Category: Healing

Categories
Healing Social Justice

After Pittsburgh: Confronting Anti-Semitism and Ourselves

The gunman who struck the Tree of Life Synagogue on Shabbat in Pittsburgh indicated on line that he wanted to “Kill Jews.” Prior events whether at our southern border, on the streets of Charlottesville, or at political rallies sponsored by our President, Jews were seen as passive observers to the changing political scenarios of this nation. The assault on worshippers that took place this past Shabbat morning however was seen as a direct attack on Judaism and America’s Jews. It would represent the single most violent incident against Jewish Americans in the history of the United States.

In a society already under assault by the politics of hate, this is but one more indication that a war is underway for America’s soul. Where once America and Americans celebrated differences, today there is a conscious and deliberate effort to intimidate and seek to silence those who represent different religious, sexual and political beliefs and practices. Democracy itself is being threatened. Hate violence has replaced civic discourse. As a result anti-Semitism is a manifestation of a fundamental disregard for the respect for diversity. In this new and uncertain political environment, Jews have become political targets.

It is cynical for politicians to offer words of comfort in the aftermath of violence, when their own rhetoric, framed in nationalistic images, seeks to question the loyalty of certain Americans and where political operatives single out individuals suggesting that they are the cause of America’s troubles. In this type of political culture, violence and hate will sadly be manifested on our streets.

A year ago on these pages, I wrote:

A fundamental political sea change appears to be underway. As America’s social fabric is being tested, new strains of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism have emerged globally and at home. …There is a heightened awareness among Jews of extremist expressions challenging not only the existing democratic norms of the nation but also reflective of how minority communities, including Jewish Americans, are being categorized and threatened. 

A new political reality faces American Jewry in the aftermath of Pittsburgh, as hate has gone mainstream. Moving forward, will Jews feel safe in this country? Out of this nightmare, will a new sense of the collective spirit of the Jewish people be rekindled?

The ongoing, unresolved issues that re-emerged on Saturday remain to be addressed. These concerns involve gun violence, the discourse of politicians who need to be held accountable for the words that they employ, and the use of social media to convey hate messaging. These and other policies and practices define who we are and what it may mean to be an American.

Fear and intimidation must not be allowed to silence Jews or others. This is a moment that demands a serious conversation among Americans about the state of our nation and the collective interests and shared values that bind us together. This is a time to reassert the civic principles that convey the American story. We owe it to these victims of anti-Semitism and to ourselves.

—

Professor Steven Windmueller, Ph.D. is the Alfred Gottschalk Emeritus Professor of Jewish Communal Service at the Jack H. Skirball Campus of HUC-JIR, Los Angeles. His writings can be found on his website, www.thewindreport.com.  This article was originally posted on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Categories
Healing High Holy Days

A Less Lonely Path to Repentance

The High Holy Day days can be a lonely experience. Though many of us gather in overflowing sanctuaries, together with family and friends who constitute a community, each of us must confess our individual sins, seek forgiveness from those we have hurt, change our ways, offer tzedakah, and pray for our own individual absolution. We seem not to receive, or to give, any assistance in the process of repentance.

Our lonely journey to forgiveness was not always the Jewish way. When our ancestors required expiation, they would bring a sacrifice to the Temple. The blood of the animal, slain in the sacred ritual, would atone for their sins. Yes, the penitent Jew had to recite the appropriate words, and was required to provide the animal for the sacrifice, so the individual did have some role in that process, but the Priest did most of the work and the poor animal paid the ultimate price. The ancient Israelite was the beneficiary of what might be called “vicarious atonement,” forgiveness through the sacrifice from the flocks or the herds.

Christianity adopted this idea of vicarious atonement, with the faith that Jesus’ blood, shed on the cross, atones for the sins of others. Perhaps because Jews tend to disassociate ourselves so forcefully from that specific Christian claim, we have shied away from any notion that anyone or anything other than ourselves can help return us to the good graces of our God. Perhaps we protest too much. After all, we confess in the first person plural, “the sins we have committed.” Why not seek forgiveness communally?

Our Rosh Hashanah prayers do declare that we may find forgiveness in the righteousness of others. One portion of our shofar service is called zichronot, or remembrances. We ask God to hear the blasts and remember the righteousness of our ancestors, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob, Leah and Rachel. If we do not deserve atonement on these High Holy Days, we beg God to forgive us on account of their merit.

More personally, each of us recalls loved ones, now gone from this world, who had laudable traits that we wish we possessed. We may pray, in words of Reform prayer books past: “May the nobility in their lives and the high ideals they cherished endure in our thoughts and live on in our deeds.” Our beloved dead can truly live, if we will carry the goodness of their lives into our own. Perhaps, too, when we fall short, God will recall our loved ones’ goodness, and forgive us on their account.

Blessedly, our partners in repentance may include the people who continue to share our lives every day. Judaism teaches us the value of the tocheha, the loving rebuke, delivered in the right spirit, in the right time, in the right place. Nothing makes me a better person than a caring critique from a person who cares deeply about me. Even if we recoil from the rebuke upon first hearing it, we can learn, and become better people, in the process. Living in covenant calls upon us to help each other to abandon our unholy paths.

Let us find forgiveness for ourselves and offer atonement to others in the embrace of community on these High Holy Days.

—

Rabbi Barry H. Block serves Congregation B’nai Israel in Little Rock, Arkansas, and is a member of the CCAR Board of Trustees.

Categories
Healing member support mental health

Leaving Shame Behind: Sharing my Story as a Recovering Alcoholic

“We have heard from you that balancing our professional and personal lives is one of the biggest challenges of rabbinic life.  Being in the public eye is not easy.  This is especially true when we are facing all too human circumstances such as physical pain, family trauma, mental illness and alcoholism.   We know that there are rabbis who are struggling with alcoholism and addiction.  We have held workshops on addiction and ‘Friends of Bill W.’ meetings at CCAR convention for many years.  Above all else, it is the support and embrace of colleagues traveling the same road that can help us feel less isolated and alone.”  — Rabbi Betsy Torop, Director of Rabbinic Engagement and Growth

Shame. That’s the only emotion I was feeling as I frantically searched the library where I was sure I had left my book. The book I had used when I met with my sponsor. And now it was gone – not to be found anywhere. I worried what I would do if a congregant found it. I’d be exposed . They’d know my secret. They’d know I was an alcoholic. Okay, I’m a recovering alcoholic, but it still felt shameful to me.  I knew what I had to do.  Even after I found my book.  That experience showed me I had to make a decision. I had to come clean. I couldn’t continue to feel this way.  I ripped up the sermon I was going to give on Yom Kippur and wrote a different one, one on mental illness.

I admitted my struggles with alcohol and drugs. I confessed that I used and abused substances to make me feel better.  Alcohol was my friend, my confidant and my lover. It helped me do impossible things.  But one day it turned on me and I had to get help. I struggled with getting help.  I didn’t know how I would live in a world without my vodka. Alcohol had been such a crutch for me.

But getting the help wasn’t as hard to I had thought. As soon I as I reached out, someone was there to walk with me – to guide me through the trials and tribulations of sobriety.  I worked and struggled a day at a time, but eventually I found solid ground.  And now it was time to share this struggle publicly.

I was afraid to admit I was an alcoholic to my congregation, afraid of their reaction, but I was no longer willing to live in shame and fear.  I thought maybe I’d be asked to leave, but instead, that sermon was a turning point in my rabbinate.  It opened the floodgates – and my congregants came in droves to see me to tell me about their spouse, child, parent, boss, and friends who also struggled with addiction.  I was no longer afraid and ashamed. I had become a real person to my congregants and my relationships with them improved.  I gained the trust of my community.  Today, I do not have shame about being found out.  And I’m here to help you.

—

Rabbi Andrea Cosnowsky provides Alcoholism and Addiction Response and Recovery Support for CCAR members. If you think you have a problem with alcohol or drugs, please reach out to her.  All calls are confidential.  Rabbi Cosnowsky is the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Etz Chayim in the Western suburbs of Chicago.

Categories
Healing

Hurricane Harvey: A Year Later

We thought we were the lucky ones, those of us who lived on the west side of Houston. When Hurricane Harvey stalled over Houston nearly one year ago, we spent the days watching the news as one neighborhood after another succumbed to what turned out to be 50 inches of rain that never seemed to end. We watched, and gave thanks, and wondered what we could do to help. This sense of fear and gratitude continued for two days, until August 28th, when we started to hear rumors on the news: “Addicks Reservoir can’t hold all this water,” the Army Corps of Engineers reported. The city said they needed to release water into Buffalo Bayou, which stretched through the west side of town. Still, the city assured us that when they released water into the bayou, there would be only minor street flooding. Instead, when they opened the dam on August 29th my neighborhood—the neighborhood closest to Addicks Reservoir running south of Buffalo Bayou—was flooded within fifteen minutes. The homes closest to the bayou had water up to the roofs. The floodwater stretched eight miles, turning the already flooded recessed Beltway 8 into a gushing river. Every single street intersection in between was flooded so that the west side was cut in half—north of the bayou and south of the bayou—with no way to traverse it. People had no warning or chance to evacuate, and sadly several elderly people died in their homes that night and the following day. And unlike the rest of the city, where the water came in and then returned to sea in a matter of days, the water stayed in our homes for three weeks. Business, churches, and homes were destroyed by up to six feet of water, and by the resultant mold that crept up the walls as days stretched into weeks. In some neighborhoods, every single home filled with water, every single car was destroyed, every single article of clothing was covered in mold, every single memento decayed. There was simply nothing left to salvage.

Still, I was one of the lucky ones, and the congregation I serve, Temple Sinai, was also lucky. So, within two days of the storm, my two coworkers and I called every single one of our families. We partnered with the Conservative and Chabad Jewish communities on the westside to create a supply pantry, and our congregation organized two Mitzvah Days in the two weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah to assist our families that had flooded, to deliver meals and reach out to anybody who needed support. One of our Temple members, Marla Hansel, organized these events. She thought she would spend a couple of weeks helping; she is still at it, calling families who flooded, distributing gift cards, and making everyone who was in dire straits know they are not alone because Temple Sinai has their backs. Within a week of the flood, we called every family in our congregation again, and two weeks later we called them all again. We wanted to ensure that nobody fell through the cracks and that we reached out to everyone. Still, for months we kept learning of people who were flooded but “didn’t want to bother” us, or who felt other people had greater needs. It took about six months for us to realize that approximately 40% of our community was impacted by Harvey.

During this entire time, I only cried twice: Once, after the first day of calls, when it became clear how badly our families were impacted. And then I cried again, when mail started to be delivered, and we received letter after letter with donations enclosed—some of $18 and some of $5,000—by friends and strangers. They had watched the news and wanted to help, and their donations did help; in the end we distributed $50,000 to Jews on the west side of town so they could rebuild their lives.

In addition, Temple Sinai opened its doors to an Episcopalian church close by that was six feet underwater. Emmanuel Episcopal began to pray in our Temple the Sunday of Thanksgiving, and ever since the members of our two communities have drawn close. We shared Advent and Hanukah songs and treats, and we created a joint Mitzvah Day. They attended our Passover Seder and their members have joined our High Holy Day choir, and we are joining their St. Francis Blessing of the Animals (which just happens to be on the Shabbat of parshat Noach). When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, their sewing ministry made her a prayer quilt under which she took her last breath. When their senior rector was diagnosed with cancer, we added his name to our Mi Shebeirach list. They continue to thank us, but I keep thanking them, because they allow us to live our values of hachnasat orchim and recognizing that all people are created in God’s image every single blessed day.

Now, we are approaching the one-year anniversary of Hurricane Harvey. So many people remain displaced, and so many neighborhoods throughout the city remain permanently altered. It will take years for the city to fully recover. Every time it rains, many of us get more than a little nervous. But I must admit that despite the devastation Harvey brought, despite the trauma, despite everything… maybe we are the lucky ones after all.

—

Rabbi Annie Belford serves Temple Sinai in Houston, Texas.

Categories
Death Gun Control Healing

For Florida, and the Floridas to Come. Unless –

We say it over and over again.  “Enough,” we say.  Enough.  But it was enough the first time.  It was more than enough.  Columbine was enough.  Littleton, Charleston, Orlando, Newtown and the others… all the others we can’t even remember by name anymore.  In our numbness and shame… can’t keep up with them because it happens, and happens, and keeps happening and will happen again.  And there is no word for being this far past enough.

My own little baby, I ache to leave you better times.  Thoughts and prayers can’t save us any more than it can save them now – seventeen bright souls who have joined the ranks of all those lives extinguished, blown to bits, the taste of ash in the mouths of their families who loved them best.  How can we praise life anyway?  How can we believe that wisdom and sanity will ever win the day?  That the righteous will flourish like the palm tree, thrive like the cedar… when the righteous are hatefully, needlessly cut down and the arrogant stand idly by the blood of enough after enough after enough?

The poet Warshan Shire wrote: “I held an atlas in my lap/ ran my fingers across the whole world and whispered where does it hurt? it answered everywhere everywhere everywhere.”

In the wake of Parkland, Florida… in the wake of all of them… we are mourners.  And so we stand, everywhere… everywhere… everywhere.  We will stand as we remember our own, and now seventeen more who are also our own.  Or could have been.  Or could yet be.  The weeks will pass and the news will fade, but we will stand for our Kaddish still.  We will remember, we will praise what can be praised, we will work for better times.  And if ours are the names on Kaddish lists by then, if when those times finally come we do not see them, we pray that our children and their children will.

—

Rabbi Rebecca Gutterman serves Congregation B’nai Tikvah in Walnut Creek, California.

 

Categories
Gun Control Healing Prayer

Prayer in the Aftermath of a Tragedy

Our God and God of all people,
God of the Rich and God of the poor.
God of the teacher and God of the student.
God of the families who wait in horror.
God of the dispatcher who hears screams of terror from under bloodied desks.
God of the first responder who bravely creeps through ravaged hallways.
God of the doctor who treats the wounded.
God of the rabbi, pastor, imam or priest who seeks words of comfort but comes up empty.
God of the young boy who sees his classmates die in front of him.
God of the weeping, raging, inconsolable mother who screams at the sight of her child’s lifeless body .
God of the shattered communities torn apart by senseless violence.
God of the legislators paralyzed by fear, partisanship, money and undue influence.
God of the Right.
God of the Left.
God who hears our prayers.
God who does not answer.
On this tragic day when we confront the aftermath of the 18th School shooting in our nation on the 46th day of this year, I do not feel like praying.
Our prayers have not stopped the bullets.
Our prayers have changed nothing.
Once again, a disturbed man with easy access to guns has squinted through the sights of a weapon, aimed, squeezed a trigger and taken out his depraved anger, pain and frustration on innocents:  pure souls. Students and teachers. Brothers and sisters. Mothers and fathers- cut down in an instant by the power of hatred and technology.
We are guilty, O God.
We are guilty of inaction.
We are guilty of complacency.
We are guilty of allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by politics.
The blood of our children cries out from the ground.
The blood of police officers cut down in the line of duty flows through our streets.
I do not appeal to You on this terrible morning to change us. We can only do that ourselves.
Our enemies do not come only from far away places.
The monsters we fear live among us.
May those in this room who have the power to to make change find the courage to seek a pathway to sanity and hope.
May we hold ourselves and our leaders accountable.

Only then will our prayers be worthy of an answer.

AMEN
—
Rabbi Joe Black serves Temple Emanuel in Denver, Colorado.  This prayer was originally posted on his blog. 
Categories
Books Healing News Prayer spirituality

A Prayer of Gratitude from URJ Biennial 2017

Take a moment to be fully grateful for just one thing in your life. That little pause may be enough to change your outlook and your attitude for the day.

At the URJ Biennial, CCAR Press offered that opportunity with a set of stickers and a poster board featuring the book, This Grateful Heart: Psalms and Prayers for a New Day. Each of the stickers read ‘I’m grateful for…’ and folks who came by the booth could complete that line and add the sticker to the poster. Adults and kids, rabbis and cantors, educators, congregants, and lay leaders joined in. By the end of the convention, the board was covered with individual prayers of gratitude.

Gratitude for family and the Biennial appeared most often. One of my favorites came from a little girl who dictated her gratitude to her mother: “being fancy.” I got a chuckle reading “my puppy (woof).”

This is a prayer based on those stickers. I added the language in italics – as well as the punctuation and a few of my own gratitudes – and arranged the order. The words of the prayer are taken from the stickers written by Biennial attendees.

Biennial Sticker Prayer of Gratitude

We are grateful for so much,
All the gifts this world offers.
We celebrate:
The URJ, the CCAR and our congregations,
Biennial, the people, the music and the ruach,
The chance to learn and share,
Being a college ambassador
And singing in the Biennial choir.

I give thanks for:
My family,
My wonderful husband, my wonderful wife,
My children, my grandchildren,
My sons, my daughters,
Nephews and nieces,
Mom and dad,
Sisters and brothers,
My amazing boyfriend,
My fantastic girlfriend,
Thoughtful work friends,
My dog, my puppy (woof) and my cat,
My house, bed and toys,
Best friends and conversations,
Being who I am,
My camp, my nanny and my students,
Jewish music and my guitar,
You.

We marvel at the gifts of:
Dreams, spirit and creativity,
Opportunities, expected and unexpected,
Personal passions,
Good health and sleep,
The ability to grateful,
The ability to forgive,
Second chances and
Guardian angels,
Good food and better company,
Water, hugs and coffee,
Doctors, medicines and helping hands,
America,
Torah and Israel,
Books, puns, words and being fancy.

Today, Source of love and light,
We are grateful for
Every. Single. Thing.

Alden Solovy is a liturgist, author, journalist, and teacher. His teaching spans from Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Jerusalem to Limmud, UK, and synagogues throughout the U.S. Solovy is a three-time winner of the Peter Lisagor Award for Exemplary Journalism. He made aliyah to Israel in 2012, where he hikes, writes, teaches, and learns. His work has appeared in Mishkan R’Fuah: Where Healing Resides (CCAR Press, 2012), L’chol Z’man v’Eit: For Sacred Moments (CCAR Press, 2015), Mishkan HaNefesh: Machzor for the Days of Awe (CCAR Press, 2015), and Gates of Shabbat, Revised Edition (CCAR Press, 2016). He is the author of This Grateful Heart: Psalms and Prayers for a New Day, published by CCAR Press in 2017.

Categories
chaplains General CCAR Healing Rabbis Reform Judaism

On the Eve of Thanksgiving, Further Post-Election Reflections

On this eve of Thanksgiving, I am reflecting deeply and with profound movement of spirit and heart upon two weeks of listening, processing and holding the feelings raised by the election. In my role with the CCAR, it was a tremendous privilege to help organize the call we offered to our members and to share in the leadership of that call with our insightful, skilled and heart-open colleague, Ellen Lewis. All that Ellen taught us that day has remained present to me in the passage of these weeks and has helped immensely. To summarize a couple of key points, Ellen reminded us to be attentive to the truth of our own feelings and to remember that those feelings can inform how we act but need not control our actions. She invited us to self-care and compassion, and to hold close the knowledge that, in times of heighted feelings (particularly anger, fear and anxiety), we are all prone – and this includes those we serve – to acting out and displacement. I know those teachings will have proven helpful to those who were on the call (or who availed themselves of the recording as found at on the CCAR member’s site) as they have to me.

Upon reflection, I have a couple of additional thoughts to offer, particularly to those who have been in pain over the results. First, I have felt and noticed heard people speak of feelings that resemble those of mourning. And I would caution us against buying too fully into that metaphor. As many of us know from pastoral work, when someone is gravely – even life-threateningly ill – it is not uncommon for people to slip into anticipatory grief. It is almost as though the psyche is saying, “If I just experience the anger or the sadness now, maybe I won’t fall into despair when the inevitable death happens.” And it is a dangerous place to go. Chevre, the patient(s), our own souls and the soul of our country are gravely wounded, but the wounds have not yet proven fatal nor even been pronounced mortal. As was the case after 9/11, certain ideas we had about how things were may well have died two weeks ago, or at least been seriously altered. But we are here, as is the nation. We need to avoid falling into the anticipatory grief which will prevent us from doing whatever is to be our tikkun in responding to the wounds.

And one piece of the tikkun – in the framework of Rebbe Nachman’s teaching, especially on this eve of Thanksgiving, we can be looking for the od m’at (see Psalm 37) – the little place where evil/despair/rage do not hold sway, and from that little place “azamra l’Elohai b’odi” (Psalm 146) sing our way into inviting abundance back into the world – abundance of love, of hope and of commitment to justice. On this Thanksgiving, may the little place sing to each of us and help us inch our way toward healing and sacred purpose. And then, back to the work.

Rabbi Rex Perlmeter is CCAR Special Advisor for Member Care and Wellness

Categories
Death Healing spirituality

If I Should Meet God

A disciple came to his rabbi and lamented: “Rabbi, I have all these terrible thoughts. I am even afraid to say them. I feel absolutely terrible that I can even think these thoughts. Rabbi, I simply cannot believe. Sometimes I even think that God doesn’t exist.”

“Why not, my son?” the rabbi asked.

“Because I see in this world deceit and corruption.”

The rabbi answered: “So why do you care?

The disciple continued: “I see in this world hunger, poverty, and homelessness.”

And the rabbi once again responded: “So why do you care?”

The disciple protested: “if God is absent there is no purpose to the entire world. And if there is no purpose to the entire world, then there is no purpose to life – and that troubles my soul greatly.”

Then the rabbi said to his troubled follower: “Do not be disturbed. If you care so much, you are a believer!”

When the atheist Stephen Fry is questioned as to what he would say if he met God, he leaves the interviewer at a loss for words when he responds: “if I should meet God I’ll say: “Bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you? How dare you create a world in which there is so much misery that is not our fault? It’s not right. It’s utterly, utterly evil!”

As a rabbi wrote: “it is time to raise the bar in the conversation about religion and faith, with the knowledge that most people, whether religious, agnostic, atheist, or whatever-ish, truly do want to do what is right, to find and express love, to live a life of purpose, and to be in a meaningful relationship with others.”

“It is good to question and challenge those with whom we disagree, but we deserve more than pithy catch phrases, caricatures of those who we have defined as our enemy, and the childish need to win. Human beings can be glorious creatures who, through conscious choice, can bring healing to the world, and we all need to do this together.”

In my many years as a rabbi, and especially since my illness, I have come to believe that more important than any theology or system of belief is caring, compassion and loving kindness. I have evolved spiritually to believe that no matter what we believe or don’t believe the true heart of our humanity is human goodness and decency.

—

Rabbi Hirshel Jaffe serves as Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Beth Jacob in Newburgh, NY.  Rabbi Jaffe just celebrated his 80th Birthday in Israel after surviving cancer for the fourth time. 

This blog was originally posted on The Running Rabbi. 

Categories
Death Healing News

A Response to Terror in Brussels on Purim

We pray for the people of Belgium and for the families of those killed and injured in the horrific terror attacks in Brussels.

Today, as Jews around the world gather to celebrate Purim, we will pause to remember before engaging in the frivolity and laughter that we are commanded to enjoy on this holiday. On Purim we are reminded of the reality of evil and the serendipitous nature of the line that divides those who are delivered from harm from those who fall victim to hatred and cruelty. Sadly, and tragically, those killed and injured in these brutal attacks did nothing to deserve what befell them. Terror is radically evil precisely because there is no correlation between the perpetrators and their prey. There is no cause, no justice—only random destruction.

We Jews know this kind of evil. We are schooled in it from our history. The martyrs of our people from the pogroms, to the Shoah, to terror in Israel were not singled out for anything that they did. Their fate was sealed because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time when demonic hatred was unleashed. It didn’t matter their age, their gender, or their political orientation. So, too, in Brussels, the line between those who were killed and those who survived was completely random.

This is the chilling reality that we encounter as we read the Megillah. How many things had to go just right at just the right time for the Jews of Shushan to escape without harm from the decrees of the evil Haman? What if Mordechai had not learned of the plot to kill the King? What if Esther had not been at the court of King Achashverosh? What if the king had not granted her access and been attentive to her plea?

Yes, Esther’s example is one of great courage, but also of good luck. Some see the divine hand behind all the vicissitudes in the Megillah, and in life. I do not. God did not save individuals from death in Brussels, and God didn’t single out others to be killed; just as God doesn’t speak or act in the Book of Esther. Divine compassion is manifest in the world and in the Megillah when people bring it. God’s presence is felt in all places when people act in godly ways.

The Book of Esther has a dark ending. The Jews of Shushan go on a rampage of revenge against their enemies, killing thousands. It is a chilling reminder of how violence can breed more violence, and how the demand for justice can turn cruel if it is not tempered by compassion.

The ultimate answer to hatred is not more hatred. It is love. The best response to sadness is to increase joy. For every act of callousness and violence, let there be remembrance, increased vigilance, and the pursuit of justice by just means. Like Esther, let us be courageous in the face of threats to life, liberty, and dignity. And let us ever be God’s partners in making the world a kinder and gentler place for all.

Chag Purim Sameach!

—

Rabbi Arnie Gluck Serves Temple Beth-El in Hillsborough, NJ.