Categories
Machzor Mishkan haNefesh Prayer Rabbis

Do Not Adjust Your Machzor! It’s Not a Mistake

With Mishkan HaNefesh, the new Reform machzor, reaching the public for the first time, it is natural that some of the differences between its Hebrew text and Gates of Repentance will confuse some readers. The purpose of this blog, and others to follow, is to explain the differences. They are not mistakes.

For instance, Gates of Repentance, includes the declaration HaMelekh HaYosheiv shortly before the Bar’chu, an apt statement for the Days of Awe. Ironically, such words are also found in the Shabbat liturgy. The more appropriate rendering for the Days of Awe is HaMelekh Yosheiv. There is something more immediate about this declaration. It reminds me of Rabbi Alan Lew (z”l) who entitled his book on the Days of Awe, This is Real and You are Totally Unprepared. Mishkan HaNefesh restores this more
HaMelechtraditional statement, dropping the second definite marker.

Another change deals with the words said at the beginning of the Selichot prayers on Yom Kippur. We are accustomed to asking God for forgiveness, although we are not stiff-necked to deny our culpability. This makes no sense. It’s like observing that “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Of course you can. The proper statement is, “You can’t eat your cake and have it too.” Likewise, the declaration should be “We are so stiff-necked.” That’s why we are in need of forgiveness. Hence, the Hebrew now reads, “Anachnu azei fanim….” and not “She-ein anachnu azei fanim.” We have removed the illogical “ein” [not].

Our correction actually reflects the version in the 9th century Seder Rav Amram. The original Amram version says, “We are in fact so stiff necked as to maintain that we are righteous and have not sinned, but we have sinned.” In other words, we are actually so arrogant as to want to maintain the fiction of being perfectly righteous and never sinning, but actually, we really have sinned. It then follows naturally that we should confess.

Rabbi Larry Hoffman, a great source of help on matters such as this gap between logic and our received tradition, suspects the additional word, “ein,” [not] crept in over time because people were hesitant to say that we are indeed all that arrogant. They preferred saying “we are not so arrogant” as to maintain that we have not sinned.

The editors and proofreaders consulted many different machzorim, noting variants in the text. In many cases, the editors of Mishkan HaNefesh have followed the Ernst Daniel Goldschmidt version of the traditional machor when there have been questions of the best text to use. Goldschmidt (1895–1972) was a liturgical scholar who created what are considered authoritative critical editions of liturgical texts including the machzor. These changes may also cause some confusion for readers of Mishkan HaNefesh, especially in relation to Gates of Repentance. Each of these choices reflects the desire on the part of the editors to render the most faithful version of the tradition.

So back to mistakes. Yes, there surely are some mistakes in Mishkan HaNefesh. We used some of the top, most thorough Hebrew-English proofreaders in the country. Even so, the new machzor is a human endeavor and as such, it is necessarily imperfect. As with every book, we will correct mistakes in subsequent printing. But much of what might at first glance seem like a mistake is in fact a careful, intentional choice.

Edwin Goldberg, D.H.L., is the senior rabbi of Temple Sholom of Chicago and is one of the editors of Mishkan HaNefesh, the new CCAR machzor.

Categories
Chanukah Rabbis Organizing Rabbis Social Justice

We All Count: Chanukah, Alabama, and Inequality

This blog is the fifth in a series from Rabbis Organizing Rabbis connecting the period of the Omer to the issue of race and class structural inequality.  Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is a joint project of the CCAR’s Peace & Justice Committee, the URJ’s Just Congregations, and the Religious Action Center. 

There is a meditation in Mishkan T’fillah that was carried over from Gates of Prayer: “Prayer invites God’s presence to suffuse our spirits, God’s will to prevail in our lives.  Prayer may not bring water to parched fields, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city.  But prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, rebuild a weakened will.”  This meditation was penned by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who was personally invited by Dr. Martin Luther King to help lead the march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama in March 1965.  When he returned from that march, Rabbi Heschel wrote, “I felt as if my legs were praying.”

Rabbi Heschel and Dr. King are long gone, but I felt their presence and those of everyone who marched from Selma half a century ago: those who marched and were beaten and clubbed in “Bloody Sunday,” those who tried to march and stopped to pray, and those who finally succeeded in marching to Montgomery, where they heard Dr. King tell us that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  I felt their presence and even heard from some of them when I traveled to Selma in March for the commemoration of the marches.

Rabbi Fred Guttman of North Carolina organized a Jewish contingent to participate in the event.  We met at Temple Mishkan Israel, the beautiful (Reform) synagogue of Selma’s now tiny Jewish community.  In addition to Jews, those present included members of the African American community, and among them was a contingent from the North Carolina NAACP.  I made friends with a future divinity student in that group.  We were challenged by Dr. William Barber, President of the North Carolina NAACP, who reminded us that “moral dissent can never take a vacation.”

We heard from David Goodman, whose brother Andrew was lynched along with Michael Schwerner and James Chaney in Mississippi during the Movement.  We heard from Dr. Susannah Heschel, daughter of Rabbi Heschel, about the challenges her father set forth for us.  We joined in as Peter Yarrow sang “Blowin’ in the Wind,” just as he had done in Selma 50 years ago.  And we heard Clarence Young, one of Dr. King’s chief advisors, tell us that “the true story of Selma is the story of the participation of the Jewish people and Jewish leadership.

And we saw a beautiful African American woman, short in stature but proud in bearing, who faced the weapons and the hatred 50 years ago.

Then we left, and with tens of thousands of others, crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge.  It was celebratory, and it was emotional, but it was much more than that.

Our gathering in that synagogue was a form of prayer.  It served to rebuild a weakened will.  Much has gone wrong in our country when it comes to creating a unified society.  The Supreme Court has gutted the very voting rights protections that the Selma march was designed to guarantee.  Since then, states have engaged in campaigns of voter suppression.  Economic inequality continues to grow, and racist actions, some trivial, many not, continue to show up on our television and computer screens.  It is tempting to throw up our hands and let the world go on its way.

But Selma is always there to remind us that despair is not the way.  Dr. King and Rabbi Heschel first met in 1963 at a conference on religion and race.  In his keynote address, Rabbi Heschel said,

“At the first conference on religion and race, the main participants were Pharaoh and Moses.  Moses’s words were, ‘Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, let My people go….’  The outcome of that summit meeting has not come to an end.  Pharaoh is not ready to capitulate.  The exodus began, but it is far from having been completed.”

As we move away from Passover, we must recall that we are the descendants of those who challenged Pharaoh.  We are the people who crossed the sea to freedom.  We have to keep crossing it, and bring all those in search of freedom with us.

And this brings me from Passover to Chanukah.  The word means “dedication,” and the holiday celebrates our rededicating the Temple after the forces of oppression had vandalized it.  What I learned in Selma is that we have to rededicate ourselves every day to making this world – God’s temple – into a holy place.  We need to repair the damage that has been done.  That is the true meaning of tikkun olam.  And that is the meaning of Selma.

———

Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is project of the Reform Movement’s social justice initiatives: the CCAR’s Committee on Peace, Justice and Civil Liberties, the Religious Action Center, and Just Congregations.

Rabbi Tom Alpert serves Temple Etz Chaim.

Categories
Machzor Mishkan haNefesh Rabbis

Mishkan HaNefesh: A Gateway to Spirituality

Last week at Temple Israel in New York City, we received a very special, exciting package in the mail.  We opened the box—and there were our advance copies of the new CCAR machzor, Mishkan HaNefesh.  We of course were very excited to receive the copies, and began treating the copies as if they were precious jewels.

Cantor Irena Altshul and I went right into the sanctuary, where we spent a surrealistic, profoundly moving hour and a half standing at the bimah in our main sanctuary, reading, praying, singing, holding and touching, dreaming, and getting very excited about this forthcoming Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur nearly half a year away.  We felt blessed.

We would encourage other clergy to do the same.  The time we spent praying with these new  books not only inspired us and reinvigorated our spirits for the upcoming High Holy Days, but also strengthened us, individually and as a team, and helped us to focus on the preparation that lies ahead.  Reading the books is no doubt a meaningful experience, but to actually pray with them right away enabled our souls to soar.

We can’t wait to receive the full shipment upon publication, and then to help others realize our new CCAR Machzor as a gateway to spirituality in the deepest sense. This was far beyond the draft copies we’d experimented with.  We know that the beautiful and profound alternative readings and interpretations, along with the fully transliterated liturgy will make a profound difference during each Service.  With this difference, all of our congregants will be able to have access to the Divine, to t’filah and the experience of worship, and to the essential spirit of what it means to be witness to our tradition.

We know that making this change to Mishkan HaNefesh is a crucial part of enriching their experiences at services and allow us to touch the Holy and for us to be touched and transformed by the Holy.  This new machzor will help us all to create and enrich each kehillah kedosha. For many, Yamim Noraim will never be the same!

We also encourage you to check out the resources that CCAR has provided online: https://www.ccarpress.org/content.asp?tid=349#mh_resources

———

Rabbi David Gelfand serves Temple Israel in New York City

Categories
Social Justice

Consultation on Conscience: Justice In Two Places

Justice work can happen in the halls of Congress and it can happen on the streets.  This past Tuesday we did justice work in both places.

We had been in Washington D.C. participating in the Religious Action Center’s Consultation on Conscience; Tuesday was our lobby day. As we were hearing from prominent Senators and Representatives at the Dirksen Senate Office Building, two blocks away at the Supreme Court, our Justices were hearing arguments on Marriage Equality, perhaps the most important civil rights case of this generation. Rabbi Denise Eger, a leading advocate for Marriage Equality and President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and Rabbi Lucy Dinner were speaking at a rally on the steps of the Supreme Court and we wanted to go hear them.  Although we missed their speeches, we might not have heard them anyway over the cacophony of competing rallies from both the Marriage Equality advocates and those who oppose equal rights for all (and whose signs and banners were particularly hateful).

As we walked away from the center of the rally and were surveying the scene we noticed a small group of Ultra-Orthodox Jews standing on a prominent corner, protesting Marriage Equality, waving signs just as hateful as those of the dozens of Christian Fundamentalists.  We wanted to make sure that those who gathered to support Marriage Equality knew that Reform religious Jews also supported Marriage Equality.  So what did we do?  We formed a spontaneous counter protest.  It began with four of us, positioned strategically by the Ultra-Orthodox demonstration, singing loudly and cheerfully, ‘Hinei Mah Tov  u’ma’naim shevet achim gam yachad—how good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together.’  As we sang, more of our colleagues IMG_0833and other Jews too joined our group, proud to see their brothers and sisters in faith raising the call for justice and for love. They thanked us for our support. Many others, Jews and non-Jews, saw religious Jewish allies raising our voices in support of Marriage Equality.  All we did was sing prayers of peace, brotherhood and sisterhood, showing all those around (and those watching on TV) that we were people of faith, Jews, Reform Jews lifting up the commandment from this week’s Torah portion, ‘V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha—Love your neighbor as yourself.’

We didn’t plan this counter protest.  But we were compelled to respond by demonstrating the powerful truth of our tradition. We knew we couldn’t stand idly by while a group of intolerant, hateful Jews tried to coopt out faith and our tradition.  All it took were the familiar melodies of Hinei Mah Tov and Oseh Shalom to lift the spirit and the soul, to draw in other Jews, and those who aren’t Jewish and show how a heritage rooted in love and acceptance could overcome hate and intolerance.

Eventually we returned to the Senate Building; we met with our elected officials and lobbied on issues important to us as Reform Jews.  However our true prayer and passion on Tuesday was firmly rooted in street justice through our steps and our songs.

———

Rabbis Mona Alfi (Congregation B’nai Israel in Sacramento, CA), Charles Briskin (Temple Beth El in San Pedro, CA)and Joel Thal Simonds (University Synagogue in Los Angeles, CA) wrote this piece together. They are members of Reform CA and representatives of the CCAR on the Joint Commission on Social Action.

Categories
General CCAR Rabbis

Not Alone with Sweaty Palms: Even the Rabbi Gets Nervous

It was good to learn I am not alone!

About two weeks ago, I presented the following issue to my colleagues on Facebook:

Am I the only one who gets REALLY nervous every time I speak? I don’t really get it. I can’t count how many times I have spoken in public since I entered HUC in 1968 and even lots before that. And yet, whether it is Kol Nidre before a big crowd or 20 kids in a classroom, I get really nervous. I hope (and have been told often) that it doesn’t show—Baruch Ha-Shem—but I don’t fully understand why that happens. Any thoughts?

It felt strange.  Yes, even though I served forty years in the pulpit and spoke in 65 communities on five continents as President of the World Union for Progressive Judaism, I get very nervous each and every time I speak.

It might have begun with my Bar Mitzvah. I thought I would die (literally) before I could get up and read from the Torah. “You mean the scroll has NO vowels, and they expect ME to read it,” I remember exclaiming incredulously to my parents!

But then I did my first ever exercise in deductive reasoning. I thought:
• Kids in my class who are older then I have had their Bar Mitzvahs (It was much later that I learned that the proper term is ‘B’nai Mitzvah’),
• Some of them are dumber than I am.
• All of them are still alive.

Vital Lesson Learned. 

Therefore, I reasoned, if I really practice and study hard, maybe I can make it. And I did. The lesson has served me well, I always try to be well prepared, but that has never prevented me from getting very nervous. And so half-afraid that my colleagues would laugh at me, I posted my question.

To my surprise thirteen different colleagues affirmed, “You are not alone,” and six others clicked “Like” in recognition of my issue. Their affirmations confirmed what I believed (at least what I hoped) all along:  Although different people feel it to different degrees, the nervousness is a function of really caring about what I say and wanting it to have as much meaning as possible to those who listen.

A Small Price to Pay.

Knowing that “it is not just me” who gets nervous was very reassuring. Thanks to my colleagues I can go forward feeling that that the nervousness I must overcome each time I speak is a small price to pay for the sacred privilege of sharing the fruit of my study and my experience with others.

———

Rabbi Stephen Lewis Fuchs is the author of What’s in It for Me? Finding Ourselves in Biblical Narratives. He is the former President of the World Union for Progressive Judaism and Rabbi Emeritus of Congregation Bet Israel, West Hartford, CT.

Categories
Rabbis Reform Judaism Social Justice

My Broken & Filled Heart: A Takeaway From the 2015 Consultation on Conscience 

My heart is full and my heart is breaking. That’s my take away from this week’s Consultation on Conscience.

Sure, my heart is full because of the formal program that the RAC put together–powerful speakers who were inspiring and challenging. And yes, we had some incredible moments as we celebrated David Saperstein and Jonah Pesner. But my heart is full because here at this conference, I encountered colleagues and lay leaders who share the thirst for justice. My heart is full because I am surrounded by a community who cares, and a community who is ready to work.

At the same time, this conference has also exposed my broken heart. Yesterday, I participated in a Rabbis Organizing Rabbis workshop in which participants shared stories of injustice in their own communities. One woman in my group told about how she noticed how the extra food in her synagogue’s fridge disappeared, only to realize it was the janitorial staff taking it home to feed their families. Another woman told about how she felt powerless when she saw drug addiction in her community. Each of these stories, we realized, were symptoms of larger economic and racial structural injustices. Heartbreaking.

Dinner only brought more heartache. While sitting with colleagues talking about where we see racial and economic injustices in our communities, all we had to do was look up to what was happening on the TVs in the restaurant–news about the riots in Baltimore was just beginning to break.

Consultation has been about how we hold full and broken hearts together. It strikes me that that is also the message of Leviticus. We begin the book with the message that we need to get proximal to God (more on that language in a moment). The sacrificial system should bring us close to God. We know, though, about moments in which the community is distant. Nadab & Abihu, Aaron’s silence, and the affliction of tzora’at teach us that there are moments, both extreme and mundane, in which we are not the community we strive to be. But then enters kedushah. Be holy, be set apart as a people who know what the right and just thing to do is. In so doing, we bring ourselves back closer to God. Our hearts can break, and the prospect of holiness can make them full again.

This was the message of the most powerful speaker of the conference–Bryan Stevenson. Stevenson is a lawyer and the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative. He’s also a prophet and yodeah Sefer. As he described the blight of mass incarceration in the United States, I felt my heart breaking wide open. Horrific situations that we cannot even begin to imagine. Children jailed in dangerous and violent situations. Mental health being ignored behind bars, despite the consequences. But then, he called for love and kindness to fill us up. He is an optimist, and he offered a heart-full prescription for what we can do to make things a bit more just: (1) We have to get proximate to the people who are affected by the injustice. We can’t only read about it. We need to get into relationship with those affected by injustice. (2) We need to change the narrative around faith and race. (3) We should protect our hopefulness, insisting on believing in things we have not yet seen. And (4), we should do uncomfortable things.

Hearts filled and hearts broken, this is an uncomfortable dichotomy. It is also real and energizing. I know that I now need to get to work.

———

Rabbi Neil Hirsch serves Temple Shalom in Newton, MA

Categories
omer Rabbis Organizing Rabbis Social Justice

We All Count: Counting the Days toward Equality

This blog is the fourth in a series from Rabbis Organizing Rabbis connecting the period of the Omer to the issue of race and class structural inequality.  Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is a joint project of the CCAR’s Peace & Justice Committee, the URJ’s Just Congregations, and the Religious Action Center. 

As we count the Omer this year in anticipation of receiving Torah, I am also counting the days in anticipation of a Supreme Court hearing on Marriage Equality to take place on April 28, 2015 and then sometime in June when the Supreme Court will likely rule on whether or not there is a right to marry in many of the states that have objected such as Alabama, Michigan, Tennessee and others.  As a long time Marriage Equality advocate I remember the happy summer of love in 2008 in California when I officiated at over 60 Jewish weddings between June 16, 2008 including the first legal wedding between plaintiffs in our California case, Robin Tyler and Diane Olsen.   But on November 4, 2008 it was over as a majority of Californians had gone to the polls to elect Barack Obama on the one hand but pass the notorious Proposition 8 which took away the equal right to marry from Californians.  As I stood on a stage in Hollywood that night at an election rally bubbling from Obama’s big California win, I had to comfort a community that had been sucker punched by an unholy alliance between the Catholic Bishops and Mormon Bishops in Utah and California.  More than 40 million dollars had been spent to demonize LGBTQ people and their families once again. It was the most expensive proposition race ever.

The next days and weeks were spent at rallies and protest marches.  I worked vigorously both in front and behind the scenes.  On the night after the election during a big rally in the city where I serve as rabbi, we began passing buckets to raise money to take this back to the courts. My congregation turned out in droves as did many in the Reform Jewish community who were stunned by the results.  I climbed on to the back of a truck that led the protesters through West Hollywood and back down Sunset Blvd. as my fellow activists and I took turns at the bullhorn.

The next night of protests one of the gay community leaders suggested a march on the Mormon Temple the next day.  I knew this would be bad from the start. As she led the marchers the next day down Santa Monica Blvd from West Hollywood to Los Angeles’ Mormon Temple you could feel the tension in the crowd and in the LAPD.  Traffic was completely snarled during rush hour-never a good thing in Los Angeles and those caught in the standstill were angry that they couldn’t get where they were going. That’s when scuffles began between drivers who got out of their cars and protesters.  More than one bloody fight took place. As the marchers turned toward the Mormon temple, my good friend and interfaith partner, Rev. Neil Thomas and I ended up guarding the Mormon Stake behind their Temple. The protesters were beginning to rush the doors.  It was Rev. Thomas and I that stood between the protesters and the Mormons. Luckily the protestors listened to us, kept to the sidewalk, remained calm and kept moving.

There are so many more stories to tell of that time.  But now this many years later I give thanks that marriage equality is legal in more than 33 states.  And so I am counting down the days-not only to receiving Torah at Sinai once again but toward Tuesday, April 28 when the case for marriage equality heads back to the Supreme Court.  Hopefully, it will be a positive resolution nationwide where marriage equality will be the law of the land everywhere.

The work of justice will not be done though. As long as you can still be fired for being married to someone of the same gender, as long as there are no protections in housing or education for LGBTQ individuals the work of equality and justice is not done.  And so I will still be counting in anticipation of that day and counting on all of you to help make that a reality.

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Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is project of the Reform Movement’s social justice initiatives: the CCAR’s Committee on Peace, Justice and Civil Liberties, the Religious Action Center, and Just Congregations.

Rabbi Denise L. Eger is the founding Rabbi of Congregation Kol Ami and the President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis.

Categories
Books News Rabbis Reform Judaism

A Wedding, Both Personal and Historic     

This past weekend I had the privilege of officiating at a wedding of two sweet men in Philadelphia. They are members of Congregation B’nai Olam, the congregation in Fire Island Pines where I have served for the last seventeen years as the high holy day rabbi.

I have officiated at many weddings since becoming a rabbi, some straight and many gay. Some have been legal, though a good number of the gay weddings I officiated at before 2011 were not. They have all been special and beautiful in their own ways. Some have been particularly special, like when I officiated at weddings of close friends and relatives. But this wedding was its own kind of special.

First the personal. Of course, every wedding is personal. This lovely couple was together for forty-two years and fifty-one weeks before becoming legally married. That is mind-boggling – both the capacity to stay together through thick and thin, and despite the lack official sanction, and also the fact that they can now legally get married. What a blessing that was, to be able to stand together under the chuppah, supported by their family members, including the 95 year old mother of one of them. As they said to me, they never in their wildest dreams imagined that this day would come.

And that’s where it becomes historic. As soon as gay marriage became legal last year in Pennsylvania, they set a date and called me. The time had come. And so almost exactly a year to the date that gay marriage became legal in Pennsylvania, they got married. What a blessing this was too, that their own state would recognize their marriage. The date of this past weekend becomes even more dramatic when you realize that this wedding was also three days before the Supreme Court is poised to hear arguments that will hopefully lead to gay marriage becoming the law of the land.

There was another level of history as well, one which was perhaps only significant to me as the rabbi, but important nevertheless. This wedding was also the first one I officiated at using L’chol Zman v’Eit: The CCAR Life Cycle Guide commonly known informally as the “rabbi’s manual”. Having worked with Rabbi Don Goor, editor of the guide, for several years on this project, I was very excited to finally get to use it.

getfile_contents.asp

As Don and I worked on the guide, one of the guiding principles of our work was that a wedding was a wedding, no matter the gender of the couple. This was a natural outgrowth of the historic stances CCAR has long taken in support of LGBTQ issues in general, and gay marriage in particular. We wanted to create liturgy that was beautiful and fit the unique moment, with enough options to meet the needs of different kinds of couples. We wanted to break down the wall between a “normative” wedding and “non-normative” wedding. In planning the ceremony with this couple, I was pleased to see how well the material in the guide worked, and how easy it was to customize it for them. The fact that all the material I needed to meet their needs was there in the guide also sent an important message, that the CCAR and its rabbis fully accept and support marriage equality. This too is a blessing.

Siman Tov u’Mazel Tov!

Rabbi Hara Person is Publisher of CCAR Press at the Central Conference of American Rabbis.

Categories
Rabbis Organizing Rabbis Social Justice

We All Count: Last October, I went to Ferguson. Why?

This blog is the third in a series from Rabbis Organizing Rabbis connecting the period of the Omer to the issue of race and class structural inequality.  Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is a joint project of the CCAR’s Peace & Justice Committee, the URJ’s Just Congregations, and the Religious Action Center. 

Last October, I went to Ferguson. Why?

The simplest answer is that my colleague and friend, Rabbi Jill Jacobs, Executive Director of Truah: The Rabbinic Call for Justice, invited me. There would be an interfaith service and a protest in front of the Ferguson police department. We would stand in solidarity with young leaders crying out for justice following the death of Michael Brown, Jr. an unarmed African-American 18 year-old gunned down in the street by a white police officer on August 9, 2014.

Rabbis, we’ve been taught, show up. We show up at moments of agonizing pain and joyous celebration. We show up to teach Torah, to illuminate moments of holiness. We show up to animate justice and hope in the world.

In 1978, then UAHC President Rabbi Alexander Schindler (z”l) called for Reform Jews to engage in outreach.  He demanded that we “remove the ‘not wanted’ signs from our hearts.”

Twenty-seven years later, Rabbi Eric Yoffie compelled the Reform movement to “fashion our synagogues into face-to-face communities of intimacy and warmth.”  This is what our best congregations are. Like Abraham’s guests, our members need to feel safe, comfortable, and connected. They need a congregation that supports the deep experiences of life; where you are there for other people and they are there for you; where they notice when you are missing and take the trouble to find out why; and where you never face a crisis alone.”

In 2013, Rabbi Rick Jacobs carried the holy light forward: “Audacious hospitality isn’t just a temporary act of kindness so that people don’t feel left out; it’s an ongoing invitation to be part of a community where we can become all that God wants us to be – and a way to transform ourselves in the process. Audacious hospitality is a two-way street, where synagogue and stranger need each other. Hospitality is not just our chance to teach newcomers but, just as important, an opportunity for them to teach us.”

The result: Many of us have listened to these inspiring words and we show up. We’ve worked on opening our hearts and our congregations; we’ve told interfaith couples and GLBT people and Jews of color and those with disabilities that they are welcome in synagogue life; that they count; that we count on them to make the circle of Jewish life complete.

The proximity of “the other” transforms what could be a political debate into a pastoral encounter. These matters are no longer “issues” for debate but people with lives and stories that enrich our congregations and our lives.

Our communities today are the direct results of courageously transforming our congregations from one filled with Jews resembling the mythic “Ozzie and Harriet” to beautifully diverse, holy communities that transcend walls and state borders.

And that means we bear witness to very real pain and suffering:

When a mother comes to her rabbi following the death of Travon Martin and says, “I’m afraid to let my (African-American) son wear a hoodie outside the house,” how does such a statement not shatter our hearts?

Or when another congregant who is African American chokes up, offering the name Michael Brown Jr. at Kaddish, what is our response?

Or when a pregnant interracial Jewish couple sits in our rabbinic study and weeps “Rabbi, if we have a son, how do we keep him safe?”

Surely, stating that everyone counts has political implications.

It is also deeply, profoundly personal. And moral.

For a generation, we in the Reform movement have proclaimed that we seek to expand the tent of Jewish life, to engage in the Biblical process of welcoming the stranger, to practice “audacious hospitality.”

These ideals must go beyond mere sloganeering. If we are to take seriously and count each member of our community—and live into the reality that their stories, their pain, their suffering, their hope—then we cannot ignore the impact of racism and police brutality on the lives of members of color of our congregations and our communities. Our empathy, our compassion, our humanity demands a response to both people we love and people we don’t know but whose suffering is real.

We rabbis must show up and cry out with the voices of the prophets, with moral courage, with a vision of a just society where all our children can realize their dreams. And that means we must stand up and speak out about racial disparities in policing, arrests, and incarceration.

If not us, who?

As Rabbi Schindler so eloquently explained 36 years ago, “Let us shuck our insecurities; let us recapture our self-esteem; let us, by all means, demonstrate our confidence in the value of our faith.”

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Rabbis Organizing Rabbis is project of the Reform Movement’s social justice initiatives: the CCAR’s Committee on Peace, Justice and Civil Liberties, the Religious Action Center, and Just Congregations.

Rabbi Michael Latz serves Shir Tikvah Congregation in Minneapolis, Minnesota

Categories
Israel Reform Judaism

Israel at 67- Thoughts

Israel at 67: Two Challenges

Approaching Yom HaZikaron and Yom Haatzmaut, I now mark the second cycle of these Iyyar holidays living in New York.  Last year went by with the curiosity of what happens in the Diaspora – events, celebrations, cocktail parties and lectures.  All nice and impressive, but still lacking. There is no comparison to being in Israel on these days as the entire country kneels down in mourning only to then rise up out of the depths in celebration of what many still do not take for granted – that the dream of an independent sovereign Jewish state is indeed a reality.   During this varying 48-hour experience it is impossible to avoid the mood that sets in throughout the country.  It is impossible to not be enveloped into the national discussion of what it is that those many thousands gave their lives and what we wish for Israel’s future on her birthday.

Peering from abroad as we commemorate and celebrate, we are engaged in two existential debates on the future of the Jewish state both testing the strength of Israel as both Jewish and Democratic.  67 years later there are too many in Israel for whom democracy is increasingly interpreted as being antithetical to Judaism.  Let me be clear, this is both wrong and potentially disastrous for the future of Israel.  It is Israel’s democratic nature that allows it to continue as Jewish.  And this will require a certain sense of maturity and willingness to compromise in order to maintain.  The Jewish state can only remain as such if it remains committed to the principles of democracy (those clearly outlined in the Declaration of Independence.)

On December 21, 1947, Rabbi Yitzhak HaLevi Herzog then Chief Rabbi of the Yishuv (Jewish community living in mandated Palestine, and grandfather of contemporary Zionist Union leader Isaac Herzog) wrote to the Zionist leader Shlomo Zalman Shragai “Blessed be He that we have reached this stage, even though it is still only the beginning of the beginning.”  If we perceive the establishment of the State of Israel to be “Reishit Tzmihat Geulateinu – the first flowering of our redemption” it is upon us to be the pruners and harvesters of the early blossoms that were opened on that fateful day in the month of Iyyar 67 years ago.

Often times nurturing a blossom requires food, water and sunlight and other times pruning requires the necessary awareness to remove a side-ward growing branch – doing so in full knowledge that amputation will foster the survival and thriving of the body.  It was this notion of compromise that led one of our greatest sages Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai to plead “Grant me Yavne and its sages,” as he recognized that the only way that both Am Yisrael and Judaism could survive would be to compromise and to focus on the future.

Today our situation is not dissimilar in which we must make a fateful decision to compromise.  The fact is that most of Israeli society has done this already and has chosen the path of a Jewish and Democratic state over that of holding on to land that like the side-ward growing branch of a plant needs to be cut in order for us to survive.

The second challenge facing our Jewish democracy today that of working to determine which Jewish values we want our state to exemplify and which we don’t.  This must be the imperative for the next seven decades and we have a lot to offer.  Many Israelis are waking up to the reality that having a Jewish State does not necessarily mean that they automatically have a Jewish community.  When I came on Aliyah to Israel, I thought that I had fulfilled my own personal Zionist quest.  Shortly thereafter I realized that there was still a tremendous amount of work to be done.  I realized that for so many the values that I learned growing up in the Reform movement, of welcoming the stranger, tolerance and accepting a multiplicity of observance and Jewish practice, ecology and egalitarianism could be perceived as a threat to the Jewishness of the State.  These values are what makes the largest and most diverse Jewish society on the planet Jewish and we must not accept any dissention from that notion.

What I love about Israel is how intrinsically Jewish it is.  How much thought and creativity come out of Israeli society.  What I also love is that it is malleable, impressionable and very much growing.  I love that Israeli Jews are constantly flocking to create new kehilot and that our movement is at the forefront of creating an Israeli nusah, an Israeli style of Judaism that is authentic, inclusive and is evolving what Judaism is when it comes to social justice, how we relate to the other, and what prayer should be just to name a few.

The story of Israel’s first 67 years is one for the movies. It is full of drama, successes, mishaps and experimentation.  What we need now is to foster that flowering, to recognize and be fully aware that we as passionate and involved American Jews can be involved in this process.  We can have a voice that will resonate.  This year on Yom Haatzmaut I urge you to think about Israel not as a far off place, known often for its conflicts, but as an opportunity.    An opportunity to join together in writing history and helping to set the direction for Judaism for the foreseeable future.  As we the blossoms of that first flowering you can join too simply voting in the elections for the World Zionist Congress and ensuring that your voice is heard.  (www.reformjews4Israel.org/vote)

חג עצמאות שמח!

Please see this “Al HaNissim” prayer for Yom Haatzmaut and feel free to share with your congregations.

עַל הַנִּסִּים וְעַל הַפֻּרְקָן וְעַל הַגְּבוּרוֹת וְעַל הַתְּשוּעוֹת וְעַל הַנֶּחָמוֹת וְעַל הַמִּלְחָמוֹת שֶׁעָשִׂיתָ לָנוּ בַּזְּמַן הַזֶּה.
ביום ה’ באייר חמשת אלפים תש”ח למניין שאנו מונים לבריאת העולם, בעת ההכרזה על הקמת מדינת ישראל, זכה עם ישראל לריבונות על אדמתם ולשליטה על גורלם. על נס הקמת מדינה יהודית באשר היא ראשית צמיחת גאולתינו. מדינה זו באה מתוך קשר היסטורי ומסורתי זה חתרו היהודים בכל דור לשוב ולהאחז במולדתם העתיקה. ובדורות האחרונים שבו לארצם בהמונים, וחלוצים, מעפילים ומגינים הפריחו נשמות, החיו שפתם העברית, בנו כפרים וערים, והקימו ישוב גדל והולך השליט על משקו ותרבותו, שוחר שלום ומגן על עצמו, מביא ברכת הקידמה לכל תושבי הארץ ונושא נפשו לעצמאות ממלכתית. זה יום עשה יהוה נגילה ונשמחה בו כשנאמר: “וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מִן הַגּוֹיִם וְקִבַּצְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מִכָּל הָאֲרָצוֹת וְהֵבֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם אֶל אַדְמַתְכֶם” (יחזקאל לו, כד( וּלְעַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל עָשִׂיתָ תְּשוּעָה גְּדוֹלָה וּפֻרְקָן כְּהַיּוֹם הַזֶּה, הִדְבַּרְתָּ עַמִּים תַּחְתֵּנוּ וּלְאֻמִּים תַּחַת רַגְלֵנוּ, וְנָתַתָּ לָנוּ אֶת נַחֲלָתֵנוּ אשר תיקרא “מדינת ישראל”. ולפי כך מדינה זו תהא פתוחה לעליה יהודית ולקיבוץ גלויות; תשקוד על פיתוח הארץ לטובת כל תושביה; תהא מושתתה על יסודות החירות, הצדק והשלום לאור חזונם של נביאי ישראל; תקיים שויון זכויות חברתי ומדיני גמור לכל אזרחיה בלי הבדל דת, גזע ומין;  תבטיח חופש דת, מצפון, לשון, חינוך ותרבות; תשמור על המקומות הקדושים של כל הדתות. יְהִי-שָׁלוֹם בְּחֵילֵךְ שַׁלְוָה בְּאַרְמְנוֹתָיִךְ.