Sermons
Holiday and Hebrew Year
Yom Kippur: For Shame
Sermon by Rabbi Sim Glaser
2014/5775
A few years ago a woman named Mary Bale was filmed on a security camera petting a stray cat, then picking it up and putting it in a trash bin. Within hours Mary Bale’s name and address were published on an internet forum. In practically no time at all she became an object of global, yes, global derision. Hundreds of hate pages popped up on Facebook calling for her imprisonment. One declared “Death to Mary Bale.” In response to all this an NYU Professor noted: “Social Media can be easily exploited for shaming. It is a good platform.” The judge who ultimately fined Ms. Bale, and prohibited her from henceforth owning any kind of pet whatsoever, took her international vilification into account in the sentencing.
My wife Barb just finished reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter for a book group. I recall my own journey through The Scarlet Letter in my undergraduate English studies some time ago. The horror of public shaming. The pillory. The accused adulteress Hester Prynne, forced to stand on a scaffold before a self-righteous jeering crowd with a red capital “A” sewn onto her dress. That story takes place 350 years ago.
Each generation has had its way of dealing with shame. And somehow each generation has also found a way of transferring their own shame onto someone or something else in a voyeuristic manner.
The ancient Jewish tradition of sacrificial guilt offerings ended thousands of years ago with the fall of the Temple in Jerusalem. We don’t do that anymore. Sometimes when Christian groups tour our sanctuary I invite them up to the bima, and they ascend cautiously. I comfort them not to worry, the Jewish people gave up human sacrifice decades ago.
The Torah, however, does relate a rather bizarre tradition associated with this holiday of Yom Kippur, in which the ancient Israelites would seize a hapless goat, called the Azazel and attach their sins in the form of ribbons onto its horns, drive it out into the wilderness and chase it over a cliff’s edge where it would die, and, presumably, their sins would die along with it.
We’re going to (we tried) try this at the tot service this morning and see what happens (it was a disaster!) Crying. Pacifiers falling out of mouths. (Don’t ask). Maybe not.
At any rate, this Azazel would come to be translated in future English Bible translations as the “scapegoat” – a word we are today all too familiar with.
I’d like to believe that societally we have done away with this weird vicarious atonement ritual. We are, after all, blessed with this magnificent Yom Kippur day, also called: Shabbat Shabbaton, a Sabbath to end all Sabbaths! Rather than dealing with some surrogate atonement offering, we offer up our very selves, forecasting our own death. For ten days we have sought to make amends with those whom we may have hurt. And now we come, as a repentant community, before God to address our shameful deeds and ways.
Shame, in Hebrew busha, is the most ancient of human emotions. In the first chapters of the Torah, Adam and Eve find themselves naked in the Garden. Read the story closely and you will see that even as they are aware of their nakedness they feel no shame. It is only when their eyes are opened to the knowledge of right and wrong that their nudity becomes a problem. And what do they do about it? The cover it up in the flimsiest way. A couple of fig leaves. Clearly humankind will require thousands of years more to develop a proper ritual for dealing with shame.
Note the first homicide in the Torah… before there were commandments, before there was ritual atonement, before there was a Yom Kippur and a way of dealing with shame… Cain slays his brother Abel and he’s marked for life! The story horrifies us for many reasons, not the least of which is the very real fear of never being forgiven for something we have done.
On Yom Kippur the fig leaves come off our most private of parts, and the mark is taken off the forehead. On this day we acknowledge the burden of knowing right from wrong, and pledge to mend our ways. It is only in acknowledging our shame that we are able to move on.
Imagine if there was no way out of our shameful circumstances. Today Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter is having a renaissance of sorts among teenagers who are studying it, and who totally get the notion of a well-publicized stigma that will not go away. The electronic pillory of internet shaming is all too real. This past year saw yet more completed suicides by young people who found images of themselves entered into cyberspace and seared into the consciousness of millions. Nobody gets marginalization like a shamed teenager. The Talmud teaches us that humiliation is worse than physical pain. It appears the scarlet A is alive and well.
Indeed, our vicarious atonement is at an all-time high. It is stunning to watch as people react to the viral on line spread of celebrity misdeeds. Hundreds of children and their parents lining up to return their Ray Rice Jerseys after the video of him slugging his girlfriend circulated on the web. The response to the news of running back Adrian Peterson’s violence to his child. The Jewish communal cringe at Donald Sterling’s unrepentant racist remarks causing him to “Foul Out” in a big way. The Beit Din, “The Court” of public opinion heard Sterling’s words, ruining his name and ending his tenure as owner of the Clippers Franchise. As though he now is branded with the mark of Cain, wherever he travels or when his name is spoken.
How easy it is for us to sit back smugly and observe other people’s lives thrown into the public arena as spectacles for our entertainment and our judgment.
As Jews we should know better than to be party to that kind of voyeurism and deflecting of our own shame that should have ended eons ago with Hester Prynne and the Azazel.
We have been gifted this holy day of repentance and forgiveness. For today our shame is not an indelible badge of dishonor, but rather a necessary element of our atonement process. Without shame we would never be driven to come clean. On this day we are given the Divine “out” by a God who understands human error and the potential for teshuva – for return and human growth.
Shame is powerful. It is real. But it was never meant to be a protracted experience. Yes it is supposed to hurt. Yes, we are to be consumed by it for a time, but ultimately each of us, and we’ve all been there, needs to work our way out of being shamed. This is the gift of Yom Kippur to humankind.
When we recite the viddui, the al cheit shechatanu l’faneicha – for the sins we have committed, note that we are required to do it as a group… in the first person plural. We do this for two reasons – first, lest we think the recited sin is not ours but someone else’s, we say it anyway, including ourselves just in case. And second, because we want those who just don’t get it to be included in our communal admission. Yes, in some cases we need to bring the light of atonement into someone else’s dark shame.
This summer we stood up for Israel’s right to defend herself against vicious rocket attacks. We were sickened at the wartime behavior of an enemy who would use children as human shields, and the abduction of innocent schoolboys. But when, the young Palestinian boy Mohammed Abu Khadeir was burned alive at the hands of vengeful Jews we all knew a terrible sin had been committed. Whether the individuals who perpetrated that crime understood their actions as sinful, or felt the slightest regret, we may never know. But this, we knew in our hearts, is something Jews don’t do. And thus the communal al cheit shechatanu l’fanecha.
On this day we don’t have to hold it inside any longer and after the gates close tonight our transgressions will no longer have to consume us.
True atonement comes when our shame moves us beyond the darkness toward actual change. If shame brings no change, then the shame is useless. And if changing our ways doesn’t bring about and end to the shaming, it is a personal disaster.
In Judaism our sins are neither original nor are they eternal. I think this may be connected with the Jewish tattoo taboo. People change. Why would you label yourself eternally on a momentary whim?
I have often marveled at the fact that right next to the only kosher restaurant in town, on Minnetonka Boulevard, there is a tattoo removal parlor. Like if you want that Knish, you’re gonna have to get that thing taken off.
Hester Prynne’s scarlet A sewn upon her dress was removable. The padlocked pillory of the stocks is at some point to be opened. But shaming that never goes away? Deeds for which we have atoned but threaten to live on for eternity? Honest self-assessment that becomes the judgment of thousands, maybe even millions of pairs of eyes that can never get enough of shining the lamp of shame on someone other than themselves?
I sometimes wonder if William Faulkner foresaw this period of human history when he said: “The past is never dead. It’s not even the past.”
This is not the Jewish way. Yom Kippur calls upon us to acknowledge that what is done is done. Yes, our actions of this last year, whether immortalized on line, or emblazoned on the cranial hard drives of our friends and loved ones, are out there. But contrary to the endless hell that the web seems to fix upon people who have erred and been called on it by “holier than thou” eyes in cyber space, Yom Kippur proposes a conclusion. The gates really will close this evening. There is, for all of us, a very real opportunity to start over.
In Judaism our sins are neither original nor are they eternal. The consequences of our behavior have always had the potential to be painful, but the atonement was never meant to be forever. We are meant to make mistakes, over and over perhaps, but to learn from them and to grow. My office overlooks our Early Childhood Center and in between appointments and preparations for events such as this I will occasionally go over to the window and watch the kids. The other day as I was watching them I was reminded of the story of the Chassidic Jew who once asked his rebbe this question: “Why bother praying for forgiveness on Yom Kippur, he said, when inevitably we know we will sin again?”
In response the rebbe asked him to look out the window behind him. He did so and saw that outside was a toddler learning to walk. "What do you see?" asked his rebbe. "Well, I see a child, standing and falling," replied the disciple. Day after day the Chassid returned to witness the same scene. But at the week's end, the child stood and didn't fall. And in that moment the observer saw in the child's eyes that unique expression of the achievement of having attained the impossible. "So it is with us," said the rebbe. "We may fail again and again, but in the end, a loving God gives us the opportunities we need to succeed." L’shana tova.
Yom Kippur: Mental Health
Sermon by Rabbi Jennifer Hartman
2014/5775
“Gooooooood morning, Vietnam! It’s 0600 hours. What does the ‘O’ stand for? O my God, it’s early!” – Adrian, Good Morning, Vietnam
“You’re not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you’ve met, she’s not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you’re perfect for each other.” - Good Will Hunting
“You treat a disease, you win, you lose. You treat a person, I guarantee you, you'll win, no matter what the outcome.” - Patch Adams
“Carpe Diem, seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary” - Dead Poets Society
When I learned that Robin Williams had died I was heartbroken. The world had lost a funny, brilliant and kind man who shared his talents and his resources with all of us. Upon hearing the news I must admit I thought it was a joke. TMZ was pulling a prank on social media. When I realized it was true, I thought it was from an accident, or maybe he died suddenly of a heart attack. I later learned that was not the case at all. Robin Williams died from a terrible illness that affects millions of Americans. It does not discriminate by age, gender, sexual orientation or economic status. He died from something that no one likes to talk about because of the social stigma associated with it. People avoid the subject, whisper about those who suffer from it, turn their backs and walk away. Robin Williams died from depression.
Even his life circumstances could not protect him. One sufferer described depression as: “having nothing to do with who you are, how much you earn, how popular or famous you are, unpopular or unknown you are, it just is. Like cancer is. Like asthma is. Like diabetes is. Some people get it, some people don’t. It is an illness and it must be viewed and treated as such.”
We must end the stigma. It is becoming so detrimental to our society that just the other day I heard a commercial on cities 97 asking the community to fight against the stigma. The ad was sponsored by the “Make it OK campaign”, a new effort being piloted right here in Minnesota to end the silence around mental illness. This is a step in the right direction but the mission is difficult. We live in a society that tells us to be happy all of the time. All we have to do is log on to facebook to witness this point of view. The self-selecting “shares” of our friends and family reinforces the idea that everyone else is enjoying an enviable vacation, job promotion, engagement, or anniversary with a doting spouse. It is natural to only want to share what is extraordinary and exciting in our lives, but it gives the perception of perfection rather than the reality that our lives are wonderfully messy and complicated. It is no wonder that individuals and families feel they need to keep their depression a secret. The message is they are the only ones who are struggling.
The media, magazine covers, and news stories convey the message that only the poor, the homeless, the unsuccessful struggle with their mental health. Only the perfect can compete in our society. Everyone else fails. All one has to do is look at fashion or teen magazines to see that pop-culture sells an impossible ideal. A person must be perfectly thin, perfectly tall, and perfectly muscular.
So many of our high schoolers, and now those in middle and grade school feel they must play an instrument perfectly and speak a foreign language perfectly and get perfect grades in order to be accepted to an elite university. If they don’t do all of this then the rest of their life is doomed to failure. Depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, anorexia – these do not fit into the unrealistic stereotypes of what makes a person thrive and happy. Yet, everywhere we look there are remarkable people who do not fit this mold. All the accomplished people I know have struggled. These are not always the stories published, the anecdotes told, but they always exist and frequently form the basis for success. Yet, somehow, we think that facing turmoil is the exception rather than the rule. We forget that Steve Jobs never graduated from college that Jim Carey suffered from depression, that Ashley Judd overcame an eating disorder, and that as a teenager, Wynona Ryder suffered from panic attacks.
Let us seize this day and say to each other it is enough – enough of asking people to hide, enough of asking them to keep secrets, enough of our loved ones bearing this burden alone. It is time for us to end the stigma of depression that is ingrained in our culture. It is time for us to stop making unwarranted assumptions about those who struggle with their mental health. We must stop assigning blame, we must stop underestimating others abilities. We must do this for the rising number of teens who attempt suicide every year. We must do this for our parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends whom we love so much.
Our tradition can help us change the conversation for in it we find great leaders who suffered from depression. King Solomon, known for his wisdom and justice, was one of these leaders. The rabbis teach that:
One day Solomon asked his most trusted minister to find a ring that upon looking at it would make a happy man sad and a sad man happy. Spring passed and then summer and the trusted minister had no idea where he could find the ring. Finally, he decided to take a walk in one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. He passed by a merchant who had begun to set out the day's wares on a shabby carpet. "Have you by any chance heard of a special ring that makes the happy wearer forget his joy and the broken-hearted wearer forget his sorrows?" He watched the elderly man take a plain gold ring from his carpet and engrave something on it. When the minister read the words on the ring, his face broke out in a wide smile.
The Minister returned to King Solomon. "Well, my friend, have you found the ring?"
The minister held up a small gold ring and declared, "Here it is, your majesty!" The jeweler had written three Hebrew letters on the gold band: Gimel, Zayin, Yud, which begin the words "Gam zeh ya'avor - This too shall pass."
You see, even the king needed a reminder that he could overcome his depressive episode and that through the good times and the hard times, when he was successful and when he stumbled, he was a valuable and worthy leader. If God did not deem depression to be an inhibitor of King Solomon’s leadership abilities, who are we to judge?
Our tradition is full of strong, powerful, extraordinary leaders who face personal challenges. Judaism does not ask us to be perfect or hide ourselves. In fact, it does quite the opposite. It asks us to confront ourselves. It understands that individuals have many struggles in life, and that this only adds to their character. In a few weeks we will read from the Torah portion Vayetzeh where Jacob wrestles. No one is quite sure with whom Jacob wrestles. The text is ambiguous. There are many explanations. One explanation that resonates with me is that Jacob wrestles with himself, with his past self, with his demons, with the actions he has taken that haunt him. He is forced to uncover all of his secrets. The ones he has kept from others and the ones he has kept from himself. In the end his struggle brings him blessing. Jacob confronts his fears and wins. For this he is given the name Israel and an entire nation is named after him. Not only is he given a blessing, he becomes a blessing, but this comes at a cost. Jacob leaves this encounter with a limp he has forever. It is his reminder that through our struggle and our pain we can encourage ourselves and each other to lead more fulfilling, more engaging and more meaningful lives.
Not one of us will make it through life unscathed. We will have to confront challenges. They may be financial or relational, they may be academic or health related; some will endure abuse or addiction. Confronting these alone only makes the burden that much heavier. Hiding our struggles leaves us depleted of energy and hinders our ability to recover. When we acknowledge our hardships we find others who can help us, support us, and understand what we are facing. We can work together to create spaces where it is safe to discuss our feelings, to uncover our vulnerabilities, to reveal our complex selves. We are able to allow one another to be the imperfect wonderful human beings we are. Only when we talk and discuss, educate and examine, will we be able to end the stigma associated with depression.
This is possible for us to accomplish. We have been able to de-stigmatize other issues in our community. Remember when one could not be openly gay in Minneapolis? Remember when cancer was spoken about in a hushed voice, with people seemingly afraid they might catch it if they talked too loud? Remember when people thought you could contract HIV from sharing silverware?
Through conversation and education we were able to reverse these notions. Today there are support groups for those fighting cancer and their caretakers, gay marriage is legal in our state and we understand and are able to treat and prevent HIV. Depression is also an illness and we must acknowledge this in order to help our community, our children. When we confront mental illness as we confront cancer and diabetes and heart disease, we affirm that all people are valuable. By ending this harmful stigma we make our community live its Jewish values of betzelem eloheim – everyone is created in God’s image!
A defining text on Yom Kippur is from the Torah portion Nitzavim. God sets before the people life and death: “This day, I call upon the heaven and the earth as witnesses: I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. You shall choose life, so that you and your offspring will live.” As long as we whisper we tell others that depression is a curse and we are inhibiting their ability to live. We must end this detrimental behavior. We must choose life, for ourselves, and future generations by fighting the battle that will bring healing. We must speak frankly, openly and honestly. Only in this way can we help end the stigma that causes so much shame. Only in this way will everyone have the support to fight this illness. Only in this way can we be sure that everyone is given the opportunity to be a blessing in life. For, as Robin Williams character said in Hook, “To live, to live would be an awfully big adventure.”
Erev Yom Kippur: The Beauty and Power of Friendships
Sermon by Rabbi Sim Glaser
2014/5775
This summer I fulfilled a life-long ambition to see one of the Beatles live in the flesh. Yes, I was at the Paul McCartney concert and though he was a good distance away and made visible to us in the stands only by virtue of the jumbo tron video screen, I thought he was totally fab.
Paul’s set list was pretty predictable, even though he has penned hundreds of popular songs, 60 of which were #1 hits. But his inclusion of the song Eleanor Rigby I thought was interesting. Almost as though he felt that his message from way back in 1966: “all the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?” was still an eternal message, befitting a 72 year old man who has lost a wife to cancer and been through a very public divorce and now married to a Jewish woman.
I have a confession to make on this erev Yom Kippur. I am an introvert. I play an extrovert on TV, or on the rabbi job. Sometimes better than others. I have, over the years, often worn that introvert distinction as a badge of honor thinking that, on some level, it was cool to keep to myself. Well into middle age, I don’t look at it that way anymore. I now think of my introversion as something of a liability.
Clearly it is easier for extroverts to make friends. And as many a researcher will report, friendships are good for you. Friendships help you live longer. People who have studied happiness, comparing happy people with unhappy people find that the only external factor distinguishing the two groups was the presence, or the lack thereof, of rich and satisfying social relationships.
When I deliver eulogies at funerals, I always get choked up when I get to the part about the friends of the deceased. No matter what kind of wealth the deceased amassed, or how many countries they visited or how well known they were, the friends they made along the way seem to stand out as a true value.
And conversely, there have been those whom I have met along the way of my rabbinical career who, sadly enough, arrive at their last days with profound regret at all the time they spent alone, apart, for one reason or another, from their loved ones or old friends. Acting as though someday they’d set it all straight, and then that day never comes.
Acquiring friends has a long and rich tradition within Judaism. When the first two Jews, Abraham and Sarah, leave Haran to begin their trek out into the world to bring the blessings of Judaism with them it says, “and they took with them all the people they had gathered in Haran.” The Hebrew translates better to the souls they “made” in Haran. Now, we know that human beings don’t create other human beings; so the rabbis understood this to mean that Abraham and Sarah had taken them in, like family, to be with them, to nurture their spirits. We know about Abraham and Sarah that their tent-home was always open to strangers passing by. That they would welcome anybody in, bath their feet and give them food and drink. Obviously, forging friendships was very important to Abraham and Sarah. Somehow they understood that to build a great religion like Judaism was going to require the cement of friendships.
Judaism has connected learning with friendship. The Talmud says: Acquire a teacher, and you have a friend for life!
We know that friendship helps people make better judgments. A major part of a deep friendship is in thinking through problems together: what job is best for us to take? What life goals should we follow? How should we deal with difficult people? Whom to marry? Friendship allows us to see our own life but with a second set of eyes, a sympathetic other standing beside us.
One beautiful element of friendship is that friends usually bring out better versions of each other. We let our guard down among our close friends. If you’re hanging around with a friend, smarter and funnier thoughts tend to come burbling out.
Individual creativity has long been celebrated, but it has been reported recently that the best decisions are not made by a person sitting alone in an office or at home, but by a group of friends around a table. The material they produce is richer, more human, more creative. Groups of three, four, or five perform better on complex problem solving than the best of an equivalent number of individuals.
Ancient writers dating way back to Aristotle have praised friendship, describing it as the preeminent human institution. They will tell you that in this life you can manage without marriage, or even do without justice or honor, but friendship is indispensable to life. Lovers face each other, it is said, but friends stand side-by-side, facing the world, sharing values and insights, often working together toward something of great value.
People behave better if they know their friends are observing. Friendship is based, in part, on common tastes and interests, but it is also based on mutual admiration and reciprocity. People tend to want to live up to their friends’ high regard. People don’t work at having close friendships in any hope of selfish gain, but simply for the pleasure itself of feeling known and respected.
While much of this may seem very obvious, you should know that friendship is not in great shape in America today. They’ve run the numbers. In 1985, people tended to have about three really close friends. By 2004, according to research, people were reporting they had only two close confidants. Over the next ten years the number of people who say they have no close confidants at all has tripled.
It seems that folks have a harder time these days building friendships across class lines. As society becomes more unequal and segmented, we tend to retreat into our camps. Most of the people we know come from our same socioeconomic world. Middle-aged people have particular problems nurturing friendships and building new ones because they are so busy with work and kids.
The problem may be that we've lost sight of the real benefit of friendships. That the "what's in it for me" impulse in today's world has got us looking out for number one so significantly that other people don’t seem as important an element for our individual success. How ironic then that the best thing you can do for yourself is to forge a new friendship or refresh an old one.
So how do we go about this? One of the best ways for us to formulate, or as it was said in the Abraham and Sarah story “acquire” friends is to seek out a challenge, or a difficulty that needs to be worked out by a group. Instead of one person looking out for their own self, imagine a group of buddies engaging in something that benefits some other people entirely. Nothing inspires friendship like selflessness and cooperation in moments of difficulty.
This certainly is a good reason for belonging to a Temple community like ours. But it really only works if you have an eye on a bigger prize. Today people flock to conferences, ideas festivals, even vacation cruises that are really more about building friendships than anything else, even if people don’t admit it explicitly. There is a part of us that makes up excuses to find ourselves doing something with others. Book groups, minyans, sports teams.
One of my favorite stories concerns two boyhood friends, Eliphelet and Gidyon. They lived near each other and grew up together. Eventually they left their homes to find a place for themselves in the big world and each one did very well. But now they lived far apart from one another. And in those days before email and telephone it was hard to keep up friendships.
But Gidyon went traveling and found himself in the country where his friend Eliphelet lived and he thought, how great would it be to see his old buddy. But when he came to the gate of the city he was arrested by the police who thought he was a spy. He was brought immediately to trial and sentenced to death. As he waited there in prison he was very sad about his family whom he would never see again. Who would take care of them, he thought.
When the time came for his execution, Gidyon fell to his knees before the king and begged: Gracious king, I am innocent of any wrongdoing and yet I have been sentenced to this cruel punishment. I ask only one favor and that is that I be allowed one week – seven days - to return to my own country to say goodbye to my wife and children and to see that they will be alright. I give you my word as an honest Jew who has never broken a promise that I will return on time.
The king thought about it and asked: but who will guarantee that you will not try to escape?
Just then a man pushed his way out of the crowd and said: “Your highness, I will be his guarantee.” Of course that man was Gidyon’s boyhood friend Eliphelet who told the king: “You can imprison me, and if Gidyon doesn’t come back when he said he would, you can put me to death.
The king was astonished at this display of loyalty and friendship and allowed Gidyon to be freed to go back to his home. The people of the kingdom were amazed by this. They could not believe that the doomed man would ever possibly come back. They laughed at Eliphelet for volunteering to take his place.
Gidyon returned home, took care of his business, but told nobody of what fate awaited him in the distant country.
When those seven days had come and gone the city was ready for the execution and the entire kingdom came to see what would come of this strange event. It was nearly night time on the seventh day and no one expected Gidyon to return. Eliphelet was taken out of prison and placed beneath the gallows.
Suddenly they heard a loud cry – wait! I am here. Do not harm my dear friend. I am here to take his place. And Gidyon rushed through the crowd toward the king and the executioner. The people of the kingdom burst out in cheers and applause and then it grew quiet. The king was clearly touched by the loyalty of these two friends, and he spoke, saying: “Because of the true and devoted friendship of Eliphelet and Gidyon, I will pardon the crime of the stranger. But I do this on one condition. That they do me the favor of letting me be their friend as well.
I imagine many of us have friends that are separated from us by miles, and whom we would love to see more than we can. Just the other day I received an email from an old high school chum whom I never see and hardly ever speak to. I felt a strange sensation of wanting to hang out with him that surprised this introvert. I wrote back – do you have a minute to talk? He did. I called him and I was stunned by the warmth and good feeling I experienced in hearing his voice. In talking about the music we love in common. The places we used to hang out.
I said, you know, I’m coming east this winter and we should have a beer. And he gave me an out – he said, sure, if you make it to town give me a call. Somehow we both sadly knew that the chances of that happening were not good. That it might not be in the stars and he wanted me to know that he understood. He got it.
But you know, it doesn’t have to be in the stars. We are the architects of our lives. Our tradition tells us to dwell in community. Science tells us that companions are good for our health. Psychology teaches that better decisions are made in groups.
Judaism teaches that a good friend is a tower of strength: to find one is to find a treasure. In your search for a richer, more positive and healthy new year, may you rediscover the treasure to be found in renewing an old friendship, or simply rededicating yourself to enriching the ones you already have.
I’m going to give it a try. I hope you will too.
L’shana tova.
Erev Yom Kippur: Sanctuary Service
Sermon by Marcia Zimmerman
2014/5775
There is no text for this sermon. Please enjoy this video of Rabbi Zimmerman on Erev Yom Kippur, 2014/5775.
Rosh HaShanah: A Day to Regroup
Sermon by Rabbi Jennifer Hartman
2014/5775
There is so much going on in the world today. Most of the events are terrifying. There is the threat of ISIS, the conflict in the Ukraine, anti-Semitism and racism. This summer planes fell out of the sky, we learned more about the ever warming planet and Israel engaged in operation project edge. Add to all of this our everyday fears and worries - balancing work and children, paying our rent or mortgage, saving for college and retirement. We are concerned about our kids’ birthday parties, our jobs, making our relationships work. Just thinking about all of this makes my anxiety rise. How is yours doing?
I hope that most of you have your cell phones with you today. I would like you to take them out and turn them on! Yes! I know this is the exact opposite of what you were asked to do when you walked into the Sanctuary this morning, but I would like for us to be in conversation with one another. On the wall behind me you will see a number. During my sermon I am going to ask all of you a few questions. I would love for you to text your responses to the number. For those of you streaming this service, please participate also! If the technology works the way it is supposed to, and we all know that this is a big if, your responses will appear, anonymously, on the wall behind me. In this way we will all be able to share our thoughts and feelings and hopefully learn a bit more about our community.
Here is my first question for all of you: I wonder, what did I miss? What is making your blood pressure rise? What is keeping you up at night? What event in our society is making you want to lock your door, close your blinds and shut out the world?
Are you getting more and more stressed as the issues come streaming in? I know that I am and the more stressed I become the less I am able to confront any one issue. I think that looking to the wisdom of Judaism may help us to center ourselves in a society that seems to be spinning out of control. When we turn off the noise, the competition, the 24 hour news cycle, the doubts about ourselves and our families that social media and pop culture put in our heads, we are able to focus on our priorities, our values, our beliefs. We are able to return to the core of who we are as individuals.
We are taught in Genesis - God created the world in six days. God rested, blessed and hallowed the seventh day as holy time thus creating tranquility, serenity and peace. The Talmud teaches that Shabbat was God’s precious and guarded treasure, which God gave to the Jewish people as a gift. God gave us a time to reconnect, renew and refocus after a week of toiling. God understood people need this time to be productive, creative, and generous during the week.
Another question: How do you relax? How do you unplug? - Share this with us?
At the end of June my grandmother died, 24 days shy of her 92nd Birthday. As I watched my family during the funeral and the days that followed I was amazed by what my grandparents created. My grandparents had four children, twelve grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. They built a large, tight knit and Jewishly committed family! Of my grandparents’ dozen grandchildren some of us went to day school and some to supplementary school, some of us went to Jewish overnight camp, some spent extended periods of time in Israel and some went for only a short period of time. However, all of us had Shabbat dinner every Friday night. All of us gathered around our respective tables to bless the candles and the wine and to say the Motzi. All of us missed social outings in order to be with our families, to talk to our parents, to refrain from fighting with our siblings and to play with our cousins. We all laughed a lot, ate too much and knew, without question that we were Jewish and that Judaism was completely connected to our family and both of these came before everything else. It is this connection and commitment that has lead to Jewish weddings and Jewish babies, to Rosh Hashanah services and Passover Seders, to great-grandchildren going to day school.
There is a famous quote by the Israeli author Ahad Ha’am that says: “More than the Jews have kept the Sabbath, the Sabbath has kept the Jews.” The regulation of time through the laws of the Sabbath gave the Jews the chance to regroup in communities at the end of every week, and that regrouping sustained their Jewish identity. As the ancient historian Philo taught, Shabbat does not have us abstain from work in order to instill laziness within us. Shabbat is intended to allow us to have time to relax from continuous and unending work. Our bodies and our minds need regularly scheduled breaks from labor. Giving ourselves this time to rest allows us to collect our strength and reenter our daily routines with better concentration and effectiveness. This was so true for my family. Our shared Shabbat experience made us stronger and more able to confront adversity both individually and together.
What is your favorite memory of spending time with family or friends? Please share with us!
Every Friday night my grandmother stood in front of the large, bronze Shabbat candlesticks that her mother brought to America from Russia. She said the blessing and then she closed her eyes, rubbed her hands together, and prayed silently for a few moments. It did not matter how much chaos was taking place around her, she was able to shut out the world and be alone with her thoughts, with her ancestors and with God. I knew, from a young age, that I was never to interrupt this ritual. When she finished she went back to the business of feeding and taking care of her children and grandchildren. Yet, now that we all saw the candles were lit, we all felt a little calmer - the sacred time of Shabbat permeated our home.
As Abraham Joshua Heschel so eloquently states: “Six days a week the spirit works under strain, beset with worries, enmeshed in anxieties - on the seventh day we are given a respite from this”. It is a time for us to be together, to talk to one another, to linger around the table longer than we ever would during the week and to relax.
Growing up the Shabbat table was where we connected, nurtured our family relationships, and learn about the world. At the Shabbat dinner table my politically diverse family argued vehemently about the Middle East peace processes, presidential candidates and domestic policy. We rarely agreed but that did not keep us from having the conversations. At the Shabbat table we learned about our history, hearing stories about our great grandparents, aunts, and uncles, their lives in Sioux City, Iowa, Aberdeen, South Dakota and Trenton, New Jersey. At the Shabbat table we learned to be proud of our roots and our heritage. Our stories informed our sense of self. There we shared triumphs and joy – successful report cards, promotions at work, engagements – and sorrow and pain, moments of heartbreak, divorce, and the death of family or close friends. It was at this table, at which we were all expected to be, that we understood completely we were not alone and perseverance through the hard times was our ONLY option.
Do you have a Shabbat memory? What is your favorite one? Please share it with us!
When we allow it to, the traditions, teaching and rhythm of Judaism keep us grounded when we feel pulled in many directions. The Torah reminds us from who and where we come, teaching us that every family has trials, but it also has joyous moments. Judaism gives us hope when we think things will never improve. We see this strongly in the symbols of Rosh Hashanah- a round challah to show that things are ever changing and evolving; honey to remind us that life is sweet, pomegranates whose many seeds remind us of the power of mitzvot to bring healing to the brokenness in our world. The holiday of Passover takes us on the difficult journey of becoming a free people, and teaches that after very cold, very bitter winters, spring does indeed come. Judaism brings us home to our community and our family by demanding that we mourn and rejoice with others. We are to say Kaddish with a minimum of ten people and we are also commanded to rejoice with the bride and groom. Shabbat helps us to regroup and refocus, brings us together to reconnect and reaffirm. In this way it helps us to gain perspective because we can take a deep breath and sit with our thoughts rather than have to react immediately in our society that seems to never stops moving.
I am not originally from here. I no longer have my Grandmother to make me matzo ball soup or my aunts are not in Minneapolis to make challah, brisket and blond brownies. I no longer open the door to my childhood home to the smell of roasted chicken and potatoes. It is hard for me to prepare Shabbat dinner. It takes planning ahead. It means inviting friends before their calendars get booked. It means preparing meals ahead of time. It means eating dinner late. Too often all of the preparation and planning feels overwhelming. I get stuck in the notion that if I can't do it big then I should not do it at all. That is not the purpose of Shabbat.
Shabbat is not about being extravagant, it is about being together so that we are better able to face challenges. The world is less scary, change seems possible, the work feels lighter when we open our homes and fill our tables with loved ones and friends, with people new to the community and those we want to get to know. So, I challenge you this year - light Shabbat candles, light them more than once, and see where that leads you. Now, turn off your phones :)
Rosh HaShanah: Do Not Slay The Other Voice
Sermon by Rabbi Sim Glaser
2014/5775
Several years ago I attended a meeting of African American Ministers and Rabbis to discuss issues confronting our community. The minister whose church it was greeted the group saying: Can I hear a hallelujah? To which we all responded “hallelujah!” He then quickly side glanced at me and said “Rabbi I hope it’s alright that we said “hallelujah” to which I responded – no problem, it’s Hebrew. We invented that word a few thousand years ago.
People seem so interested in the Jewish point of view about things. They’re always checking stuff with us, watching what we do, curious about our reactions, and yes, holding us to account. You know, we make up less than one fifth of one percent of the world’s population. You wouldn’t think it would matter so much what we think!
Jews have always seen things differently. We tell the true story of the great clock tower in the city of Prague. The old Jewish ghetto there faced the rear of the tower so its inhabitants watched the clock run backwards. The elders of the community finally got smart, climbed up and put Hebrew letters where the numbers go so now the backwards clock made sense. We are an adaptive people.
Our most well-known thinkers have always been individuals who thought outside of the box. Albert Einstein developing the theory of relativity. Sigmund Freud’s discovery of the unconscious; the courageous pantheism of Baruch Spinoza; the rebellious Emma Goldman fighting for workers’ rights; the dream and vision of Theodore Herzl for the necessity of a Jewish homeland some fifty years before the Holocaust.
But if there is any one element of Jewish thinking that transcends generations it is that we have never been satisfied with only the surface meaning of anything. We are not a linear people; and we have never stopped the conversation with only one voice being heard. We are the people of one God, and 13 million theologies, 2 Jews, 3 opinions. We brought nuance into the world. We do not go long and shallow, we go short and deep.
This summer was a painful one for the Jewish people. Israel attacked viciously with Hamas rockets and terror tunnels burrowing under Jewish homes, Israelis running for cover as sirens wailed; the targeting of Hamas operatives and weapons launching locations resulting in the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians. The combined anguish of losing Israeli soldiers and being tagged worldwide as murderers of innocents fell heavily on Israelis and Jews worldwide.
Even as the Syrian civil war death toll climbed into the hundreds of thousands, and the Islamic State slaughtered everyone in its path en route to the establishment of a brutal new Caliphate; and even as the world acknowledged that Hamas militants in Gaza were waging their war from schools, apartments and city centers, intentionally using civilian shields, the condemnatory eyes of the world turned most prominently to Israel. Anti-Semitic incidents broke out in Europe with cries for Jewish blood such as we have not heard since the Second World War. College campuses saw heated demonstrations. The International Presbyterian Church voted boycott/divestment/sanction initiatives against the state of Israel. The world turned Israeli selfdefense into a war crime; the UN investigated Israel, but curiously not Hamas.
What seemed strikingly familiar was the level of scrutiny the Jewish people still draws. Disproportionate to the extent of tragedies around the world, the critical eye was on Israel.
Why is this? I believe the very reason we are listened to, scrutinized, and held to a higher standard is because of the very hallowed Jewish traditions of negotiation, conciliation, compromise, and deliberation. We have always been a people internally and externally that seeks to listen to other voices and not squelch dissenting opinions.
Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, is made up of 120 seats representing Ultra-Orthodox religious parties, secular voices, the right wing Likkud, Israeli Arabs, centrists, and Labor, to name only a few. Some voices make more noise than others or wield more power, but this singular democracy in the Middle East demands that all voices have their say.
One of the greatest gifts of the Jewish people to the world, dating back to biblical times, was a system of justice for civilized nations. Courts of law, jury trials, fair and considered judiciaries to ensure just democratic societies.
The Torah states that among the first things to be established in the new land are the Arei miklat - cities for an accused killer to flee to until he has had his day in court to prevent exactly the kind of heated reaction that our animal instincts often lead us to do.
And thus one of the most disturbing moments this summer was the horrific revenge killing of the Palestinian youth. When the three Yeshiva students were abducted and slain and Israel’s enemies the world over danced in the streets with joy, no one seemed particularly surprised. But Jews doing such things? In a single deed, the complexities of justice, rationality and diplomacy were thrust aside. Revenge, Jewish tradition teaches us, never works. Revenge is the most surface and least nuanced of reactions. Brute emotional force with not an ounce of justice.
The events of this summer witnessed an ever growing division within the Jewish people. Our history demonstrates over and over that the greatest danger to the Jewish people comes not from without, but from within. When we stop listening to the diverse and multifaceted voices within our tradition and see only one side of an issue, or hang out only with people who share our world view we bring disaster upon ourselves.
The story of the binding of Isaac we read this morning features a much repeated phrase – vayelchu sh’neyhem yachdav – “and the two of them traveled on together”. This phrase is said so often we must gather that no great Jewish journey is done solo.
As Abraham lifts his knife to silence the other atop that lonely mountain, the angel calls out: stay your hand! Never – slay – the – other voice. L’chu sh’neychem yachdav. Walk together. Talk together. Dwell, argue, deliberate, but do it together.
Note that the greatest enemies of justice out there in our world today are quite literally “slayers of the other voice”. They do it viciously. They video tape it, put it on line and attempt to bully us with it. There is no law but theirs. There is no freedom. There is no democracy. There is no other voice.
Jews divided by hatred and anger is called sinat chinam. Literally “senseless hatred”. The problem is not our having strong ideas, or even disagreeing, but dismissing other people’s ideas as heresy. The downfall of the Jewish people has been linked time and again to our inability to see another Jew’s point of view.
With all the lessons and values the Jewish people have brought the world, perhaps the most important is the one of which we now must remind ourselves. We may have differing views on issues, but our lack of uniformity must never lead to a lack of unity.
The power and influence of our voice cannot hide the fact that there are only 13 million of us worldwide and we need to be forthright and intentional with our Jewish voices. But it has never been in our best interest to squelch opinions other than our own. The last thing a Jew should do is to slay the other Jewish voice. There is an ancient tale about the great sage Rabbi Akiva and his 12,000 pairs of students, (they studied in pairs so as always to be in the presence of another voice or potential dissenting opinion) All of them were taught Akiva’s most basic law: What is hateful to you, do not allow for your neighbor. Talmudic tradition tells the bizarre story of how the 12,000 pairs of students all learned this lesson, but in the heat of their debate over the law promptly forgot it, so that angry argument prevailed and they were consumed by a plague.
That’s an ancient rabbi story. Here’s a modern rabbi story. At this season rabbis all over the globe are attempting to bring messages of hope and peace to their congregations. In one case in New York a Rabbi cautioned her congregation not to harden their hearts to Palestinian deaths, and a board member posted on Facebook his resignation from the synagogue claiming the rabbi was spreading Hamas propaganda.
Conversely, my cousin’s rabbi in Montreal preached a sermon detailing how Israel had indeed lived up to the highest standards of Jewish ethics in wartime, and immediately heard from several members who were quitting because they felt there was no room to express their criticism of Israel. A Midwestern conservative rabbi was rejected from a position at a temple because he told the interviewing committee that he didn’t think there was just one Jewish point of view on Israel. Another rabbi’s board put a note in her contract indicating that she is forbidden to speak about Israel at all. A young colleague of ours locally preached about Israel this summer and was lambasted from all sides of the political spectrum with angry emails and threatened resignations. I told her I thought it was brave of her to address the subject, even though I didn’t entirely agree with her conclusion, but when you speak publicly such responses are hazards of the profession. But she said the lesson she learned was pure and simple. Never preach about Israel. I thought that was sad.
The danger of sinat chinam, internal fighting and division, is insidious and it is real – a civilization, a people, that loses its ability to speak to each other as sane adults, a community that rejects the Jewish gift of nuance, of subtlety and detail, and pulls itself into an a singular point of view that doesn’t allow for another is a threat to our national existence. The very thing that keeps Israel strong and the Jewish people vibrant is our willingness and readiness to engage with each other in a constructive manner.
The Jewish year is now officially 5775. That’s a symmetrical number – the first in 110 years. Its symmetry makes it much like a mirror, and mirrors cause us both to look at ourselves as well as to see things from a slightly different perspective. This is what keeps us human. Wrapped within the saddest of stories from this summer was perhaps the most beautiful lessons of our shared national experience. One of the first reported Israeli casualties this summer was that of a soldier Nissim Shawn Carmeli, a young man who made aliyah from the state of Texas to the State of Israel.
Nissim was what was called a lone soldier, meaning that he had no immediate relatives living in Israel. But Nissim (and that name means “miracle” turned out to be anything but lone soldier because by definition the Jewish people never leave each other alone. Some 20,000 Israelis attended this Nissim’s funeral. He gave his life for the Jewish state. But he was never alone.
I pray that this year will be more a more peaceful one than the last. Harmony and peace always begins with the act of listening to one another. Speaking passionately but allowing, in the great Jewish tradition, each voice to be heard. To heed the message of the angel atop mount Moriah at a critical juncture in ancient Jewish history.
Withhold your hand.
Do not slay the other voice.
Erev Rosh HaShanah: Sanctuary Service
Sermon by Rabbi Marcia Zimmerman
2014/5775
There is no text for this sermon. Please enjoy this video of Rabbi Marcia Zimmerman on Erev Rosh HaShanah, 2014/5775.
Israel’s Future
Sermon by Rabbi Jennifer Hartman
2014/5775
A student recently asked me a difficult and thought provoking question. I want to share his question and my response with you. For the purpose of this sermon I will call the student Josh.
Dear Josh,
You recently asked me why, in the early part of the last century, as you put it, “the Jews kicked out another people in order to establish the State of Israel”. While I don’t agree with this description of events, this letter is not an attempt to convince you otherwise. There is no doubt that the establishment of the modern State of Israel has been a very, complicated, messy, and at times disappointing process. The history of how we came to have a country is one that often makes people on both sides of the conflict confused, angry and defensive. Shelves of books have been written on the subject, dissecting every angle. Each side feels they were fighting for the land that was rightfully theirs. In the end the Jewish people did what they felt necessary to regain their ancestral land. Whatever happened in the past, today there are two people who feel strongly that the land is theirs. If we focus too much on the question of who really belongs in the land, we will never attain peace. Today, we must focus on how these two people can live together. I must be honest, hearing your question invoked in me a visceral negative reaction. I felt Israel was betrayed by one of its own. Yet, when I took a step back, I realized that your question has within it an invaluable lesson.
I write to you today because you made me aware of a critical failure of mine. I took for granted that you would automatically love and support Israel by virtue of being Jewish. I now realize that this is not the case. I, none of us, can assume that future generations will defend and care for Israel. It has now been well established that many of your peers view Israel’s policies with skepticism. The 2014 Pew research study on the Jewish population in America shed light on this reality, when it indicated that just 23 percent of non-Orthodox Jews between the ages of 18 and 29 think the Israeli government is making a sincere effort toward peace. This compared to 44 percent in the 65+ range.
Josh, the generation of your grandparents and great-grandparents rejoiced in 1947 when they witnessed the passing of the United Nations partition plan to divide the Palestine Mandate into a Jewish state and an Arab state. Through the United Nations the world community legally gave part of the land to the Jewish people. Jews around the world could hardly believe that their dream had become a reality. There really was going to be a Jewish state. Your parent’s generation grew-up with the knowledge that wherever they went, they could feel safe as Jews in the world. They grew up secure in the knowledge that the horrors that happened in the Holocaust would not happen to them, because Israel would always protect all Jews. They beamed with pride when Israel won the ‘67 war and the Yom Kippur war. My generation was astounded by operation Solomon which brought over 14,000 Ethiopian Jews to Israel. We were in awe that this small country of found a way to help all of these people, our people. We were proud when Israel took in the Russian Jews who were finally able to leave the former Soviet Union.
But, we also watched the first Intifada in the early 1990s, when Palestinians threw stones and Molotov cocktails at Israeli military and civilians. Ten years later came the 2nd intifada, where we saw buses and cafes blown up, murdering our Israeli brothers and sisters. We saw the horrific violence and terror that those opposed to peace and the existence of our people in our ancestral land were willing to commit against us. And while we have cheered the calm brought on by the security fence and amazing technology, we have also seen actions that some believe has made the dream of peace further away. As we Jews are accustomed to doing, we began to wonder, question, and debate: How could Israel make a lasting and mutually beneficial peace with its neighbors that would bring prosperity to all? What would, should and could both sides possibly give up making this a reality.
Josh, my generation has done you a disservice. We began to raise questions about Israel’s behavior before giving you the chance to fall in love with the country on your own. You see, my generation was the last generation to unequivocally support the need for a Jewish state. As teenagers and even adults we spent time with our grandparents who survived the holocaust. We listened to our parents whisper “Jewish” in public. We watched Shalom Sesame to feel that Judaism was part of pop-culture. We may not have felt it directly, but we understood that anti-Semitism was still out there...somewhere. We knew that Israel was a place not only where we could be safe, no matter what, but also a place where we did not have to explain eating matzo for a week every spring or missing school on Yom Kippur. Of course we were going to spend a summer in Israel. Our parents were not going to send us to France or Italy or Peru instead. This gave us the opportunity to develop our own relationship with the country.
That is how I came to see Israel as my home. My parents and grandparents were ardent Zionists. My grandparents even took my entire family to Israel when I was 9. But, it was not until I went on my own that I truly understood the power of the country. You see Josh, when I was a senior in high school I did an exchange program in Israel. I spent two weeks traveling the country with Israeli teenagers. I got to see it through their eyes. This is when I met one of my closest friends to this day, Yishai.
Yishai had just turned 18 when we met and he was proudly preparing for the army. He was excited to join the Israeli Defense Force and have the opportunity to defend his country. He loved the land – the beauty of the Golan Heights, the history of the Beit Shean valley where he lived, the beach of Tel Aviv, the religious center of Jerusalem. He loved the people – the Orthodox Jews and the Ethiopian Jews, the Russian Jews and the Sephardi Jews. He would speak about the traditions of each culture and when they clashed and when they complimented one another. I saw Israel through his eyes, and the eyes of my Israeli friends and I could not help fall in love with the land, the food, the culture and the people.
It is from that love that my friends and I became the first generation to question Israel’s policies in Gaza and the West Bank. We asked them together with our Israeli friends. We asked them because we wanted Israel to be, as the prophet Isaiah described, a light unto the nations. I will never forget having conversations with Yishai as he took a break from patrolling the Lebanese border or from a west bank check-point. We talked through how the interactions he witnessed between Israeli-Arabs and Israeli-Jews and Palestinians both inspired and saddened him. We continued these conversations through many visits, exploring tunnels outside of Jerusalem, lying on the beach in Tel Aviv, walking the trails of the Galilee. We discussed Israel’s future – our hopes and fears.
Our conversations were as important as ever when he was called to serve during Operation Protective edge. We texted as he proudly took on his duty to serve the Jewish people, as he wondered about some of the governments decisions, as he worried about his wife home alone.
You see, it is from this devotion that my generation inquired about how Israel might treat the Palestinians and Arab Israelis better. We felt uncomfortable giving Israel a free pass to use force however she deemed necessary. We began to criticize the Israeli government while pushing for a two state solution. Israel, many of us felt, was not living up to the morals and values associated with a Jewish democratic state. Israel could do and be better, and our work was to make it a light unto the nations. We want Israel to live up to the values as written in the Declaration of the Establishment of the State of Israel which said: “The State of Israel will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisioned by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions.”
Josh, I owe you an apology. With you and your peers I think we started with questions rather than sharing our love of our land. You see Josh, we want you to love the Jewish state, but we also want you to know it. We do not want to paint you an idyllic picture because we know that you will discover that Israel is not perfect. We do not want you to be crushed when this happens. We want you to love Israel, warts and all. I now understand for that to take place we Jewish professionals, Jewish educators, parents, and grandparents need to give you historically accurate and nuanced answers to your hard questions. We are obligated to show you how Israel struggles to be a democratic and Jewish state, how competing values make it hard to protect its people and take care of the stranger. We must teach you the importance of Israel, not just to us but also to the world. Israel is where we are able to live our calendar, see our history, and walk in the footsteps of our ancestors. Israel is where the desert blooms, solar power prevails, water is conserved and the internet came to life. We want to ensure you know all this, but we must teach you while listening to you. It is essential that we hear your concerns. We need to discuss all of Israel’s actions with you. We have to ask you questions. If we don’t then you will get your information from other sources, and I am sure these will not include all that is good and wonderful about Israel.
Israel is the birthplace of our people. There we can trace our history, visit the graves of our ancestors, see where they first prayed, debated and dissected Jewish law. As we see our history come alive we learn about ourselves. I asked a few students who recently visited Israel why they chose to go. Their answers were moving. One shared: “visiting Israel has enhanced my understanding of Judaism and brought me closer to my roots”. Another said: “In Israel, I felt fully Jewish, I saw the community as my family, I felt I could truly be myself.”
Many adults spend much time defending Israel to non-Jews. Many attend AIPAC and J-Street events in order to support Israel. They donate to politicians in hopes they will influence pro-Israel legislation. All of these things help, but Josh, if we don’t get you and your friends to fall in love with our country then the support of today will not last until tomorrow. Life is complicated and messy. We crave easy answers, black and white scenarios, but the truth is that we live in the grey in between. It is not possible to always agree with something or someone you love. Just as our parents and siblings can annoy us like no other person, they are also the people who we love the deepest and depend on the most. No important relationship in our lives will be easy, simple, or infallibly happy. Often our most important moments of growth and insight come out of conflict. I understand that I must work to help you and your peers treasure Israel so that you will ask questions in order to improve Israel and so that you will defend the land of our people, the land of our history, and the land of Israel to anyone who wants to cause her harm. Only in this way can we ensure a bright and lasting future for the Jewish state.