I recently went to pay a Shiva call. Among the small group was an orthodox rabbi. We chatted and waited for a minyan to arrive. We made a couple of phone calls as the minyan was not materializing. To the surprise of some people in the room, the orthodox rabbi announced he was leaving. How can he do something so outrageous, someone demanded to know of me? It is so disrespectful; just who does he think he is anyway? On the contrary, I answered. The rabbi is acting with respect for the mourners. How can you say that? Because I continued, the rabbi cannot share certain prayers absent a minyan and he cannot be counted in a minyan unless it includes only men. We will only have a minyan if we count the women, so the rabbi did the only thing he thought he could do under the circumstances, he left and essentially gave us permission to proceed. It might seem strange to some, but he was being respectful of both his beliefs and those who were in mourning. In that moment, he found a way to uphold both.
There is room here to reflect on whether the decision was the correct one. Could not the rabbi have permitted himself to be counted for our purposes, never considering for himself that he has fulfilled his obligation? Wouldn’t his presence as a close family friend as a source of comfort override his interpretation of his obligation to his particular personal practice?
The important point is he found a workaround that in his mind upheld his competing duties as he understood them. Then it was up to me to be respectful of the decision whether I agreed or not. Here was a moment that could have created separation as easily as it could create community. It required both “sides” of the conversation to decide which one it was.
This week we lost Glenn Frey, a remarkable artist and musician. This song from the Eagles’ album Long Road Out of Eden is a lovely tribute and a guiding thought for us this Shabbat. Glenn reminds us that we leave the world to our children. What shall we leave behind as our legacy?
I was saddened to learn of Glenn Frey’s passing. His music and artistry were amazing gifts he shared with us all as a solo artist and through the Eagles. I watched the documentary and thought we will never see him perform again or share new poetry with us. But his legacy of music will endure. I could not help but turn inward and wonder what is my legacy?
This accounting is often referred to as Cheshbon HaNefesh in the Jewish Tradition. But it is more than looking back and making a list; the Cheshbon is more than a list, it is an assessment by us of ourselves. Such a perspective is much more than a posthumous accounting or someone else’s reflection; it means that we can be proactive managing this list and our lives for whatever time we have. We are active, not passive in the process of this accounting. Since it “ain’t over ‘till it’s over,” as the American Philosopher Yogi Berra said, we could change the course of our lives if we are willing to do so.
Often we leave important conversations unspoken. The discomforts we believe these conversations will cause make us shy away from them. But then we miss an extraordinary opportunity. It is never too late to tell those we love that indeed we do love them, until they are gone. We can talk about our lives, the triumphs and the tribulations, the things in which we had success and the times when we missed the mark. We can give them an understanding of their meaning to us; for too often those thoughts are not expressed. By sharing our aspirations and our vulnerabilities we can elevate our relationships by bringing those we care about close to us.
Not all of us possess the gifts of a Glenn Frey and not all of us will have the ability or opportunity to change the whole world. But we do have the capacity to change our piece of the world. We can decide what kind of relationships we create or nurture with those we care about. We choose to add our voice and our support to the people and causes we care about. Through these we change our piece of the world and our legacy is written by us.
Although our theologies are different, Jews and Christians share values of the Divine; this is a time of peace, love and hope, a taste of the world to come. This year, as we have celebrated the 50th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, we continue to build bridges of learning and understanding. We are finding opportunities in what we share even as we celebrate our differences. As it was for the visiting Angels for Shabbat in the song Shalom Aleichem, so too we pray, “May this always be so.”
Wishing our Christian brothers and sisters a very Merry Christmas and to my fellow Jews a Shabbat of peace and wholeness.
The Central Conference of American Rabbis condemns anti-Muslim bigotry worldwide, in America, and in the campaign for President of the United States. Specifically, we are horrified by Donald J. Trump’s proposal that all Muslims be barred even from visiting the United States, let alone immigrating, especially as refugees are escaping persecution by the very forces that threaten the western world.
Discrimination on the basis of religion is un-American, unconstitutional, and dangerous. Jewish history has taught us that those who will discriminate on the basis of religion threaten the lives and well-being of countless human beings. As Jews, we know the heart of the stranger, and we will not stand idly by when members of another religious group are singled out as strangers.
Rabbi Denise L. Eger Rabbi Steven A. Fox
President Chief Executive
With all the troubling things out there, let us all take a moment to recognize the many blessings we have. On this wonderful day that celebrates our bounty let’s find room to be thankful for what we have and resolve to share with those less fortunate in the year ahead.
The gift of our presence to another person is among the greatest presents we can share. Give to the cause that supports others and makes your heart feel gladness and deepen relationships with those around you.
I keep repeating that thought as I hear Americans clamoring to shut the doors to Syrian refugees.It is about fear of terrorists infiltrators I have been told.I am fearful too, but I am fearful that we risk losing our way and our fear for our security are making us xenophobic and racist in ways not seen since the Japanese were interred in American Concentration camps and Jews were returned to Germany for extermination.I am fearful that we risk losing the moral bearings that have been our guiding star.I am fearful that the principles upon which our country was founded are becoming empty words of a time gone by.
We cannot let fear overwhelm us.We claim the words of Emma Lazarus, immortalized at the Statue of Liberty. We welcome the tired and poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free.The Syrian refugees certainly fit that description and so did we.We were once considered the refuse of the world, each of us with an ancestor who came here for the chance at a better life. When lives are hanging in the balance, how can we turn our backs?The US has a very robust process in place to screen immigrants and the total number of people who endure this almost two-year procedure is small.We are more than able to absorb these people.We can save their lives.
There is a war underway.And war is a frightening prospect.There are extremists who view us as an enemy to be destroyed.Our defenders have done an amazing job protecting us thus far.There will be attempted attacks on our soil, and some may even be successful.We need to be cautious and alert in defending ourselves. They can hurt us, but they cannot defeat us.Only we can do that.If we turn our backs on our own core principles, these extremists win an important victory.If we no longer believe in what makes us great, then we are great no longer.I fear that more than anything else.
I urge everyone who believes in our nation to write both Congressperson, Senator and Governor and urge them to defeat measures that close us off from helping refugees.Support a robust vetting process that is already in place and support groups like HIAS who are dedicated to helping refugees get started here in America.Then we can still hold our heads up high and ask that God Bless America.
When is it okay to participate in holidays traditionally reserved for others?
Most of us are preparing for Thanksgiving. We have embraced Thanksgiving as the quintessential American holiday, and as such, we will be planning travel to visit other relatives, prepare a bountiful table and of course watch the Macy’s parade in the morning and football thereafter. American Jews embrace Thanksgiving, just like all other Americans, but we struggle with other American holidays. Although almost all of us celebrate Thanksgiving, many of us still wrestle with Halloween and most of us would not consider celebrating Christmas.
These three holidays are iconic parts of living in America. And all three share religious backstories. Christmas as the celebration of the birth of Christ is certainly the most obvious. Halloween is grounded in pagan rituals and Thanksgiving is essentially a Christian Sukkot, rooted in a Christian religious tradition of gratitude for God’s bounty. What makes the secularization of this holiday such that we are able to embrace it and celebrate, stripping it of its original grounding and retelling the story in a way that it can become ours, and why are we unable to do likewise with the others?
Many of us kept our children from Trick-or-Treating worried that dressing up in a costume and participating was an affirmation of a pagan ritual of witches and warlocks. However, Halloween has been stripped of its religious meaning. I read recently how one rabbi used a creative Jewish lens through which the celebration included sharing excess candy collected by her children with the less fortunate. One of my fonder memories is taking my son by the hand, dressed in a costume that mom created, while I was dressed up as a giant hamburger. The only bad part of Halloween was the stomach-ache and crash after my sugar high from over indulgence.
Christmas is a more complicated situation. But in this age of acculturation, interfaith couples and of course commercialization, there are places where we can enjoy the holiday. I say that very cautiously and carefully because I do not want to be disrespectful of those that hold this as a sacred holiday. However, the Coca-Cola inspired Santa Claus and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer both pale in comparison when I faithfully listen as Bing Crosby sings White Christmas in the movie of the same name (Bing also sang it in Holiday Inn). Irving Berlin’s classic homage yearns for us to be able to embrace this American holiday as our own. As many of you know, coming from an interfaith background, I am familiar with the beauty of a family gathering, honoring my grandmother, and sharing gifts on a day devoted to love and togetherness. We as modern American Jews need to figure it out. And in our own unique way, we have already begun.
National Menorah Lighting on the Mall
We have substantially ramped up the Chanukah holiday celebration. This is however a contrived response to a Christmas in which we long to participate. Without reservation I fully support the increase in joy we bring to our “minor” religious holiday including the latkes, Chanukah cards, 8 days of presents, parties and so on. We go a step further in our “Chinese food and a movie” ritual on December 25. The question is whether we maintain a fictional “Chinese wall” separating holidays, holding steadfast to our modern re-interpretation of Chanukah, or can we consider an American Secular Christmas? I submit that celebrating one holiday does not preclude the other, nor does such a celebration threaten our core beliefs. Instead, acknowledging Christmas in a modern American Jewish context can bring us in closer alignment with the Jewish dream of acceptance in America and more importantly, serve as a significant learning opportunity to share with our children what these holidays might mean metaphorically and Jewishly.
So much of the angst between Israeli and Palestinian sides has been centered around finger pointing. We find it easier to tell the other side what it must do before peace can come. We put the onus on them, we remain ready to go, with no hard decisions to make. So Netanyahu digs his heels in. And Abbas likewise takes an intractable stand.
Those of us who advocate for a two state solution speak of our ability to control only what happens on our side. We talk about the things that we can do to create space for peace or even unilateral moves to achieve peace. We continually call upon the Israeli government to take proactive steps regarding restarting peace talks and settlements. But realistically that is not enough.
The truth remains that peace can only come when both sides are prepared to make the difficult and courageous choices which include concessions neither want to make. But they both are compelled to make these compromises in order to create the greater good of peace for all. Leadership must be prepared to truly be visionaries and take bold steps.
So Mr. Abbas, your people, the world and your potential ally Israel are watching current events and your responses very closely. We hear your silence when youngsters brutally attack with knives and deliberately place themselves in harms way in a futile and desperate attempt to incite and murder. We hear your voice fanning the flames of hate with falsehoods playing on the emotions of the Moslem faithful regarding the Temple Mount/al-Haram al-Sarif/Har Habayit and the purposeful false report of the death of a 13-year-old. Through these things, you clearly tell us where you stand as the leader of the Palestinians and on the opportunity for peace. You appear to have turned your back on your people. You are willing to make them a nation of perpetual martyrs, permanently disenfranchised with no hope of a homeland, only the fantasy of victorious war over Israel.
It is time to make Israel your ally. She is both legitimate and permanent. So the choice is yours. A never-ending battle using your people as pawns or the creation of a viable peace between two nations living cooperatively. Ultimately perhaps your goal might be to someday stand like Ronald Reagan and declare it is the time for the Security wall to come down. And in an era of peace, your Israeli counterpart will be all too likely to comply.
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.
There is room here to reflect on whether the decision was the correct one. Could not the rabbi have permitted himself to be counted for our purposes, never considering for himself that he has fulfilled his obligation? Wouldn’t his presence as a close family friend as a source of comfort override his interpretation of his obligation to his particular personal practice?
