Reform Judaism – Jewish Relationships Initiative

We’ve made it here after all

There is much we can learn from the tragedy of Pittsburgh. Important among them is that we have realized our parent ’s dream; we are truly a part of America. This awful incident marks a new understanding of our community’s place within the larger American society. Yes, we have made it here. But what that means is now different.

I am suggesting a new definition of “making it here” which is not about assimilation but rather acculturation, maintaining a blended Jewish and American identity, an American subgroup securely joining not only in the fight for our American ideals but also in the proximate threat of Anti-Semitism. This ability to fully and unapologetically embrace our dual identities, engage in championing and defending the ideals and values for us and for all, while confident and secure of our rightful place as citizens; this is what it means to “make it in America.”

Many of our forebears were content with the economic opportunity America offered, as well as the refuge from violence and persecution that were part the life of their homelands. They sought survival, not equality, imagining they might assimilate and become Americans. Although great strides were made, lingering fear and insecurity kept the American Jewish voice from being bolder in demanding action to save the Jews of Europe. The “go along to get along” mentality is part of our past. We are secure enough in our place as Americans to fight for ourselves and for others. Yet darkness lingers and Anti-Semitism persists.

We have long embraced the notion that none are free until all are free and we fight on behalf of others yet to enjoy the full blessings of our country. But now, with White Nationalism and Anti-Semitism, on the rise we have a renewed personal stake in the fight. This struggle against hate and violence is harsher and more hardscrabble than our previous contests for justice and equality, such as those against quotas or deed restrictions. The “no coloreds, Jews, or dogs “ signs from what we thought was a vanquished past reappears in our consciousness. The privileged position many thought we enjoyed needs to be reconsidered and recast.

For most of our history, we Jews have taken care of ourselves. Our morning prayer, Eilu D’varim, include the obligations we set out for ourselves as responsible members of the community: visiting the sick, burying the dead, comforting the mourner among them. We have developed our own institutions devoted to assisting in those practices. HIAS, Jewish Hospitals, and Jewish Universities were created to respond to the needs of our people. Our modern Federation, JCC, and JFCS can trace their roots to this historical understanding that we have been segregated from the broader society; that we had to rely on ourselves to provide for us, as the larger society in which we lived would not. From this self-reliance, we have then reached out to assist others.

The understanding of our mission of helping those in need, the social justice mission at the heart of Tikkun Olam and Tzedakah, emanates from the values of compassion and outreach to the unheard and unseen. Because of our history, Jews have been reluctant to accept help from outsiders, even as we support others. We have been quick to join the fight for Civil Rights but slow to bring outsiders into our places of need. Perhaps, due to our history, such help is suspect, perceived in our collective psyche as a sign of weakness or vulnerability. Pittsburgh has changed that.

When we examine our history, we wonder whether our golden age in America was fleeting or is it enduring. I believe it is the latter, but it is none-the-less threatened by malevolent forces. A recent poll[1] indicated that almost 6% of the non-Hispanic American population, or about 11million, subscribes to the views of the Alt-Right. This means two very important things: First, 94% don’t accept these hate-filled views AND second, that a real Anti-Semitic threat exists. Both of these are part of our reality and we must be alert to the implications of both.

The overwhelming nature of the horror perpetrated upon the Jews in Tree of Life Synagogue has knocked us down with a blunt force that was overwhelming. Every resource we have is insufficient to provide a full measure of comfort. We are indeed vulnerable at this moment. And at this moment, something miraculous happened. The community of Pittsburgh rose up and is trying its best to hold us. Pittsburgh’s various communities, Moslem, Christian, and practically everyone else have come to our aid saying to our Jewish community, “you are one of us and we are appalled. An attack on you is an attack on Pittsburgh, and this will not stand.”

We have in our history experienced extraordinary acts of kindness from outsiders, such as the King of Denmark and the Righteous Gentiles of the Holocaust. And here in 2018 America, the Jewish community needed help and the broader community responded. We are not alone, we are America, supporting and now being supported by our brothers and sisters. It is an extraordinary light shining on a very dark experience. Thank you for your love and support. The refugees who are our forebears have seen their dream of America come true. We are inextricably part of the fabric of America, in both its glory and in its struggle. In the names of those Jewish martyrs so tragically lost, let us join with all others of good will continuing the hard and fraught process to realize the aspirations of the American dream.

[1] University of Alabama, George Hawley, published by UVA’s Institute of Family Studies indicates 5.64% of the 198mm non-Hispanic Whites in the United States have beliefs consistent with the Alt-Right’s worldview.

Challenges of Yom HaShoah

Monday evening, local synagogues gathered to jointly commemorate Yom HaShoah. There was power in our being together. This moving event included an insightful author, powerful readings, and a beautiful choir performing stirring and poignant music. I could not help but notice three things that were missing. There weren’t any young people; although there were four congregations gathered, the sanctuary was barely full; and the program was very particular, focused on the Holocaust as a Jewish event without broader implications.

Were it not for the choir, there was barely a handful of young people (under 55, let alone kids) in the audience. The meaning of this seminal event of the Jewish people cannot be lost when first generation witnesses and their children die. How do we keep the message of remembrance alive and relevant?

With four congregations gathered, the sanctuary should have been filled to overflowing. The choir took a substantial portion of the sanctuary space. Judging by attendance, the Holocaust is becoming a distant detached part of our past. The March of the Living has become increasingly popular, but this is a minuscule percentage of the Jewish people actively remembering every year. We are challenged to find ways to connect to the world that is disconnecting from the memory of the Shoah. Why is it so easy to forget and what does that say about us as a community of caring people?

The Holocaust is an event unique to the Jewish people. But genocide is not. The particular experience of the Jews needs to become a universal cry to humankind for humanity. This explains perhaps why survivors speak to all children everywhere sharing their stories, not just with Jewish children at Jewish schools. Part of the Shoah’s power is that it happened in a time and place where it seemed unimaginable to many, and it was permitted because of silence and complicity in the atrocity. It happened to the Armenians, it happened to others, and it is happening now even as I write these words.

Do we have the moral courage to speak out and act, or will we find a rationalization to ignore the carnage that does not directly affect us? It is the great question for the civilized world and the great teaching moment of the Shoah. Will we learn and effect change from our experience?

Saying goodbye to a dear old friend

April 15 will be the final day in the life of Temple Beth El in Spring Valley. That was my home growing up. She has merged with another and is now part of the new Reform Temple of Rockland County. Her time has passed, but it is so difficult to say goodbye to a place that is so much a part of me. I learned so much there, developed friendships that still endure, knowledge of my heritage that connects me, a lens through which to look at life and understand it, giving me the foundation upon which to build a meaningful life. It was in this place that I learned about things greater than myself, what it meant to be Jewish, what it meant to be a mensch. My rabbi, Rabbi Frishman z”l, and my cantor, Cantor Weinflash z”l, were towering figures then and still serve as guides along my path. Saying goodbye to this special place is very hard.

The building was much more than a structure; in many ways it was as much home to me as the place I went to lay my head at night. Temple was a place of extraordinary and wonderful experiences. I learned in the classrooms and to teach there as well, to sing in the choir box, to pray in the pews, to engage in the community, to champion important values and causes, to learn about culture and art, to develop a love of Israel and the Jewish people, to ponder great questions and explore the answers, to find meaning under the watchful care of those who loved and nurtured me.

At Temple I became Bar Mitzvah and was married. At Temple I said goodbye to my parents. Our family names adorn the honor wall and Yahrzeit plaques, my dad’s name on the panel of presidents, pictures of me and my brother and sister standing on the bima as part of our confirmation classes, art contributed by my parents, and on and on and on. Words alone are inadequate to express the depth of my emotional attachment this place represents. Almost every corner of the building has a memory of my time there growing up. I am truly blessed to have been there and been a part of it.

On April 15, we will gather one last time in the Sanctuary of Temple to welcome Shabbat and celebrate a place so many of us called home. Temple Beth El lives on in the people who received the gifts from being involved there. Times change and once useful buildings can outlive their purpose, but the relationships and the beauty created in this special place will endure. This is the blessing of Temple bestowed upon us.

Welcome to Elul

The month of Elul precedes the High Holidays. We use it to prepare for these Days of Awe. It can be a magical time.

The preparation is the mental and spiritual “getting ready” so that the holidays take on deeper significance. Almost anything we do is done better if we are prepared for it. So how do we prepare?

Traditionally each day starts with the blowing of the Shofar at the conclusion of morning prayers. The awesome penetrating sound is called a “wake up call” by one of our great sages Maimonides. For those of us without ram’s horns, each day still can have moments where we weave emotions and thoughts, heart and mind, and contemplate who we are. It could be formal learning like reading a Psalm, I will share some ideas going forward. Try Psalm 27 (read it at the end of this essay) or maybe Psalms 4, 5 and 6 if you would like to follow our Hasidic friends tradition. For others a moment in front of the mirror might work.

A quiet conversation with ourselves might work better for many. Where are we in our life? Is it where we expected? What is our unfinished business and what do we need to do to complete the task? What about our personal relationships? Who do we need to forgive and, at least as important, who needs to forgive us? This introspective process during Elul leads to the “Day of Judgment.”

The Day of Judgment we know from our childhood stories is a time when the ledger book is opened up in Heaven and the Almighty determines who will live and who will die. But let me offer another interpretation:

If we are given the gift of life for another year, how will we use it? If life is truly a precious gift, how will we cherish it and make the most out of it? What can we do this year that will permit us to look back upon it and say it was time well spent?

Let’s spend the time now preparing for an awesome year to come.

Psalm 27 (JPS Translation)

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.

Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.

One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple.

For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me up upon a rock.

And now shall mine head be lifted up above mine enemies round about me: therefore will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy; I will sing, yea, I will sing praises unto the LORD.

Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me, and answer me.

When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek.

Hide not thy face far from me; put not thy servant away in anger: thou hast been my help; leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation.

When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.

Teach me thy way, O LORD, and lead me in a plain path, because of mine enemies.

Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty.

I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.

It is Time to Stake our Claim on the College Campus

It is time for the Reform Jewish Community to answer the call to the college campuses across the country. It is time that we commit to placing a Reform Rabbi on each campus with a significant Jewish student population. The goal should be to establish an endowed position so that the Reform voice will be heard. This Reform Rabbi will work with Hillel, but not for Hillel, freeing the rabbi to speak and act according to the best ideas of Reform including inclusivity, embracing modernity and Israel. Funding will come from donors who have a vested interest in their school of choice and the students who live and learn there. These groups include: Parents of Students, alumni and the students themselves.

There is an active battle underway for the hearts and minds of the college students. College is a critical juncture in their development as thinking, feeling people. We have a profound investment in the outcome. These young people represent the future of the Jewish people in America and therefore an important future voice of world Judaism. If they do not develop connections with their Jewishness or with the state of Israel, then this generation will not embrace either their Judaism or Israel when they take the reins of leadership from us. If we do not demonstrate in meaningful and tangible ways that we care passionately about our young people, it is left to others to influence the conversations on campus during this critical period of identity formation of our students.

We know that we can act boldly and when we do, we offer a vision that others will see and support. Whether or not you agree with him, Mr. Sheldon Adelson has clearly demonstrated both a passion for what he believes, and the ability to galvanize others into action, raising vast sums of money for his limited college vision. We are equally invested in our children and the future, which rests on their shoulders. It is time we rise to the occasion and stake a claim on our kids and our future.

Rabbi David M. Levin

this letter was sent to the leadership of the Reform Movement including CCAR, HUC and URJ

Looking in the mirror- an Elul Reflection

“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.

Stop the Sirens

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.

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

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

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

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

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

How power can work and how it can corrupt.

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

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

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

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

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

So how this story resonate for us today?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hannukah, Maccabees, Soviet Jewry, Freedom. We remember.

On the eve of Hanukkah thoughts turn to the meaning we glean from the ritual and what we remember, particularly the cause of freedom and what is necessary to achieve it. As we recall the Maccabees, I think of the words of acclaimed anthropologist Margaret Meade who once said, “Never Doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Many of us remember to that momentous time on December 6, 1987 when a quarter of a million people came together on the National Mall to protest during Premier Mikhael Gorbachev’s visit to Washington demanding that he “let my people go,” and grant the right of Soviet Jews to emigrate to Israel. But before 250,000 people could gather and speak with one voice, people needed to galvanize them. In fact it was on May 1, 1964, outside the Russian Legation to the United Nations in Manhattan, that the first mass public rally to support Soviet Jewry was held. This was the original committed core that started the process, and as they say, the rest is history. Those Soviet Jews that wanted to were eventually granted the right to make aliyah and go to live as Jews in the Land of Israel.

We celebrate those brave souls who risked their personal safety to stand for the ideal of freedom that is embodied in Judaism. We rightfully pay tribute to those who stood up and spoke to power there knowing free speech did not exist in that place, that such speech came at a great price. Those of us here in the United States were encouraged and energized by their voices and we joined ours to theirs. The cry for freedom grew louder and louder until it could no longer be ignored. The doors opened and the great exodus of the twentieth century began; the Jews of the Soviet Union came home.

We saw the power of the word defeat the mighty. We can and should celebrate this modern miracle. But the past is only prologue. For not all the Jews left. What of those that remained behind? They could have been forgotten as our attention focused on the new Olim and we reveled in our accomplishment. But that small committed group continues to make its voice heard and the Jews of the Former Soviet Union have also entered into a new era.

The Jews of the FSU are actively reconnecting with their Judaism that others had tried to take away two generations ago. With the help of outside groups such as the JDC there is a Jewish revival happening. It is not the whispers of Jews practicing their faith behind closed doors, but Jews being and doing Jewish in the open. To visit major urban centers in the FSU, Synagogues that had been shuttered or once repurposed as things like warehouses are now open for business as places of worship. We saw with amazement not only synagogues but also day schools and Jewish Community Centers. And even more remarkable, not only Chabad is there, but so are other streams of Judaism. An organic Judaism is taking hold as Jews rediscover and reconnect to their past, themselves, and their future.

The work is far from over. Rabbi Tarfon tells us in Pirkei Avot that “You are not duty bound to finish the work, but neither can you desist from it.” Judaism’s rise in the FSU, from near extinction to flourishing, is nascent. It remains our sacred obligation to use our power and influence to nurture Jews around the world seeking to connect with our sacred wisdom. We are there to open the doors and welcome our brothers and sisters to join Klal Yisrael. Our true tribute to those who have done so much for the cause of freedom is to continue the work that they started and help the next generation of Jews.