Am Yisrael – Jewish Relationships Initiative

Sacred Work in Pittsburgh

I have just returned from a deployment to Pittsburgh with the American Red Cross.

For any of my colleagues who have experienced grief, the trauma experienced by the Pittsburgh Jewish community is similar, but orders of magnitude larger. Despite all of the wonderful Jewish institutions that make up the community, Federation, JFCS, the JCC, and all the synagogues, the event was bigger and more catastrophic than anyone could have imagined would happen in 2018. The American Red Cross (ARC) stepped in to help as it does in all disasters and I was called upon to join in the effort.

I joined the Disaster Spiritual Care Team of ARC as a volunteer watching their work in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey. As a rabbi, I believe this is important and sacred work, and I needed to be part of the team that did that. So, when the call came to assist my own people in the wake of this unspeakable horror, I knew I had to go.

For the Pittsburgh massacre, Rabbis were selected because of the Red Cross’ desire to work with the Jewish community; we know the “language” and are the people to help in creating a liaison, bridging more effectively to the community to share the wealth of services offered with those in need. We focused on communications with institutions and then reaching out to individuals as was possible. It is impossible for two rabbis to care for a community of almost 50,000, so we worked to create connections. It was also clear that we needed to support the rabbis and others who were desperately trying to serve their people while struggling themselves to find strength and succor. Much of the healing work that needs to be done won’t be accurately assessed for some time. As others have noted, this past week we have been sprinting at the beginning of a marathon. And furthermore, the nightmare and the work of healing goes far beyond the Jewish community, all of Pittsburgh suffered this trauma

I was there to help bury people, say Kaddish, attend services and vigils and do what I could, as meager as that sometimes seemed. I held people and I cried (a lot), but mostly I was just present- an empathetic embrace to those in awful anguish and pain to let them know they were not alone in their time of extraordinary grief.

There are multiple levels to this event, like ripples from a stone hitting the water. The families, the congregations, the Jewish Community, the people of Pittsburgh, Jews across the country and the people of America, each has been touched by these murders in Pittsburgh. Each community needs to understand how it has been impacted and how we relate to the others who have also been impacted. It is complicated and it will take time.

The Jewish Community came together. The denominational differences that often separate us were set aside. Funeral services were packed to overflowing as were Friday and Saturday services. And so importantly, we were not alone.

I was heartened to see the greater Pittsburgh community response to this tragedy. The outpouring of love, the sharing of the horror, clearly said to me that the Jews of Pittsburgh are part of the community of Pittsburgh and the community is appalled by this horrible thing perpetrated on a part of it. This sense of unity is an extraordinary and wonderful counter-response to the feelings of isolation or the existential threats that members of the Jewish community may be feeling.

Many others from other faith traditions joined us. For example, I spent time with a family of the Bruderhof tradition (an Anabaptist denomination) who I met at a funeral service held in the Reform Temple Rodeph Shalom and again at the Shabbat morning services held at the Conservative Synagogue Beth Shalom. They were there to be with us. I found some comfort in expressing my deep appreciation for their presence and helping them to understand our siddur, the readings from Torah and Haftarah, and some of the common themes of our faith traditions.

The Moslem community raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for the Victim’s fund. They also offered to create a physical wall of people to surround synagogues in a show of solidarity and protection. All faith traditions joined with us in solidarity as this was an assault against all of us. Our common humanity brought us all together. It was an inspiring message of hope and love.

Rabbi Jeffrey Myers has been remarkably eloquent speaking to the community with important messages as a witness to the horror and as one who has been harshly criticized by some for his welcoming of the President to Tree of Life Synagogue. Rabbi Myers taught in his D’var Torah this past Saturday that if he was to truly practice the values we preach, he was obligated to respectfully welcome the President of the United States into his Jewish home. This also gave Rabbi Myers the opportunity to directly state to the President the need for him to stop the hate speech.

In the midst of it all, the Kiddush after Shabbat services was used to share Sheva Brachot, the recitation of blessings to a wedding couple. For one of the extraordinary Pittsburg rabbis and his wife were just married. We sang the blessings and then everyone burst out in Od Yeshama and we started to dance. Watching my two new friends lead the community in joy and celebration of the hope represented by their marriage brought all of us to our feet. Her unbridled exuberance made all of the pain disappear for a short while. I cried as I clapped and sang as hard as I could.

People are quick to explain why this happened offering ideas that are more pronouncements rather than thoughtful quiet dispassionate analysis. I suggest that it is premature to try to address the question why. It is deeply layered and complex and we are still in the midst of the acute trauma making such conversation and inquiry too highly charged and all but impossible. Instead, as a thoughtful colleague in Pittsburgh suggested, we might instead look towards the question how. How do we move forward in the aftermath is a question that will yield more pragmatic answers that will help those struggling to get through. We will do better to engage in those conversations for now.

The people of Pittsburgh are strong and resilient. But they are hurting badly and deeply. In the name of Klal Yisrael and as fellow Americans, we have an obligation to be there for Pittsburgh’s Jews as the immediacy of the trauma and shock wears off and the struggle to heal begins. We are forever changed by this. May we learn constructive lessons so that those lost as true martyrs in the Jewish tradition will not have died in vain. May their memories be for a blessing.

Take Comfort

The Prophet Isaiah Predicts the Return
Maerten van Heemskerck

“Nachamu, Nachamu Ami”- Take comfort, my people. So begins Isaiah 40, the readings we use for the Shabbat after Tisha B’Av.

Tisha B’Av is a day of deep sorrow, for so many of the catastrophes that have befallen the Jewish people are linked to this day. We fast and read the book of Lamentations recalling the destruction of the First Temple.

The prophet’s urging to take comfort seems more than for us to be consoled in our time of grief. It urges us to look beyond our grief. For we will rise up, continuing life continuing the ongoing work as partners in God’s creation in spite of, or perhaps because of the loss that we encounter. We will remember, but we are exhorted to move forward both as individuals and as a people. The world will go on and we must take our place to continue to build.

History has shown that out of the ashes, like a phoenix, we will rise up. Carrying our memories of what was lost, we will create new memories. As we commemorate the losses marked on Tisha B’Av, we also take tentative but deliberate steps forward out of our grief towards our tradition’s aspirations of a better world that we work to create and we find our comfort through this renewed purpose.

When we rise from Shiva, we are instructed to go outside and walk around the block. This is symbolic of our reentering the world. Changed because of our loss, but compelled to move forward honoring the memory of the loved one lost, or in this case, the loss befallen upon our people. The values we hold dear; caring for the widow and stranger, clothing the naked and feeding the hungry are the cornerstones for the ongoing work of Tikkun Olam and creation that is ever-present. We must also vote; for voting is our most precious special franchise granted to all who are blessed to live in the United States. We can leverage our work through elected representatives fighting for us to achieve our vision of a better world.

We rise not only with our voices but with our actions. For ours is to pray with our feet, as Rabbi Heschel once said. We can make our country and our world a better and more compassionate place through our actions. Nachamu, Nachamu Ami.

Shabbat Shalom

An interesting way to welcome Shabbat from 8th Day, an American Chasidic pop-rock band from California.

Enjoy and Shabbat Shalom!

Shabbat Shalom

This Shabbat I wanted to share something delightfully offbeat. This is Cantor Moshe Mendelson singing the Yiddish song Romania Romania. For about 45 years he has been the Jazan (Cantor) of Mexico City and yes, he is accompanied by a Mariachi Band. It is a delightful blending of cultures and nationalities and Judaism. This song is my chance to share a vision of Klal Yisrael.

It has been another tumultuous week filled with challenge and pain. Shabbat is here. For a moment, enjoy this respite.

Shabbat Shalom

The legacy of the Exodus

We are in the midst of that transformational epic Jewish creation myth known as the Exodus. This is the beginning of the discussion of our core identity a God who has freed us from bondage so that we may serve. There is an inherent tension in this idea freedom and service juxtaposed. But also at play is our meaning relative to this Eternal One. When do we actually count? Are we only meaningful in a corporate existence in the arc of history, or do individuals matter?

The narrative begs the question by leading with being remembered after 210 years sojourning in Egypt. Then God remembers and 600thousand with their families are lead out. We cross into the wilderness and begin a two-week trek to the Promised Land that takes 40 years, a deliberate amount of time so that the entire generation that was freed will not survive to reach their goal. What about those poor souls who suffered during 210 years of deteriorating conditions in Egypt? What about those poor souls who would have found satisfaction with enough food to eat and water to drink and would have returned to bondage just for those basic needs? There are many who did not make it along the way. What about them?

For so many of us, living in this new Promised Land came at the expense of untold millions who suffered harsh lives and died ignominious deaths at human hands that practiced hate. How do we remember them properly, with respect and the knowledge that were it not for them, we would not be here. Can we simply say “there but for the grace of God Go I” that we are merely the lucky ones? Aren’t we compelled to practice an active gratitude acknowledging and cherishing those who have come before to make our lives possible and using our blessings and positions to help those who continue to struggle, who have not experienced full redemption? Our tradition suggests that it is our responsibility, not God’s.

When we say goodbye to someone we grieve the loss as we should. The tradition says Zichrono Livracha- May their memory be a blessing. Our task is to fulfill this aspiration and continue to journey.

Miracles can happen when you don’t forget about me

For something truly extraordinary to happen, we must include the people already inside the tent.

In Vayeira I see an important message about inclusivity, but it’s not what you think. Everyone looks at Abraham’s hospitality, running to the three men and offering rest, food and drink, and honor. But it is only when Sara comes from the tent that the great miracle of prophecy occurs. This is a most important message for us in these changing times.

We properly reach out to people outside our tent in an effort to practice inclusivity and outreach. But as we reach out we must also reach within to make sure that those already within the tent feel equally honored and valued.

People regularly leave the synagogue community because they no longer find anything there for them. Parents leave once the child has been “Bar-Mitzvahed” and Boomers leave because they do not see value in belonging. But helping to develop a child’s value system and sense of community has only just begun with Bar-Mitzvah, and finding support in a caring community is never more important than when we confront the challenges of middle age and beyond. Our synagogues are as important as ever, but destined to struggle with membership (and finances) if we do not find ways to communicate a value proposition that resonates for those already in the tent. Those front doors we want to fling open to welcome newcomers are also open to those looking to leave. We need to help them understand why they would want to stay.

Sara prepared the cakes to serve the messengers and standing at the tent’s opening, she scoffed with incredulity at the vision the men proclaimed. Our congregants too find the future difficult to accept, but it is our sacred task to give them a vision of an extended family and the caring community they are unable to imagine for themselves. As we seek to evolve and broaden our reach, we must always remember to continuously nurture those who have already aligned with us so they continue to embrace our important values and keep our tent full.

The Kotel Compromise- A win or pyrrhic victory?

The Kotel is a special place. As a remnant of the Temple, we have gravitated to it to feel a special closeness to our history, to a Divine place, the home for the Almighty that we built. We feel a deep emotional and often mystical connection that draws us into the space. Otherwise it is nothing more than a large brick wall.

I recall arriving in Jerusalem for my first year of rabbinical school in Israel. I got off the plane, hopped into the sherut to Jerusalem dropped off the bags and then headed to the Wall. It was late. I had traveled for what seemed like days and although exhausted, I was compelled to go to the Wall. The emotions welled up from deep inside. I stood in the plaza gazing upon this place. With the kind of intense reverence and awe that happens rarely, I slowly approached the Wall. It was powerful. The thing that happened to me was an extraordinary moment, an encounter between my history, my people, my God and me. But the Kotel is not the sole place of my Judaism. The Makom or place of my Judaism extends beyond time and space and includes the idea of a Jewish people. This vision of Judaism however is compromised by the very compromise announced to create separate spaces for different kinds of Jews to pray.

The arrangement for the space at the Wall has in many ways undermined what the space itself means for Judaism. Each denomination of Judaism now has a place it can call its own. The Wall of the Temple has been segregated, sliced and diced so each sect has an area where it can feel comfortable. The gain of a place for egalitarian Jews at the wall however is also the loss of the symbol of the Wall for us all as a place of unity; for these partitions are along the fault lines of Ashkenazic observances segregating us from each other instead creating a place accessible to everyone. The remnant of where God dwelled amidst the Jewish people has become a place of division and discord within God’s people.

We have all seen the photographs of the wall at the turn of the century. Men and women were there together. The Wall was a private space to connect individually in a public place. How you practiced or the community with which you identified did not matter. In the early post-1967 days that sense of Klal Yisrael permitted a similar experience. It was fleeting, and sadly, it has devolved into staking territory in a turf war. Although liberal Judaism may have won something important in getting a place at the wall to pray, we must regretfully acknowledge that in this agreement something else important continues to elude us, namely the unity of the Jewish people.

Perhaps we should re-focus the issue as one regarding the kind of ceremony and ritual that are generally permitted in this public private space. The kinds of rituals that permit us to be together could be more important in the grand scheme of things than the particular observances that create schisms among us. In my experience I was solitary but in communion with Am Yisrael. Under our current circumstances an experience at the Wall might require we visit both areas, one to be among those who share our beliefs and practice and the other to be with another part of our people, to taste their experience and ponder the ideas of the Judaism values that guides us all and strive to create a Judaism that connects us all.

Am I my Brother’s Keeper?- Israel and Me

The haunting question from Cain’s lips in response to God was the rhetorical non-answer when asked of Abel’s whereabouts. Cain and God both knew what had become of Abel and Cain’s response has been read as a guilt-ridden deflection from the true answer: Yes.

As a Diaspora Jew, so too, I am responsible to my Israeli brothers and sisters. The understanding of our relationship as family contextualizes the obligation. I cannot force my sibling to act, but I am certainly invested in her welfare. I do not walk in my sibling’s shoes, but if I see him appear to go astray I am duty-bound to voice my concern. Whether my perspective is accepted or rejected, I am compelled to share my thoughts because I care. This is harder to do however when I feel my voice is rebuffed or my views disrespected, when it feels as though my sibling acts with the arrogance of the prodigal son. But my love for my brothers and sisters obliges me to speak nonetheless.

It is in that tension that we find ourselves now. Chemi Shalev, the eminent Israeli journalist, is right to express his concern that we in the United States are not speaking up forcefully enough. But an Israel Prime Minister that foments the political divide among American Jews and a Chief Rabbinate that expressly refuses to acknowledge my practice of Judaism are but two ways my voice is repressed. And yet I must speak.

I care deeply about Israel, both the state and the aspirations it represents. Israel is a homeland to my people. It is deeply rooted in my narrative creating profound meaning. Israel is also a refuge for my people from a hostile world. Equally important, Israel is also a place where Jewish values might live and thrive. These values include belief in the sanctity of human life and a system of laws that guide just behavior. These principles guide a place where they can be lived and realized, no longer the province of a powerless people. Rather than a nation like all other nations, Israel is a light unto the Nations.

Israel can be a beacon of hope, striving to better herself through the proper treatment of her citizens and the protection of the weak. She is to be a nation of laws equally applied, a country striving towards the highest moral standards internally and externally in her treatment of friend and foe alike. Sometimes Israel falls short. It is our responsibility to lovingly speak out when she does, based on our deep caring for Israel and what Israel means to us and to the world. And we must continue to speak up undeterred by those who might find us an annoyance or at odds with their particular worldview.

I am my brother’s keeper.

Klal Yisrael- Unity against hatred and bigotry

Fortunately there is pushback

The rise of Islamophobia in our country is deeply troubling. All people who embrace American Ideals should be troubled, speaking out and pushing back against this racism. Only those overwhelmed by fear or hatred can find the anti-Islamic message comforting. We Jews find this particularly problematic because our history is rife with persecution of the most horrific kinds.

Klal Yisrael is speaking out. All our denominations, all of our respected institutions are renouncing acts of hatred and the perpetrators. Whether it is the desecration of a mosque in Philadelphia or the vitriol of hate mongers, Jewish values do not abide the despicable acts that are eerily similar to those historically experienced by our people.

Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, The Union for Reform Judaism, Rabbinical Reconstructionist College, Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbinical Assembly, Rabbinical Council of America and the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America, Aleph, just to name a few, have spoken against xenophobia and hatred. Our own Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia and our Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia’s JCRC under the leadership of Adam Kessler have also expressed support of the Moslem community in response to the Mosque desecration.

I am heartened as an American, as a Jew and as a Rabbi that we reaffirm our Jewish values at this time. Regardless of how we practice, our Judaism commands us to take this principled stand. Although Chanukah has passed, the miracle of light continues to shine for all of us.

Kavannah for Shabbat of Unity with the People of Israel

One of our great teachers, Rabbi David Wolpe, shared the following Kavannah, prayer, for this Shabbat. I am honored to share his eloquent and thoughtful words below:

We invite people around the world to recite this kavannah in unity with the State of Israel this Shabbat, October 17, 2015

El Maleh Rachamim — Compassionate God,

We pray not to wipe out haters but to banish hatred.

Not to destroy sinners but to lessen sin.

Our prayers are not for a perfect world but a better one

Where parents are not bereaved by the savagery of sudden attacks

Or children orphaned by blades glinting in a noonday sun.

Help us dear God, to have the courage to remain strong, to stand fast.

Spread your light on the dark hearts of the slayers

And your comfort to the bereaved hearts of families of the slain.

Let calm return Your city Jerusalem, and to Israel, Your blessed land.

We grieve with those wounded in body and spirit,

Pray for the fortitude of our sisters and brothers,

And ask you to awaken the world to our struggle and help us bring peace.