Category: Israel

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The People of Israel Are Living

Today felt like the longest day of my life. Maybe it was, actually. Today was two days for the price of one, thanks to 18 hours of travel time. Today was also the first time I’ve ever had rockets fired my way, the first time I’ve experienced seeking shelter, and certainly the first time I’ve had a super-high-tech Iron Dome destroy the rockets heading my way.  A long day indeed.  Israelis are experiencing these things every day. I came here to Israel on a CCAR Solidarity mission to learn about the everyday amid this conflict, to understand what is happening in person, rather than on a computer screen. One of the questions I’ve pursued as I’ve met Israelis throughout the day: how are you coping with this? Growing up in in synagogue one of the first songs I ever learned was “Am Yisrael Chai,” which I usually translate, “the Jewish people lives!” Witnessing the people of the State of Israel enduring this tragic period, I’d now translate it slightly differently: “the Jewish people is living” or “the people of Israel are affirming life.” Amid this conflict that is negating so much life, here are three snapshots from today reflecting how Israelis are living and affirming life.

MatthewSofferBlog1

1. We met with an Yael Karrie, an Israeli Reform rabbinic student in Shaar Hanegev. Yael noticed that every single day their lives are bombarded by red, the red sirens, the red ambulances; everywhere is “conflict red.” So instead of lamenting, or allowing the color to drift into permanently dreadful connotation, she decided affirm a more positive notion of life. She started a campaign called “Reclaiming Red,” inviting people all around the world to “send us happy pictures with the color red.”  What a statement, a powerful artistic expression reminding us of what our prophets knew so well- that no matter what our situation is, we have the power to transcend, to find beauty, to reach out to each other and live.

MatthewSofferBlog22. One of the realities of life here is that at any moment, a siren can sound, meaning that there is a rocket headed in your direction. Israelis have as little as 15 seconds to find shelter. We experienced this twice today in Ashkelon. People in this part of Israel experience this for prolonged periods of time, getting stuck in shelters. We made packages for people stuck in these places; supplies that will get them through longer periods of sheltering.

MatthewSofferBlog33. This is a playground in Sderot. Look closely and you’ll see that this playground is also a bomb shelter. It’s the only one in the world– unsurprisingly, since Sderot is the “bomb shelter capital of the world.” Not a badge to be worn with pride, to be sure, but what pride they take in this playground. It sends a message: we will let nothing stand in the way of our children’s happiness and well-being. No wonder the 7 wedding blessings culminate with the imagery of joyful shouts of children at play. We are pained by the knowledge that this conflict has taken more than a thousand lives. Nothing can diminish that; I have written elsewhere about this ubiquitous anguish.  But today was about more than anguish, more than conflict and death. Just as the Mourner’s Kaddish is a prayer that affirms life, so do the Israelis here in the South: the Jewish people here are busy living.

Matthew Soffer is a rabbi at Temple Israel of Boston, where he directs the Riverway Project, an initiative engaging individuals in their 20’s and 30’s in Jewish life. At Temple Israel he leads Ohel Tzedek, the social justice arm of the community, which practices congregation-based community organizing, through the Greater Boston Interfaith Organization (GBIO). Matthew serves on the Board of the Jewish Alliance for Law and Social Action (JALSA). This blog originally appeared in The Times of Israel. Follow the CCAR Solidarity mission on twitter at #CCARIsrael14.

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Israel News Rabbis Reform Judaism

Mideast Conflict: Experiences and Hopes in Israel

The air raid sirens in Israel are haunting. Normally, they reverberate across the country two times in April every year, once to remember the victims of the Holocaust and then to memorialize those Israelis who died to create and defend a nation state for the Jewish people. Everything stops. Cars pull to the side of the road. People stand at attention for two full minutes until the siren ends. Then life resumes.

Israelis live with an awareness of how our Jewish people have moved from powerlessness to relative power in a short time. The past still affects the present. How could it not? Before the Holocaust, there were 17 million Jews in the world. In 2014, there are still only 13.5 million. Almost half live in Israel, our ancestral home never left by a remnant of Jews in more than 3,000 years, now surrounded by a chaotic Middle East.

I have stood for this siren memorial many times in Israel over the years.

Last week, I heard the siren twice while studying in Jerusalem. My first instinct was to stand. Then slowly, absorbing what was happening, I moved toward shelter. You have seconds before the missiles will come, I had been told. The first time, I was near a bomb shelter. The second time, I was in the Old City in Jerusalem and went under a stone archway with other passersby. Moments later I could see one of the five missiles intercepted by Iron Dome and heard the explosions of the others. Then life resumed.

I am grateful that Israel invested in new technologies to create Iron Dome — generously funded by the United States — to protect its citizens and visitors.

I am grateful but heartbroken over the situation.

Hamas is a terrorist organization. Israel protects its citizens with weapons; Hamas protects its weapons with its citizens. The result has been tragic in Gaza. Children and other civilians have died. I mourn every child, every Palestinian who has been killed.

Israel does everything possible, with remarkable techniques, to minimize civilian deaths, as compared with any other country in history. I have met Israeli soldiers who speak of seeing the image of God in every human being. They are not perfect; they are held accountable in courts of law; none of us has enough information to condone or condemn.

It is so important not to view this complex situation in black-and-white terms. Israel is not fighting Palestinians as a whole, nor, thankfully, are all Palestinians fighting Israel.

Nevertheless, there was a sense of inevitability with this current round of violence. Rockets from Gaza targeting civilians in Israel have never ceased in the past decade. During peace negotiations, more than 100 rockets were launched earlier this year. U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry’s initiative for two states ended in failure in April without a Plan B. Israeli settlement building — though mostly in areas that Palestinian negotiators agree will be part of Israel in any two-state solution — complicated negotiations.

Then the extremists made it personal. Three Israeli Jewish teens were kidnapped and murdered, an act grotesquely cheered by Hamas. Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, however, rightly condemned the act. To Israel’s horror, Israeli extremists — in revenge — gruesomely murdered an Israeli Arab teenager. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu rightly condemned the act. The day after her own son’s funeral, Rachel Frankel said: “The shedding of innocent blood [is] in defiance of all morality, of the Torah … of all of us in this country.” Last Tuesday, I joined 350 Israelis to offer condolences to Mohammed Abu Khader’s family at their home in East Jerusalem. Our presence, we hoped, would express a measure of humanity, especially now.

This humanity is needed by all. Last year, Minnesotan Muslims, Christians and Jews hosted a Palestinian and an Israeli who had both lost loved ones in the conflict. Wajih Tmaiza and Roi Golan, from “The Parents Circle,” told their stories in a forum titled “Reconciliation not Revenge.” Their message: Coexistence is possible. We need to find a way to live, not die together.

“There is no mercy in the Middle East,” noted Israeli journalist Ari Shavit said in March before 600 people at Mount Zion Temple in St. Paul in conjunction with the Jewish Community Relations Council. “Israel must be tough to survive. But the source of our strength is belonging to the West, its values and our Jewish values.” May those values bring calm and coexistence soon.

Rabbi Adam Stock Spilker has been rabbi at Mount Zion Temple in St. Paul since 1997. He returned from Israel last Friday from a congregational trip and personal study at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem. This blog originally appeared last week in the Star Tribune. 

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Israel News Rabbis Reform Judaism Social Justice

Israel and LGBT Rights: A Work in Progress

Over the last number of years, Israel’s extraordinarily progressive positions on gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people has almost made up for the occupation of the West Bank.  I know that sounds ridiculous and, of course, it is.  But the reason I station them side by side is that as a progressive Zionist I have been embarrassed by the growing settlements in the West Bank.  And as a progressive Zionist I have enjoyed overwhelming pride from Israel’s remarkably forward support of gays and lesbians.  The GLBT community is safe and thriving in the heart of the Middle East—Israel—while every surrounding country is hostile and dangerous for our community.

By way of full disclosure, I’m a lesbian rabbi.

So when Education Minister Shai Piron, the number two in Yair Lapid’s Yesh Atid party, spoke recently against the legitimacy of gay and lesbian couples, my heart went out to Israeli gays and lesbians, especially to the youth.  And I would have been embarrassed, except for that I’m buoyed by the rigorous debate in Israel that followed.

Piron’s remarks were, “I think it’s a Jewish State’s right, maybe even its duty, to say to same-sex couples who decide to live their lives together: this is not a family.”

Once I learned that he had offered an apology, I sought to write a piece on the power of remorse and t’shuvah (repentance).  Unfortunately, if you look at Piron’s apology, he does not in any way retract his remarks.  On the contrary, he makes the point that, “it’s not up to me to decide what a family is and what it is not.”  In other  words, he admits that if it were up to him, families like mine would not be considered a family.  All he is conceding is that he doesn’t have the ability or right to make that decision for us.

This should come as no big shock considering that, according to “The Times of Israel,” Piron, an Orthodox Rabbi who was the head of a religious-Zionist yeshiva, said before he joined Yesh Atid that “homosexuality could be fixed.”  Piron and Lapid later stated, when Piron entered public service, that Piron had, “changed his views.”

So then what do we make of the fact that openly gay TV host Asi Azzar expressed support  for Piron despite his comments because his actions in the Knesset, according to Azzar, have been helpful to the gay community?

This reminds me a bit of how we feminists looked the other way at Bill Clinton’s sexual harassment of women because he took such pro-female positions when it came to the law and his bully pulpit.

Piron is not where he should be on the issue of gays and lesbians.  We err if we make allowances for his homophobia just because he is less hostile than other Orthodox Rabbis.  And we make a mistake when we forgive someone simply because they are not as homophobic as they once were.  As an American resident it is not my place to call for the resignation of an MK.  But I think that it is imperative to keep criticism of his position highlighted so as not to make room for a homophobic point of view just because we are grateful for the dialogue.  And if I lived in Israel, I would be protesting his leadership as Education Minister as much as I would protest West Bank settlements.  They are bad for Israel and bad for the Jews.

My parents are Sabras who met while serving in Tzahal and moved to the US in the late 1950’s.  When they became American citizens they had to swear that they were not homosexuals.  We have come a long way in the United States and any gay activist knows that individuals often come along slowly on this issue, while others awaken suddenly.

Okay Shai Piron, kudos to you for not being as anti-gay as you used to be.  And thank you for wishing that you hadn’t hurt people’s feelings.  And I am glad that you sometimes vote correctly on LGBT rights.  But you are not where you should be.  You are a work in progress.  If you can find access to a fast-forward button that gives you the wisdom and courage to be diametrically opposed to the position of most Orthodox leaders, I will be very proud of you.

 Rabbi Karen Bender is one of the contributors to the wide-ranging anthology “The Sacred Encounter”. Her chapter, “How to Respond to Bible-Thumping Homophobia, Or: Judaism as Evolutionary If Not Revolutionary” deals with important and controversial issues of homosexuality in the bible.

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Israel News Rabbis Reform Judaism

This Mini-War: In Israel, On the Road Between Jerusalem and Tzur Hadassah

My week.

Monday evening sitting in someone’s home in Tzur Hadassah, around 10 p.m. Talking about some great ideas. Suddenly, without warning, the alarm siren goes off. We are sitting in his protected room. He and his wife hesitated to bring their kids until they heard the booms (the booms, as I learned later, can be heard from pretty far away, as my husband in Jerusalem about 20 kilometers away, who had grabbed our three sleeping children and brought them downstairs in our building to the most protected area, heard them too).

I was shaken up. I called Tamir, my native Israeli husband, and asked what should I do? Sleep over? He said, “Mah pit’om…what suddenly?…Come home.” So, after chatting a bit more to calm my nerves, I drove home, keeping my brother in Columbus, Ohio, on the line as I made the 25 minute ride. This week, by the way, I have not taken the “tunnels road” that crosses the green line for 10 minutes going by Beitar Ilit and Hussan. And I have found that the most veteran Tzur Hadassah residents are doing the same.

Tamir’s words to me when I came home were: This is what you do: When there is a siren, you go immediately to the protected space. When it’s over, you carry on as usual. These are the orders of the home command.

So, when my friend asked if I thought she should still have her daughter’s birthday party at a park on Thursday afternoon, I said yes – carry on as usual. We’re sitting in the park, the kids are in the mini pool. We’re eating hotdogs, talking about the situation. And, yup, here comes Jerusalem alarm siren #2. We go to the nearest building, huddling in the hallway, until a local says, “Come down to the bomb shelter.” There we go, all set up. My son, almost 7, who is enthralled with his newly acquired reading skills, had to be torn away from his book to go into the building. The second he entered the bomb shelter, he found a chair, sat down, and continued reading. My daughter, when I shouted at her to come, stared at my dumbfounded. Eventually, she came. All the moms tried to play off their nerves once we got to the bomb shelter, saying to their kids, “Isn’t this fun? What a great room!” The birthday mom took a photo – a birthday party to remember! She reminded of my words “carry on”. I stood by them. After the few minutes passed and we heard the booms, we returned to the birthday party.

Carrying on.

I left Tamir with the kids at the party to continue on to a wedding that I was officiating at. The wedding was supposed to be at a moshav where the couple lives, near Tzur Hadassah. The bride called me Tuesday. “Stacey, are you still officiating at our wedding on the moshav, with the situation?” Me: “Are you still getting married?” Yes. “So, of course I’m coming.” The bride called me Wednesday. They decided to move the wedding and found a place in Jerusalem, very accessible to a protected area, unlike the space on the moshav. The alarm had gone off two hours before we stood underneath their huppah, everyone there determined to celebrate with them. (And it was a beautiful wedding).

I went to my congregation in Tzur Hadassah for kabbalat Shabbat services last night. Not too many people were there. (Everyone the night before had cancelled coming to our Torah study – just after the alarm siren). The prayers took on a different meaning. They asked to recite birkat hagomel, the blessing for someone who had gone through a life-threatening experience. We all recited the blessing. And we all recited the response. Certain prayers stood out to me Hashkivenu Adonai Eloheinu L’shalom…. Oh Adonai, our God, lie us down in peace, and rise us up, our Sovereign, to life….We read selections about peace, hope, and faith, which the Reform Movement had sent us. We prayed for peace for all peoples.

Tonight at 7 p.m. was alarm siren #3 in Jerusalem. My son jumped to attention immediately and walked calmly downstairs. My daughter again hesitated. When we are down there, my daughter (age 4) asks, “Why are we here?” My son (age 7) answers, “So we won’t die.” I again, am shaken by the experience. My husband says, “You haven’t gotten used to it, huh?” I ask my son, “Were you scared?” He says, “No.” I believe him. I was about to leave for Tzur Hadassah for an event we have been planning for many weeks now with an artist who arrived from the North. Should we cancel? No, was everyone’s response. We carry on as usual. I sent out the text message – “There’s wine, there’s art, and there’s a safe room – come to the kehilah!”

In the middle of the evening – which really was very lovely – we heard booms without any alarm. People whipped out their phones. There was a hit but not exactly in our area to warrant the alarm. A few people jumped up and left. Everyone else wanted to stay, but you could see that people were having a harder time focusing. We continued on, but not for too much longer.

What to think being here? What message do I want to send my family and friends abroad? I feel I must respond. On the one hand, I am not afraid. I am in awe of my country Israel, which goes to such great lengths to protect its citizens – the Iron Dome is amazing. Of the thousands of recruits who are being called up to serve and go willingly. Of the people in my communities who offer help and who seek my and my congregation’s help to get through this. It’s really a test of nerves. That what the terrorists want – to get on our nerves. Of the daily life that continues here. I think of the Palestinians getting killed, both guilty and innocent. I think that there are hundreds of armed conflicts going on around the world. I reflect: Why? How could a person think this is preferred over living in peace?

What is this thing called humanity? For this we were created? These images of God who are set on killing and terrorizing? Here is nothing compared to other places in the world. A bar mitzvah parent just wrote me – oh yes, remember when we had that sniper running around the D.C. area? Now that was scary!

I suggest to everyone to do what your conscience leads you toward – come here/be here, if you are prepared for more uncertainty than usual, still witness to a thriving moving society where everything is open and happening. Or donate money to causes that helping those who are really caught in the thick of things in the settlements close to Gaza. Petition the leadership, all leadership and every leadership, to give full gas to bring PEACE IN THE MIDDLE EAST.

And, as my congregants and I determined last night, never lose hope or faith.

This blog originally appeared on rabbistaceyblank.wordpress.com.

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Israel Rabbis Reform Judaism

Reflections and Concerns Upon Returning from Israel

I returned this morning from a week in Israel. I had planned to, under the auspices of AIPAC and with 17 other “progressive” rabbis (AIPAC’s term) see first-hand the multitudes of ways that Israel society is coping and excelling despite its continued security and societal challenges. Of course, what I got was a very different trip. I missed the first day due to a funeral back in Chicago. What I saw after that was a series of meetings with people of various backgrounds; the common word for all of them was that the situation is complicated. We met with a Palestinian demographer, GLBT activists, various professors, statesmen and community activists. Because of the war with Gaza there was much that we could not do, or at the very least there were many places we could not visit. Instead, we got to hear sirens, warning that Hamas missiles were incoming. We rushed to bomb shelters or stairwells. It all reminded me of a visit to Israel in late 2000, with the Second Intifada underway. The only difference was this time, thanks to the Iron Dome, the terror wasn’t really terror (at least for those not in the south). The terror was inconvenient. Which is to say it didn’t feel like terror at all.

Gaza security fence.
Gaza security fence.

My concern is for those with children, who cannot be so cavalier about the “they incompetently shoot missiles and if they are actually coming close by we zap them with Iron Dome”. My concern is for the soldiers, like my nephew, who may have to go into Gaza. And my concern is that the violence will not end soon. I came on the trip already believing that American Jews should support Israel much more than they should speak out against Israel. Actually I don’t think they should speak out at all. Unless they make aliyah of course, then be my guest. But I am grateful that Israelis themselves see the bigger picture. Most of those with whom we spoke will not give up hope that some agreement can be worked out.

On our last day (yesterday, actually) we visited a small hospital in Safed. This is a place with doctors and nurses of all religions and ethnic groups, including of course Jewish. For a year and a half they have been treating hundreds of Syrians who make their way to the board. We met with a three year old who was shot in the leg and who is getting excellent treatment. His father was the first Syrian I had ever met. I know he will always be grateful for the menshlikheit of the Jews and Arabs who saved his boy’s leg, if not his life.

One final thought, translated by me from the Hebrew of Prime Minister Netanyahu’s press conference last Friday: Hamas uses civilians to cover their missiles. Israel uses missiles to protect their civilians. That’s the difference.

I cannot wait to return to Israel, hopefully in a time of quiet and opportunity for peace. In the mean time I come away with even greater respect for Israel, a country that, in the words of Dr. Donniel Hartman, wants to be Scandinavia but is stuck in the Middle East.

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Israel News Rabbis Reform Judaism

Note from Israel: A Rabbi Reflects on a Difficult Week

It has been a difficult time in Israel. I have been here in Eretz Yisrael for more than a week now. Arriving just before they found the bodies of Eyal,Gilad and Naftali. When the news of the discovery of their bodies came over the news I was with several colleagues and it was a palpable moment that took our breath away. Israel went into mourning. Jews from the right or left cried with their families. I was surprised how few cars were out in the streets. I was glued to watching the funeral and crying too. And then in the midst of mourning, a young Arab teen burned alive. Retribution by a gang of Jewish thugs; it was cold-blooded murder.

A country and a Jewish people that prides itself on the value “choose life” has within it such depravity – it shocks the nation. The burnt body of Muhammed Abu Khadeir gave Israel another blow and made many realize that the rhetoric that they have espoused has consequences. Words matter and the words of revenge, the cycle of violence represented by this has given Israel pause. This was a reason for more tears for Muhammed, his family and for my Israel who is so conflicted and so battered from every side, even as the Army went door to door on the West Bank searching for the 2 murderers of Eyal, Naftali and Gilad.

IMG_4124But these deeply saddening events have taken place against a background of a barrage of rocket and missile fire from Hamas. Since the agreement of Fatah and Hamas to create their “unity” government, the rockets have fallen through the south with increasing volume. And then yesterday, as Israel called up reservists and gathered at the border of Gaza the rockets reigned down on an ever increasing circle of Israel. Sderot, Beersheva, Ashkelon, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.

Last night it took me a minute. I heard the sirens. But it didn’t compute. The TV was on. I was watching it and hearing it as if numb and realized this wasn’t just far away but overhead.   Hurriedly I found the safety of the shelter with others in the hotel. Shaken and realizing that Israel has entered a new and frightening phase it was a night of little sleep. All of Israel is vulnerable to the missiles.

Even though I have had many tears this week, I am strengthened in my commitment to Israel by being here. By sharing in the Israel experience, not just in times of quiet and celebration, but in these extraordinarily difficult times. And I know our rabbinic presence in Israel bring strength to Medinat Yisrael.

May Israel be kept in our prayers. For peace outside and within.

Rabbi Denise L. Eger is the founding rabbi of Congregation Kol Ami in West Hollywood, CA and is President Elect of the CCAR. You can follow her travels this week in Israel @deniseeger #rabbinicmission2Israel. Or @AIPAC

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Israel News Rabbis Reform Judaism

Reform Jews Must Look at Themselves

Reform and Conservative Jews feel discriminated against in Israel. The rabbinic establishment shuns them. Though the state pays salaries to some non-Orthodox rabbis, it ignores and discriminates against them in many other ways.

Polls indicate many secular Israelis favour equal rights for all religious streams, yet most non-observant Jews choose Orthodox synagogues and rabbis for life-cycle events. Of those who turn to Conservative and Reform congregations, only a few actually join them, and even fewer are actively involved.

Nevertheless, non-Orthodox Jewish movements remain committed to Israel. They show it, for example, by insisting that their rabbinical students spend at least a year there. If some return less than enthusiastic about the state, it may be due to a sense of not really being wanted.

I perceived some of that when I heard a Shabbat sermon last month at the Jerusalem campus of Hebrew Union College, which trains Reform Jewish professionals. The weekly portion was M’tzora, which deals with an affliction called tzara’at, often erroneously rendered as leprosy but is better identified as “a mysterious and causeless malady that renders you utterly incapable of partaking in society.”

That’s how it was described by the speaker. Sam Kaye is completing a year in Israel before returning to the United States for the rest of his five-year rabbinical training. Referring to the ritual unfitness that may cause the affliction and deem sufferers to be outside the camp yet still inside the Israelite community, he suggested that’s how many Israelis perceive Reform Jews.

I believe he reflects the feelings of most of his fellow students: “All too often, especially in this city, it feels as if Reform Jews are the modern lepers of the traditional Jewish world, described as unfit and unqualified to participate in matters related to spirituality. While we remain in the secular realm, we’re tacitly accepted… but when we desire to enter into the realm of that which is holy, suddenly our infection bubbles to the surface.”

He believes the reason is that “Reform Judaism lifts up a mirror to Jewish society and reminds it of an uncomfortable truth” about the Orthodox establishment. He argued that “those that society has traditionally deemed ‘spiritually unfit’ are actually quite capable of embodying spirituality.”

Kaye seems to have had in mind the “big tent” that Conservative and Reform Judaism advocate. They and other liberal groups seek to make room for as many Jews as possible, irrespective of halachic status and chosen lifestyle.

He urged perseverance in the face of establishment intransigence: “Even if authorities don’t believe in our message or when they invalidate the messenger, it doesn’t change the need to continue holding up the mirror and show our people the flaws, the cracks, and the impurities they would rather pretend did not exist.”

Escape into victimhood is common among those who feel discriminated against. Self-righteousness to the point of claiming higher moral sensitivity than others is part of the defence mechanism.

But Kaye went further. He urged the future Reform rabbis, cantors and educators whom he was addressing to apply the same scrutiny to themselves as they do to others. Our critics, he said, are also holding up a mirror “that is shedding light on our failure to maintain Jewish identity” and they’re sending us a message “eerily similar to our own: ‘turn inward; acknowledge where you have left others behind.’” Instead of self-pity and self-righteousness, he advocated self-scrutiny.

Hence his sober conclusion: “When we demand that others face their reflection, it is fundamental that we do not find ourselves unable to bear that same self-scrutiny when our own turn arrives.” Being victims doesn’t entitle us to be smug. Responding to our critics includes being steadfast in our commitment, yet learning from them, despite their belligerence.

I can think of no more apt way to articulate my own Judaism: stand my ground as a critic, but apply the same rigid standards to myself. I’m grateful for the reminder.

 This post originally appeared on cjnews.org.

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Books Israel Rabbis Reform Judaism

Purim – Time for New Interpretation

I was teaching an Introduction to Judaism class this Tuesday night about (fittingly) Purim. I was in the midst of explaining to my class the mitzvah to drink until you don’t know the difference between blessing Mordecai and cursing Haman, and how it has been traditionally interpreted (get extremely drunk), when one of my students stopped me.

“What if,” she began, “What if we’re interpreting the commandment too literally. I mean, we’ve learned how many of the commandments have been analogized, or understood metaphorically,” she said, “but it sounds like this one is always taken literally, across Jewish communities.”

“Generally, yes.” I answered. “Purim is treated as an opportunity to drink heavily.”

“But what if,” she asked, “the commandment is not meant to be taken literally, not to mean that you should get really drunk, but perhaps, that you should use Purim as an opportunity to blur the distinction between good and bad people, to imagine that everyone, even our enemies, are good and evil, that people are complex, and that cursing people is a dirty business.”

There was a long silence. This was a brilliant and beautiful interpretation, but I wasn’t sure (in fact, I highly doubted) that it was what the Rabbis intended when they suggested the minhag. In fact, knowing what I do about Jewish history, and how Purim is, in many senses, a wish fulfilling fantasy of revenge on all those who have hurt Jews throughout the ages, I knew how unlikely it was.

But we live in a different world now. We live in a world where Jews wield power (political and otherwise), where we have our own state, and where humanist values have come to inform our understanding of what it means to be Liberal Jews. We live in a world where it is possible to find the wholesale slaughter of Jewish enemies (75,810 people!) at the end of the book of Esther morally troubling, and the cursing of Haman’s name discomfiting (however much he may deserve it). So what if we can use the commandment to blur the lines to teach complexity, nuance and that the notion that only in fairytales and Disney movies are people all good, or all evil. Too often we gloss over the slaughter of non-Jews that occurs at the end of Megillat Esther because it complicates the fairytale, because it’s too hard to explain to kids (let alone adults) the moral complexity of revenge fantasies.

For the past week, I have been reading Israeli journalist (and Haaretz columnist) Ari Shavit’s book, My Promised Land which has been hailed by everyone from Leon Wieseltier to Jeffrey Goldberg as exceptional. This is largely because of Shavit’s ability to hold and wrestle with multiple narratives about the founding of the State of Israel; the horrors of the Holocaust and the nightmare of the naqba, the miracle of Israel and the ongoing disaster of Palestinian displacement. What sets the book apart is its painful – and brilliant – ability to compassionately hold all of these narratives: the horrific losses of Iraqi Jewish olim, the unthinkable trauma of Holocaust survivors in the same period, and the nightmare for Palestinians who once inhabited the city of Lydda and were displaced by traumatized Jewish immigrants. These stories are told with grace, nuance and a heart big enough to hold –  and mourn – all of them. Purim gives us a similar opportunity; to know that in every victory there may also be great loss, and in every loss there may be a victory for our enemy, and that praying for tremendous suffering – for anyone – compromises us all. Purim is an opportunity to think deeply about these contradictions, and to acknowledge the pain, and nuance, contained in this realitiy.

So what did I tell my student? “That’s a beautiful interpretation.” I answered. “Really beautiful. But, I mean, given the historical context that the commandment comes out of, I’m not sure it’s accurate.”

“Maybe” she said, “It’s time for a new interpretation.”

Maybe it is.

Chag Purim Sameach.

Rabbi Jordie Gerson serves Temple Emanu-el Beth Sholom in Montreal. 

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CCAR on the Road Israel News

CCAR Delegation in Ramallah: Learning, Listening and Questioning

Our CCAR delegation had the unusual but rewarding opportunity to travel to Ramallah, the capital of the Palestinian Authority, to talk with Palestinian business and political leaders.  Each rabbi in our group took away something different from the day. I’ll begin with my own general impressions and then fill in the details. What I took away was: 1) we do indeed have partners for both economic and political engagement; 2) Palestinians are thinking creatively about building a sustainable economy in their emerging state and have been working successfully in mutual engagement with Israelis in universities and other settings; 3) Restrictions imposed by the Israeli occupation such as freedom of movement of both goods and people are severely hampering economic development; and 4) Women are an emerging and strong force in the Palestinian work place.

Our leaders who arranged the meetings were Felice and Michael Friedson, founders of Media Line.  They first took us to meet with Kamel Husseini, the Managing Director of The Portland Trust.  Founded in London in 2003, the Trust is a “British non-profit ‘action tank’ whose mission is to promote peace and stability between Israelis and Palestinians through economic development.” Husseini is an ideal director for such a trust. For much of his life he has reached out to Jews and Israelis, moved by our shared humanity.  Husseini wrote a moving article about Hadassah Hospital as a model of humanity that we would all do well to emulate.  He spoke from personal knowledge, having taken his mother there for oncology treatments for 12 years.

The goal of Kamel Husseini and the Portland Trust in Ramallah is to work on 5 areas of economic development (tourism, energy, construction, information technology, and agriculture) that are realistic given the restrictions of the Palestinian reality under occupation.  It would not be realistic, for example, to work on manufacturing, since that requires access to resources and control of imports and exports through borders that are not available at this time.  His hope is that by focusing on things they can do, they can help prepare the Palestinian economy for a time when there is an independent state.  He is very eager to work with Israelis both now and in the future on economic projecCaryn Broitman 2ts.

Our next meeting took place at the beautiful new coffee house in Ramallah called Zamn.  The second of an Starbucks type chain, Zamn was started by the impressive and articulate entrepreneur and business woman, Huda el Jack. El Jack, who moved to the West Bank from the United States in 2003, went to business school at Tel Aviv University.  She wanted to go to a university where Palestinians and Israelis were together.  Watching the students work together, she learned learned that it is “amazing what Israelis and Palestinians can do together when they are free”. El Jack wanted to make a difference in the economy and she certainly has.  The food and coffee at Zamn were delicious.  She wanted to make sure we understood, however, that she was able to do what she did in spite of the situation (occupation).  “Don’t think there are a lot of opportunities here.”  Taking advantage of her education abroad, however, she is creating opportunities for others.

While enjoying our lunches we were given the unexpected opportunity of hearing senior Palestinian official, Nabil Shaath.  Shaat is a close advisor to Mahmoud Abbas and has been one of the key negotiators over the years.  Shaath expressed great respect for John Kerry and his efforts, however was dissatisfied with the direction of the negotiations.  While Palestinians, in his view, would overwhelmingly favor a plan of two states with 2 capitals and open trade between the two countries, what is being offered, in his view, is a state that is neither contiguous nor independent, and would not alleviate the restrictions of movement that he and other Palestinians suffer now.  He expressed the frustration that Secretary Kerry seemed to be negotiating with Bibi Netanyahu and Naftali Bennett, rather than with Netanyahu and Abbas.

Finally, we visited the planned city of Rawabi, not far from Ramallah.  We were greeted by a woman, one of their engineers, who told us that there are 23 neighborhoods planned, 2 of them already completed with their 650 apartments already sold.  The city will include a hospital, many schools, an amphitheater, mosques and churches, a convention center and much more.  The building is on an almost unimaginable scale.  Its visionary, Bashar Al-Masri spoke to us of his desire to make a difference in the Palestinian economy.  He passionately explained that he does not want Palestine to be a state dependent on donations of other nations.  He wants to help build a self-sustaining economy of his emerging country.  Rawabi has become the number 1 private sector employer of Palestinians.  And while it is an expression of Palestinians’ independent spirit, it also is a model of engagement with Israelis and Jews around the world, who have come to both learn from and offer their help and experience.  While restrictions of movement and road building due to the occupation has been a major obstacle, Masri is still optimistic, and has received support from many in the Israeli public who can hopefully influence government officials to allow him the access to water and roads that the project requires.

We were all grateful to Felice, Michael and the CCAR for a day packed with opportunities for learning, listening and questioning.

 Rabbi Caryn Broitman is the rabbi of Martha’s Vineyard Hebrew Center.

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CCAR on the Road Israel

CCAR Start Up Israel Trip: Learn What Makes the Impossible Possible

Walking through the late afternoon in Maktesh Ramon, breathing in air that is simultaneously warm and cool the way air in the desert in the late afternoon tends to be (but not at all the way the air in New Jersey tends to be), I overheard a colleague say: “if I’m not enjoying it, I’m doing the wrong thing”. I wasn’t really part of his conversation, more wandering alongside lost in my own moment, so I’m not entirely sure what “it” was. But whatever he meant, he got me thinking.

It is easy to throw around sentences like that one when you are on vacation and the only decision to be made is which of two equally gorgeous hikes to take through the desert. We can love either. But what about loving to do what we’re about the rest of the time: when the sun is not setting over the crater and the sky turning to colors we’ll never see in Princeton, or Joliet or wherever.

I don’t know well the rabbi who was speaking but from what I can tell he certainly seems passionate about the work of his rabbinate. And another rabbi on our trip told me today that she actually was prepared to hate the form her rabbinate had taken until she discovered that she loved her work with the people with whom she engaged day by day. The CEO of Friends by Nature, Nir, got involved in the Ethiopian community when in his post army wanderings he fell in love with an area, met the people there and loved those people even more than the surroundings themselves. He has dedicated his life to that love. Miri Eisen started our day talking to us about the geopolitical reality of Israel given the world in which it exists. She is a woman whose passion for the people of Israel, her love for them and the need to protect them is evident in all she says. In other words, what struck me today was the power of love.

When you love what you do and who you do it with, the impossible sometimes becomes less so. I know we don’t live our lives on vacation where loving what you’re about is easy. I understand that there are plenty of things that all the love in the world is not going to make possible. But I came here to Israel with the CCAR Start Up Israel trip to learn what makes the impossible possible. A MARAM colleague who met with us for lunch and is building in Caesaria one of the newest congregations in Israel — a place where she herself declared there could never be a reform community — told us that she didn’t let herself focus on what couldn’t be. She focused on what she knew in her heart there needed to be. And she shared that love with others. Guess what? They had 100 plus people at the high holidays last year.

My questions then: how do we make the impossible happen? And what’s love got to do with it?

Rabbi Carolyn Bricklin-Small serves Congregation Beth Chaim in Princeton Junction, NJ.