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General CCAR News Rabbis Reform Judaism

A Second Act, Again: Reflections of a New Hillel Rabbi

When I left the corporate world as a director at 33 many people wondered why.  I was climbing the ladder, had a great job, good reputation, excellent track record and an exciting life. But my desire to become a rabbi trumped all that and I made a big change to start a “second career.” I not only left my job, I left my entire way of life and my community.  I completely changed my identity from executive expat to start on the path of becoming a Reform rabbi.  After five years at HUC-JIR and 13 years in a wonderful congregation in a small town in Connecticut I had transformed into a congregational rabbi with a solid reputation, a loving community and a sense of accomplishment topped by a beautiful new building. Many would have thought that this would be the time to reap the rewards of one’s hard work and simply enjoy the life I have created. But once again, I have managed to turn my life upside down.

Last month I accepted the position of Executive Director and Senior Jewish Chaplain of Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish life at Yale. This is a Hillel on steroids, with one of the largest staff, budget and scope of activities of any Hillel situated on one of the most prestigious campuses in the world with mind boggling students, faculty and resources. In the same month, I also led a trip to Israel, had rotator cuff surgery, put my house on the market, said good bye to my dear congregation, started my new job at Yale, and prepared to send my first and only child to college.  

Why? Depends on who you ask.  If you ask my all-knowing daughter she would say, “That is what my mom does.  She just does things that don’t seem normal.”  Others might point to the incredible opportunity that this position represents.  Those who know me from my congregation would quickly answer that our rabbi loves working with young people.  Some might find deep psychological explanations dealing with the empty nest syndrome. 

I think of all the responses I have gotten from people the one that had the biggest impact on me was the person who said, “This is really courageous”.  What struck me about his remark was that I had never thought of this decision or any decision I have made as courageous.  I think I am simply being normal. This is what normal means to me- challenge yourself, keep growing, live as if Judaism matters because it does, love people (imperfections and all), carpe diem, try, then try harder, know that you are not alone. 

Growing up, our family’s two core values were adventure and education.  As a family of six we lived and traveled all over the world and my parents were great teachers.  I think a final piece of my legacy that has impacted my decision is that I am now three years older than my sister was when she died, and almost the same age as my mother when she died.  My father also died in his fifties.  So this too I have learned and internalized as a motivating value- life ends. Right in the middle of doing your life, it can be over.  My heightened sense of mortality does not make me morbid, rather it makes me eager, curious, passionate, intense and yes, I guess, fearless. 

Rabbi Leah Cohen is the new Executive Director and Senior Jewish Chaplain at the Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish Life at Yale University. 

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Ethics Immigration News Rabbis Reform Judaism Social Justice

High Holy Day Inspiration from Rabbis Organizing Rabbis

As we enter the month of Elul, we are aware that Tishrei is almost upon us. Sitting in front of our computers, we might think to ourselves “Stop mulling and just write the sermon!” But writing High Holiday sermons really does require that we ponder what to preach. Every year, we ask ourselves the same questions: what message will resonate with our congregants, what are we passionate about saying, and what wisdom do our texts and tradition have to offer us.

This year, there is a new question to add to the list. In the past, I did not think much about what my colleagues were saying in their sermons. I might check in with a few friends, or bounce ideas off some people, but I was never speaking as part of the North American Reform Movement. This year, it will be different.

In 5774, like many colleagues, I will be speaking about the topic of immigration reform. This issue calls to us as Jews. We are immigrants. We fled slavery in Egypt to journey into freedom. More recently my great-grandparents fled the pogroms and mandatory military service in Russia to find a better life here in the United States. We know what it is to wander and to be treated as outsiders.

We also have a chance to make a real difference. The Senate has passed a comprehensive immigration reform bill. The House will be debating moving a bill to the floor in September, perfect timing for us to have an impact. Imagine what hundreds of rabbis can do together as we preach or teach about immigration reform this High Holidays.   

I’m going to be honest and say that while immigration reform is not my issue, justice is. Acting together powerfully is vital to who I am as a rabbi and who we are as Reform Jews.  At the CCAR Convention in Long Beach, we asked the question: Do we want to act together as a Reform Movement? The answer was a resounding yes, as hundreds of colleagues across the country joined the efforts of Rabbis Organizing Rabbis, a project of the Reform Movement’s social justice initiatives: the Justice and Peace Committee of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, the Religious Action Center, and Just Congregations.  Since then, we have worked on passing legislation through the Senate. Teams of colleagues in seven states met with key swing senators and their staffs. Many of us gathered in Washington DC for a lobby day, or participated in a national call-in day. Nearly 400 of us are staying connected through the Rabbis Organizing Rabbis Facebook group. We have worked together to amplify the rabbinic voice for justice, but there is more work to do.

Now we have another chance to act together to make a real difference in the debate in the House. In the weeks to come, we’ll share more with you about which legislators are crucial to the passage of compassionate, common sense immigration reform. But in the short term, there is something that only we as rabbis can do: speak from the heart to our congregants about this defining issue of our times.

So, will you join our effort and make preaching and teaching about immigration reform part of your High Holidays this year? To make it as easy as possible we have compiled text resources and sample sermons. If you willing to join the effort please share your thoughts and plans on the Rabbis Organizing Rabbis Facebook group so we can log your participation. And, it never hurts to reach out to another colleague or two to ask them to join us as well.

As we move into Tishrei we have the opportunity to begin our year by speaking out for justice. Join us in showing our legislators, our congregants and ourselves what it means to be part of a national movement and to put justice at the center of the Reform rabbinate. 

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Ethics Immigration News Rabbis Reform Judaism Social Justice

Judaism and Immigration Reform

Judaism has something to say about Immigration Reform. And, it starts with Welcoming the Stranger, and Protecting the Weak.

Immigration Reform has been a hot issue, these past few months. A Comprehensive Immigration Reform bill has recently passed through the Senate, and the house is now debating what, if any, bill it might pass. What does Judaism have to offer this conversation?

Clearly, there isn’t a single “correct” Jewish position on Immigration Reform. That’s especially true when we’re talking about specific policies or legislation. Judaism doesn’t tell us precisely how long is too long for a path to citizenship to take. Judaism has little if anything to offer in helping us decide what percentage, precisely, of our money should we be spending on border security, as opposed to other aspects of Immigration policy.

But, Judaism does have quite a bit to say about values — which values should be important to us, and which values should undergird our society.

One of the values integral to Judaism is Hachnasot Orchim—welcoming the stranger. Welcoming the stranger has always been part of Judaism. In the Book of Genesis, we hear of Abraham, the first Jew, who was sitting in the entrance of his tent, when three strangers passed by. He immediately invited them in, and treated them like royalty — preparing a meal for them himself, not even letting his servants do it for him. That was probably fairly common and expected — we still see echoes of this kind of behavior in that part of the world. Our people inherited this tradition, and we built it into our theology.

You see, there is a natural, human tendency to favor those to whom we are the closest. We tend to take care of our own, and to be wary or afraid of “the other.” The mitzvah of welcoming the stranger is, in part, a counterbalance to this reflex. It reminds us that this person, whom I do not know is, among other things, a human being. And that means that they were created in the image of God. The moment I encounter him or her, I have an obligation to him or her. There is no one — not a single, solitary person — from whom I can completely turn away, and to whom I have no obligation.

These people — these immigrants — who are not, at least not yet, part of our nation are still people. And we have an obligation towards them. We have to welcome them.

We can’t welcome everyone equally, of course. No one is suggesting that we don’t have any Immigration policy — that we open our borders and make everyone and anyone a citizen. But, our starting place has to be one of care and welcoming. We have to work to figure out how we can bring the greatest number of people possible into our country, and into our lives, rather than starting from a place of rejection and isolationism.

It would be incredibly ironic for us, as Jews, to be less than welcoming when it comes to immigration policy. Because, we’ve often been the victim of it. We’ve been the victims of restrictions on our own migrations for centuries. We’ve fled persecution and been told, time and again, “you’re not welcome here.” Even when others were trying to wipe our people off the map, we’ve been told to go somewhere else. Just not here.

And, in less dramatic times, we still had to leave one home to seek a better life elsewhere. Very few of us in the Jewish community have an American heritage which goes back more than a few generations. We are a people of immigrants in a nation of immigrants. It is our repeated memory of being a stranger in a strange land which is supposed to drive our moral dedication to helping others to never feel like strangers themselves. Or, as it says in Leviticus (19:33-34), “When strangers sojourn with you in your land, you shall not do them wrong. The strangers who sojourn with you shall be to you as the natives among you, and you shall love them as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Because we were strangers, we know how it feels. And so, we are commanded to help other strangers. We have an obligation to immigrants not in spite of the fact that they are strangers, but precisely because of it.

We also have to remember that many immigrants, whether legal or illegal, are among the most vulnerable in our society. And that’s another, perhaps even greater reason that we are obligated to help them. We are told over and over that we are obligated to protect the weak — the Bible commands us to protect the widow and the orphan, because those categories were the weakest, and the most vulnerable, in ancient society.

By contrast, “They’re not my problem” appears exactly never in our text.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the specifics of policy, discussions about “who should get in first” and rhetoric about amnesty and such that we can forget a very basic, fundamental fact: we’re talking about people here. Were talking about people — not “illegals,” but people — who are suffering. People who, perhaps because they came here illegally, are not afforded, or do not know about, the legal protections to which they are entitled. They are exploited and abused, with startling regularity and severity. Even if we hold them accountable for entering this country illegally, it should still shock our moral centers that human beings are treated in this way. Workers are abused physically, and are threatened with deportation should they utter any protest, or seek help. Children are left without their parents, often put in dubious foster care, because their parents were deported, while they weren’t. Husbands and wives are kept apart for years and years because the one who came here, legally or not, doesn’t have the right, or perhaps just the resources, to bring their loved one over. Young women are forced into slavery and the sex trade, because as far as society is concerned, they don’t even exist. It’s an abomination.

As I said, the policy issues are deeply, deeply complicated. And, no one policy, or set of policies, is going to solve all these problems. But, that simply doesn’t give us the right to lose our sense of empathy for people who are suffering. The fact that we can’t make the problem go away in no way diminishes our responsibility to make it better. We have to remember that behind every story, behind every argument, behind every policy debate live real people with real lives. And they’re in real pain.

That, more than anything else, drives my support of Immigration Reform. It is a belief that, flawed, imperfect and incomplete as it will inevitably be, it is a step in the direction of justice, and of mercy. It is a step in the direction of forging a society which more closely holds to the ideals and values set out in our tradition.

Your conscience will tell you how to act, when it comes to laws and policies. Judaism can’t tell you, and neither can I, which candidate to support, or which bill to protest. but, I urge you to do something. Call your Senator, or call your representative. Urge them to act. Urge them to act in a way which will make our country, and our society, a place which welcomes the stranger, protects the weak, and strives to be a shining example of our greatest ideals.

Rabbi Jason Rosenberg is rabbi of Congregation Beth Am in Tampa, Florida.  This is a version of the sermon he gave at Congregation Beth Am on Friday, July 19th.

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Books Prayer Rabbis Reform Judaism

Mishkan T’filah for Children: Do Students in K-2 Need a Different Siddur than Students in Grades 3-5?

This question has been raised by several people and it is a really good question.  When our committee sat down to work on the new siddur Mishkan T’filah for Children we asked ourselves (as good educators do) “What are our goals for this siddur?”  As we explored that question through many discussions we came to the conclusion that we would, in fact, need two siddurim.  That one siddur for grades K-5 would not work well.  The reason is something which we have learned from the Early Childhood Education world.  The following is from the NAEYC (National Association for the Education of Young Children).

ccar-mishkantfilah-frontcover-2-children_1“Developmentally appropriate practice, often shortened to DAP, is an approach to teaching grounded in the research on how young children develop and learn and in what is known about effective early education. Its framework is designed to promote young children’s optimal learning and development.  DAP involves teachers meeting young children where they are (by stage of development), both as individuals and as part of a group; and helping each child meet challenging and achievable learning goals.”

DAP does not just apply to early childhood education, but to all education.  Simply put, we need to understand where children are developmentally and meet them there if we are going to be successful in engaging and educating them.  This applies to their intellectual, social and SPIRITUAL development.  If you spend time with a 6 year old and then spend time with a 10 year old it does not take long to see that they are in very different places developmentally.  A six year old will be a much more concrete learner while the ten year old is starting to think critically and will ask questions like “Which came first, Adam and Eve or the dinosaurs?”

The amazing comChildrenTalitmittee of rabbis who worked on this siddur quickly came to the conclusion that one siddur would not work for all ages.  Different developmental needs needed to be met by creating two different books.  The book for the younger children, which Michelle Shapiro Abraham did an incredible job creating will reach our youngest children at a level they can understand and connect to.  The book for the older children will have more Hebrew, English readings at a different level and questions which will engage our older thinkers.    The goal was the same for both – to engage children and families in prayer and encourage their spiritual growth.

 

Rabbi Paula Feldstein serves Temple Avodat Sholom in River Edge, NJ

 

 

 

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General CCAR News Rabbis

Rabbis are Parents Too!

I have officiated at more than 100 britot (brises) for newborn baby boys and girls (and plenty of older adopted children as well). None made me more nervous than the bris I recently led.

Ask anyone about my anxiousness. My office assistants would laugh as they shared how concerned I was that every synagogue room was clean, dusted, and set up properly. Our cantor would remark that I was doubly attentive about the choices and placement of music. The parents would note the abundance of calls and texts to ensure that every aspect of the ceremony detail was … perfect.

Why all the Nervous Energy and the Extra Detail Work? Julia David Noam Sanctuary IMG_0293

Because we were naming Noam Daniel Weisz, son of my partner rabbi, Julia Weisz and her husband David. I was officiating at a ceremony for a colleague with whom I spend inordinate amounts of time visioning, problem-solving and planning. One for whom I have tremendous respect and appreciation. I was honored with great responsibility: balancing the communal need to welcome our “temple baby” with Julia and David’s own needs as parents. Yup, this bris had to be extra special.

Split Personalities: The Bifurcated Existence of Jewish Professionals

Communal leaders – rabbis, cantors, educators, Federation leaders and others – spend vast amounts of time building relationships, creating community, and designing meaningful Jewish moments for others. When our own s’machot (joyous moments) approach, we are pulled in two directions. On the one hand, with the communities in which we work, we want to share our joy, find consolation, or be role models of how to mark both experiences. On the other hand, Jewish professionals have the need and right to have a personal (non-rabbinic) life cycle experience.

Julia and David set a perfect tone of balance when they decided to divide the brit milah ceremony into two parts: the bris (circumcision) which would be held in a separate room for family only, and the naming which would take place in the sanctuary as a public ceremony. Such Solomonic wisdom from so young a couple!

The Bris: Blessings Between Family Members

The bris was intimate, musical and moving. We were connected midor lador (from generation to generation) and mimedinah lamedinah (across state borders) as Noam’s out-of-state relatives, including Super Nana and Super Zayda (great grandparents), watched the live streaming webcast of the ceremony and as Noam’s Aunt Jo FaceTimed in from Texas, where she was required to participate in the first days of her graduate school nursing program. His three living grandparents schepped nachas (shared the joy) in person with the rest of us.

Mohel (urologist) Dr. Andy Shpall explained the ritual, led the ceremony, and, in 30 quick seconds, circumcised young Noam with calm and professionalism. Cantor Doug Cotler, master musician, played background music and added in appropriate Jewish songs to focus our attention on this transcendent, joyous moment.

Cantor Doug and I caught each other’s eyes, and together recognized the blossoming kedusha (holiness). We wordlessly agreed to extend this portion of the day’s festivities to encircle the sparks of holiness. An extra song added. Then family members each blessed baby Noam with words that completed the sentence, “May you be blessed with…”

Eyes welled up as Mom (Julia) and Dad (David) blessed their baby. Family gathered close together and we pulled Aunt Jo’s iPad picture closer. Touching, hugging, holding each other, they all embraced Birkat Kohanim blessing. Eyes welled up poured out tears, as family celebrated the simcha.

Transition Time: Returning to the Rabbi Role

As family members were ushered downstairs to the sanctuary (where our lay leaders ensured that front row seats awaited them), we gave the Mom and Dad transition time. They spoke with the mohel about care for their circumcised infant. They took moments to hug each other. They held little Noam. Breathe in the blessings; breathe out the pre-bris worries. Breathe in; breathe out. Breathe in; breathe out.

The Naming: Schepping Nachas (Sharing the Joy)

The naming gathered a substantially larger group, mixing Rabbi Julia’s and David’s colleagues, friends, Or Ami congregants and family. Cantor Doug bonded the group by teaching them Nachas, Nachas, his new, original song for celebrating any significant moment of meaning. Paired with Siman Tov uMazel Tov, Nachas, Nachas brought old world yiddishkeit to our decidedly new American Jewish ceremony.

Grandparents shared readings about the significance of a name. Following the tradition – part superstition, part practical – of waiting until the bris to announce the baby’s name, David and Julia shared Noam Daniel’s name and its derivation from his deceased great-grandfather Oscar/Naphtali and his deceased step-grandfather Daniel. The congregation ooo’ed and ahhh’ed as the baby slept and cuddled. Hebrew blessings confirmed his Hebrew name and our prayers for his speedy recovery from the circumcision.

Allowing “Julia, our Rabbi” to Be “Julia, his Mommy”

How do communities care for the caregiver? Just as some adults have difficulty parenting the parent, congregations do not naturally know how to care for their Jewish professionals. Without such tools in their toolbox, it rests upon the shoulders of the leaders – clergy and president/board chair – to set the expectations. So as part of this ceremony, we explained to the assembled that today – and for the weeks (and years) following – Rabbi Julia and David need to be able to be like any other parents. Today especially, we celebrate with them and allow them just to relax into the most sacred of roles – the parents of a child.

Therefore, as part of the naming ceremony, we shared the congregation’s vision for Rabbi Julia’s maternity plan. We reminded the community that for the next three months, while on maternity leave, “Rabbi Julia” becomes “Just Julia.” We who have been so lovingly and tirelessly cared for by our Rabbi Julia, will want to care for her by allowing David and her to focus solely for baby Noam and each other. So as we see her in the mall, out at dinner, up online, we will NOT discuss Temple issues or updates with her. All temple related issues or concerns can be shared with her assistant or with Rabbi Paul Kipnes. Message delivered, we moved toward conclusion.

Birkat Kohanim: A Benediction for a Baby and Family

Since the blessings of the community are as significant as are those of the clergy, we asked everyone to stand up and form one complete, unbroken chain of hugs or hand-holds, reaching all the way forward to Noam’s grandparents and from them to Noam’s parents, and to him. Quickly the large gathering became even more intimate. The assembled repeated the words of Birkat Kohanim (the Priestly Benediction) to Noam.

It was a moment of kedusha (holiness). To purposely misquote our patriarch Jacob, Achen, yeish Adonai bamaqom hazeh vanochi ken yadati – Surely God was in this place, and we all knew it!

Throughout the service, we lovingly treated Rabbi Julia and David as just two parents (not a rabbi and her spouse). We articulated the hope and expectation that she gets to be mommy first for her child, rabbi next. You see, Rabbis and other Jewish professionals (as mommies and daddies) can have rich, deeply meaningful spiritual lives, if we just need to educate our communities, articulate the expectations, and pre-think a process to address issues that might arise.

How does your community work to care for your caretakers and leaders?

Julia David Noam IMG_0149 - Version 2

 Photos by Michael Kaplan

Rabbi Paul Kipnes serves Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, CA.

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General CCAR News Rabbis Reform Judaism

Nourishing the Jewish Spirit at Summer Camp

As I reflect on my two weeks as rabbinic faculty for the 6-7th grade session Shomrim, I am truly moved by the experience. I think I am one of the vatikim, having spent some 13 years growing up and serving on staff at Camp Swig, and nine summers on rabbinic faculty at Camp Newman.   With all of those experiences, this summer I felt the magic of Camp Newman in some new ways that I’d like to share with you all.

Quality of Staff:

There was a quality among the staff that showcased new levels to the Newman experience. From the morning shtick when Hebrew man appeared along with the presentation of a middah/value for the day, through the programming and how staff treated campers, deep Jewish soul instruction was present in a very engaging and delightful way. The songleaders were a team – no one stood out as the “ego” or super star. Everyone worked seamlessly together. What came through was incredible support and collaboration.

Having been at Camp Newman for some years, I felt as well the very high quality of the staff. The staff always love the campers, however in addition, I experienced a very high level of programming where the value of the day integrated into whatever program we were doing. Simple blackberry picking became an experience in cooperation as they picked for each other. Kindness for campers frequently moved me to tears. There was something set into the very fabric of the session so that children with various challenges were not only tolerated by the other campers, but loved. I witnessed again and again how a particular child, who would otherwise be ignored or teased in the non-camp world, was joyfully accepted.

DSC_6678-300x200As a former songleader at Camp Swig, I always pay close attention to the musical repetoire and how songs are taught. I saw that there was some experimentation with teaching songs in the Chadar Ochel with a powerpoint system allowing for both learning new songs, even more complex songs, but still making space for the current custom of dancing around. I also was thrilled with the sound system on the basketball courts for Shabbat. The quality of singing, the gentleness of the older campers toward the younger campers, and the method of leading dance from the small stage in the middle, made for a safe and exhilerating Shabbat.

This is a Reform Jewish summer camp and the campers really know their prayers. They exhuberantly bless the ritual washing of their hands, they are pretty ecstatic about the blessing before eating and even more joyful singing Birkat Hamazon with its inclusive prayer for our cousins, the children of Ishmael. There is some shtick, but it is precious shtick and kept at a respectful pace by the blessing leaders.

In the 6-7th grade session I worked with, the campers really knew the basic meaning of each prayer and were eager to lead, to write their interpretations and to participate in story telling.  We would pray at the Creek on Shabbat Morning till the end of Amidah and then walk up to another place for Torah reading. There was a trust among the counselors and the campers about respecting the beautiful space and participating in prayer there. The way I saw it, gently tossing pebbles into the water and watching the rippling out of circles was like the impact of Camp Newman and the broader affect it has on their lives.

Perhaps more than any other summer, I feel a calm intentionality from the senior staff. Rabbi Erin is a grounded presence. She always knows what is going on and what needed to go on – aware of both a specific child in need, as well as the perspective of how the camp is running and how the staff is collaborating. You feel here calm, grounded, aware presence directly when she speaks at Shabbat services and you sense it by how she speaks with all of us. Ruben creates a stable and vibrant energy from the first loving chorus of “Heveinu Shalom Aleichem” at the start of camp that only builds till the last night when campers shout with everything they’ve got, “I love being Jewish.”

At the start of my two weeks here, Rabbi Paul Kipnes spoke to the faculty about how we fold into an already working system. It was a very meaningful talk – reminding the faculty that we are here not for our own ego gratification nor to make things how we think they should be, but to respect what has been going on and flow into that stream. Putting egos at the door and seeing ourselves more as open vessels created within me even greater appreciation for all the work that had been put in place.

Before even arriving at camp, I was sent, along with all faculty, the names and email information of the leaders, the Rashim, of the session I’d work with along with the invitation to contact them. What a great thing! It took no time at all to email them just to check in and say how happy I was thinking of being at the session with them. In addition, we were invited to collect some texts on a particular value or “middah.” This too made me feel that I could be part of the collaboration with such talented young leaders.

As I near my 25th year of Rabbinic Ordination, I know, hands down, that Jewish summer camp is the very best way to nourish the Jewish spirit. As rabbis, we can preach our best sermons, we can sing our songs, we can shmooze at onegs and do all the things that we are supposed to do to feed our congregants’ Jewish identity. However, I am convinced that it is the high quality of Jewish learning at Camp Newman, the loving counselors and specialists and the grounded, organized and deeply committed leaders who are the ones who make the magic happen.

Rabbi Nancy Wechsler-Azen is rabbi of Congregation Beth Shalom in Carmichael, CA.  

 

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General CCAR Rabbis Reform Judaism

Week One: Thoughts from a New Rabbi

Being a seasoned rabbi of nearly five weeks and an experienced member of a clergy team for five days, I can honestly say that I have learned a great deal in such a short period of time.  You always hear from veteran professionals in any field that the real schooling comes after you receive a degree.  You always are told that the real teachers are those individuals whom you encounter every day.  Whether they are co-workers, patients, clients, or congregants, they are the ones who teach you how to do what you have always wanted to do well. 

I’ve learned that my passion for Judaism and commitment to the rabbinate allows me to embrace what it takes to be a rabbi, but it doesn’t make me a rabbi.  What makes me a rabbi are those moments of connection with others, those endless hours of planning, processing, and programming, and those difficult times in which you must say “no” so that you can honor the importance of self-care.  

In my first week of a rabbi, I even offered to work on my day off, simply because, in part, the congregation was waiting for me to start moving forward with the planning and implementation of the year to come.  The calendar meeting was postponed until I arrived, the ritual committee wanted to discuss the coming year, and mailings that would have been sent out months ago were held off until the entire clergy team could give their input.  I had to come into work on my day off.  I needed to show that I was responsible, eager, and committed.  What I quickly learned was that the best way to show that I was responsible, eager, and committed was to actually take the day off.  I needed to enjoy sleeping in, wearing my shorts, going to lunch with my wife, and spending time with my dog.  Both my Senior Rabbi and Executive Director reminded me that I need to not only take care of myself, but to create boundaries now that will become difficult to set later.

 I’ve learned how important it is to collaborate with not just your fellow clergy, but your administrative assistants, bookkeepers, membership coordinators, program directors, and even custodial staff.  In order for our congregations to be communities of welcoming, centers of Jewish life, and places our congregants want to be, we must act with humility, show our love and compassion for others, and treat each other with the same dignity that we seek to be treated. 

As rabbis, young and seasoned, we all advocate for a Judaism that is vibrant and enduring.  Perhaps what I have learned the most in my first week as a rabbi is that we have so much we can learn from each other.  My rabbinate will never be your rabbinate, and my conception of what it means to be a rabbi will never be your conception – and nor should it be.  Yet, our visions can be integrated and we can grow and enrich our rabbinates because of each other.  The best mentors are those who strive to connect with those whom they are mentoring, and the best mentees are those who both listen to their mentors, but also challenge them to challenge you.

It’s been a week and I’ve learned so much in such a short period of time.  As we quickly approach the month of Elul in less than a month, I can only wonder what other reflections I’ll glean in the weeks to come.

Rabbi Phillip (PJ) Schwartz is the assistant rabbi of Temple Israel, Westport, CT.

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News Reform Judaism

Cinema Judaica: The War Years – Part 4 Interview With the Author

CCAR Press is proud to be the ebook publisher of Cinema Judaica: The War Years, in partnership with Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, which organized the related exhibition.  Though a departure from the usual books published by CCAR Press, this was a wonderful opportunity for collaboration with one of our Movement partners, and one that provides unique and fascinating educational content for our members and their communities.  In anticipation of the launch of Cinema Judaica, we took the opportunity to sit down with the author, Ken Sutak. Cinema Judaica is available through iTunes or Amazon.  Read Parts 12, and 3 of this interview.  

CCAR Press: What, then, do you think we can learn from Cinema Judaica, The War Years about Jewish identity?

Ken Sutak: Several things, I hope, but I will mention only the three that seem most apparent to me.  First, that it is and was, from the inception of the American republic itself, an essential part of the overall basic American character, just as it is one of the glues that hold the many different threads that comprise the social fabric of America together.  At no time was this clearer in our history—at least in retrospect—than during the War Years.  This was especially true during that critical period of the Great Debate between isolationism and interventionism, when the fate of the remaining democracies including our own, along with the fate of the world, along with the fate of world Jewry, hung in the balance.  Second, that the literary concept of the oppressed but steadfast Jewish female protagonist, which was very popular in mid-Nineteenth Century America thanks to one much-loved novel by Sir Walter Scott and his apparent inspiration, the Philadelphia benefactress Rebecca Gratz, was resurrected by American films and their underlying literary sources during the War Years.   Moreover, that was done with considerable critical and commercial success.  As a free society that tries to institutionalize equal rights, we have been enjoying the bountiful fruits of that revival ever since, but it began during World War II.

CJ sample 12Take a closer look at Paulette Goddard’s Hannah character in The Great Dictator, at Margaret Sullavan’s persecuted yet resilient Jewish heroines in The Mortal Storm and So Ends Our Night, or Katherine Taylor’s sacrificial lioness of a Jewish literary prop, played by K. T. Stevens, who falls prey to the frenzy of a Nazi mob in Address Unknown–all but the famous Chaplin film having been based on best-selling interventionist novels published in the very late 1930s.  Cinema Judaica, The War Years does.   And third, that there is a logical reason why it was so easy, and natural, for Leon Uris and others before him to Americanize the Israeli struggle for independence for popular consumption in America during the 1950s.  When the lesser known postwar “exodus” films like My Father’s House, The Illegals, and Sword in the Desert are placed in the context of a capsule history of the War Years from start to finish, including the wartime events leading up to Israel’s own Declaration of Independence, it becomes apparent that the first Arab-Israeli War was the last installment—for the 1940s—of the Second World War.  In all of these areas, however, whether you are able to tap into visceral issues of identity or not, it is important to approach the context visually, not just narratively.  Which is part of the appeal of the Cinema Judaica exhibits, and now, we hope, the illustrated Cinema Judaica  books.

CP: Why is that?

KS: Because we respond emotionally to a visual work or component more readily than we do to a verbal or editorial one.  That’s why Harry Warner wanted to begin the American fight against Hitler and Hitlerism at the movies, on top of all the anti-Nazi journalism that was around at the same time.  That’s why  Warner Brothers produced Confessions of a Nazi Spy, the first openly anti-Nazi movie, and Sons of Liberty, a short biopic about Hyam Salomon that returned openly Jewish characters to the movies for the first time in five years, concurrently, for general release on the same bill in Warner Brothers theaters.  That’s why the German American Bund burned down one of the theaters showing Confessions, and why Hitler actually hanged some of the Polish theater owners who had showed Confessions in Poland from the rafters of their theaters.  It’s why the writers Meyer Levin and his wife-to-be Tereska Torres, he a former war correspondent with ready access to the press, she a former soldier in De Gaulle’s Free French Army, risked their lives to film a you-are-there docudrama movie called The Illegals which records an actual Aliyah Bet transmigration of Holocaust survivors from Poland to British Mandatory Palestine on a Haganah ship called “The Unafraid” during the last dangerous leg of the journey.  You have only to look at the online sample pages of Cinema Judaica, The War Years to see and feel what I mean.

Can anyone—Jewish or Gentile—look at a “star portrait” of Claude Rains as Hyam Solomon wearing a tricorn hat and a prayer shawl, opposite a pair of typical U.S. war bond drive posters featuring his fellow American patriots George Washington and John Paul Jones at their own battle stations, and not feel prideful in or of American Jews?  Or just consider the contrast between a complex editorial fact and a simple visual correlative in this starker example.  According to the statistics compiled by the Jewish Welfare Board Bureau of War Records, roughly 550,000 Jewish American men and women served in the American Armed Forces during World War II, out of roughly 11,000,000 Americans in total.  About 35,000 were surviving casualties of battle and approximately another 8000 were killed in action.  For a single ethnic group that represented somewhere between 3.4%  and 3.7% of the population of America at the time, that’s a fairly proportionate loss of life and limb and more than a proportionate participation in the wartime service of their country.  These statistics often surprise some people, especially younger Jews unfamiliar with the World War II history that their forebears lived through.  These statistics are cited in the narrative of Cinema Judiaca, The War Years.   Standing alone, though, they don’t necessarily carry an emotional wallop that brings fundamental feelings of identity to the surface.  However, I don’t think any audience, especially a Jewish audience, can watch the scene in The Sands of Iwo Jima where an American Marine, part of John Wayne’s multi-ethnic combat platoon, falls mortally wounded in battle with the Japanese and then recites the opening Hebrew words of the Shema before he dies on Mount Suribachi, and come away from that scene unmoved—or, if it’s a Jewish audience watching that scene, unaware that his or her Jewish identity is inextricably linked with the multi-ethnic and multi-religious identity of this country.  That’s the kind of War Years moment that grabs you by the throat and squeezes your most primal feelings up into the emotive lobes of your brain, like the effect of loud lightening in a storm.

CP: You just mentioned younger Jews, the ones that many of our congregations most wish to reach.  How can Jewish communities use Cinema Judaica to teach?

KS: Cinema Judaica is a useful educational aide, a visually appealing book available in alternate e-book or print book editions, with accurate summaries of otherwise unmanageable amounts of historical information subdivided into teachable subject headings, in order to achieve reasonably obtainable educational goals.  The earliest instance of the use of the term “Cinema Judaica” that I know of is in connection with a Jewish film festival in Los Angeles that shows Jewish-themed movies of the War Years period, like Gentleman’s Agreement, accompanied by a lecturer who discusses the all-important context.  Unless you can teach the context, you can’t teach anything about Jewish-themed films except movie trivia and filmmaking technicalities: the quality of the performances, the writing, the direction, the cinematography, the score.   Audiences for Cinema Judaica festivals in L.A., which also have included concerts of film music, do skew older.   Yet they also include the TCM type crowds that contain a lot of avid young film fans who are eager to see and learn everything they can about classic films.  So why can’t that same approach, times ten, times ninety, work for our synagogues, now that such an educational tool is available?  Plenty of synagogues sponsor their own Jewish film festival at least once a year, but these events rarely showcase old movies.  They tend to showcase new Israeli films as a rule, which is great, because the American synagogues have become an important outlet for Israeli filmmakers gaining exposure for their films, and Israeli filmmakers need that support.

But if you also want to introduce younger congregants, particularly those of Bar and Bat Mitzvah or high school age, to the unpleasant but must-know subject of anti-Semitism in America as it once manifested itself, then sponsor a Cinema Judaica screening and discussion, show the nine-minute  The House I Live In on a double bill with the ninety-minute Crossfire, and make sure the audience has a chance to read “The Postwar Anti-Semitism Films” section of Cinema Judaica, The War Years for the historical background information beforehand, or build a multi-part curriculum around it.  It’s perfect for that, especially in the visual culture in which young people are growing up.  It’s like the way a synagogue book group operates, but with two visual components added, one being the representative movie and other the tie-in book  which is colorfully illustrated with rare posters and trade ads of the period, and which you can download onto your iPad.  With the book, there’s no need for an outside lecturer to talk on the same subject and answer questions.  Similarly, if you wish to teach the complicated subject of the key events leading up to the formation of the State of Israel after the end of World War II, in a manageable way, then show the hour-long DVD of The Illegals, which you can license for a nominal fee from Ergo Media online,  and offer your audience an opportunity to read “The Postwar Exodus Films” section of Cinema Judaica, The War Years beforehand.   Same thing for teaching “The Great Debate” period, or the period when we were actively engaged in World War II as a nation engaged in a war of national survival.  Same thing for teaching “The Postwar Holocaust Films” if you wish to discuss how  Eastern European filmmakers, some of whom had been concentration camp inmates, took it upon themselves to portray the camps they had been in as soon as permitted after the war ended.  You’ve got a whole curriculum right there.

CP: How did you go about gathering all the material in the books, and over how long?

KS: In this case the material consists of three categories.  First there are the films themselves, together with the underlying novels, novellas, or magazine series installments, if any, that preceded the film productions, which had to be identified, located, viewed, and read.  Then there is the illustrative promotional material for the films.  Much of it is rare, if still obtainable, which most of it still was, and is.   Without enough of it the exhibits would not have been possible, nor the books as a practical matter, although for the books all I needed was high res photographic images.   Finally there are the secondary research sources, some of which are out of print, but findable, for both the movie history and the general wartime history, along with as many of the original distributor’s pressbooks for the films as could be found.   Pressbooks are primary movie memorabilia too, but of an informative, factual type.  It took me about four years of off and on effort to collect enough representative primary material—original posters, trade ads, pressbooks, rare scene stills or publicity photos, and the like—to mount a small War Years exhibit and the larger Epic Cycle exhibit, and to watch or learn more about all the films.  A lot of the exhibit items were located and obtained on Ebay, most of it inexpensively.  Some of them were purchased or borrowed from dealers, some of them were borrowed from personal collections, or lent by owners who had inherited them from family members.  It took another two years or so to plan and actually produce the original museum exhibits at HUC-JIR Museum.   During that time a book manuscript started to evolve, under the oversight of my agent, and it became the basis of the exhibit signage.  Throughout this time, and the lead-in time, I located copies of most of the films either on VHS or DVD or on the internet, and watched them whether or not I had seen them before in theaters or on TV.   I also read most of the underlying literary sources.

CJ sample 11However, the most time-consuming part of doing almost any book of an historical nature is reading, notating, and absorbing the essential facts in the secondary sources.   That was true for Cinema Judaica, The War Years though not so much for Cinema Judaica,The Epic Cycle, where I was already familiar with a lot of the underlying social and political history.  I am a fast writer but a slow reader.  Moreover, I make my living not as an occasional book writer but as an attorney.  I am a 24/7 litigator who doubles as an entertainment lawyer with a New York law firm. So all my research and writing on this two-book project had to be done during breaks from my litigations or my transactional work.   That took about another four years.   At the same time, because the books are broader than the exhibits, I was still gathering additional material for them.  Often, this entailed gathering information about whether or not any surviving copy of any poster from a particular film still existed, and if so where, or from whom I might acquire or license a photograph of it.  As you can tell from the acknowledgements at the end of  The War Years book, a lot of people contributed images of very rare posters, or surviving, sometimes one-of-a-kind photographs, or esoteric information about wartime events or filmmaking incidents that could not be come by otherwise.  Everyone who did so was enthused by the subject matter of Cinema Judaica, The War Years when I described it to them.  And very few asked for anything more than a contributor’s credit in return.  It was as though all these contributors of rare images for the book or rare artifacts for the museum exhibits wanted to be part of the overall project, almost to the same extent we are told by American social historians like Geoffrey Perrett that people wanted to be part of the war effort while the War Years were taking place.  To quote Perrett, “spirits soared.”  The actual visual stuff, real artifacts of that time period, not just the story they enhance, causes spirits to soar.  That said, I still had to go to Prague to track down the sole surviving copy of the original Czech poster for the 1949 Czech Holocaust film Daleka cesta, or Distant Journey, which like that film itself is owned by the National Film Archive in Prague.  The National Film Archive licensed its photograph of it to me for use in this book, which is the first time a color image of that surviving poster has been published.  I also had an unusual number of lucky breaks in locating some of the other rarest items.

CP: Such as?

KS: No film poster dealer in the United States, nor either of the two Jewish film archives in Israel, had ever seen or even heard of the window card poster for the 1947 film My Father’s House.   So I could only hope and pray that a surviving copy would show up on Ebay.  Then one day, one did.  It was the printer’s remainder, no less, in unused condition because that’s what one-of-a-kind printer’s remainders are, by definition.  Now it is part of the HUC-JIR Museum travel show.  I had no such luck locating any surviving poster for The Illegals, though. I don’t think there is one.  However, it turned out that Meyer Levin had taken some publicity photographs of the Times Square theater marquee when the film opened in New York City in July 1948.  Above the marquee had stood a big wall poster, and below it were some door panel posters.  Meyer’s son Mikael Levin, a career photography artist, gave me permission to publish some of his father’s photographs in the book. He also agreed to let the book’s graphic designer, John Bernstein, isolate the wall poster in the black and white photograph of the theater marquee and create a digital reconstruction of the wall poster with added colors for the book.  The owner of  Emovieposter.com, the online distributor of the print edition of the book, contributed nineteen images of rare posters from his archive.  One of them, the never-seen poster for the Warner Brothers’ Oscar-winning 1945 postwar short called Hitler Lives, which  warned Americans in that characteristic Warners’ style that Hitlerism would soon reappear again, only became possible to include in the layouts at the eleventh hour before the layouts were closed when an excellent condition copy of the poster miraculously showed up for auction out of the blue.  The images of the four impossibly rare and very valuable posters for the two Three Stooges anti-Nazi film shorts circa 1940 and 1941 were contributed by the Stoogeum, a specialized museum in Pennsylvania which is dedicated to exactly what its name implies.  Who would ever have thought that such a museum existed?

The two equally rare lobby cards for Sons of Liberty came from the collection of Ray Faiola, the noted soundtrack album producer and CBS executive.  The two rare original Walt Disney Productions cover artworks I came by accidentally, in conversations with a Disneyana collector in Canada and with a film memorabilia dealer in New York.   The latter happened to remember that he had a piece of pre-Pearl Harbor Disney anti-Nazi artwork buried in his warehouse in New Jersey which might be of interest to me.  As it turned out, it is one of only two known surviving copies, neither of them possessed by the Disney Archive.  Now it’s on display with the HUC-JIR Museum travel exhibit.   It is changing the way Walt Disney has heretofore been regarded in some Jewish circles, based on hearsay, because it proves that Disney sided with the interventionists against the isolationists before and during that congressional investigation I mentioned.  There is a rare original publicity photograph of Eleanor Roosevelt, from the photographer’s contact sheet, taken during the filming of her introduction to the U.S. release, presented by her son James through United Artists, of the 1940 British interventionist film Pastor Hall, which was based on the 1938 anti-Nazi play by Ernst Toller.  I came across it on ebay one day, where rare artifacts of uncertain historical significance just float by like flotsam sometimes.   That was also the case with what turned out to be a surviving original British publicity photograph for a key scene in the same film.  It was taken during the filming of the brutal concentration camp sequence in which Toller’s Lutheran protagonist wears a Jewish Star, prior to the Battle of Britain.  The on-set British photographer, Douglas Slocombe, subsequently became a famous cinematographer for movies like The Lion in Winter and the Indiana Jones trilogy.   Slocombe is now one hundred years old—no kidding.  He told me over the phone from London that he was stunned to learn that any of his photographs taken on the set of Pastor Hall had survived the Blitz, and that he was delighted that one of them was now on exhibit in the United States and going to be published in this book.   He asked me to send him a picture of his own photograph taken over seventy years ago because although he is blind now, he wanted his daughter to see it. In other words, there are a lot of images in Cinema Judaica, The War Years that no one, by and large, has had an opportunity to see anywhere else since the War Years ended.   I had an incredible run of  luck in being able to round them up in the nick of time before they could disappear from sight forever.

CP: So when will the second Cinema Judaica book, The Epic Cycle, make its appearance?

KS: Next year, probably.  John Bernstein, the New York graphic designer for art books who is responsible for the layouts and the eye-popping perfect color reproductions of Cinema Judaica, The War Years, will start laying out the text along with the Epic Cycle poster images as soon as we can start photographing another two hundred or more posters for inclusion.  A Cinema Judaica, The Epic Cycle travel exhibit has already started.  In the meantime, The War Years travel exhibit has proven to be much in demand among Jewish and secular venues alike.  And now those venues will be able to sell the print book edition of Cinema Judaica, The War Years on site, while the e-book edition from CCAR Press is available on iTunes and the print book edition is also available online from Emovieposter.com.

Read Parts 12, and 3 of this interview

You are invited to join us for a book launch, July 17th, 2013, from 6:00-7:30, at Hebrew Union College, 1 West 4th Street, NY, NY, 10012. Please bring ID.  

Ken Sutak is an attorney in New York with a specialization in entertainment law. In addition to the Cinema Judaica books, Ken Sutak has written or contributed to two legal books including The Great Motion Picture Soundtrack Robbery published by Archon, and two environmental reports published by the Mayor’s Council on the Environment in New York City.  Two of his famously long and influential film music essays, The Return of A Streetcar Named Desire and The Alamo Remembered, are available online (the latter with Technicolor scenes added) as internet republications by Pro Musica Sana and Cinemascore/SCN.  He is currently collaborating with the California-based writer Ken Dixon on another narrative-pictorial e-book, based on the Leatherstocking Tales of James Fenimore Cooper, for Emerald Chasm Entertainment.

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Cinema Judaica: The War Years – Part 3 Interview with the Author

CCAR Press is proud to be the ebook publisher of Cinema Judaica: The War Years, in partnership with Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, which organized the related exhibition.  Though a departure from the usual books published by CCAR Press, this was a wonderful opportunity for collaboration with one of our Movement partners, and one that provides unique and fascinating educational content for our members and their communities. In anticipation of the launch of Cinema Judaica, we took the opportunity to sit down with the author, Ken Sutak. Cinema Judaica is available through iTunes or Amazon.  Read Parts 123, and 4 of this interview.      

CCAR Press: You’ve been a great speaker on the Jewish lecture circuit since the time of the original Cinema Judaica exhibits in New York.  I want to ask you to step into your synagogue speaker shoes for a few moments in order to give our readers a sense of what it’s like to attend a Cinema Judaica lecture.  Let’s assume that you have just been asked at one of those functions to elaborate on the question of social impact versus political impact.

Ken Sutak: Okay.  Here goes.  Social impact is closely related to political impact.  In a democracy the social impact usually precedes the political impact.  President Roosevelt couldn’t get too far ahead of the American public, either. Whenever he had tried that before 1940, he was checkmated and his re-election prospects were seriously endangered.  He needed visible public support to sway a resistant Congress, and these bellwether movies wore their intentions to garner public support for military preparedness on their sleeves.  It is pretty clear for instance, as Cinema Judaica chronicles in an exciting way I hope, that the anti-Nazi films released by the major Hollywood studios from May 1939 through July 1941, especially the barrage from almost every major studio that began in June 1940, helped  Roosevelt push his key military preparedness programs through a divided Seventy-Seventh Congress, beginning in May 1940.  I am referring to the huge new ship-CJ Sample 8building and aircraft construction projects that operated on accelerated production schedules at breakneck speed, the Selective Service Act that established compulsory conscription without a Declaration of War, the Lend Lease bills that rearmed the British and later armed the Russians with war materials despite constant German U-boat threats to our Eastern coastline and numerous sinkings of our trans-Atlantic shipping.  This  informal relationship between the movie industry and the government during a time of national crisis enabled America to use the critical eighteen-month period before Pearl Harbor to prepare to wage an enormous two-ocean war with three Axis Powers in two hemispheres with multiple fronts that could not have been won by the Allies otherwise.

CP: Why is that?

KS: Because without the massive infusion of American-made tanks and other war materials that the British received in North Africa before the Battle of El Alamein in late 1942, and the Russians received before and during the Siege of Stalingrad at roughly the same time, North Africa would have fallen into Hitler’s hands.  For all military purposes, Germany would have won the war.  The Russians would have been overrun by Hitler’s Sixth Army  soon after Rommel’s Africa Corps had rolled its Panzer  divisions over Montgomery’s army and plowed through Egypt to reach Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq, where the oil pipelines that supplied the Royal Navy and kept it afloat were located.   Then Rommel’s Africa Corps probably would have received the 180,000 German and Italian infantry reinforcements that Berlin actually dispatched to Tunis when Rommel was in retreat.   Together with the Africa Corps these augmented German forces would have been used to smash through the Caucasus in order to strike the main Russian Army on its southern flank and destroy it.   Hitler’s armed forces would then have been in position to prevent an invasion of Europe from any direction, and to reinforce the Japanese in the Pacific from both Egypt and Eastern Russia before American soldiers could even make their first landfall in Tunisia, where they were initially defeated as it was.  Meanwhile the Einsatzgruppen, the SS death squads that accounted for much of the actual killing of civilian populations in the Holocaust, would have continued their advance behind Hitler’s Sixth Army through Russia.  Additional Einsatzgruppen units had already been assembled by Berlin to follow Rommel’s advance into Egypt, Palestine, and the rest of the Middle East once Rommel had broken through the British and Australian lines at El Alamein, which would have extended the Holocaust into that region.  Now, that is what did not happen. Instead, the American war materials kept coming across the Atlantic in large amounts to resupply the British and the Russians because America had built so many ships to move them and so many factories to make them in the year and a half before Pearl Harbor happened.  And American reinforcements replete with more tanks and war materials were on their way to the North African front not far behind these critical supply ships because America  had instituted a nationwide draft with the bi-partisan support of both Roosevelt and his opponent Wendell Willkie even before the 1940 election took place.

As a consequence, Montgomery was able to repell Rommel’s advance in November 1942 and drive the Africa Corps back toward Tunisia. There the British, the Australian, and the newly arrived American forces converged on Rommel’s reinforced Africa Corps for several more months of fierce give and take battles in North Africa.  By the end of May 1943, Rommel’s once unbeatable army had surrendered, North Africa was in Allied hands instead of Hitler’s hands, and the Allies were in a position to invade Europe and win the war in Europe.  Of course, that would take another two years of tremendous joint efforts and extensive Allied casualties, starting with the Russian victories at Stalingrad and soon afterward Leningrad and then the invasion of southern Italy by the Americans and the British in July 1943.   Nevertheless, for the motion picture industry there is an important connection between what Warner Brothers began in May 1939 and what happened in May 1943 to turn the tide of the Second World War decisively in favor of the Allies.  We can infer a cause and effect relationship which culminated in that turning point because in August 1941 the isolationists both in and outside of the Seventy-Seventh Congress reacted to the movie studios’ role in this great military preparedness endeavor with an openly anti-Semitic congressional investigation of the studio executives’ alleged “warmongering” conspiracy with an interventionist President.  The ensuing hearings in the Senate then blew up in their faces and faded away by the end of October 1941.  That was because Americans, on the whole, having already moved from predominantly isolationist attitudes to predominantly interventionist attitudes over the preceding year and a half, rejected what the isolationists were up to by that time, just as they denounced the anti-Semitism in Charles Lindbergh’s ill-conceived September 11, 1941 Des Moines speech which was part of that whole circus.  For the period after the war was over, though, cause and effect relationships are not so readily apparent.

CJ Sample 9CP: Can you give me an example of that ambiguity?

KS: I can give you one that bridges both Cinema Judaica books and ties them together sequentially.  It is well known that anti-Semitism in America plummeted during the twelve-year period following the general release and wide popularity of the critically acclaimed 1947 film Gentleman’s Agreement.  One often discussed study of that dramatic drop attributes it to the social impact of this one great film.  But was there really such a cause and effect attributable to this one film, very influential though it certainly was?  Gentleman’s Agreement was one of four so-called “social films” released in the post-war period between September 1945 and 1948.  All of them are discussed and illustrated with several of their rare posters and other promotional materials in my book, after being placed in context.  Gentleman’s Agreement was the only one of the four that attacked White Anglo Saxon Protestant anti-Semitism, country-club anti-Semitism if you will.  The other three “social films”—The House I Live In, Crossfire, and Open Secret—attacked the kind of American anti-Semitism associated with Coughlinism or the German American Bund.  That was the kind that gave rise to some really hateful street violence against Jewish Americans in Boston, New York, Providence, and Chicago before or during the war, usually perpetrated by teenage youths.  Which type of American anti-Semitism dropped more precipitously or more noticeably in the ensuing twelve years?  Did the early postwar Jewish biblical or historical epics released in succession—Paramount’s Samson and Delilah in 1950, 20th Century Fox’s David and Bathsheba in 1951, and MGM’s Ivanhoe in 1952—contribute more or less to that vital achievement?  Each one of these epic films was either the biggest or second biggest box office success of its release year.

That means among other things that they all reached a very large mass audience because they possessed crossover appeal.   Did the ensuing phenomenal box office success of The Ten Commandments, released in October 1956 just before the start of the Sinai War between Israel and Nasser’s Egypt, have even greater influence?  Did the similarly huge box office success of Ben-Hur, which was released to unanimous critical and also interfaith acclaim in November 1959?   Did Exodus, another big epic film based on Leon Uris’s blockbuster historical novel, which followed the premiere of Ben-Hur thirteen months later into the same reserved-seat theaters that Ben-Hur vacated?  Like Ben-Hur, Exodus became a big popular culture event in 1960 and 1961, but the book paved the way for that by creating a popular sensation in 1958 and 1959.  The only thing that can be said for sure, I think, is that all these films achieved a very significant positive influence on American society by acting in combination, whether they were designed to do that or not.   They were part of a continuous process that started with the major studios promoting religious and ethnic universalism during the War Years. Then, once Judaism was recognized by postwar social commentators and accepted by most of the country as one of America’s three major religious faiths, together with Protestantism and Catholicism, these mainstream films quickly and quite self-assertively also evolved into popular examples of Jewish particularism.  Elizabeth Taylor as Rebecca in Ivanhoe,  Charlton Heston as a very physical Moses, Heston again as a Star of David-wearing, mezuzah-kissing Judah Ben Hur, and Paul Newman as the Israeli superhero Ari Ben Canaan, repeatedly declared and even insisted throughout these crowd-pleasing spectacular films that they were proud and determined Jews.  More than that, they did so in the context of the biggest action epics of the 1950s.  Gentleman’s Agreement and the other “social films” of the late 1940s were aimed at–and for the most part connected with—a mixed audience of sophisticated adults in large cities.  The Jewish-themed biblical and historical epics that followed them were aimed at everybody, everywhere. Millions of American kids and adolescents saw them at an impressionable age, alongside millions of adults of all ages.  Altogether, from top to bottom, across every age group and every religious group, the postwar Jewish-themed films from 1945 to 1959 demonstrated that the process of remaking our nation, which started in the middle of the Second World War, was a continuous and ongoing one.  But just how much any one of them contributed to that process, no one can say for certain.

To be continued…  Part 4 of the interview will address, among other questions, what we can learn from Cinema Judaica, The War Years about Jewish identity.

You are invited to join us for a book launch, July 17th, 2013, from 6:00-7:30, at Hebrew Union College, 1 West 4th Street, NY, NY, 10012. Please bring ID.  

Ken Sutak is an attorney in New York with a specialization in entertainment law. In addition to the Cinema Judaica books, Ken Sutak has written or contributed to two legal books including The Great Motion Picture Soundtrack Robbery published by Archon, and two environmental reports published by the Mayor’s Council on the Environment in New York City.  Two of his famously long and influential film music essays, The Return of A Streetcar Named Desire and The Alamo Remembered, are available online (the latter with Technicolor scenes added) as internet republications by Pro Musica Sana and Cinemascore/SCN.  He is currently collaborating with the California-based writer Ken Dixon on another narrative-pictorial e-book, based on the Leatherstocking Tales of James Fenimore Cooper, for Emerald Chasm Entertainment.

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I Am The Egg (Wo)Man: Reflections on Rosh Chodesh Av with Women of the Wall

“Jerusalem has greatly sinned, therefore she is become a mockery. All who admired her despise her, for they have seen her disgraced;and she can only sigh and shrink back.”

–Eicha (Lamentations) 1:8

The first 9 days of Av are seen in traditional Judaism as days of, if not mourning, then solemnity. We do not feast, we do not celebrate; we are once again living through the days leading up to the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. And, as many have already noted, one of the most significant statements the rabbis make about that destruction is that the blame cannot be placed on Roman shoulders. Why, they ask, was the Temple destroyed? Because of sinat chinam–baseless hatred. And so Monday morning, as I looked at the faces of the Haredim crowding the Kotel plaza, as I looked at the faces of these men and women who are supposed to be my kinsmen (and women), I felt not anger and not hatred, but deep, deep sadness.

It seems that the same cannot be said from the other side. It is not sadness that compels one Jew–one human being!–to call another Jew a Nazi. It is not sadness that sent a hard-boiled egg flying through the air as a projectile, landing solidly (and not comfortably) on my neck. And it is not sadness that raised male voices to drown ours out.

Talking with a mentor last night, I asked. I asked about the deep anger, and hatred. I said: I just can’t understand. Why? Why such deep anger and hatred? And she, who comes from a far more traditional world than I do, said two things. First, the part I know but hate to acknowledge. There are people–and I refuse to paint the entire Haredi world with one brush, just as I wish they would not paint all liberal Jews with one–in that world who truly believe, to the depths of their soul, that I come to Jerusalem, I come to the Wall, I come to the world, to destroy Judaism.

But, she said something else that, rather than enrage me, gave me some hope. She said that their anger came from a place of fear. That these men and women are looking around and seeing a changing world. They are seeing a world that is increasingly adapt or die, and they choose–time and again–not to adapt. And so I thought back over the faces I saw in that space. And I thought to myself–maybe there is one girl, or one boy, there who looked at us and saw not rodfim, those who seek to do harm to Judaism and the Jewish people, but who saw something new. Maybe there was one boy–or one girl–who looked up and saw in my face, or the face of someone standing next to me, something familiar. Maybe there was one girl–or one boy–who heard in my prayers something exciting. Maybe someone there looked up and saw new possibilities, a different way to live, a living and breathing Judaism.

I happened to be standing next to one of my mentors during the tefillot, and she later shared with me the conversation she had with a little girl standing near her–a rabbi’s daughter. This little girl asked the simplest–and of course most difficult–question to answer. Why, she, asked, were the men on the other side of the barricade trying to drown out our prayers? “The women sing so beautifully,” she said. “Why would they do that?”

IMG_2645The men on the other side of the barricades alternated between screaming and blowing whistles to disrupt us, or simply trying to pray louder. I preferred the latter. Because there was a moment, maybe just before the egg jolted me back to reality, where I was able to live in a different reality–a vision of a Jerusalem that is truly ha-banuyah (rebuilt). In that moment, the voices of women were raised in prayer and song, and the voices of the men were raised as well. And I imagined–just for those moments–that together the voices of Israel, the voices of the Jewish people, reached straight up to heaven.

There is much to be said, and much anger to be shared, over the erasure of women’s voices and women’s bodies from the public sphere in Israel, over what seems to be a campaign by the Haredi community to silence women. There is much to be said, and much anger to be shared, over the role of the Haredi community and the rabbanut in controlling religious life in Israel. There is much to be said, and much anger to be shared, that even despite a clear court ruling, we were barred from the Kotel itself for the first time in 25 years. Others have and will say it better than I can. Because on Monday, for me, anger was not the predominant emotion coursing through my veins. Hatred was not the overriding feeling of the day. Sadness was.

But, that being said, I have to point out the feeling is NOT mutual. Only one side has interest in listening to the other, only one side speaks of shared space, and only one side uses vehement hate speech and physical violence to stake its claim. And the government, despite the progress in court, continues to cater to only the one side, the loudest side. And with all of my idealism, all of my hope–I simply don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know where that can go.

As a Reform Jew, I have long struggled with the meaning and ritual of Tisha B’Av. I have learned and studied over the years; this week at the Hartman Institute, we wrestled with the notions of and texts on communal mourning. I do not wish to see the Temple rebuilt speedily in my day, and so what do I do with this holiday?

Yesterday might have given me an answer. I mourn not for what was, but for what could be and isn’t. I mourn for the fact that I, by virtue of biology, am denied full access to the Kotel. I mourn for the fact that this land that I love, this place whose vision was to be a home for the Jewish people, cannot get itself past a single definition of Judaism–even as its people define themselves in all shades of grey. And I mourn, perhaps most of all, for those voices, male and female, that could be rising up to heaven (or wherever I believe the Divine resides) together, indistinguishable by gender or religious definition, simply united in hope and in comfort, in petition and in praise, in sadness and in joy.

The next Rosh Chodesh we will usher in will be Elul, the month of penitence and preparation for the High Holy Days. I will be back in the United States, though my prayers and heart will be with Nashot HaKotel, the Women of the Wall. And as they–and we–pray the words of Psalm 27:

Only this do I ask of God,

Only this do I seek: to live in the house of Adonai all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of Adonai, to frequent God’s  Temple.

I will be praying that that house, that beauty, is wide and rich and imaginative enough to hold all of us—male, female, Haredi, Reform, and everywhere in between–in one room, with one voice and one vision.

For the sake of Jerusalem I will not, I cannot, I must not be silent.

rabbi_sari_laufer_headshotRabbi Sari Laufer serves Rodeph Sholom Congregation in New York City.