On the eve of Rosh Hashanah, I share these wonderful words of wisdom and hope from Rabbi Lawrence A. Hoffman, PhD.
“The High Holidays are the unique message of … the human dream.”
“One should rise at the end of the High Holiday service committed to the proposition that … we are historical moments in the making.”
L’shana Tova uMetukah!
This week’s Parasha opens with an extraordinary statement: “Atem nitzavim hayom culchem lifnay Adonai.” (Deut. 29:9) You are all standing here this day before the Eternal your God; the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp both your woodcutters and your water drawers that you may enter the covenant, the Brit, of the Eternal your God and His oath which the Eternal your God is making with you this day. (Deut. 29:9-11)
Everyone from the highest of stature to the lowliest is included. We each and every one of us are to be included. The statement is actually twofold. It has an element that sometimes we overlook. Usually we focus on how each is obligated to enter into the covenant. But there is a form of reciprocity implied in the Brit. As each of us is obligated to enter into it, then by extension so too is each of us protected by it. No matter what your stature from the lowliest to the highest, we are all sheltered by the very same covenant of laws. No one is above the law and all are subject to the same law.
A nation of laws has been birthed for the first time in human history. This is one of the singularly great gifts of Judaism to humankind. It is the bedrock upon which we have built the United States of America.
And that is precisely why it is so deeply offensive and disturbing to witness the ongoing saga of domestic violence play out within the National Football League and within our culture. The Allstate Foundation and its affiliate, The Purple Purse, a center to combat domestic violence, published that an astounding 1 woman in 4 in this country will report experiencing domestic violence in their lifetimes. 1 in 4. Here in the United States of America. Furthermore, the number of victims that find they are unable to remove themselves from the cycle of violence is equally staggering. And sadly many victims come to believe that the cycle of violence is acceptable or even the norm and then tragically perpetuate the behavior.
The stories of Ray Rice, the now former running back for the Baltimore Ravens, and Adrian Peterson of the Minnesota Vikings continues. Around the country many people are proclaiming that domestic violence simply is not acceptable. The simple truth is: A brute cannot assault a woman; child discipline cannot devolve into battery leaving physical injury. We do not permit domestic violence. Period— End of Story.
But it is so much easier to turn a blind eye. After all, we are talking about Football. Football is more than a game; Football is our national quasi-religion. Its sacrament is offered by the grand church known as the National Football League in cathedrals around the country and live-cast into our homes. Almost everyone loves to watch the game on Sunday, and on Monday and on Tuesday and on Wednesday and on Thursday. (If only we could get people to our services so often!). It is quite a spectacle and these players are great athletes.
Some people ask, can’t we just kick back and enjoy the show? I mean cold cocking your fiancé is not the most admirable thing to do, but come on- have you watched this guy run? Many would rather watch the game rather and turn a blind eye to what happens off the field.
But the answer remains no. When we choose to turn a blind eye, we choose to condone domestic violence. We facilitate and even encourage this behavior because there are no consequences if we turn away. We cannot turn away. We are all responsible for one another.
As public figures these athletes have a responsibility. And as people who make their money from our participation, we have a responsibility. These competitors embody the celebrity and the financial success that our country glorifies as well as their athleticism, the result of fierce training and discipline. We admire these qualities and aspire to be like those who possess them.
These people are role models for our kids and for us as well. This is substantiated by the fact that the star performers all have major endorsement contracts to promote everything under the sun- from shoes to hats, to anti-fungal foot powder and almost anything else imaginable. It is only because of their influence on us that they hawk products. So whether or not they aspire to be, they are our role models and the endorsement deals create income streams and a lavish lifestyle.
What I find distressing however is that the sponsors are reacting faster than the general public. Endorsement contracts are being reviewed and many pulled in response to the culture of unbridled violence that permeates Football. But the fan base, the American “amcha” if you will, remains by in large wildly devoted participants in the spectacle.
What does it say about us when we encourage or condone or even tolerate this kind of behavior? What are the values that truly matter to us? How do we act as individuals, even when no one else is supposed to be looking? And what do we do in greater society as a whole? If we shirk our responsibilities, we create a culture that accepts and promotes Domestic Violence.
Our Parasha this week admonishes us that we are united in our obligations. “You stand here today, all of you, before the Eternal your God,” And if we do not adhere to these principles, there will be exile and devastation in the land. Further, it is incumbent upon each of us. Each and every individual is responsible. And this is not an impossible task. “For the mitzvah I command you this day it is not beyond you, nor is it remote from you. “Lo Bashamayim Hi.” It is not in Heaven, it is not across the sea. Rather it is very close to you, in your mouth, in your heart that you may do it.” (Deut. 30:14)
All of us are called upon to be involved and to require good and decent behavior from ourselves and from others. So much of Torah is given to us for precisely this purpose. This is not some matter of politically correct civility; it is a foundation upon which our society is built. A free and democratic system cannot tolerate the brute to rule. To borrow from Socrates rebuke of Thrasymachus in Plato’s Republic, Justice is not the will of the stronger. The prophetic call to action of Isaiah, which we will read during the High Holidays and which we echo at every prayer service, admonishes us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and provide for the widow and orphan. Society is strong only when it protects those unable to protect themselves. The seeds of this understanding are to be found here in Parasha Nitzavim.
We are extraordinary and unique in that we are a nation of laws. This is not only a fundamental value of Judaism, but also a cornerstone of Western Culture and these United States. Without it, the very fabric of our society begins to fray and the domestic peace is threatened. It is both our inheritance and our legacy.
For this covenant extends beyond us to all of “those who are not here with us this day,” (Deut. v14) the future generations, our children and our children’s children.
We are compelled therefore to demand better. The Eternal explains in Torah “I have set before you life and goodness, and death and evil. I command you to love God, to walk in His ways and to keep His commandments.” God admonishes us to live with our eyes wide open.
For if we do not live respecting the laws of decency and civility a cancer growing inside, threatens our society, one that will eventually kill, or to use the language of Nitzavim, “a root that produces hemlock and wormwood.” (Deut. 19:17) We can put a stop to it now, by not tolerating such abusive behavior.
We can act and we can have an effect. Truly it is close to us in our hearts and mouths. Nitzavim cautions that if someone thinks that he or she “can have peace even if I follow my heart’s desires,” “The Eternal will not forgive…but rather God’s zeal will fume against that person.” (Deut. 19:18) And so, each of us is obliged and challenged to act.
It can start with something as simple as not watching the football game, sending an email to a sponsor or to the NFL demanding a change before agreeing to patronize one of the worlds most successful business enterprises, and actively supporting campaigns against domestic violence such as Purple Purse.
The month of Elul is a time of reflection in preparation for the High Holidays; we look to where we have fallen short and how we might do better in the year to come. This is one place where we can all do better.
”Life and Death I have set before you, blessing and curse.” (Deut. 30:15) “Choose Life and live.”(Deut. 30:19)
Shabbat Shalom
Visit PurplePurse.com to learn about ways to help protect people from Domestic Violence
“They hate us,” “they want to hurt us” are two often heard refrains in the Jewish community. Sadly this view of “the other” has had basis in truth. Our history has too many incidents of another seeking our persecution or our annihilation. From this comes a certain wariness of the other. Xenophobia has roots and fertile soil. But when we view others through this lens, we too can become the very perpetrators of the animosity we find repugnant and threatening in the other. Instead of searching for ways to coexist, we look for ways to protect ourselves from them. We isolate them hoping to insulate us. But instead, we isolate us and foreclose the possibility of building a bridge that might somehow connect us.
So during this time of Elul, the month of introspection leading up to the sacred Yamim Noraim, the High Holidays, let us take the time to look in the mirror at ourselves. Let us dare to look our own faces in the mirror and see what really is staring back. The opportunity for peace can exist only if we are first willing to take the risk of learning the truth in ourselves. Then we can see the truth in the other. And only then is there a prospect to build together.
On the international stage, we have witnessed in the ongoing Gaza conflict the perpetuating cycle of hatred. It is very difficult indeed to sit and have a coffee with someone who is dedicated to your eradication. And certainly there those who are so dedicated. But has such hatred created in us the belief that everyone on the other side is dedicated to our destruction? What happens when we begin to speak in sweeping terms that everyone is the implacable enemy? Arab devolves into an epithet used to describe the enemy, the modern-day Amelek of our Torah, the embodiment of evil. We lose sight that there are many on the other side also seeking to live their lives peacefully and with hope for a brighter tomorrow for their children. We lose the ability to reach out and seek a peace for all.
The children can teach us so very much. Hand-in-Hand schools, Seeds of Peace, Project Harmony-Israel and The Galilee Circus show us how Jew and Non-Jew can live together peacefully sharing and building. We also see Arab children taught the canards of Anti-Semitism in the public schools of Gaza and other Arab Countries. And sadly, we see the Jewish Israeli children taught the canards of animus and distrust of Arab neighbors, viewing them as second class citizens without legitimate voice or aspiration. Hatred is often taught and hatred is a learned response to the world around us. But there is another perspective. Elul is the time for us to look in the mirror and see ourselves.
Closer to home, these words of introspection apply to our daily lives as well. So often we find ourselves at odds with family or friends, cross words lead to harsh actions and harsher words and crosser actions in response. We can be estranged from the very ones with whom we should be closest because of what they said or what they did or what we perceived. But their actions might be a response to what we have said or done. Pride keeps us apart and the passing time only builds the walls separating us higher and wider. Might a close look in the mirror reveal something about our true selves that could be the bridge toward understanding? What could we have said that precipitated their reaction? And even more importantly, is the lost relationship worth the stand on principles or protected ego?
Things do not change by themselves or even quickly. We can only hope that both sides will put aside the vitriol to seek another way. If even if they cannot, we still can. We can control our actions. We can understand that protracted animosity only perpetuates the status quo, a status quo that leaves us living in anger or fear of brother or neighbor, fear of each moment, paralyzed and unable to more forward. For our brethren in Israel, the status quo requires the periodic sacrifice of their children in defense of their home; And for us, that we are alienated from others when it is precisely their relationship that we need. Maybe there is a better way. Maybe there is a brighter tomorrow for our children and us. And maybe we can be the ones to begin that process of change so that we all might someday live in peace.
Elul is the time to look in the mirror and see our stark reality and also to realize that today can be the new beginning if we are willing.
Robin Williams’ untimely passing touched the hearts of many of us. He touched our hearts because we had a personal connection. His gifts of comedy and acting his brilliant artistry found a way into each of us. And now we lament his passing on a personal level.
My father died about the time that Debbie Friedman passed away. Debbie was an iconic figure. Her passing created a tragic sense of personal loss in the Jewish community. And as deeply as I cared for Debbie, I was more focused on the loss of my dad. It was then that I noticed how we routinely find some losses to deeply affect us and others devolve from a human connection to a mere statistic.
This approach to death is a coping mechanism; If each death affected us deeply, we would be overwhelmed by the emotions and paralyzed. The mind and heart do what they need to do in order for us to move on about our lives. But beneath this, for those who are lost, what do they leave behind?
This is the question I find myself asking about Moses in the Torah portion Eikev. Moses is the iconic humble servant. And yet, in this portion, Moses repeats several times that it was because of what he did that saved the people from oblivion. Moses’ humility moves to the background as the need to be relevant takes over.
Might Moses be scared? He is the last of his generation, the generation that was to completely perish before the people would enter the Promised Land. Might Moses be scared that he would fade into oblivion, and be a simple footnote to history? The extraordinary experiences of creating a nation over the past 40 years might be obscured while the people are so focused on moving forward into the promise that the future holds.
History and our entire tradition holds Moses up as the great leader and teacher. We still recall Moshe Rabeinu with awe as we retell the stories of his life inextricably bound to the unfolding of our people’s destiny. But Moses did not know that at the time. In this, his second discourse, Moses knows the end is drawing near. In the remaining time left to him, Moses struggles to share the highlights of forging of a rag-tag group of slaves into B’nei Israel, about to enter and conquer the Land. He can hope that his entire life’s work means something to those he has shepherded. But it is only his hope that they will remember him, embraced his teachings and teach the generations to come; that they will become the people who God has offered as possible. Yes Moses, we did hear and we did learn and we are still struggling to achieve the vision set before us.
For our elders, this might explain the strident moments in your conversations with your children. For our children, this might offer insight into the motivations of your parents. Knowing this might help us to better understand the personal connection between parent and child. We will feel the loss when our parents are gone. But we can share and appreciate the wisdom of our elders now, while they are present in our lives.
Listen. The word occurs over and over. “Listen to me”, “Hear this,” I heard that”, “Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai Echad.”
The portion tells us to listen. But how do we listen when we ourselves need to be heard?
Moses recounts the story of Meribah and shares his truth; he is punished on account of the people, Lmanchem— because of you. That is not the story we read in Exodus. But that is how Moses remembers, and that is how he shares. That is Moses’ story. So how do we reconcile two different recountings of the same events?
This is the story currently underway in Israel. Our narrative is of a proud miraculous nation forged from nothing against all odds. Theirs is a very different story. Both share many of the same facts. How do we hear a truth that is so different from the one we know? How can we hear the truth of another, if we are caught up in our own narrative and our own need to be heard?
If we are to someday reconcile and create an opportunity for two people to coexist, we must listen. We must try to understand the retelling of the story in a different way while maintaining and building our story.
Once again the fragile truce has been shattered. And it is all but impossible to step back enough to gain the perspective that is needed to move beyond this time of war. But somewhere down the line, as we insist that “they” must listen to us, we too must somehow also listen to “them.”
Let us continue to work for a day when peace may come.
Shabbat Shalom
We are on the final day of our CCAR Israel mission of solidarity and learning. I have not written about most of my experiences and I have refrained from posting anything except for some re-posting of pictures to Facebook that my colleagues have taken, commemorating our time in various places. Although I want to share the extraordinary and incredible experiences, I also want to give them some time to sit inside me as I ruminate and try make sense of them. In some I will be successful and in some I will not.
These days have been filled with visits and talks and discussions and analyses. We packed as much as we could into our days and often into the nights as well. There is much pain here as we struggle to remember who we are while fighting to make a future possible. The actions we take now are the foundation upon which we build that future. Often building is difficult and now in this time of war it is acutely so. The price is paid in blood and also in our souls. If we are the caretakers of the world for our next generation, what is it that we will leave to them? The answer to that question is being forged now.
The singular most important thing I could do was be here to express my solidarity with the people and the State of Israel. So I came. The gratitude was palpable. And for that I am grateful as well. But now it is time to bring it back home and share what I have experienced. I hope to do justice to that sacred task.
There is a time for every thing under heaven. Now is the time to express support, reflect on what is happening and then engage in what is to be done, once the immediacy of this war is concluded. There is much to do tomorrow. But for today, I support my people and pray that all may live in peace.
I am excited to share the news that I am heading to Israel with my colleagues from the Central Conference of American Rabbis. We are going to show our support and solidarity with the State of Israel and its people. We will visit and be briefed and I am sure we will ask many questions in order to more fully understand the situation.
I look forward to this upcoming trip and to sharing what I learn when I return.
A few minutes to hear what happened at Gush Etzion yesterday
Israelis, Palestinians Defy Recent Violence To Break Fast Together : NPR.
Like so many others, I find myself in a place of anguish. The violence perpetrated upon both Israelis and Palestinians is overwhelmingly sad and tragic. I struggle with the hatred and resultant terror, death and destruction. Whether the cause is righteous or even justifiable, the price that the innocents pay is too great. And in the end, we all have blood on our hands, forever changed by war.
Today, many of us observe a fast. The 17th of Tammuz is traditionally a fast day for the Jewish people, marking catastrophes and heartbreaks in our history. It coincides with the fast of Ramadan. We join together praying that our sadness might transform into hope, that the killing might end, that the hatred might cease, that the opportunity for peace might appear as rays of light shining through the cracks in the broken vessel in which we find ourselves.
To learn more about this event, look to the website:
https://www.facebook.com/JewsAndArabsChooselife?hc_location=timeline
I share the following poem written by two religious leaders from Jerusalem, Sheikh Ibtisam Mahamid and Rabbi Tamar Elad-Appelbaum, shared with me by my colleague, Rabbi David Ackerman.
God of Life
Who heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds
May it be your will to hear the prayer of mothers
For you did not create us to kill each other
Nor to live in fear, anger or hatred in your world
But rather you have created us so we can grant permission to one another to sanctify Your name of Life, your name of Peace in this world.
For these things I weep, my eye, my eye runs down with water
For our children crying at nights,
For parents holding their children with despair and darkness in their hearts
For a gate that is closing and who will open it while day has not yet dawned.
And with my tears and prayers which I pray
And with the tears of all women who deeply feel the pain of these difficult days
I raise my hands to you please God have mercy on us
Hear our voice that we shall not despair
That we shall see life in each other,
That we shall have mercy for each other,
That we shall have pity on each other,
That we shall hope for each other
And we shall write our lives in the book of Life
For your sake God of Life
Let us choose Life.
For you are Peace, your world is Peace and all that is yours is Peace,
And so shall be your will and let us say
Amen
