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Tisha B’Av: Modern Destruction

As I write this, Jews around the world are preparing to commemorate Tisha B’Av. On Tisha B’Av, the 9th of Av, the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed not once, but twice: first by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and again by the Romans in the year 70 CE.

Tisha B’Av is a day of communal mourning. It is similar to Yom Kippur in its observance – Jews fast during Tisha B’Av and refrain from doing anything enjoyable. Since the destruction of the 2nd Temple in 70 CE, Tisha B’Av also commemorates the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492, numerous pogroms, and other tragic events that have befallen upon our people.

Of course, it is quite doubtful that each of these events transpired on the actual 9th of Av. But by placing our communal tragedies and misfortunes onto this one date, we have the chance to mourn together. gives us a chance to heal together. During my first year in Israel at HUC-JIR (1999), Paul Liptz suggested that the 9th of Av becomes a spiritual bucket for our misfortunes in order for us to get on with our lives the other 364 days a year.

During the recent months, there have been many days of mourning. In many ways, today is Tisha B’Av. Our world seems to be rampant with racial tension, political discord and senseless violence and death.

A few weeks ago, over 80 people were mowed down by a truck driver in Nice, France. In our communities, each of us have mourned deaths in Turkey, Dallas, Brussels, Israel, Baghdad, Orlando, Baton Rouge… the temple is getting destroyed again, and again.

On Tisha B’Av, as we mourn the destruction of the temple, we read from the book of Lamentations:

How deserted lies the city, once so full of people! How like a widow is she, who once was great among the nations! She who was queen among the provinces has now become a slave.

The very name of this book, Lamentations, reminds us that we must learn how to lament – how to mourn. Too often in our communities, mourning turns into anger or blame. Instead of mourning the loss of a child, some blame parents. Instead of crying at the loss of life due to gun violence, many (myself included) turn to Facebook and act as “armchair lobbyist.” But Lamentations teaches us differently: Instead of proposing solutions, or laying blame, the most appropriate response to tragedy is to be together to bear witness, to mourn, to lament.

Just before its conclusion, Lamentations offers us a bit of hope:

Restore us to yourself, LORD, that we may return; renew our days as of old.

This reminds us that we are never so far astray as to remove all manner of hope. But the onus is not upon God to restore us. The responsibility is on ourselves.

Generations after the destruction of the 2nd Temple, our rabbis taught us that the reason for the destruction of the Temple was Sinat Ha’Am – the hatred amongst people.

We still have not learned the lesson. Sinat Ha’am is very easy to find these days. When we are able put an end to this senseless hate, we will be renewed as in days of old. Yes, the onus is indeed on us. Until then, God laments and mourns alongside of us.

2000 years ago, our 2nd Temple was destroyed. I continue to pray for the day within our lifetimes that our communities do not add even more tragic events to the commemoration of Tisha B’av.

—

Rabbi Eric Linder serves Congregation Children of Israel in Athens, Georgia. 

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News

You Are Going Where???

That’s the response I have heard from a number of folks in reaction to my plans for my first week of vacation. I’ve always tried to include something in my summer plans that will expand me, teach me, and inspire me. I’ve gone to “guitar camp;” Beyond Walls: Spiritual Writing at Kenyon; Kripalu, where I have learned to expand my spiritual repertoire through mindfulness practice and yoga; and of course, Israel. Most of these were not too far outside of my comfort zones – certainly not Israel nor the guitar workshops.

My friend and congregant, Andy Molinsky, who teaches Organizational Behavior at Brandeis University, has been posting a lot about the subject of reaching outside your comfort zone as he prepares to publish his second book, Reach, in January. The Kenyon Writing Conference last summer, my first, was a stretch. So too was my initial foray to Kripalu which was really new terrain for me.

This summer offers holds a different kind of “reach.” This weekend I am flying to Berlin, Germany. It’s my first visit in Germany. As a Jew, raised on a healthy dose of Holocaust education, and during the early years of the modern Israel, Germany has felt like a destination that would never find its way onto my bucket list. The years have softened that a bit. The impetus to make this trip now came from a notice I saw this past Spring in the newsletter of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. It noted an August Rabbinic Mission to Berlin. The first, and main purpose of this mission is for participants to engage with IsraAid, an Israel NGO deeply involved in responding to many humanitarian crises over recent years. IsraAid is very much on the front lines of addressing the large number of Syrian refugees who have made their way to Germany as they flee their war-torn homeland. My colleagues and I are going to see first-hand the work of IsraAid and learn about this humanitarian crisis with our own eyes. A secondary focus of the mission will allow us to engage with members of the Progressive Jewish community in Berlin, our brother and sisters, who have built a vibrant liberal Jewish community in a land once hostile in the extreme to its Jewish residents.IsraAID

The juxtaposition of traveling to a country and city which holds many challenging images and such dark history for our people is daunting. At the same time, modern Germany has worked hard to confront its past. Their response to this current humanitarian crisis, not of its own making, is noteworthy. In my eyes it’s worthy of investigation. That is why I will spend my first week of vacation on what will undoubtedly be an eye-opening, and emotionally challenging mission. I expect it will also be an inspiring mission. To be sure, the issues of refugees and how our nation should response is complicated It is deeply ingrained in our current political turmoil. I want to go beyond headlines and the position-taking. I want to meet refugees, hear their stories, and see our Israeli brethren’s response to this devastating crisis first-hand.

I depart prepared to confront the complexity of Berlin and Germany as a Jew, the brokenness of our world today, our Jewish values, and my own views on what will surely be a roller-coaster ride of emotions. Yes, this is my “reach” for this summer. I find myself curious as to how I will return after all I am about to see, experience and engage.

—

Rabbi Eric Gurvis serves Temple Shalom in Newton, Massachusetts.  This blog was originally posted on Rabbi Gurvis’s blog. 

Categories
News spirituality Torah

Reading Between the Lies: Religion, Truthfulness and Nuance

It’s easy to jump to the wrong conclusion when religion goes under the social science microscope. Consider a recent survey from the Pew Research Center. The survey, “Religion in Everyday Life,”[1] does a good job examining differences in belief and behavior between “highly religious” and “not highly religious” people. But one observation about the faithful and truth telling calls for a more nuanced conversation.

The report finds that “highly religious people” are generally happier with life, more involved with extended family, more likely to volunteer, read the Bible, donate money, time or goods to help the poor, attend religious services, rest on the Sabbath, and rely on prayer when making personal decisions. Beyond these differences, there are similarities: Members of both groups tend to get the same amount of exercise, make as many socially conscious consumer decisions, lose their temper as often, recycle as much – and to the point of truth and falsehood – admit to telling little white lies: 39% of “highly religious” admitted to telling a little lie in the previous week, as opposed to 45% of “not highly religious.” That’s a six percent difference; enough to make a winner out of a presidential candidate, but not very much in this kind of study. We can say that 4 in ten surveyed people – highly religious or not – told a white lie in ANY given week.

It might be surprising to hear that highly religious people lie so often, especially since many of the surveyed highly religious people called “being honest all the time” “essential.” You’d expect more honesty from religious folks – “They should practice what they faiths preach!” – but not so fast. We have to “read between the lies.” To be sure, truth telling is “essential,” yet my faith and others also affirms that that telling a lie – little or big – may well be the moral thing to do. Here’s an example.

Let’s say you’ve looked forward to a good friend’s wedding and the day has finally arrived. You’re at the reception, and, as much as you love your friend, this wedding, like any other, is not perfect – it could be the food, the band or any of a number of things. Nevertheless, when the wedding couple comes to your table and asks, “Are you having a good time?”  you reply with an enthusiastic “Today is absolutely perfect!”

Now that’s not the biggest lie a person could tell. The point is that Judaism teaches that kind of lie is no sin, and I am sure that many other faithful would agree.

Centuries ago, the disciples of Rabbi Hillel and Rabbi Shammai apparently faced a similar wedding question, when a bride – or groom for that matter –  must have asked, “How do I look?”  Shammai, stickler for the letter of the law, instructs the wedding guest to speak of “a bride as she is.” Be honest, for better or for worse. But Hillel has a different opinion. Tell her she’s “a beautiful and graceful bride.” Be positive. Be polite.

In response, Shammai points to the book of Exodus (23:7) – “Keep far from falsehood” – and insists truth be told, regardless. Now, Hillel knows what the book of Exodus says and he doesn’t need a reminder. Hillel believes in the moral good of a lie told to prevent hurt feelings. And the Talmud goes on to say that “From this the Sages concluded that a person should always conduct oneself in a pleasant manner” as when speaking with a groom or bride. (Ketubot 16b -17a) So don’t come to the wrong conclusion: There may be no inconsistency when “highly religious people” preach honestly yet practice lying that serves a higher goal, such as sparing someone’s feelings, saving a life, or keeping the peace. To the point of the recently released survey, we have to keep an eye open to nuance with discussing religion, truth and falsehood. Yes, those who are highly religious and those who are not may appear to lie to a similar degree, but that religious person’s lie is different when it honors a faith teaching that insists a particular kind of little lie serves higher moral good.

So there may be nothing at all hypocritical when religious folks call truthfulness “essential” and then go out and tell little lies. Jewish tradition and other faith teachings – along with common sense – recognize that a little lie can have a positive impact.

—

Rabbi Dennis S. Ross, MSW, serves East End Temple in New York City. 

 

[1] http://www.pewforum.org/2016/04/12/religion-in-everyday-life/

Categories
News

Making America Great Again?

With the conclusion of the Republican National Convention in Cleveland, echoes from Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump are filling the airwaves, including Trump’s campaign tagline and promise to “Make America Great Again.”  It would be fair to say that nearly every presidential candidate has a vision for “making America great;” however, it is this campaign’s use of the word again which is somewhat irksome, especially at this season in the Jewish calendar.

This Shabbat is the 17th of Tammuz in the Jewish calendar, and the beginning of a period known as t’lata d’puranuta, “The Three Weeks of Admonition.”  (As the 17th is considered a minor fast day, the fast is delayed until Sunday.) The three weeks that follow are considered a time of mourning, leading to our communal observance of the 9th of Av (Tisha b’Av), and our annual commemoration of the destruction of the temples in Jerusalem, and other calamities that have befallen the Jewish people throughout time.

One of the major ritual practices associated with Tisha b’Av is the chanting of the biblical book of Eicha (Lamentations).  The penultimate verse of the book reads, “Take us back, O Lord, to Yourself, / And let us come back; / Renew our days as of old” (Lamentations 5:21, Jewish Study Bible translation, p. 1602).  This particular verse offers a brief, uplifting moment of comfort at the conclusion of an otherwise bleak biblical text.  Additionally, the verse is recited at the conclusion of every Torah service in the synagogue, and is chanted when the Torah is returned to the Ark — hashiveinu A-do-nai ei-lecha v’nashuva, chadeish ya-meinu k’kedem. 

To be brought back to God, to have our days renewed, and to be given another chance in the wake of tragic circumstances all make sense.  But to have our days renewed as of old, implies that things used to be better, that there is some vision of the past that has been lost that we somehow need to recapture, and that God will somehow provide for us again.

The recitation of chadeish yameinu k’kedem (renew our days as of old) is familiar, comforting, and is a moment in the synagogue service where most people sing along.  Yet this verse presents a problematic view — namely, that our best days are truly behind us and we seek to return to them.  While it is most likely that the original text from Lamentations was written in a time of exile the destruction of the temple was fresh in the author’s mind, these days, we would do better to ask ourselves, “What is the as of old that we seek to return to Jewishly?”  Most of us are divested from the notion of rebuilding a sacrificial temple in Jerusalem, and two thousand years of distance from the ancient priestly rites means that what once was cannot lead to what will ultimately be. 

Similarly, suggesting that we should be engaged in the process of “making America great again,” implies that America, at one time or at various points in our history, was great, and we need to go back to reclaim that nostalgic understanding of greatness.  But America will never look like it once did.  How it might have appeared is different to each individual, a personalized painting of yesteryear, with brushstrokes smoothing over painful, long-buried realities, a fictionalized story that we tell ourselves so often that we convince ourselves of its veracity.  Life is never as glorious “as it used to be.”

Or can life and our world be somehow better?  We might do better to ask ourselves, “Where are we going?”  Every year at our celebration of the Pesach seder, we are (in the words of Rabban Gamliel) to see ourselves as if we went forth from slavery in Egypt.  Where some of our biblical ancestors may have waxed poetically about life in Egypt and expressed a desire to return, our seder reminds us that we must be eternally forward-looking, that l’shana ha-ba’ah bi-y’rushalayim (next year in Jerusalem) is not a hope whereby we return to the past, but a vision for hopeful future redemption, a better time, still ahead of us.  That the Torah itself concludes without the Israelites setting foot in the Promised Land, with Moses only seeing the land from afar, conveys the notion that the story, our collective journey, is not yet complete, and we are still completing the journey.

Our past, our days of old, can only serve to inform us and remind us of what was. We need to build for a better future, learning from “our days of old,” but we don’t need to go back in time to relive the concept of again, the idea of what once was.  Crafting a vision for the future is an immensely difficult task, but articulating a forward-thinking and forward-looking hope of a world redeemed, remains a characteristically Jewish idea.

—

Rabbi Paul Jacobson serves Temple Avodat in River Edge, New Jersey.

 

Categories
Gun Control News Social Justice

Of Hugs and Vigils: Standing with Orlando

The Orlando International Airport bustles with excited children hugging their favorite characters to their hearts; it’s surrounded by palm trees and a sunny, humid atmosphere. Where were the signs that this city that had just days before experienced the worst mass shooting in U.S. history? As we left the airport we saw them: an American flag and a rainbow flag flying half-mast. Barber shops, law offices, highway billboards, theaters–these places displayed rainbow hearts and #OrlandoStrong signs publicly and proudly.

In the wee hours of June 12, forty-nine lives were taken and fifty-three people injured when a gunman armed with an AR-15 rifle opened fire inside Pulse, a nightclub serving the Latinx and LGBTQ community. A safe haven was targeted, decimated. Its owners and workers–more a family than a business–mourn and suffer. They have no jobs; they feel–though not at all deserved–guilt and worry.

In New York, we heard the news. We were shocked. The worst mass shooting in U.S. history carried out in a place that had been both a safe haven and a beacon of freedom for so many who are marginalized, dehumanized, ostracized, and targeted with discrimination and violence. We mourned.

And I wasn’t sure what to do next. As a queer woman and as a rabbi–and simply as an empathic person–I felt both called and hesitant. I wanted to jump on that plane to Orlando, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I arrived.

The short version is: the NYU Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life, where I serve as a rabbi, went to Orlando. We hugged folks. We listened to their stories.

A delegation of two staff members and three students traveled on Wednesday. What we discovered is this: Orlando is a beautiful city that has pulled together to show support, solidarity, and unity. Churches and counseling centers have opened their doors nearly around the clock to offer free trauma counseling in Spanish and in English. Thousands of people attended a vigil on Monday night in front of the Dr. Phillips Performing Arts Center; its lawn has become a memorial, with flowers, messages, cards, mementos, and images of the slain laid out on the ground. People gather, add their condolences, pray, and weep.

A beacon of giving has been the Center, Orlando’s LGBTQ Center. Mountains of water bottles, granola bars, non-perishable food, toiletries, and other much-needed supplies are pouring into this hub of direct service and community support. The moment a volunteer posts to social media that an item is needed, a car pulls up behind the modest building to deliver it. We encountered dozens of volunteers, some of them staff members like Ben who direct the activities, some regular volunteers like Laura who simply take charge when they see a lull, and some first-time volunteers who came with hands ready and hearts open. The outpouring of support was staggering. And, yes, we helped: we sorted supplies, assembled boxes, stood at the ready.

But there was more important work to be done: asking questions, listening, and hugging. Each person we met that day had a story: “My girlfriend and I had our first kiss at Pulse; we could easily have been there that night.” “I don’t feel safe anymore.” “If I slow down and stop, I don’t know what I will do.” “It’s so hard to hold up for our students when the staff are also mourning.” In some ways, what we did that day was nothing: we offered an ear, a shoulder to cry on, a hug. But in other ways, it was everything: we traveled from afar because we cared enough to listen. We told people they are valuable and showed that love conquers hate.

And of course there is more to do, and the Bronfman Center will be keeping in touch with Orlando’s LGBTQ Center to ensure that we provide help when and how we can, and in ways that are most needed. If you are able to travel to Orlando, you will be needed to help form a human chain to protect families of those slain from hateful protesters who plan to attend the funerals happening throughout the coming week. If you can donate money, you can help support families of the murdered and the injured who are living in hotels in Orlando and are in need of meals and supplies. We will keep you informed as best we can.

Our day in Orlando ended at Valencia College, the alma mater of Amanda Alvear, Oscar A. Arancena-Montero, Cory James Connell, Mercedes Marisol Flores, Juan Ramon Guerrero, Jason Benjamin Josaphat, and Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo; these seven young people were killed that night at the Pulse. Their college community–four hundred strong, and more watching via closed-circuit television–gathered to honor them and celebrate their lives, to mourn, and to unite against homophobia, transphobia, racism and islamophobia. I was honored to speak some words of (I hope) comfort at the vigil, sharing the stage with student leaders like Krystal Pherai, LGBTQ community leaders, college administrators, and a local imam. Krystal urged us all to remember that acting as an ally is not easy and it requires us to move well beyond our comfort zones: “Talk to those you see as the ‘other.’ Learn from each other. Have difficult, crucial conversations. Speak your truth.” The City of Orlando sits shiva. For forty-nine souls. It already rebuilds its sense of security and unity. It refuses to blame an entire religion for one man’s horrific actions. It acknowledges that homophobia and transphobia come in many forms, and that our individual communities must examine our actions. Do you want to know whether you are ensuring that the LGBTQ folks in your community or family feel safe? Then don’t wait for them to come out to you or reach out for help: Tell them and show them that you value all lives.

—

Rabbi Nikki DeBlosi serves as Manager of Religious Life at the pluralistic Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life at New York University.  This blog was originally posted on Rabbi DeBlosi’s blog.

Categories
Israel News

A National Tragedy of our Own Making?

Recently Ha’aretz columnist Ari Shavit published an essay in which he called upon the rational Israeli majority to join forces. He is convinced that our political and national future as a Jewish democratic and peace loving state is not lost. All that we need do is to reach out to one another and join hands politically, affirming the moderate center, in a new national movement of reconciliation and constructive policy advocacy. Unfortunately I think Ari Shavit, expresses wishful thinking about what he would like the basic mind set and aspirations of the Israeli people to be. I think his assumptions are incorrect and his proposals are, at this time, painfully unrealistic.

Yes of course I would like to believe that he is correct that most Israeli Jews do aspire after the idea of a Jewish democratic and just state. Yes of course I would like to believe that ours is an enlightened nation-state that does not harbor ill will towards our neighboring states; nor toward our own minority population groups. But unfortunately this is not the case. Our political and military policy of occupation and articulated viral hatred and distrust of our presumed Arab antagonists, domestic and foreign, has defined our vision as myopic and our role as self defeating.

For all intents and purposes, it appears that the Israeli majority has fallen victim to the forces of psychological terrorism, racism and nationalistic extremism. Our political leaders justify our policies by asserting the need to protect us from certain destruction at the hands of radical extremists near and far. Lest we are unable to see clearly, they tell us, we are surrounded and threatened not only by Islamic fundamentalists from without but equally so by their coreligionists within. Promoting fear is an effective way to divert the popular mind from rational discourse and analysis. The consequence is that we are less what people like Ari Shavit would like us to be than what we have become. And this is a savagely divisive society defined by narrow sectarian, political and ideological interests.

Characteristically, following the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv, our right wing coalition government effectively punished several hundred thousand Palestinians for the outrageous acts of two independent killers. Ten of thousands of entry permits to pray at the Al-Aqsa Mosque now, during the holy month of Ramadan, were cancelled; permits to work in Israel were permanently cancelled for all residents of the village where the terrorists lived and other repressive measures as well. The lead editorial in Ha’aretz on the following day declared “The Only Solution to Palestinian terrorism is the end of the Occupation.” These “acts of collective punishment” the editorial asserted, “will just increase the frustration and hatred among those forced to live under Israeli occupation…The only way to deal with terrorism is by freeing the Palestinian people from the occupation.”

All this is against a background of an obvious increase in frustration with and disbelief in Israeli policies on the part of the international community. Nonetheless our people appear to be nonplussed.They accept as credible the claims of our leaders, that our problems are a consequence of a plot hatched by unrepentant European and American anti-Semites and Islamic fanatics. All we need to do is destroy the BDS movement and we will relieve ourselves of the need to reconsider the wisdom of our policies. How sad it is that we have allowed ourselves to be led by a class of political leaders who in recent weeks in particular have demonstrated just how arrogant, egotistical and self-assured they have become. The very idea that Benjamin Netanyahu and Avigdor Lieberman think that they will win the support and confidence of the European community, the United States and the U.N. et.al, simply by saying that they support the two state solution and consider the Arab League peace proposal to be constructive is astounding. Indeed now, just a week or so later the news here headlines the fact that the Prime Minister announced at a meeting of his Likud Party Knesset faction that “Israel will never agree to the Arab Peace Initiative.”

Of course, our right wing government coalition, has good reason to want to promote the myth that Israeli policy is rational and responsible. Would that this were more than a proven tactic of diversion and political obfuscation. There is small reason to believe that our ruling revisionist leaders are ready to amend their irredentist policies and thinking to allow for an end to our settlement program and a readiness for genuine territorial compromise. They have confirmed this in their own words and actions. Nonetheless, if does seem that they are successful in convincing the Israeli silent majority of their good intentions. Our people are simply too unnerved and verbally abused by our leaders to think otherwise.

No, I do not believe that there is a silent majority of rational people who have the capacity to transform reality. Our silent majority gives quiet support to our right wing ruling coalition.

In the end, I am now convinced, that the consequence of advancing policies based on irredentist and racist programs will result in our undoing. Our “leaders” continue to act blindly without concern for the implications of their actions. They appear to be convinced of their ability to achieve their objectives, regardless of world opinion and reactive policies. In the end, hopefully sooner than later, they will be proven wrong. Let us hope and pray that in the process, we will not be the victims of another historical tragedy. This time it may be one of our own making.

—

 

Rabbi Stanley Ringler is an Israeli Reform Rabbi and Social and Political Activist

Categories
Gun Control News Social Justice

Three Ways to Participate in National Gun Violence Awareness Day 2016

On June 2, millions of people across the county will be observing the second annual National Gun Violence Awareness Day, also known as Wear Orange Day.

On January 21, 2013, Hadiya Pendleton – a majorette and high school student from the South Side of Chicago – marched in President Obama’s Second Inaugural Parade. One week later, after finishing final exams, Hadiya was shot and killed in a park near her school. Soon after this tragedy, Hadiya’s childhood friends asked their classmates to commemorate Hadiya’s life by wearing orange.  They chose the color orange to symbolize the value of human life, as hunters wear orange in the woods to protect themselves and others. This call to action from Hadiya’s classmates has grown into a national movement, and orange is becoming the symbol of gun safety.

Last year, the Reform Movement participated in the first ever National Gun Violence Awareness Day, and this year the RAC and NFTY are once again working with Everytown for Gun Safety and dozens of other organizations, to draw awareness, to educate and to take action to prevent gun violence. Here are three ways that you can get involved with Wear Orange this year:

  1. Incorporate gun violence awareness into Shabbat: Join the Reform Movement’s participation in National Gun Violence Awareness Day by using our new Wear Orange Shabbat Toolkitin your congregation or home.
  2. Contact Your Members of Congress: Currently, many people are still able to legally purchase guns at gun shows and online, even if they would be prohibited from doing so in a store. On June 2, urge your Members of Congress to support legislation which would improve our background check system on gun sales, further preventing gun violence.
  3. Wear Orange and Share! On June 2, wear a piece (or more) of orange clothing to show your support for gun violence awareness. At some point during the day, take a picture of yourself, share it on social media and tell us why you are wearing orange. Be sure to tag us in your post (@theRAC, @NFTY) and use #WearOrange. Here are some examples of Reform Jews showing their support on June 2, 2015.

To learn more about gun violence prevention, visit the RAC’s issue page.

Categories
News

On Welcoming

My family’s move from New York City to Westchester last summer reminded me about the fine art of genuine welcoming. We had explained to the few people we knew in Larchmont how it seemed an idyllic place to raise a family. To make a home. To grow old together. My husband and I commented on the quality of the schools, the abundant options to enjoy the outdoors, and the outright friendliness and enthusiasm of everyone we encountered during our touring. The few people we knew were so encouraging. So were those we met along the way. It is scary to uproot a family of five, yes, but we could do it, they said, and make our lives alongside theirs. They fielded endless questions and offered their ready and helpful friendship.

Moving my family, while continuing to build a rabbinate around interfaith and conversion work, has made me extremely sensitive to these facts: Adjustment to a new way of life is difficult. Belonging takes time. And perhaps the most important: Every encounter in a new place– especially the first one– is a potential game changer. Those very first words and acts of welcome leave an indelible mark. The follow up care and concern only solidify the foundation.

Leviticus 19:33 says …The stranger that dwells with you shall be to you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself… My understanding of this verse is that we are not only commanded to accept non-Jews and converts into our community but we are to show love and kindness toward them. Abundant, abundant kindness, as we would the natural born Jews among us.

We don’t have to turn interested parties away three times, or bring up three hardships they might encounter, or put any other obstacles in front of them. They’ll do it themselves. They’ll doubt themselves, doubt their intentions, doubt religion, doubt their choices. Our job is to walk them through the inevitable vulnerability and insecurity and steadily march them toward their goal. We must be the steadfast and solid voice of encouragement: You can do this. Our community wants you. You belong with us.

Isn’t it true? We should be so lucky that anyone is interested in Judaism. It is a fabulous, modern phenomenon that non-Jews want to marry into our community, much less become Jewish themselves! This was not the case throughout most of history. There is no reason not to feel utter respect, compassion, and excitement toward anyone remotely interested in our tradition. It deeply angers me to hear the stories (which I am treated to weekly) of rejection, humiliation, insensitivity, and discouraging first encounters with clergy. To what end were these actions meant? The tradition is not ours to give or withhold. Judaism belongs to whoever will have its blessings and join its struggle. Was Naomi standoffish, arrogant, and nasty with Ruth?

We need to be fearlessly inclusive. We must have a visible, remarkable openness to those who want to join our ranks—conversion or not. Our past validates this: Hillel, Maimonides, Saadia Gaon and many more wrote about embracing the gentile. And our future depends on it. The landscape of liberal Judaism is inextricably linked to how we handle issues of interfaith marriage and conversion. The borders of our community are not fixed. We are privileged to augment our numbers with those attracted to our tradition and teachings.

My worlds collided when I was waiting on a friend to have coffee with me in a Larchmont bakery. I ended up sharing my story with a stranger at the next table. “I’m not Jewish,” she said, “but we always have Passover seder with our neighbors and for years our kids celebrated Hannukah with a family down the block.”

Her comment reminded me of initial meetings in my office when people recount experiences from their childhood with Jews. They pave the way, they say, to being open (and attracted) to Judaism. At a recent Bet Din of a 79 year old, she spoke to us about the very first Jew she knew—a warm, kind, open, inspiring woman who was the principal of her elementary school. Seventy years ago, a Jewish principal left an impression on a young girl who would then go on to seek out Jews her entire life, marry a Jew, raise Jewish children, and convert in a late chapter in her life.

In every encounter, a Jewish future hangs in the balance. We must personify being a light unto the nations. It is commanded of us as Jews, and demanded of us as Jewish professionals.

—

Rabbi Lisa Rubin is the Founding Director of Central Synagogue’s Exploring Judaism & Conversion Program. Exploring Judaism, operating since 2010, serves 80-100 people a year who are considering living a Jewish life and/or converting to Judaism.

Categories
News

How Far We’ve Come: Reflections on Attorney General Lynch’s Speech

(Miki Vargas via AP)

I have been reflecting on what US Attorney General Loretta Lynch’s historic speech on having transgender people’s back for our right to pee (and to be) means to me.

In 2005 I was a fourth year rabbinical student a few months away from coming out as trans. I decided to do my fourth year sermon on transgender rights focusing on bathroom harassment issues. My homiletics teacher at the time rejected my first draft as being on an issue that was too “obscure” and “frightening”, and that it dealt with such a tiny percentage of the population that it was largely “irrelevant” for congregational life. So, in order to get a passing grade, I made the sermon not just about trans people. I told stories about a cisgender woman flight attendant who was fired for not wearing make-up and little boys beaten up for being sissies, and slowly backed into trans issues gently.

I tell this story not to demonize this teacher. I think he was doing his job of teaching me how to reach mainstream congregations across the country in 2005. And it worked. Using that approach for the next decade, I was able to speak to a much wider percentage of the Reform Movement, than if I hadn’t broadened my voice to help people find their empathy.

A lot has changed for both me as a transgender rabbi and the world in the last 11 years. And yet a lot hasn’t. I still get stared at in most bathrooms that I go into and sometimes it gets scary. However, after Lynch’s speech, one thing is certain — no young rabbi (or leader of any sort) in the US on the eve of coming out as transgender and just beginning to learn how to tell their story, will be told that it is “obscure” or “irrelevant.”

ETA: They may still hate us obviously but they can’t say we don’t exist or are too obscure or irrelevant to even talk about.

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Elliot Kukla serves the Bay Area Jewish Healing Center, and is the first openly transgender person to be ordained by HUC-JIR.

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Fighting Intolerance in an Election Year

Looking back on my first three years as a rabbi, I am embarrassed to admit how often I have shied away from policy issues in my sermons, adult education sessions, and even published articles. I do speak more openly about my views individually and in small groups, but spend most of my time in larger presentations delving into Torah and broader questions of meaning.

Yet multiple times so far this election, I have felt called to address what I see as egregious discourse that does damage to our social fabric. Are leading candidates calling for a ban on Muslims this week  – or singling out immigrants? Have women been maligned once again in sound bites designed to “go viral” online? Has the call for “revolution” (and the subsequent mockery of that call) obscured meaningful discourse on policy? Have rhetoric-filled social media diatribes by diehard supporters of individual candidates caused people to lose meaningful friendships?

I don’t think many of us have been able to remain silent with public discourse so fraught. This is one of the messiest and most strident elections in modern American history. I also think it affords us with a tremendous opportunity.

The day before the New York state primary, I had the opportunity to speak at a hope-filled multi-religious “Faith Not Fear” rally at the Interchurch Center on the Upper West Side. Organized by the Reverend Jennifer Crumption, our call was simple and non-partisan: as religious leaders, we call on candidates for public office to eschew hateful rhetoric and other actions that pit Americans against each other. It was an unlikely honor to be among a roster of speakers that included the president of Auburn Seminary, the Reverend Katharine Henderson, television host and Senior Minister Jacqui Lewis, activist Professor Simran Jeet Singh, and Muslim community leader and mayoral advisor, Dr. Sarah Sayeed.

It seems that gatherings and rallies like this are springing up in different states – and could provide a helpful counterweight to what will likely remain a divisive election cycle. Though clearly cathartic for the religious leaders who spoke, it far more importantly gave renewed purpose and sense of urgency to community organizing and interfaith collaboration. It would be unlikely and truly noteworthy if a legacy of this election could be strengthened community relationships and deeper trust between community leaders. It would not come from political leadership – but instead from us. Enduring bonds of trust and friendship would give meaning to the idea of religious leadership in the public sphere and remain an asset to our communities going forward.

One date in particular will call us to act together. As I learned from a fellow presenter at the rally, this year, September 11th and the Muslim holy day of Eid al-Adha coincide. Given the state of political discourse, images of Muslims celebrating their holy day on a day of national commemoration and mourning are likely to flood the media. Muslims will be called terrorists. Calls for deportation will increase. Genuine acts of hatred or violence could take place against a fellow minority religious community.

Especially given that the Muslim holy day commemorates our shared ancestor, Abraham, perhaps we can change the conversation and give nuance to an all too Manichean electoral contest. Perhaps we can reclaim one day out of the election year for civility, humanity, commemoration, and pluralism.

In New York, religious leaders have only just begun visioning a commemoration for our shared losses on September 11th that affirm pluralism. With just over four months to go and political rhetoric only spiraling, time is of the essence. Yet I remain optimistic that with vision and renewed collaboration, a day that could be hate-filled could instead become one in which we bring communities and people together.

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Rabbi Joshua Stanton serves Temple B’nai Jeshurun in Short Hills, New Jersey, and co-Leader of Tribe, a group for young Jewish professionals in New York. He also serves as one of the representatives from the Central Conference of American Rabbis to the International Jewish Committee for Interreligious Consultations.