Category: Relationships

Where do we go from here?

In the aftermath of four dead children, we need to carefully assess who we are, not who we believe ourselves to be.  It is hard to be self-critical, but it is critically important.  The tragedies of the four slain boys is deeply shocking and painful.   What it can tell us about ourselves is a step toward understanding those we currently consider adversaries on so many levels and how we might find a way to live together.  The horrible reality is that we have been sacrificing our children for way too long.  Our tradition compels us to continue to seek another way.  It will be hard and fraught with obstacles and disappointments.

Israel is a nation of laws.  Once, the aspiration was that Israel would be a nation like all other nations.  But in fact, we hold Israel to a higher standard of ethics and morality.  Although inevitably she will fall short of our ideal, it is the aspiration that makes her the land of hope for all Jews.  We support and love her and commit ourselves to striving to reach the ideal where all children might live in peace and security.  We have much work to do.  Let everyone use the tragedy that has befallen all of us to dedicate ourselves to the possibility of achieving peace someday

A Response to my Presbyterian Friend and Minister

Dear Lisa,

 The vote in Detroit cannot evoke little else but great sadness and regret across Jewish America.  We have worked to build bridges and foster relationships with Presbyterians that we thought were based on an abiding mutual respect of the truths embodied in each other’s commitment to our faiths and traditions.  Today however, it is hard to feel something other than betrayal.

 The Jewish people have a deep connection and commitment to the State of Israel.  They are inextricably bound together.  However, there is a great rise of anti-Semitism in the world.  It is becoming blatant in many places and in others it is cloaked in the garb of anti-Zionism or anti-Israel policy.  Anti-Semitism exists in this country too.  We are watching our young people under assault on college campuses across the country, targeted with deliberate and calculated attacks against their identity and intimidation tactics that repress any exchange of ideas other than ideas sanctioned by those that have usurped control of the conversation.

 Many of us are dissatisfied with the actions of the settlements.  Many of us believe it undermines efforts toward the creation of a respect that permits the emergence of a state for the Palestinian people. This however, is far different from actions that are taken as a result of existing hostilities that represent an existential threat to Israel and its citizens.

 The construction of the fence/wall was done in response to a history of violence perpetrated by those willing to inflict damage and destruction on a civilian population within Israel.  As ugly as this harsh concrete barrier may appear, it has in fact all but eliminated bombings and other murderous violence.  The responsibility for peace resides on both sides of this conflict.  The history of violence and the existential threat that continues to be espoused from the Palestinian side can only be willfully ignored.

 Also, within Israel the need to continue to expand civil rights protection undoubtedly exists.  Many of us actively work to promote the broader and fuller equal application of the law to all who live in Israel.  There has been much progress made in this realm, although much more work needs to be done.  We are proud of our active role in promoting and broadening civil rights in Israel.  We are deeply committed to the State.

The existence of the State of Israel has been part of our DNA, an aspiration as a people for two thousand years.  The State was bought on the back of hardship and persecution unlike anything the world had ever seen.  The State of Israel exists and she has a right to do so.  That does not delegitimize the rights of the Palestinian people.  But it unequivocally says that the existence of the State of Israel is undeniable and irrefutable.  The efforts to delegitimize Israel cannot be tolerated or supported.

Unfortunately, the actions taken by the Presbyterians do precisely that.  The BDS movement has declared this a great victory.  Whether that was the intent of the resolution, the effect is a victory for BDS and those ultimately seeking the elimination of Israel.  This happens on the heels of the release of Zionism Unsettled, a book of vitriol and falsehood.  It is a volume that vehemently denounces Israel, Zionism and ultimately the Jewish people.  It is a shameful and terribly hurtful treatise that remains on sale and available.

The acts that can be construed as hurtful, the publications that can be construed as hateful and the complete insensitivity to the history and values of my people makes this vote a horrible breach of faith and trust.  You cannot claim to love me, if you are willing to engage in actions so egregious, deeply hurtful and offensive to me. There are other and more constructive ways to promote change.

I believe that it is a moral obligation to only invest in companies that do not profit from persecution or oppression.  For Hewlett-Packard, Caterpillar and Motorola an interesting and rather broad understanding of persecution and oppression seems to have been applied. I cannot help but wonder whether the same level of scrutiny has been applied to every investment held in the portfolio and a stand against oppression and persecution is consistently applied to the many horrors and traumas suffered by victims of hatred and war across the globe and even here in this country.

 There are many ways to constructively engage in the Middle East.  I understand the Presbyterian community has been so involved in the West Bank and in Israel.  These were areas where we were in agreement, where we could work together where we would not undermine or attack the intrinsic values of the other.  However, the Church has decided to take another course.  It is a divisive course that has done great damage to our relationship.

 I deeply hope for peace in the Middle East.  It is good for everyone in the region and it is good for humanity.  I hope that we can find ways to repair the damage that has been caused by this action.  I know your commitment to the principles of your faith and I hope you can appreciate the effect these actions have.

Thank you for the chance to share this with you.

L’Shalom,

David

A Quest for Meaning

 In Naso, we are introduced to the Nazir. A Nazir is one who purposefully separates himself or herself of the community by abstaining from certain luxuries or conventions, taking a vow as part of a spiritual search. This is the issue of the individual’s quest for meaning.

 We see the idea of a vow as a chance to be in closer communion with God. It is an extraordinary commitment as the individual, man or woman, commits to refraining from some basic of things. This particular vow seems to contradict the idea that we are in community; the Nazir does things that by their nature separates him/her from societal norms: The Nazir does not drink, does not cut his/her hair, not to be near the dead, even including those for whom even a Kohen would. At the end of the vow’s timeframe, the Nazir brings a sacrifice as a Sin offering and a second as an offering of well-being signaling the vow is now concluded and fulfilled.

 Once the Nazir has made the appropriate sacrifices, Aaron blesses the people with the Priestly blessing. This is as though through the process the Nazir endures in the sacred separating and the sacred re-joining, the whole people become worthy of God’s blessings.

 Like the Nazir we too try to find meaning in our lives. We reflect and act to give life purpose. The path we walk in that process can be difficult and often lonesome. We might find a need to separate ourselves from those we love or things that are familiar in order learn and grapple with the hard questions we confront in our lives. We do things that set us apart, not unlike the Nazir. However, our tradition teaches are not hermits or ascetics.   Parashah Naso teaches that our path needs to lead us back to the community. When we return, we are changed and, we pray, better off for the journey. When we return and again become a participant in our community, we enrich our community as well.

 We see this understanding of the Nazir play itself out all the time in our modern lives as well. Our young people for example, venture out from the family in their quest to find their paths, to challenge the paradigms they have learned in their youth and as they seek wisdom and growth. We call this going off to college. Our children leave us as adolescents and hopefully return as thoughtful young adults. In other even more noble pursuits, many of our best and brightest make a vow in the form of enlisting in the military to serve their country. The ideals they embrace they are willing to defend with their lives.

 We give our young the best we can. And then they leave. We pray that they will be safe on the journey and return to us whole. Then we know that indeed The Eternal has blessed us and protected us and caused The Divine Countenance to shine upon us.

My father was God

A beautiful poem I shared for Yizkor Shavuot by Yehuda Amichai-

My father was God and did not know it.

He gave me
The Ten Commandments
neither in thunder nor in fury; neither in fire nor in cloud
But rather in gentleness and love. And he added caresses and kind words
and he added “I beg You,” and “please.”And he sang “keep” and “remember” the Shabbat         In a single melody and he pleaded and

cried quietly between one utterance and the next ,“Do not take the name of God in vain,”       do not take it, not in vain,I beg you, “do not bear false witness against your neighbor.”           And he hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear“
Do not steal. Do not commit adultery. Do not murder.”

And he put the palms of his open hands
On my head with the Yom Kippur blessing.“Honor, love, that your days might be long On the earth.”  And my father’s voice was white like the hair on his head.
Later on he turned his face to me one last time
Like on the day when he died in my arms and said
I want to add Two to the Ten Commandments:
The eleventh commandment – “Thou shall not change.”
And the twelfth commandment – “Thou must surely change.”
So said my father and then he turned from me and walked off
Disappearing into his strange distances.

אבי היה אלוהים / יהודה עמיחי

אבי היה אלוהים ולא ידע.הוא נתן לי את עשרת הדיברות לא ברעם ולא בזעם, לא באש ולא בענן אלא ברכות ובאהבה. והוסיף לטופים והוסיף מילים טובות, והוסיף “אנא” והוסיף “בבקשה”. וזמר זכור ושמור בניגון אחד והתחנן ובכה בשקט בין דבר לדבר, לא תשא שם אלוהיך לשוא, לא תשא, לא לשוא, אנא, אל תענה ברעך עד שקר.וחבק אותי חזק ולחש באוזני, לא תגנב, לא תנאף, לא תרצח. ושם את כפות ידיו הפתוחות על ראשי בברכת יום כפור. כבד, אהב, למען יאריכון ימיך על פני האדמה. וקול אבי לבן כמו שער ראשו. אחר כך הפנה את פניו אלי בפעם האחרונה כמו ביום שבו מת בזרועותיי, ואמר:”אני רוצה להוסיף שנים לעשרת הדברות:הדבר האחד-עשר, “לא תשתנה”והדבר השנים-עשר,”השתנה, תשתנה”כך אמר אבי ופנה ממני והלך ונעלם במרחקיו המוזרים.

—Yehuda Amichai

The Give and Take of Torah

Our sages impress on us that Shavuot is the time of the Giving of Torah.  Giving and Receiving are seen as two separate acts.  The Giving is important because it is a one-time event and it is in the Receiving of Torah that we experience ongoing revelation. However, I think it is more complicated than that.  Both the Giving and the Receiving are inextricably bound together, two sides of the same coin. Both come with their own set of expectations and obligations.

Giving

A true gift is given freely and without strings attached.  Like so many of us, I have commented in the aftermath of the giving of a gift, with the gift box open and wrapping paper strewn, that “If you don’t like it, you can always bring it back.”  And that is true.  I do not want a gift to be kept merely to keep from offending me.  But whenever I give a gift, I select it thoughtfully and with care.  I want the gift I am giving to convey the meaning and love with which it was given. And I also want it to be loved and enjoyed.   So I rarely shop for Jewelry for my wife, unless I find something truly extraordinary that I know will fit her aesthetic sense.

Similarly, I believe the Gift of Torah is given with a similar intention.  It is given as an extraordinary expression of love that God has for his people.  And, if you will permit the anthropomorphism, I cannot help but think the Almighty would be crestfallen if we asked whether the receipt was still in the box somewhere.  Torah was not given just as a something for us to have.  It is to be a prized possession.  It is the greatest gift of all, short of life itself arguably.  There is an expectation and hope that we will embrace it fully and use it to guide our lives.

 Matan Torateinu, the Giving of our Torah, is more than something given in love.  This extraordinary act of Giving requires an equally extraordinary act of Receiving.  Sadly Torah can be rejected and “returned” as it were. It can be ignored, or possibly worse, misused as a means to exert power or personal gain at the expense of others.  All of us are diminished when one rejects Torah. Instead we hope to we turn it and turn it delving into its beauty and depth, revealing wisdom and ways for us to make meaning both in our relationship with God and in our relationships with each other.

Receiving

The Receiving of a gift is another matter.  I recall my mom teaching me as a boy, that it was proper to receive gifts with graciousness and gratitude.  The value of a gift lies in the intention with which it was given, not the price paid.  So understanding how a gift is given is very important to the receiver.  But what we actually do with the gift is up to us.

We determine how a gift is to be used.  A gift can be placed on a shelf.  It can be an object to be admired and appreciated.  But without interaction, it often does little more than collect dust.  Our willingness to engage it will determine how much it will mean to us.  But we must decide how to do this.  Even when the giver advises us how to use our gift, it is ultimately up to us.

And certainly when we do interact with it, the way we do it is also under our control, even when the gift is Torah.  We can return to it regularly or sporadically, we can be ready to engage fully or we could be more nonchalant, ready to pick up where we left off or to start afresh, we can be literal or figurative in interpretation.   We can plumb its depth and seek ways that it speaks to us and guides us.  It is said that when a piece of art or great literature leaves its creator, it becomes that which the recipient decides it will become.  All the more so Torah; for Torah is the supreme such work and yet still can only have as much meaning as we are willing to impart to it.

 I recall a Midrash spinning a story about the moment the people received Torah.  God lifts the mountain and suspends it over B’nei Yisrael by a thread.  The people are told they have a choice to accept or reject Torah.  But if they reject Torah, God will let go.  I actually prefer to understand the story another way.  The gift of Torah is the thread itself.  The world, as the mountain, can be harsh and cruel and the weight of the world can be crushing.  Torah gives us the ability to live under the reality that is our world and keep it from destroying us, instead giving us the opportunity for a full and meaningful existence.  Torah is the ultimate lifeline.

 In this case, both the receiving and the giving are dynamic.  We are always in the process of receiving, and arguably God is also always in the process of giving.  The Torah writ large is a living work, continuing to expand and evolve.  Both giver and receiver are actively involved in the process.  Both are intimately involved in the give and take.

 So how do we do justice to the gift of Torah?

For one thing, it is to embrace it with vigor to engage it and find how it speaks to us in ways that can affect our lives.  How do we grapple and test and probe with a sense of reverence and gratitude that comes from knowing Torah is given in love and the giver hopes that this priceless gift will be used for all its worth.

Responding to the Rejection of JStreet

Like so many others I am deeply troubled and saddened that the Council of Presidents rejected the application for membership by JStreet.  Let me reiterate the premise for inclusion:  the voices of all legitimate groups deserve a seat at the table so they may be heard in the collective that is supposed to be this council.  This is not an endorsement of any particular view but rather a respect for the right to express ideas and hopefully add to meaningful discussion within Klal Yisrael. The Council’s rejection of JStreet runs contrary to this foundational principle and I support the URJ’s position that the Council’s vote reflects that the Council “no longer serves its vital purpose of providing a collective voice for the entire American Pro-Jewish community.”

 At this juncture, we can either walk away or fight to amend the corrupt system now in place.  As tempting as the former may be, we should seriously try to change the system before throwing in the proverbial towel.  Because we believe in the need for a collective voice, we are obligated to do our best to maintain it.  So it would seem that the first course of action would be to change the already existing community to return it to the basic premise that drove creation of the Council.

 I urge all those who are disappointed by this sad turn of events to join together in an attempt to salvage the Council.  To walk away without first doing this is an admission that there is no chance for everyone to sit at the table together.  I would rather we tried and have those who won’t abide such an enlightened viewpoint opt to leave instead.  First we fight for that in which we believe.  Only if we find the fight is futile can we in good conscience walk away from the table.

Remembering- Seders past and Yizkor

Yizkor Pesach 2014

The Seder Table at my grandparent’s houses was one of those interesting affairs.  The table started in the dining room, made its way past the wall into the living room and hung a right turn into the foyer.  This was unlike my great-aunt on my father’s side, where the table started in the living room, ran through the dining room and into the kitchen, where the kids sat.  Now I realize why the two families never got along; I always thought it was because one was Galitziana and the other Litvak…

At Nanny and Grandpop’s house, my mom’s parents, the table seemed to groan under the weight of the Seder Plates and bowls of salt water and bottles of wine and the platters upon platters of food. The table was laden with a stuffed breast of veal and brisket, homemade gefilte fish and chicken soup with dill and soft matzoh balls that my father mocked because they were not hard enough.  My mom made them like rocks, which according to my father who actually loved them, could be used by the Israeli army as provisions to be eaten or if necessary as a weapon to be thrown.  I recall my hand being slapped by my grandfather as I tried to take the Afikomen a bit too early in the affair.  I eventually would get it, but only after an appropriate amount of time and tries had elapsed according to his calculations.  I recall the mixing of English and Hebrew, the raucous noise of talking, singing, laughing and of course arguing, and sharing the story from the Hagaddah. The three major denominations of Judaism were all represented and all joined together to celebrate this mix of religion and family at the festive table.

I can trace my life through my movement along that table.  I moved from the kids table, where I once chanted the “four questions,” to the main table where I chant the Kiddush, and ultimately now to sit at the head of the table to help lead the Seder.  And there I sat this year, with my wife’s family.

They have their own interesting rituals and traditions, as does each family.  But one is particularly worth noting.  At the conclusion of the Seder, my mother-in-law plugs in the cassette player with a very special recording.  They recorded her mother on one of her last Seders at the table, telling stories sharing recollections of times past and a poem.  My mother-in-law sits transfixed, the voice carries her someplace else as she listens to her mother re-tell the telling of the Exodus.  She drinks in her mother’s words and for those brief moments, Rose Mandel comes alive for her.  That is truly the high point of the Seder.  And why we need to commemorate those we loved this Yizkor.

For Yizkor is our time to remember.  It is our time to reflect back on those we loved.  This is our time to recognize how much they continue to mean to us.  Often they fade into the background.  We are so caught up in the day-to-day things that fill our time.  Kids, food, shopping, the house, the spouse and our own selves, just to name the short list.  But now is our time to remember them.  Those we loved, those who we have lost, often too soon.  Oh to have a few more moments of them.  For when we remember them, we remember the blessings they brought to our lives.  The richness that is ours because of them, the history that is uniquely our individual own because of the way they shaped and influenced our lives.  We remember to offer gratitude for their being in our lives.  We remember their best as a means to help propel us to be our best.  And therefore we remember them as we strive to create the memories for those who come after us as the legacy we leave to them in an unbroken chain of loving and caring.

It’s Time to Free Jonathan Pollard

For a long time, I resisted calls to free Jonathan Pollard.  He was convicted of treason, spying against the United States of America.  Although his punishment was more severe and although he spied on behalf of the State of Israel, an ally of the United States, his sentence seemed acceptable to me. He was a convicted spy serving a life sentence for betraying his country-that was okay in my book.

However, it is clear from the latest round of Middle East negotiations that Jonathan Pollard became little more than a political pawn, to be played in order to achieve a settlement.  If our own government admits that Pollard’s punishment can be overlooked to achieve a political end, then the reason for his original punishment seems to have run its course, and he has paid the price.  I do not believe a pardon is in order but it seems reasonable that we permit the time served be sufficient punishment for his treasonous acts.

 Notwithstanding the collapse of the complicated formula that included his release to bring an agreement to the Middle East peace talks, Pollard appears to be merely taking up space in a prison as far as the US Government is concerned.  So therefore, it seems appropriate to release and deport him to Israel.  Pollard does not matter to the United States anymore as evidenced by our willingness to release him. Dangling Pollard in front of those who might believe he matters, only serves to distract the two directly affected parties from the important and hard decisions they need to make.   So let us now take the only reasonable course of action, release Jonathan Pollard now.

Discipline at what Personal Cost?

Leaders or anyone concerned with the welfare of others can find themselves confronting a challenging personal conflict.  We saw this recently play out in parsha Shimini. Here, the story of Aaron is an extraordinary narrative illustrating the real tension in trying to navigate the waters between public and personal needs.  In parsha Shimini, there was an imbalance between the two competing needs and the cost of doing one at the expense of the other was overwhelming. 

Nadav and Abihu, Aaron’s sons are killed because they brought an offering of “alien fire” before God.  But instead of grieving as any father would, Aaron is admonished not to acknowledge this tragedy in any way.  He is to attend to his sacred duties. The needs of the Kahal outweigh the personal need.  So Aaron tries to fulfill his duties as the High Priest, as Moses instructed.  Aaron is completely silent, suppressing everything related to this horrific incident.  It is only when Moses chastises Aaron’s remaining two sons for improper ritual that Aaron breaks his silence.  Aaron yells at Moses, unable to contain the emotion that has been bottled up inside.

 Moses was so disciplined, that the needs of the Kahal came before everything else including mourning the loss of the two young men, his nephews, Aaron’s sons.  Moses could only see the need to properly perform the priestly service to the Almighty on behalf of the people.  But it is not his sons that have been slain.  Aaron tried to accede to the demands of his position and do as Moses instructed.  He however was unable to maintain the discipline of Moses. But when Aaron broke down and showed his pain, Moses was moved and in an act of humanity consoles his grieving brother.

 How often are we overwhelmed when a decision has to be made?  Often life confronts us with an “either/or” choice.  We do not have the luxury of the “both/and” that we speak of in our theoretical and lofty discussions.  So often we judge others by the choices they make, when in fact, they often do not see that there was a choice at all.  I recall a profoundly difficult time when this happened to me.

 We sat in shock in the hospital waiting area immediately after my mom’s death.  My dad started to cry.  Then suddenly he sucked it all up, steeling himself to the situation saying, “I have to be strong.” And the tears stopped flowing.  I on the other hand, could not “be strong.”  I needed to grieve, whatever form that took.  I remembered a conversation I had with my mom where she asked me if I would cry for her when she was gone.  I did.

 The differences in our reactions to her death created a rift between my father and me.  I needed to mourn in my own way and I could not do it with someone who was trying to impose such control.  How different might our experiences have been if I could have understood the discipline my father was trying to exert upon himself.  We might have found strength in each other and maybe even the space to share this profoundly sad moment in much more supportive ways. If instead of harsh judgment, I could have found compassion.  If instead of toughening himself for some idealized vision of what it meant to be the head of the household, he could have shared his grief with me.  It took me a long time to begin to understand.  If only I knew then what I know now.

Big is the new Small

As we re-imagine the synagogue’s place in American Jewish life new ideas and old ideas meld together to create interesting opportunities.  The synagogue remains an important hub of Jewish community.  However, relationships have moved to the forefront in our understanding as a way of creating communities that reach out to those on the outside and nurture those already within its arms.  The implications of a relationship model affect all aspects of synagogue life including the size of the synagogue.

 Traditional wisdom indicates that smaller tends to be better.  A lesser number makes it easier for people, including the rabbi to know one another and hopefully foster deeper relationships within the group.  Smaller is therefore also consistent with our increased emphasis on individuality. Today it is preferable to find a smaller group that shares our beliefs, rather than subsuming our own ideas to the larger and more expansive congregation of times past. When money flowed more freely and joining the synagogue was part of the natural order of things, new congregations were formed, new buildings were built, congregations grew and life was good.

In many ways, life remains good, but the traditional synagogue model is now being challenged.  The drive towards individuality is stronger than ever but the need for community continues. People however, are not flocking to join in the numbers they once did.   This challenge is in fact an opportunity for a new synagogue model to emerge where the ideas of small and large can join synergistically; We can create a large synagogue, which itself is an amalgam of smaller congregations or communities.  Many successful synagogues already practice this concept.  In each traditional area of synagogue life, multiple opportunities or access points exist both within and outside the “synagogue walls.” But the synagogue walls have been expanded to hold many ideas and defray the expenses associated with running an operation.

Traditional services are held parallel to alternative services.  Opportunities to congregate and to learn can be expanded.  Teachers can focus on the things they know well while the larger number of teacher increases the scope of offerings.  There is also the added benefit of programs, including the teaching, being more easily accessible to a broader community. People in this environment are exposed to things they might not have previously considered. Schools likewise can be combined reaping the benefits of size.  The community develops a richness and vibrancy because of the depth and breadth of opportunities to engage Jewishly that historically was limited to only the largest or most well heeled congregations.   This is being done with success around the country.  So if it is already done, what else is there to do?

 The challenge is for existing congregations to see this as an opportunity to remain vibrant rather than as a threat to their existence. Smaller congregations struggle to meet the budget and support the overhead.  Maintaining a physical structure becomes a monumental challenge in its own right, often leaving little time for much else.  The congregational leaders become so busy with the operations of the place they have little time left to build the sacred relationships within its walls.  Joining together creates efficiencies of size in addition to diversity of programming available to a larger community.  A larger physical structure yields space for multiple groups to share.  But there are also the opportunities that arise when the smaller groups join together.

The large synagogue creates a critical mass, a Klal Yisrael.  Such unity within a community becomes a cohesive power, while the individual voice and intimate relationships are preserved and honored. There will be times when everyone will want to gather together.  Then the temporary walls that might separate the smaller sanctuary spaces can be opened up, literally and figuratively speaking, creating a larger space in which everyone can join.

There are distinct and real challenges to putting such a synagogue model in place, but the opportunity to create communities of meaning that thrive is too great to overlook, and the existing pressure many congregations feel cannot be ignored.  Besides, in many places it seems to work.