a home? What do we pass on to our children as the legacy, their true inheritance?

“Home is where the heart is” goes the adage. But if we do not make our homes wherever we are, isn’t life there incomplete? Where and how do we make our home? The questions raised by Parsha Vayechi remain important. They are as relevant to the person moving to Florida as they were to the person sojourning in Egypt, or to someone moving to a new residence to accommodate to a new set of personal needs as they move into a new phase of life.