Rabbi Gropper's Musings

It's Time To Become Rosa Parkstein

2012-01-07T08:09:00.000-05:00

January is a tough month. The tinsel and sheen have faded. People start to remove holiday lights from their homes. Discarded Christmas trees lay on sidewalks waitingFTP be picked up. We return our Chanukiyot to their storage places for another year and remove any wax that still sticks to our countertops. Yet with the last memory of the Chanukah candles still burning in our mind's eye, I'd like to return to Hanukkah for a moment.

We know the story. In 167 bce, at the time of the second temple in Jerusalem, Antiochus IV outlawed Jewish services and ordered that an altar be built to Zeus. Pigs were sacrificed in the holy of holies; Brit milah and Torah study were banned on punishment of death. Those who saw a negative outcome of this situation developed the concept of the afterlife (yes, the Jews invented Heaven!) while a small band who saw things differently - called the Maccabees - organized a revolt. You know who won that war.

There is, however, a part of the Hanukkah story that is rarely told, one that sadly in Israel today is currently being played out in the ongoing clash between extreme ultra-Orthodoxy and non-Orthodox Jews. This is the part of the story of what happened next, after the Maccabees rededicated the temple, after that legendary oil burned out.

A couple of years ago David Brooks wrote a wonderful op-Ed in the times retelling the story of Hanukkah. After reminding his readers of the familiar parts he wrote:

The Maccabees are best understood as moderate fanatics. They were not in total revolt against Greek culture. They used Greek constitutional language to explain themselves. They created a festival to commemorate their triumph (which is part of Greek, not Jewish, culture). Before long, they were electing their priests.

On the other hand, they were fighting heroically for their traditions and the survival of their faith. If they found uncircumcised Jews, they performed forced circumcisions. They had no interest in religious liberty within the Jewish community and believed religion was a collective regimen, not an individual choice.

They were not the last bunch of angry, bearded religious guys to win an insurgency campaign against a great power in the Middle East, but they may have been among the first. They retook Jerusalem in 164 B.C. and rededicated the temple. Their regime quickly became corrupt, brutal and reactionary. The concept of reform had been discredited by the Hellenizing extremists. Practice stagnated. Scholarship withered. The Maccabees became religious oppressors themselves, fatefully inviting the Romans into Jerusalem.

Brooks may have been writing about West Bank settlers. He may have been writing about the Taliban. In either case it was a warning against religious extremism and fanaticism of any kind; a warning I believe that must be sounded whenever extremism or fanaticism raises its intolerant and exclusionary head. And if Brooks were writing in 2012 instead of 2009 as he did, he might have been writing about some of the ultra orthodox in Beit Shemesh, Bnai Brak and Jerusalem.

In six short weeks, 50 pilgrims will join me for ten awesome days in Israel. We will explore her routes and will deepen our roots to our Jewish homeland. While a visit to Beit Shemesh, where 8 year old Na'amah Margolis was spat on for not wearing modest enough clothing and where owners of women's stores have been warned by the orthodox fundamentalists to only stock one color is not on the itinerary, we will participate in our own action, our own protest against this growing fundamentalism so that Israel does not decline into the type of state it once was under Hasmonean rule.

We all know that orthodox Jews demand gender separation in worship, learning and other aspects of life. Well, in Israel this separation has extended to which side of the street you walk on and where you sit on a bus. Like the American south of the Pre civil rights era, many buses that travel through ultra orthodox neighborhoods are now segregated by gender. Not only is this immoral and unegalitariatn, it is also illegal in Israel. Yet it persists as many bus drivers accede to demands of orthodox men to segregate women and orthodox women do not feel emboldened enough to sit at the front of the bus where the law and Jewish tradition says they can.

We all know the story of Rosa Parks. Well, when we go to Israel in 6 weeks we will become modern Rosa Parksteins.

In an act of protest, we will participate in a freedom ride. Like American Rabbis of the 1960s who joined Martin Luther King jr. in the struggle for civil rights, like rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel who, after marching on Selma said that his legs were praying, we too will speak truth to power through our actions. We will board public buses and will sit, men and women and children in the front of the bus, modeling what is right and empowering other women to sit up front where they deserve to be.

This freedom ride we will participate in, is ultimately not about who gets to sit where. It is not a fight over one little girl’s walk to school or what people should or should not wear. . It is a struggle that could shape the future character and soul of Israel, against ultra-Orthodox zealots who have been increasingly encroaching on the public sphere with their strict interpretation of modesty rules, enforcing gender segregation and the exclusion of women.

If we do not stand up and take action then the threat to Israel's existence will not come from external forces like Hamas, Hezbollah or Iran who are clearly bent on israel's destruction, it will come from within, from an internal civil war that will pit Jew against Jew. The rabbis teach that Jerusalem was destroyed because of Sinat Hinam -senseless hatred between different Jewish factions. That's the diplomatic story which spreads the blame evenly. Truth is, Jerusalem was destroyed because of the fanatics who refused to let anyone leave the city on pain of death. They would rather see Jerusalem burn than compromise and allow for its survival. If nothing is done, I fear history will repeat itself.

It is time to return to the wisdom of Rav Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of Israel, an extremely Orthodox Jew himself. He loved both the yeshiva bochers and the kibbutznikim. He worked to build a society where tolerance of Jewish differences and differentiated ways of life all worked for the rebuilding of the Land of Israel and the State of Israel. The Charedi no longer are part of the Kook equation. They are outside the acceptable parameters of a modern Jewish democratic society which was envisioned in the Israel Declaration of Independence.

We have the responsibility and obligation to support Israel’s security needs while fighting for its spiritual soul. We take seriously the words of Rab Kook “What is old you will make new and what is new you will make holy”.

We may share the same historical religious DNA as these religious extremists but their Judaism is not mine. My Judaism is tolerant, open minded, pluralistic, democratic, egalitarian, creative and forward looking. This is the Judaism I want to fight for. This is the Jewish State that i want israel to be This is what I celebrate at Hanukkah - a tradition that dispels darkness with light - and this is why this February I will board a bus in Jerusalem to sit at the front with my wife, my daughter and my sons. Shabbat Shalom.

Time for a Paradigm Shift (or: This Path is No Longer the Right One)

2011-09-30T17:46:00.000-04:00

This path is no longer the right one… Erev Rosh Hashanah 5772
Community Synagogue
Rabbi Daniel Gropper

A Story: Once there was a man who went for a walk in the forest and got lost. He wandered around for hours trying to find his way out, trying one path after another, but none of them worked. Suddenly he came across another walking through the forest. He cried out, Thank God for another human being. Can you show me the way back to town? The other man replied, No, I’m lost, too, the ways I have been exploring have led nowhere. But we can help each other by telling which paths we’ve already tried and been disappointed in. That will help us find the one that leads out.

A second story: One day Author Steven Covey was visiting New York City and was traveling by subway. A man boarded the train with his two sons and they all sat down. In no time, the sons were running all over the place, bothering others on the train, climbing on the seats, making a commotion. Becoming increasingly irritated as he tried to focus on his presentation, Covey finally got up to ask the father why he wasn’t doing something to control his kids. The father replied, "We just got back from the hospital where their mother died. I don't know how to handle it and I guess they don't either." (Seven Habits of Highly Effective People)

Imagine you are Covey. Suddenly you see everything differently. We call this a paradigm shift. They are the same kids yelling and screaming in the subway, but you look at them and understand them in a different way. Sometimes when you are lost and it seems like you are going in circles, it’s better to stop and look for a fresh path. Sometimes it’s best to change the paradigm. When it comes to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, we need a new paradigm. We need to find a new path out of the forest. And if we don’t change it, it will likely be changed for us.

Throughout our history there have been a number of these paradigm shifts, sometimes by our making, sometimes as a response to the actions of others. At age 75, Abraham chose a radical leaving, having heard lech l’cha - go forth. His act changed the face of history. After 400 years of bondage in Egypt, we threw off the shackles of slavery and wandered into the wilderness. There we learned what it meant to be a covenant people. In the year 70, as Jerusalem lay burning, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai, the leading sage of his day, approached Vespasian and asked to build a school in the little city of Yavne, just south of where Tel Aviv is today. This move saved Judaism but it did more. It changed the paradigm. As Rich Cohen, author of Israel is Real writes: “Judaism became portable in those years, a religion that could live out of a suitcase. They created the Jewish canon, the Tanakh. This meant that all Jews, no matter where they lived, would read the same words and tell the same stories.... In this way the Book replaced the city. In this way, the Temple became a book. In this way, study of the Book became as holy as worship in the Temple. In this way the exterior Jerusalem of hills and valleys was replaced by an interior Jerusalem.” (Israel is Real pp., 49, 57)

That was it for almost 2000 years. We moved from land to land, literally living out of suitcases. Commentaries were added yet little changed. Our story became one of victimhood, and we learned to play the role. “Shah. Still. Don’t make waves.” We looked inward and devoted ourselves to our own culture. We didn’t lead. How could we? We had no sovereignty. We bemoaned our predicament. We waited for God to save us as our scriptures said He would, but that’s not how God works.

Then suddenly, with the embers of the Shoah still warm, the paradigm shifted again. On the 23rd of November, 1947, The United Nations, passed resolution 181 and partitioned Palestine. We were home, free, living in the land of Zion and Jerusalem. People danced in the streets, sang Hatikvah from the rooftops. Some here I am sure recall that day like it was yesterday.

The state of Israel challenged the old Jewish paradigm of victimhood. If we wanted this new Jewish state to succeed, we had to make it succeed. Modern Orthodox Theologian and pluralist David Hartman writes, “Zionism and the creation of the State of Israel were a new expression of covenantal empowerment. What the Jews decided is this: Exile will end when we take responsibility for history. We have to learn banking. We have to learn agriculture. We have to learn self-defense. Only through our initiative will there be a change in Jewish homelessness.” (Jews and Judaism in the 21st Century) We built Israel but did it build us? The Jew was rebuilt from the outside but has Israel changed our inner psyche?

How do we respond to the Arab-Israeli conflict? Like a person who has not yet matured, we point fingers, blame others, and say, “It’s not our fault.”

We like to say that the Arabs don’t really want peace. We seem content with the long time practice of convening Jewish assemblies in which we talk to ourselves and bemoan the injustice. We continue to utter Abba Eban’s famous line of how the Palestinians never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity. We say that before 1948 there was no such thing as Palestinian people. We tell the story of how the Arab nations told the local Arab population to leave. We tell how, in 1967, after capturing the West Bank, the Golan Heights and the Sinai, we were willing to give it all up for unilateral peace but the Arabs rejected it. We point out how in 2000, the Palestinians, presented with a breakthrough two-state solution plan by Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak, spurned it. We point out how, in 2008, Israeli Prime Minister Olmert went even further, giving the Palestinians 98% of what they sought, and once again, the Palestinians walked away. We talk about how the Palestinians going to the UN to seek recognition of a unilaterally declared Palestinian state will not end the conflict and might make it worse. We play the victim card to the U.S., our most important ally, reminding the administration that we are its only reliable ally in the region and we keep saying, “it’s their fault. They won’t negotiate. They won’t recognize us. They don’t want peace.”

Take two children, raise them in the same home, with the same parents. Feed them the same food and send them to the same schools. Each will tell a different tale of their childhood. To each one, it is his or her own truth. As we tell our story, the Palestinians tell theirs, one that is equally true as ours. The Palestinians say that Israeli forces expelled Palestinian Arabs from their homes in 1947 to ensure a decisive Jewish majority. They say that Israel’s goal is take over the West Bank with the building of settlements. “Just look at the maps,” they say. They say that twenty years of talking has gotten them no where so in desperation, they are going to the UN for recognition and legitimacy.
Someone asked me, “is Abbas’ going to the UN a stunt?” “No,” I said, “It’s symbolism. But it doesn’t end the conflict. You don’t become a state because the UN votes you in. Israel became a state because they won the war of independence. Palestine can only become a state because the Israelis and Palestinians reach an agreement. But going to the UN certainly changes the paradigm.

The end point is very clear. We know that the only solution is two states for two people - Israel for the Jews and Palestine for the Arabs. No other solution will allow Israel to be both Jewish and democratic. We know that these states must be based on the 1967 borders with mutually agreeable land swaps. Jerusalem will likely be the capital of both states with a Palestinian capital in East Jerusalem where the Arabs live and an Israeli capital in West Jerusalem where the Jews live. So why can’t we get there?

Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai once wrote:

An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion and on the opposite mountain I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father both in their temporary failure. Our voices meet above the Sultan's Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the child or the goat to get caught in the wheels of the terrible Had Gadya machine.

We hear these words and think of the Akeida, the binding of Isaac. It makes us think of parent’s, both Jew and Arab who sacrifice - and lose - their children in the name of something larger. It reminds us that this issue in Israel isn’t about lines on a map. It is about people: parents, children, their successes and failures.

Amichai writes that neither wants the child or the goat to get caught in the wheels of the terrible Had Gadya machine. Neither wants that which is precious to them to get caught in this never ending cycle of violence. You know the story of Had Gadya - one little goat. (sing): Chad Gadya... Chad Gadya, my father bought for two zuzim, chad gadya, chad gadya. It’s the Jewish version of the Lady who swallowed a fly but with a very different message. In Chad Gadya the cat eats the goat, the dog eats the cat, the stick beats the dog, the fire burns the stick, the water quenches the fire, the ox drinks the water, the butcher slaughters the ox, the angel of death kills the butcher, and God kills the angel of death. All because of one little goat. Of course, there are many ways to read Chad Gadya. The classic interpretation is that chad gadya is about the different nations that have conquered the land of Israel. The goat symbolizes us. We are the world’s scapegoat. The cat is Assyria; the dog, Babylon; the stick, Persia; the fire, Macedonia; the water, Rome; the ox, the Saracens; the slaughterer, the Crusaders; the angel of death, the Turks. At the end, God returns to send the Jews back to Israel. A nice happy, hopeful ending.
Amichai sees it differently. To him, the Chad Gadya machine is what we see in the Middle East. You hit me, I pick up a rock to hit you, then you pull out a dagger and I take a sword and so on, until you are in a never ending cycle. And Amichai notes that neither the Arab nor the Jew wants that which is precious to them to get caught in this cycle but because it is a machine, it operates without feeling, without conscience, without morality and that, in and of itself is immoral. As I read chad gadya this year with Amichai’s poem in mind, I noticed that God kills the angel of death and I wondered, so who kills God? Do we? Do the Palestinians with their truth and the Israelis with their truth conspire, even unconsciously to kill God, here in the hills of that holy city of Jerusalem?
Sometimes when you are in a seemingly never ending cycle the only thing to do is to break it, to create a new paradigm, a new reality. Can it be done? Can Netanyahu and Abbas transcend their own psycho-biographies? Can Abbas get past the formative story of his youth, the one where he, at 13, was forced to leave his home in Tzfat and flee to Syria where he lived in a tent, dreaming to return to his homeland? (“The Long Overdue Palestinian State,” NY Times Op-Ed, May 17, 2011) Can Netanyahu in his intransigence, leave behind the right-wing revisionist ideology of his father, Benzion, a historian of the Spanish Inquisition? Can either of them be like Nixon, who set aside Cold War ideology and Red-baiting to visit China in the interest of practical global politics? Or will we continue to get caught in wheels of the terrible Chad Gadya machine?
Rabbi Donniel Hartman, son of Rabbi David Hartman raises an important question for us. He writes, “The fundamental challenge we face today as a people is how to respond, how to live within this existential reality which we know so well. Because it is so akin to our exilic past do we respond as a people in exile or as a people with sovereignty? And if it is the latter, how do we give expression to our sovereignty and power?” (“A Time to Lead” YNETNews.com, September 25, 2011)
One possibility is to remain mired in that same chad gadya machine, as the little helpless goat, continuing to be the victim. Since we are not responsible for our predicament, no actions are called for other than reinforcing our lines of defense, be it with the help of the Israeli military or the US Congress. But these sanctions are still laced with tinges of Jewish victimhood. We are the victims of history. We turn to those with more power to once again come to our rescue.
Yet if we do this, then the experiment of Israel has failed more than succeeded. It has failed to change the psyche of the Jew. Max Nordau may have written about the new Jew who is strong and self-reliant instead of cowering, weak and afraid. But if the psyche is still one of victimhood and our present reality is still viewed through the familiar lenses of the exilic narrative, then we remain in exile, even if we have our own homeland.

But we, as Jews, as demonstrated by the tent protests this spring, are no long a people in exile. The gift of sovereignty and power provides new opportunities and resources to which we can avail ourselves. It would have been wonderful if all of our conflicts were resolved at the negotiating table and the rest of the world viewed the Palestinian bid at the UN as the affront that it is to friendship and true partnership. But alas that has not been our destiny. So now what do we do? A sovereign people begins to lead. A sovereign people fights for its destiny. A sovereign people never gives up hope, while at the same time, never allowing itself the naiveté bred by those who either deny reality or forget our past. (“A Time to Lead” Donniel Hartman, YNETnews.com 09/25/2011)

Tomorrow we read the binding of Isaac, a tale that is truly the pinnacle of Abraham’s life. We focus on the characters: a testing God, a subservient Abraham, an obedient Isaac, a grieving Sarah. I know one rabbi who once gave an entire sermon from the point of view of the ram. But what of the mountain? The mountain is a character too.
The power of the Akeida is that as a story it was meant to be a counter cultural. As pagans brought their sons to be sacrificed in the valley of Hinom, Abraham brought his son up to Mount Moriah. The Valley of Hinom in Hebrew is known as Gai ben Hinom. Over time, Gai ben Hinom was shortened to Gai Hinom and then Gehenna, or hell. This valley where children were sacrificed in the fires to Moloch was Hell’s gate. Moriah, the mount where Abraham brought Isaac stands in contrast to Gai Hinom. If Hell is a place of nightmares where liberties do not exist, Moriah is its opposite. Moriah means vision. Moriah is a place of dreams, of different paradigms. Yes, blood was spilled upon and for this mountain, but it need not be. Moriah can serve as a beacon of hope sitting just at the edge of the horizon for us. Moriah can stand as a vision of a world as it should be, not the world as it is. For if we turn away from moriah we end up in gehinom and only get caught in the Chad gadya machine, condemned to burn in the valley below.

It is time then to change the paradigm. To do some cheshbon hanefesh, some real soul searching and to do some teshuvah, not repentance for our past actions but a corrective U-Turn for our future decisions, our own lives and in the life of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

If I was Netanyahu, here is what I would do. I would stop talking about negotiations. I would stop inviting Abbas to join me at the table without preconditions, where ever and when ever he wanted. If I were Netanyahu I would change the paradigm. Here’s what I would say:

“President Abbas, I want to try something different. I want to publicly declare that the path we have been traveling is not working. I have come to realize the following, Palestinian statehood is an Israeli interest as long as it can be accompanied by peace and security. I admit and declare that the fulfillment of our rights to all the land of Israel cannot be fully expressed if we do not allow the Palestinian peoples’ rights to be respected as well.

“President Abbas, not only do I have no desire to expand settlements but I recognize and declare that many of those settlements - in particular those not connected to Jerusalem or located in one of the three settlement blocs - have no future and that Israel’s political, moral and Jewish interests lie in dismantling them. And because I recognize this, I will put a complete freeze on settlement building for six months. Besides, what is six months in the history of a 5000 year old people?” (last sentence from “2 for 2, or 2 for 1?” Thomas Friedman, NY Times, September 27, 2011)

Could you imagine such a statement? The truth be told, none of us know if such declarations or policies would be helpful. The Palestinians have to agree to end the conflict, to recognize Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people, to fight terror and hatred both in their streets and in their textbooks and to once and for all relinquish their aspirations to return to Israel’s pre-1967 borders.

Uncertainty, however, is no excuse for passivity, but the impetus for action. While our enemies may not have changed, we have. It is time to stop counting all the injustices, enumerating all that which is unfair, telling over and again to anyone who can hear that it is not our fault.

It is time for us to take responsibility for our destiny, a destiny not necessarily defined by that which is forced upon us but which will reflect who we want to be. It is time to bring an end to the defeatist mourning for and incessant talking about what should have and could have been. It is time to stop the self-defeating and paralyzing fear and reconnect to the reality of Israel and the dream of what Israel was supposed to be, a light to the nations, and to claim our rightful place at the negotiating table – the place of the leader. What does leadership require? It requires vision. Leadership requires taking bold steps. Leadership requires a willingness to take risks. It takes innovation. Leadership asks us also to be humble, to admit that we don’t have all the answers and don’t always know exactly what the end point will look like. And leadership requires action.

Just as we all know where we were on that fateful day in September some ten years ago, I could tell you exactly where I was when I heard that Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat were going to shake hands on the White House Lawn. That year, as a rabbinic student serving a student pulpit, I said something about this being the year where peace would finally come. I was certainly naive.

This year I received a high holiday card from relatives in Israel. It was a picture of a dove with an olive branch in its beak. Their note said that you can’t tell if the dove is coming or going and while they feel that it is going, they certainly pray that it is coming.

So this year I am - hopefully - less naive than I was. But this year I am more concerned than ever. Inspired by Abbas’ speech at the UN and the vote that is surely to come, emboldened by the results of the Arab Spring and maybe feeling that there is nothing to lose, I am concerned that the anger and vitriol that lives just below the surface in so many Palestinian towns and villages may spill over into violence. And then, defending itself as any sovereign nation would, civilians may be injured or worse, killed. I am concerned that this would serve as a flashpoint for those in Arab nations, who, also emboldened by the Arab Spring, would turn their frustration and anger against Israel What then? Could Israel survive if the world turned against her? Would Israel not go down without a fight? Would Israel not unleash untold damage on her neighbors? On whose side would the rest of the world be on? Where would that lead? This is why we need Israel to seek a different path, to change the paradigm, to stop playing the victim, to lead.

Israel must never feel alone. It is not their exclusive struggle. It is also ours. Our faith speaks of Zion and Jerusalem. Those places are in Israel. Our tradition teaches us collective responsibility. Nearly half the world's Jews live in Israel. Our value system is rooted in the defense of democracy. Israel is such a democracy. Israel strengthens our sense of Jewish identity. She helps make us more than just another religion in the marketplace of American religions. Israel makes us a people.

This is a time where we all must be involved to support Israel. Join an Israel advocacy group. I don’t care if it’s AIPAC or J-Street or American Jewish Committee or ARZA or the New Israel Fund. Just join one. Stay informed, to help those around you understand what's going on and why it's so important to friends of Israel and, more generally, to democratic nations.

We must, and I don’t often use that word, buy Israeli products and invest in Israeli
companies. This ‘Start up Nation’ boasts one of the fastest growing economies in the world but with various organizations continuing to push for divestment from Israel without even handedly divesting or calling for divestment from Iran, Israel must know that people, especially her people stand with her. And we must travel to Israel. Going to Israel is a pilgrimage, it is a homecoming, it is privilege, it is perhaps, the best way to support her. It is safe. Join us this February on our congregational trip. If this February won’t work, make plans to join us in November 2012 for our first ever adult only trip. However you do it, get to Israel and send your kids there. Send your grandchildren there after 10th or 11th grade. On the eve of this Jewish new year, allow yourself to be pulled a little closer to the center, just as your eyes scan the horizon for the promise of a new tomorrow.

What will it take to get the Israelis and the Palestinians talking again? It will take, I believe, a new paradigm, a new path. It will take us resolving to stop the chad gadya machine from spinning out of control. It will require us to change our psyche from that of victim to that of leader.

There was once a man who went for a walk in the forest and got lost. He wandered around for hours trying to find his way out, trying one path after another, but none of them worked. Suddenly he came across another walking through the forest. He cried out, Thank God for another human being. Can you show me the way back to town? The other man replied, No, I’m lost, too, the ways I have been exploring have led nowhere. But we can help each other by telling which paths we’ve already tried and been disappointed in. That will help us find the one that leads out.

There is so much to be concerned about in our world. The economy seems ever to be on the verge of faltering. Israel remains in so many ways in danger. And yet at the same time we remain optimistic. Our Jewish religious tradition is one that is always marked by tikvah, by hope. So as this new year begins, let us hold onto that hope, let us remain optimistic, let us find the inner strength and courage to chart new pathways, to seek new beginnings and to be willing to change old paradigms. And as we seek to lead and impress upon the leadership of Israel to take responsibility for its future and to lead as a robust sovereign nation must lead, let us work for the day when the nations will be one and at peace. Amen.

(With many thanks to Rabbi Donniel Hartman to his wonderful article “A Time to Lead” that inspired much of the thinking in this sermon and to Yossi Alpher’s op-ed in the NY Times - September 11, 2011 - “An Israeli Case for a Palestinian State” that formed the notion of needing a paradigm shift).

All Learning Begins with a Question

2011-09-30T17:42:00.000-04:00

All Learning Begins with a Question
Rosh Hashanah Morning, 5772
Community Synagogue of Rye
Rabbi Daniel Gropper

Woody Allen, that great Jewish sage, once took a course in existential philosophy. When he walked in for the final exam, there was a table with a coke bottle on it. On the chalk board was a single question. “Prove the existence of this Coke Bottle.” Woody sat down, took his pencil in hand and wrote three words, “What Coke Bottle?” He got up and left. He got an A.

At its heart, Woody was standing in a long line of Jewish philosophers and sages. You know the old joke: someone asks a Jewish friend “why do Jews always answer a question with a question?” – and the Jew responds, “Why not?”

Judaism expects us to ask questions. There is a famous story in the Midrash: A heathen once asked R. Joshua b. Karhah: Why did God choose a thorn-bush from which to speak to Moses? He replied: Were it a carob tree or a sycamore tree, you would have asked the same question; but to dismiss you without any reply is not right, so I will tell you why. To teach you that no place is devoid of God's presence, not even a thorn-bush. (Shemot Rabbah II:5).

No place is devoid of God’s presence, and so, Rabbi Joshua teaches us, no question is without the potential for revealing truth. Perhaps that is why Judaism has elevated the art of questioning to the status of holiness, and enshrined questions in our holiest books and our holiest moments.

In preparing for this sermon I did a quick search of the Talmud the other day (it is good to live in the Digital Age). In the standard English translation, the word “question” appears 3,216 times, the word answer less than half as many. Perhaps this is to teach us that there are some questions to which there are no ready answers. And perhaps it is to remind us of how important asking good questions is for our own learning and growth.

As a rabbi I get asked lots of questions. Some are really easy. Are string beans kosher for Passover? Yes. If I can’t make it for my mother’s yahrzeit next week, can her name be read the week after? Of course.

Every now and then, I get harder ones, ones that require more consideration:
“I research Alzheimer’s disease, which requires live tissue, available only by harvesting from aborted fetuses. Is this acceptable in Judaism?”

“Is produce picked by underpaid migrant workers kosher?”

“Do I have to say kaddish for my father who abused me?

These are all real questions posed to me over the years. The answers, by the way, are: yes, such research is acceptable, with some caveats; no, such produce is not kosher; and no - despite the Jewish emphasis on honoring one’s parents, an abusive parent releases their child from the obligation to say Kaddish.

But let me tell you that none of these questions compare to the one a friend of mine was asked.

Ten years ago, in mid September of 2001, my friend, Rabbi Jeff Salkin, then of a congregation in the New York area, was on his way to visit someone in the hospital when a woman stopped him in the corridor of the synagogue. She said, "Rabbi, I have a question." He answered, "Yes, what is it? But please, make it quick if you can, I’m already late."

"Rabbi,” she said, “I live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and my windows are covered with the grime that has drifted uptown since ‘you know what’ happened. I need to clean my windows, but I am afraid there may be remains of the dead in that dust. If there are, it doesn’t seem right to just have the windows cleaned. What should I do?"

The question stopped him in his tracks.

Knowing that this question was much too serious to quickly brush off, Rabbi Salkin stopped and thought, and then he gave her a brilliant answer. "You’re right, you shouldn’t just clean the windows as if it was any other time — this is what you should do. Take some paper towels and warm water and carefully wipe the windows clean, as clean as you can. Then carefully put the towels into an envelope and take them to a Jewish funeral home. Tell them what they are and ask them to bury them the next time they have a funeral."

The woman nodded, thanked him, and that is precisely what she did.

Somehow she knew, there was a Jewish answer out there. She knew that even in this incomparable and unprecedented situation, there was a choice to make, a blessing to choose, a way to sanctify life, to choose life. And whether it was serendipity or providence, she encountered someone who had an answer.

At its heart, these are the types of questions we look to Judaism to answer. Yet it seems that far too often, we haven’t developed, in our children or in ourselves, the capacity to keep asking questions. Instead of viewing Judaism as a tradition that can help us seek answers for the questions of daily life, we relegate our Judaism to experiences for our kids, holiday observances, and the occasional life cycle experience - hardly something to sustain a religious tradition that was intended to be quotidian.

Why did we stop asking? One reason is that we were told not to. The Talmud speaks of something known as the ta’amei ha’mitzvot, the rationale for the commandments and cautions us about spending too much time pondering the reasons for doing them (Sanhedrin 21b). Why? Well, if you think about it too much, you might never get to observing them and Judaism is a religion of deed, not creed. Second, if you spend too much time thinking about why you do something, you might just come up with reasons not to do it. Better not to ask.

Rabbi Harold Schulweis tells a story from his own life that gets at the heart of this. “I think back on my own early Jewish education,” he says. “My zayde was my first teacher. He taught me Chumash and Rashi and later Gemara. He answered my questions but only some questions, only those that had to do with translation and the literal texts. But when I asked him questions that I suspect all of us had, about the speaking serpent of the Garden of Eden or the menagerie of animals packed in Noah's ark or the abdominal hospitality the whale offered the fugitive Jonah — he smiled benignly, gave me a “knip in bekel,” (pinch in cheek) and whispered “Shpeter” — later. When I asked him what kind of God orders the murder of his child and what kind of hero accepts the command, or whether God “really” answer prayers, and if so, how come so many worthy petitions were not answered, zayde fell back on his standard response, “Shpeter” — later.”

But when we don’t answer these questions for our children and for ourselves, when we just say shpeter, we come to teach a difficult lesson - that Judaism, in all its beauty and wisdom maybe can’t provide the answers for daily life. Or maybe the truth is that we don’t answer because we can’t. We don’t know the answer and our lack of knowing only points up our lack of Jewish education. We feel that because we are knowledgeable in all sorts of subjects and because we are Jewish we should have this knowledge but we don’t. Lacking the knowledge makes us feel inadequate. Instead of saying, “I don’t know, let’s look for an answer together,” we do what we can to avoid the question altogether.

Consider other ways we respond to our kids and the implications of those answers. One is to respond with an invisible instant omniscience and quick piety. It occurs during the earliest years. Why is the sky blue? God. Why are babies born? God. Why did grandpa die? Why was there an earthquake? God. There was a Sunday school teacher who used God to explain almost any question. Once she asked the children “What is a small, brown furry animal who hides acorns during the winter months?” An eager child raises his hand and says, “I know the answer is God but it sure sounds like a squirrel.” The child has caught on. It is bad theology that uses God as a short-cut and it cuts off real questions.

Or we answer in a way that is honest but not necessarily truthful. Consider a fictional girl. Let’s call her Lisa. When Lisa prayed for a doll for Chanukah and didn't receive it, she asked her teacher if God hears prayers and if God answers them. The teacher dutifully said, “God, indeed hears and answers prayers.” “But,” says Lisa, “God didn't answer my prayers.” “Yes He did” said the teacher, “He said, 'no'.” That terse theology will shut up Lisa. Not only does it perpetuate a false rabbinic theology, it will harm Lisa the rest of her spiritual life. Years later, when Lisa’s mother lies dying in the hospital, she will pray for her recovery, or maybe she won’t pray at all, because either she had a lousy childhood experience with prayer or no one showed her that prayer could be more than just reading words form a book. Her mother will die. Did God say, “no”? And if so, was it because of something she had done or something that her mother had done? The early answers in the formative years form building blocks out of which Lisa’s religious credulity is shaped. There is a short line that leads to the answer about praying for a doll for Chanukah and the trauma of the Holocaust. The answers we give early have an afterlife of their own. Flippant answers can create the ominous silence of disbelief.

How would I have answered Lisa? I would have first told her it’s a great question and then would have said, “I don’t know, let’s look for some different answers together, try a few on and see what you like best. In searching I might remind her that God is not a cosmic butler, there to attend to our every whim and desire. I might explore with her the Hebrew word for prayer, l’hitpalel, which means, to judge yourself, to hold up a mirror, to ask the same question God asked Adam in the Garden, “ayekah? Where are you?” How are you doing? Are you being honest with yourself? I might show her that the same word l’hitpalel also contains the root pheleh meaning wonders; that another purpose of prayer is to make us more aware of our surroundings so that we might recognize the wonders of God’s creation and come to see our role in tending to God’s garden. I might expose her to the limits that the Rabbis of the Talmud put on acceptable prayer by saying that, for example, a pregnant woman cannot pray that her child be male or female, that to do so is to utter a tefillah shav -- a vain and blasphemous petition and that praying and wishing are two very different things.

Depending on Lisa’s age, we might talk about the rabbinic reality principle that reminds us how nature is morally neutral. I might show her that remarkable Talmudic discussion that asks: Suppose a man steals a measure of wheat and sows it in his own field. “It would be right that the wheat not grow. After all, it is stolen seed. But the rabbis conclude “Olam k'minhago noheg -- nature pursues its own course. Suppose a man has intercourse with his neighbor's wife? It would be right that she should not conceive. But Olam k'minhago noheg, nature pursues its own course (Avodah Zarah 54b). This introduces a theology that our young should learn now, not “later.” If we don’t answer our children, even with “I don’t know let’s look together,” they will stop asking and say religion has no purpose or will go looking to other faiths for the answers.

Recently, I’ve seen some excellent research on what helps students learn. In a new book called “Why Don’t Students Like School?”, cognitive scientist Daniel Willingham, emphasizes that to improve learning, it's much more important for the teachers to know how to pose the right questions than for students to know all the answers. He explains:

“I sometimes feel that we, as teachers, are so focused on getting to the answer, we spend insufficient time making sure that students understand the question and appreciate its significance.” (Willingham, 75)

If all we do is fill our kids with information instead of asking them good questions, questions that force them to wrestle with ideas and that model for them that the question is often more important than the answer.

If we can change the focus in religious education from "what we need to teach" to "what our students ask," our young people may find the resources they want and need to strengthen their moral sense, and to own it more deeply.

When I think about world Judaism, I harbor many concerns: the future and safety of Israel, the events occurring in Egypt and Turkey, the UN vote on the Palestinians, the important need for negotiation and continued peace talks, and a fear of a nuclear Iran. But I am also fearful for the future of Judaism in America. According to a recent study, Jews are the most broadly popular religious group in America today (American Grace) yet we are shrinking. We have an average of 1.86 kids as opposed to the national average of 2.2. Intermarriage is an opportunity but the reality is that only 1/3 of intermarried couples raise their children as Jews. Studies show that ethnic cohesiveness is decreasing in this country while we become more concerned with individualism and respect for the sovereign self. If all you’ve lived is a Judaism that revolves around food, as you grow up, you may realize it’s not that filling. If we don’t create space within our communities and within our tradition to wrestle with the most significant questions of our lives and allow ourselves to see that Judaism CAN provide answers to the questions of daily life, then we risk the threat of Jews melding completely into American society. It is high time to show those Jews who feel unsure about their Jewishness and inadequate in their Jewish knowledge a path back to the table. We need to give them the tools, the resources and most importantly the courage to ask the questions.

Nine years ago, I gave a sermon entitled, “Ending Hebrew School As We Know It.” I imagined a synagogue that was like a bee hive, humming with activity where people knew and cared for one another, where all of us were both learners and teachers. I reminded all of us that the current model most synagogues use was created by Rebecca Gratz in 1838!

We created J-Life, a program that brought parents into the synagogue on Shabbat mornings to learn alongside their children and asked them to be teachers as well as students. J-life is succeeding by giving many of you a taste of Jewish learning. It is creating greater connections between adults in this congregation and bringing forward new congregational leaders who otherwise might have gone unnoticed. J-Life is modeling to your children that Judaism is not a pediatric pursuit. Some of you have been inspired to elevate your own Jewish knowledge. It is even allowing for some intergenerational learning. Yet I’m not sure if it is going far enough. Is J-Life really engaging you as an adult learner? Is it influencing how you behave, the decisions you make? Is it answering the questions and challenges of daily life that confront you on an ongoing basis, the questions fictional Lisa had as a child that still go unanswered as an adult? For J-Life to be transformational it needs to start doing all this.

Allow me then to share a little of what we are doing to raise up the questions. You heard our president Alan Shepard mention a Chavurah program for 5th and 6th graders. What makes this program different from a traditional Hebrew school model is that there is no set curriculum and no permanent classroom. They will meet where real learning takes place: in the supermarket, at a yoga studio, at food pantries, in people’s kitchens. Their learning will be based on the questions of the learners, not on what we think or feel they should know.

To reach the younger questioners in our congregation (and their families), we partnered with PJ Library. Thanks to some angels in this congregation, families with children ages 3-8, will each month be sent a different Jewish book, along with a discussion guide so that parents can be teachers. We will coordinate communal activities to create a common language and to hopefully, elicit more questions. All in the name of increasing Jewish engagement at a level that is honest and meaningful.

To reach those in their 20s and 30s, we have joined with a consortium of New York area congregations in an exciting collaborative project called Next Dor NYC. This interdenominational initiative created by the Union for Reform Judaism is intended to bring young Jews together to connect with one another and to build relationships and community. It is a vibrant participant-driven Jewish address for those seeking meaning, spirituality and Jewish community in a Reform context. Next Dor NYC's offerings have ranged from Shabbat dinners, to fun and spirited services, to community service opportunities and to larger social events related to Jewish holidays. Next Dor NYC is open to Jews in their 20s and 30s, and non-Jewish friends and significant others are warmly encouraged to participate as well.

Now you might be wondering, “why do the kids get to have all the fun? I have questions. I’d love the opportunity to sit and struggle and seek the answers to the questions of daily life. How can Jewish teachings help me navigate the ethical challenges of the workplace, the feelings of envy as I drive through town and look in neighbors driveways, the bombardment of messages of what my body should look like, how my clothes should fit, what I should buy? How can Jewish teachings help me to raise self-reliant children or resilient teenagers? How can Jewish teachings help me deal with aging parents? How can Jewish teachings inform the decisions I need to make as I approach the autumn and winter of my life?” We all have questions that Jewish teachings can come to answer. Not everyone has the motivation or the luxury of time to sign up for a multisession class. What about one night or one breakfast or one lunch hour? When you go to Starbucks, sometimes you don’t need the Grande mocha soy latte. Sometimes a single shot of espresso will do the trick. We are launching something called “Single Shot Judaism.” Here’s how it works. Get 10 people together. Call me or Cantor Cooperman or Rabbinic Intern Leora Frankel. We will find a time to get together for questions and answers - not something we want to teach but stuff you want to talk about. I can guarantee good stories, powerful moments of connection, maybe even some laughter and tears. All I’m asking for is a single shot. This is something we could never do if we weren’t moving towards engaging a second rabbi for this congregation.

I believe that Jewish learning starts with questions, not answers. The Jewish philosopher Franz Rosensweig understood this inside out thinking. Almost a hundred years ago, on the opening of the Lehrhaus in Berlin, he said: “A new ‘learning’ is about to be born--rather, it has been born. It is a learning in reverse order. A learning that no longer starts from the Torah and leads into life, but the other way round: from life, from a world that knows nothing of the Law, or pretends to know nothing, back to the Torah. That is the sign of the time...From the periphery back to the center; from the outside, in.”

This is what we are beginning to do here. Start from life. Start from a world that knows nothing of the Torah - or pretends to know nothing and moves back to the Torah. Start with the questions. Develop an outside-in Judaism.

If we want to talk about Judaism starting from life, let’s talk about that one thing that is central to life. Food. Growing up, organic food meant that your tomatoes were spotted, CSA stood for Canadaian Standards Association and coffee was instant and came in a jar. Now organic food is beautiful, CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture and we want our coffee to be fair trade. Books by Michael Pollan and Jonathan Safran Foer address the treatment of animals and how we should eat. Other books like Postville or Kosher Nation emphasize the need for an eco kashrut that demands a higher ethical and environmental awareness of what we eat. The way we eat today raises questions that we never asked a generation ago, questions to which Jewish teachings can supply some answers.

Let me ask you, have you ever passed a bread field? Of course not. To make bread we need soil, sun, rain, seeds, the intellect to grow wheat and then to mill it. Fossil fuels to power the trains and trucks for shipping, the business interactions among farmer, miller, grocer, and so on. The journey from farm to table involves many moving parts, all needing to connect one with the others.

Yet the motzi, that simple prayer said before any meal, praises God “who brings forth bread from the Earth.” Why? God doesn’t make bread appear straight from the earth. There are no bread orchards. I think the motzi reminds us to be both thankful for our food and aware of the connectivity of all things, of the effort it takes to go from farm to table, and of the responsibility we have to ensure that the land and its workers are treated well. You see, saying motzi is not just about the food before us. It’s much larger than that. It’s about our connection to the whole system. And saying Motzi each time is a simple act to make Judaism a quotidian habit in our busy lives.

Imagine, if you said motzi - baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melech ha’olam, ha motzi lechem min ha’aretz, even muttered it under your breath 3 times a day, it would take approximately 7 seconds each time. If you are fortunate enough to each three meals a day, you can express your Judaism in 21 second a day. That’s it. That’s not asking for much.

Can you do this? Can you commit to saying motzi three times a day? I don’t care what you are eating. For all you gluten free folks like me out there, I don’t care if you’re having bread or not. Just say Motzi. You see, saying this simple prayer might cause us to ask more questions of our tradition that can only lead to greater discoveries. Saying this prayer three times a day will make us more connected with the earth, with humanity, with the responsibilities we have as God’s covenental partners.

So there it is, a little bit of Judaism I promise will make your life more peaceful and more meaningful. You don’t have to buy anything. You don’t have to go anywhere, and you don’t have to learn anything very complicated.

I believe so strongly that this simple act will lead to a more engaged Judaism, that when you leave today you will receive a gift. Community Synagogue has partnered with congregants Jeff and Jennifer Kohn, owners of The Kneaded Bread Bakery in Port Chester, to give you all a little card. On one side are the words of the motzi. On the other side is a statement entitling you to one free roll from the Kneaded Bread, every time you visit. You don’t have to buy anything else. The point is not the bread, it’s about giving each of us the tools, resources, and opportunity to say this prayer whenever you eat.

Today we celebrate the birth day of the universe. On that first day, within moments after they were formed, the first humans ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil; fruit they had been prohibited from eating. Embarrassed and ashamed, they hid among the trees. God called to them with the first question in the Torah. A single word that asked much more than physical location. Ayekah? Where are you? It is a question that is eternal in time. And the affirmative answer to Ayekah should always be the same, it is the answer that the shofar calls us to utter. Hineini, here I am. There are some who are afraid of the question or of cultivating the question. But as the Yiddish expression states, “Fum a kashe ken men nisht shtarbem.” -- “From a question no one dies.” But this is only half right. It’s when you ask a question that you really begin to live.

As Israel Enters the Wilderness, Sermon Given May 24, 2011

2011-05-30T22:15:00.000-04:00

As Israel Enters the Wilderness

After camping for thirteen months at the foot of a mountain the message rings out, “Prepare to wander into the wilderness. Take a census of the people so that you know the size of your fighting force. Organize yourself by tribe, each under his own banner. And, with God’s Torah in your midst, head into the wilderness.” This is how the book of Numbers begins.

How fitting, that the week we read BaMidbar, a book whose name means, “In the wilderness,” that when it comes to Israel, it feels like we have once again been cast out. Cast into the wilderness, cast into a space where reaching a final destination of peace seems to grow farther and farther from our reach.

Much attention has focused this week on the differences that reportedly exist between the United States and Israel. Of course, every country has its national interests, and no two sets of national interests are completely identical, especially when applied to a region as complex and multi-faceted as the Middle East. And while the internet is filled with those on the right saying that Obama threw Israel under the bus and those on the left saying that Netanyahu is going to be the one to blame for the ultimate destruction of Israel, what is far more important is the convergent thinking between President Obama and Prime Minister Netanyahu on a number of key issues.

First, the recent meetings and speeches reveal once again US-Israeli agreement on the pressing threat posed by Iran. Both countries are warning that an Iran with nuclear-weapons capability would present a major threat to regional and global stability, and that all options must remain on the table to prevent such an outcome.

Second, both countries agree that the recent “reconciliation’’ agreement between Fatah and Hamas constitutes a major new problem. Hamas is not a partner for peace. It is a terrorist group, recognized as such by the United States and European Union. It is committed to the destruction of Israel and the extermination of the Jewish people, which is exactly what Hamas says in its charter.

Third, Obama and Netanyahu share the belief that peace between Israel and the Palestinians can only come about through direct talks between the parties. It cannot result from a Palestinian campaign to avoid negotiations and instead seek a unilateral declaration of independence with UN General Assembly support. That would be a path to conflict, not coexistence.

Fourth, the United States and Israel are in full accord that the outcome of any peace process should be two states for two peoples — Israel as the homeland for the Jewish people, and a “non-militarized,’’ to use Obama’s language, Palestine as the homeland of the Palestinian people.

Fifth, both sides agree that the final border between Israel and Palestine must be negotiated, not unilaterally declared. Moreover, as Obama said in his first speech and then when he spoke to AIPAC, the mutually agreed boundary will have to take into account realities on the ground, including demographic changes and Israel’s compelling security needs in a shrunken state.

And sixth, in recent days in Washington, we have witnessed a reaffirmation of the enduring strength of the American-Israeli partnership. Those who focus on the inevitable disagreements miss the larger picture. The enthusiastic bipartisan reception accorded by Congress to Netanyahu also spoke volumes about the strength of the link.

More than anything else, the deep ties that unite the United States and Israel, again on display in recent days, are what’s really newsworthy — and able to stand the test of time.

Still, the dialogue or lack of it feel like the abortion debate. That debate, between those who are pro-life and those who are pro-choice is an apples and oranges debate. The pro-lifers believe that abortion is murder while those who are pro-choice believe that it is about a woman’s right to choose.

In the middle east it is between the Palestinians who demand stoppage of the building of settlements, discussion of refugees and Jerusalem while Israel wants to speak about security, borders and of course, public recognition by the Palestinian leadership of Israel’s right to exist.

When reading and listening to the debate raging about the Middle East, I was reminded of a post written by my colleague Rabbi Geoffry Middleman who writes, “As I read the analysis of Obama’s speech, I was most reminded of a recent story on The Onion — “Incomprehensible Shouting Declared U.S. Official Language.” In fact, Israel may even be ahead of the U.S. in this realm — Gregory Levey, a former speechwriter for Ariel Sharon and Ehud Olmert wrote a book a few years ago entitled “Shut Up, I’m Talking – And Other Diplomacy Lessons I Learned in the Israeli Government.”

So while it’s clear that everyone is talking — or more accurately, shouting incomprehensibly — it’s even more clear that no one is listening.”
So I ask, if we were listening, really listening, what should we be hearing?
Jeff Goldberg, who writes wonderful pieces about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in The Atlantic sounded an alarm with his article entitled, “Why Palestinians Have Time on Their Side.”

In it he says, “If I were a Palestinian my goal would be too hopelessly, ineradicably, entangle the two peoples wedged between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea. I wouldn’t go to the UN this September to call for a vote on creating a Palestinian state.

Instead, I would wait a mere six years, until 2017, 50 years after the Six Day War, which ended with Israel in control of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. In those six years I would watch the Israeli population in the West Bank grow and grow. Then, I would go before the UN and say the following:

"We, the Palestinians, no longer seek a homeland of our own. We recognize the permanence of Israeli occupation, the dominion of the Israeli military and the power of the Israeli economy. So we would like to join them. In the 50 years since the beginning of the ’temporary’ occupation, we have seen hundreds of thousands of Israelis build communities near our own communities. We admire what they have built, and the system of laws that governs their lives. Unlike them, many of us live under Israeli military law but have no say in choosing the Israelis who rule us. So we no longer want statehood. We simply want the vote."

And this, of course, would bring about the end of Israel. It would do so because at this point, either the Jews of Israel would grant the Palestinians the vote, at which point their country would lose its Jewish majority and its identity as a refuge for the Jewish people, or it would deny them the vote, and become an apartheid state. The latter option is untenable, of course: Many Jewish Israelis would be repulsed by this thought; other nations that already consider Israel a pariah would now have just cause; and Israel would lose its last remaining friend, the U.S., because no American -- including and especially young American Jews -- would identify with a country reminiscent of pre-Mandela South Africa. I mean, would you? I don’t think I could? And if Israel was no longer a Jewish State, what would happen to the American Jewish Community? How long could we truly survive without Israel before being swallowed up by the larger American culture? One generation? Two? So if the Palestinians are patient and just wait long enough, Israel will be sunk and with it, most of world Jewry.

American inventor Buckminster Fuller once said, “You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” When it comes to Israel, we are desperately in need of a new model. We are desperately in need for the Israeli government to do something bold. The Palestinians won’t do it. They have time on their side. They have the winds of change, kicked up by this Arab spring blowing in their direction. What might Israel do?

Tom Friedman came up with a powerful suggestion this past week.

If Netanyahu put a credible, specific two-state peace map on the table — not just the same old vague promises about “painful compromises” — he could get the Americans and Europeans to toss in anything Israel wanted, including the newest weapons, NATO membership, maybe even European Union membership. It could be a security windfall for Israel. Israel today still has enormous leverage. It is vastly superior militarily and economically to the Palestinians, and it has the U.S. on its side. The question is, does Bibi have any surprise in him or do the Palestinians have him right: a big faker, hiding a nationalist-religious agenda under a cloak of security?

I want to hold out hope for Israel. Maybe I do this because at heart I am an eternal optimist, especially when it comes to Israel. This start-up nation has surprised us time and time again. I want Israel to act, especially now, not as a vaccine against assimilation but as an inspiring source of Jewish creativity and identity. I want Israel to build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete. If there is one nation that can do this, it is Israel.

That is my hope. For an Israel that is secure. For an Israel that grants all its citizens, Arabs and Jews, fundamental human rights. For an Israel that continues to be deeply connected to the United States as our vision and values of what our nations can be are so inexorably intertwined. And yes, I hope for a two state solution, one Jewish, one Palestinian, living side by side in peace and security. That is how Israel will remain Jewish and democratic. It is the ONLY way.
And so, let us pray, today and everyday, that peace and redemption will come to Israel’s borders and that harmony will grace Jerusalem’s gates, speedily, and in our day.

When we Speak of "based on the 1967 lines with mutually agreed swaps" what does that really mean?

2011-05-27T09:50:00.000-04:00

‘Land Swaps’: Is There Enough Land To Swap?

By Nathan Jeffay
Published May 25, 2011, issue of June 03, 2011.
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Tel Aviv — It is the magic formula that could end the occupation while letting the majority of settlers stay put. But how would an Israeli-Palestinian land swap, the basis of President Obama’s Middle East vision, outlined on May 19, actually work?

The main practical problem of an Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank is the fact that some 300,000 Israeli settlers live there. Not only would a full evacuation be hazardous for any Israeli government on the domestic political front, but it also would be logistically difficult and exceedingly costly.

The solution Obama talked about, one that is “based on the 1967 lines with mutually agreed swaps,” means that Israel would hold on to some settled areas that it captured in 1967 and compensate the Palestinians with land that currently falls under Israeli sovereignty.

Even if Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu endorses the principle, a problem remains. Every Israeli leader insists on retaining the large settlement blocs — usually defined at a minimum as the Etzion Bloc, Modi’in Illit, Ma’ale Adumim, and Givat Ze’ev and its surroundings — and the national consensus in support of this position is strong. But in Israel, many experts say there simply isn’t enough free land under Israeli sovereignty to exchange for them.

“You could find the equivalent of 2.5% of the territories, but when people in Israel talk about it, they are talking about keeping 6% to 10%. Finding that kind of land inside Israel just can’t be done,” said Tel Aviv University geographer Gideon Biger, editor of the “Encyclopedia of International Boundaries.”

The idea of land swaps is not new, and, in fact, it predates the current Israeli-Palestinian peace process. Before Israel first met with the Palestine Liberation Organization, and some three years before Yasser Arafat and Yitzhak Rabin famously shook hands on the White House lawn, Israelis and Palestinians were sitting together, talking about land swaps.

The idea was first proposed in 1990 at meetings in Italy, jointly arranged by the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Harry S. Truman Institute for the Advancement of Peace and the an alliance of Arab academics and intellectuals. In 2000, at the Camp David Summit, the Palestinians showed openness to the basic principle, and it has been a staple of negotiations ever since.

Though Israel does not have an official position on what percentage of the territories it wants to keep, the last land-swap proposal, made to the Palestinians in 2008 by then-prime minister Ehud Olmert, is thought to offer an insight. He wanted 6.3% of the territories — that is, the West Bank and Gaza — which would keep 75% of settlers in their homes.

But Olmert could make such an offer only because he ignored three principles on which Palestinian leaders insist. The first is that exchanges must be on an acre-for-acre ratio, and Olmert was offering only areas equivalent of 5.8% of the territories. The second is that the land must be what they consider good quality — usually assessed from agricultural criteria — while large sections of what Olmert offered are not easily cultivated. The third is that Palestinians must be compensated acre for acre for the Israeli presence in parts of Jerusalem that was captured in 1967, while Olmert’s calculations discounted Jerusalem. These principles are clear from documents from the Palestinian Negotiation Support Unit that were leaked earlier this year to Al-Jazeera.

And some experts believe that there are new factors limiting the land available in Israel for swaps. Olmert made his offer shortly after Hamas took full control of Gaza, when many Israeli officials expected its rule to be short-lived. “Olmert’s idea was to give land next to Gaza, but it’s difficult to see Netanyahu giving land there when he won’t even speak to Gaza,” said Alon Liel, a former director general of the Israeli Foreign Ministry and a signatory to the Israel Peace Initiative, a new peace proposal.

Liel estimates that while in any land swap, Netanyahu would have less land inside Israel to trade than Olmert offered, he will demand more of the West Bank. The main reason is the strong value he attaches to the Jordan Valley, which covers almost 20% of the territories. “I think that even if he agreed, Likud will not permit evacuation of settlers from the Jordan Valley. So I say that Netanyahu’s demands are about 10% higher than Olmert’s,” Liel said, adding, “It’s a waste of time now to even start talking about swaps.”

But Shaul Arieli, a former member of Israeli negotiating teams who is today a leader of the Geneva Initiative peace proposal, is more optimistic. He believes that Hamas rule in Gaza will end prior to the implementation of any Israeli-Palestinian agreement, that Israel will accept military-only presence in the Jordan Valley, which would not require land exchange, and that Israel could find the equivalent of 3% to 4% of the territories inside Israel for exchange. According to his analysis, 2% can be found along the Gaza border; 1% near the West Bank, in the Lakhish district in south central Israel, and another 1% near the West Bank in the Beit She’an Valley, in northern Israel. There is also 1% close to the West Bank near Arad, in southern Israel, but it is mostly nonagricultural land.

Of course, the figures are tight only if populated areas are off the table.

Currently, nobody in Israel is suggesting evacuating kibbutzim or small villages populated by Jews to free up space for exchange. But David Newman, professor of political geography at Ben-Gurion University and chief editor of the journal Geopolitics, believes this could change. “It’s only as taboo as talking about land swaps was 15 years ago, or talking about a Palestinian state was 20 years ago,” he said.

Swapping areas populated by Arabs is, however, already an accepted principle by many in Israel. Yisrael Beiteinu, the third-largest political party in the Knesset, is proposing freeing up land for swaps and strengthening the Jewish majority in Israel by incorporating Arab areas close to the Green Line, such as the city of Umm al-Fahm, into a future Palestinian state.

The plan actually predates Yisrael Beiteinu and has some prominent advocates outside the political arena, such as the Jewish demographer Sergio DellaPergola, professor at Hebrew University’s Avraham Harman Institute of Contemporary Jewry. While many Arabs and left-leaning Israelis object to the plan, he argues that if Israel and the Palestinians agree on an exchange, this presents no moral or legal grounds to object. “This is something that has happened infinite times in Europe,” DellaPergola said.

And despite the objections, Biger predicts that it could become acceptable to the majority of Israelis, the Palestinians, the Arab League and the international community. “I think that if this would be it or we don’t have peace, they may accept it,” he said.

But even the most favorable swap agreement imaginable for Israel would not solve its West Bank woes. “The problem is that a swap would allow Israel to keep settlement blocs, home to more moderate settlers who you could compensate to leave,” Newman said. “But Israel would still need to evacuate settlements outside the blocs, which is where the real hardcore settlers who are most opposed to evacuation live.”

Contact Nathan Jeffay at jeffay@forward.com

The Search for Ten Good Men and Women

2011-05-26T06:15:00.000-04:00

The Search for Ten Good Men and Women

In looking for a 10th (and often for an eighth and ninth as well) we are communicating that Jewish spirituality is one that relies upon the involvement of others and finds its fullest expression in communities that symbolically represent the entirely of the Jewish people. Such messages are urgent ones, not only for my synagogue, but for a contemporary American Jewish life that increasingly focuses on individual meaning, and which is uncertain about the role of group identity in a global world

Rabbi Eric Yoffie’s comments on President Obama’s speeches.

2011-05-25T15:50:00.000-04:00

Friends – here are some words by Rabbi Eric Yoffie that, I believe, offer some important insights to President Obama's recent speeches to the State Department and AIPAC.

Dear Friend:

These past few weeks have been trying ones, here at home and in Israel.

Many of our North American communities have been battered by devastating weather. Our thoughts are with the victims and we continue to work closely with our congregations in the affected regions. Please check the URJ Disaster Relief page for updates and, if you wish, to make a donation. Together, the entire Reform Movement prays for the welfare of all those impacted by these terrible tragedies. May God grant them comfort and healing in the days, weeks and months to come.

And while some of our communities in North America fight physical storms, our brothers and sisters in Israel fight political ones. Despite its military strength, Israel is a small and vulnerable state, and is now facing especially difficult times. The United Nations will vote in September on whether or not to recognize Palestinian statehood, and if the resolution passes, it will be a distressing sign of Israel's isolation on the international stage. Uprisings throughout the Arab world create hope for democracy and change, but could also pose serious threats to Israel's security. And Iran continues its efforts to develop nuclear weapons that will threaten Israel and the world.

Against this backdrop, we have had five tumultuous days of meetings and speeches from President Barack Obama and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on issues related to Israeli-Palestinian peace. President Obama spoke once to the State Department and once to AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobby; Prime Minister Netanyahu spoke to AIPAC and before a joint session of Congress; and the President and Prime Minister met in the White House last Friday.

(Prime Minister Netanyahu also met with a small group of Jewish leaders during the AIPAC Conference, a meeting attended by the Union's President-designate Rabbi Rick Jacobs.)

There have been no end of commentaries on these developments, but I would like to offer a few reactions of my own.

In his two speeches, the President expressed in the clearest possible terms the unshakable support of the United States government for the State of Israel (and in some cases went well beyond what had previously been said by him or previous administrations). He said for the first time that a Palestinian state must be a demilitarized state. He insisted that Israel be recognized as a Jewish state and the homeland of the Jewish people. He warned the Palestinians against bringing their statehood resolution to the UN. He expressed deep concern about the Hamas-Fatah pact. He affirmed that peace could not be imposed from the outside but must be agreed upon by the parties.

It is difficult to imagine, in fact, a more ringing endorsement by the President of America's traditional support for Israel. This support was obscured, in some measure, by the bizarre claim that the President had called for a return to 1967 borders; such a step would indeed be impossible and unacceptable, but the President said no such thing, as was clear from his call for secure and recognized borders arrived at through negotiation and mutually agreed exchanges of land. As noted by Ehud Barak, Israel's Defense Minister, a statement that negotiations start with discussions of the 1967 borders is very different from saying that that is where they end up.

The central premise of the President's message was that if peace is to come, it will be through the establishment of a Palestinian state living in peace and security alongside a Jewish state. The principle of a two-state solution, of course, has been supported by the last three U.S. administrations and by both major parties; it is also the policy of the State of Israel. The Reform Movement has supported a two-state solution since the early 1990s.

The President also deserves our appreciation for his current efforts to convince our European allies to oppose the UN resolution on Palestinian statehood. Both of his speeches, which affirmed Palestinian rights to a state of their own, have been well received by our allies and should assist in these efforts. As noted, passage of the statehood resolution could seriously undermine Israel's diplomatic standing.

Prime Minister Netanyahu's powerful statement to Congress expressed gratitude to the United States government for its support and promised painful compromises for peace. The Prime Minister reviewed the policies of his government and gave special emphasis to security threats that Israel is now confronting. He spoke of Hamas' commitment to terror and to Israel's destruction; of the need to confront the dangers posed by Iran to the international community; and of the possibility that democratic stirrings in the Arab world could, if they take a wrong turn, lead to hostile governments rather than democratic ones. These threats are real and deeply troubling. The need for peace between Israel and the Palestinians is not less important on their account but more important; still, they remind us that true security must be an essential component of any peace agreement.

Is there a possibility now of genuine negotiations and progress toward peace? I am far from certain. I believe that the current leadership of the Palestinian Authority is generally moderate in outlook, but is surrounded by mostly unreasonable voices; the presence of Hamas makes progress far more doubtful still. Nonetheless, we know that every effort must be made. Israel has pledged yet again to do its part, and the Administration has pledged to help move the process forward. We are thankful for these efforts because President Obama is surely right that the current situation is unsustainable, and if peace does not come, Israel's situation will be more grave 5 years from now than it is today. For that reason, my hope is that if the Palestinian Authority is not forthcoming, Israel's leaders will take what steps they can take to separate themselves from the Palestinians in order to preserve Israel's Jewish and democratic character.

In the meantime, our task as North American Jews is to offer Israel our love and support; to do everything possible to deepen the friendship between Israel and her most important ally, the United States of America, keeping in mind always that the goal of Israel advocacy is for American – and Canadian – support of Israel to be broad, inclusive, and bi-partisan; and to send the message that Israel's fate rests not only in the hands of her citizens but in the hands of Jews everywhere.

As I wrote on Yom Ha'atzma'ut, let us pray, today and everyday, that peace and redemption will come to Israel's borders and that harmony will hallow Jerusalem's gates, bi'meheira u'viyameinu—speedily, and in our day

An Open Letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu

2010-06-05T08:00:00.000-04:00

An Open Letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu: June 4, 2010 - Parashat Shelach L’cha
Delivered at Community Synagogue of Rye during Shabbat Services
Dear Bibi,

I hope it’s okay that I call you by your nickname. We are of course family so familiarity should be alright. I believe that families - be they nuclear, extended or even congregations, by their nature, are loving trusting relationships. These relationships are underscored by a deep trust and commitment, a covenant if you will. If we can’t trust our family members to tell us the truth, who can we? So Bibi, drawing from Leviticus ch. 19 where we are told to rebuke our neighbors, I have to do a little rebuking of my own.

Look Bibi, we both know that a two state solution is the ONLY solution to Israel’s situation. We both know that Hamas is not a peace partner; that their rhetoric to not rest until Israel is destroyed is not mere rhetoric. We also know that if Israel ended this naval blockade, all sorts of weapons would show up in in Gaza. We know that the real purpose wasn’t to deliver humanitarian aid but to create a provocation that would put international pressure on Israel to drop the Gaza embargo. Gaza doesn’t need more food. We know that. There are plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables for sale in the markets... even flowers. (“In The Great Flotilla Debate, The Facts Are On Israel's Side” Marty Peretz, http://www.tnr.com/blogs/the-spine June 1, 2010)
These protestors wanted to break a blockade and they wanted to embarrass Israel. Period. Unfortunately we took the bait.

Yes Bibi, we know that five of the six ships were peacefully diverted to Ashdod where the supplies could be offloaded and trucked into Gaza. We saw Israeli troops, armed with crowd dispersing paintball guns and side arms for emergency protection, being taunted and beaten and hurled over the railings of ships by attackers wielding Iron bars. Yes, that makes me mad too. We’ve heard from your Ambassador and our friend Michael Oren that Israel discovered spent bullet cartridges on the Mavi Marmara that are of a caliber not used by the Israeli commandos; how Israel found propaganda clips on the boat showing passengers “injured” by Israeli forces that suspiciously were filmed during daylight while the commando raid was at night; and how many of those detained from the ships were carrying a huge sum of money - nearly a million in Euros. Bibi, we’ve even heard that the Mamara was too large a vessel to be neutralized by technical means such as fouling the propeller. (MICHAEL B. OREN “An Assault, Cloaked in Peace” New York Times, Published: June 2, 2010)

Bibi, we understand all this. But here’s my question. Why is your timing always so lousy? Did your deputy minister really have to announce the building of Jewish homes in east Jerusalem when vice-president Biden was in Israel to meet with you? Did this raid have to happen just as you were to leave Canada to go visit with President Obama? Bibi, as a student of history, you know too well Abba Eban’s famous line from 1973 where he said that the Palestinians never miss and opportunity to miss an opportunity. The statement resonated then because it was largely true. Yet Bibi, lately it feels that this statement should be directed to you. Bibi, chaver, my brother, it’s getting harder and harder to for me to stick up for you, not because I don’t want to but because it’s harder and harder to get people to listen.

Yes, you face existential threats which is all the more reason why you should focus your time, energy and efforts on two things: an Arab-Israeli treaty and pressure on Iran to drop its nuclear program. We already know what the final deal will look like. It will likely align with the one Clinton proposed in 2000. Bibi, you could take the first step. You could stop building new settlements. I know that would hurt. I know that would unsettle your coalition but let’s face it, any building you do prior to a comprehensive peace deal just looks like a land grab.

And Bibi, here’s something else that I need you to know. These actions don’t win you many friends here in the states and I’m talking about the Jews. Just read the stuff coming out of J-Street. Regardless of what some on the “Israel can do no wrong camp” say about J-Street, they don’t seek your destruction. J-Street stands in deep support of Israel as I do, they just represent a view opposite of the establishment Zionist organizations who seem to have cotton in their ears. In fact Bibi, in the most recent New York Review of Books, Peter Beinart wrote a powerful article exploring the way young Jews in America feel much less identification with Israel than their elders did. Mr. Beinart noted that even the student senate at Brandeis University rejected a resolution commemorating the 60th anniversary of Israel. (Peter Beinart, The New York Review of Books. “The Failure of the American Jewish Establishment”, June 10, 2010)

One basic problem, Mr. Beinart said, is that the Zionist movement has become increasingly conservative politically. “For several decades,” he writes, “the Jewish establishment has asked American Jews to check their liberalism at Zionism’s door, and now, to their horror, they are finding that many young Jews have checked their Zionism instead.” Yes, Birthright has been a boon to Jewish identity and positive feelings towards Israel. Yes, we have to invest a lot - and I mean a lot - more money towards adolescent Jewish experiences, that will improve their Jewish identity and give them the tools to confront the anti-Israel bias they find on college campuses but until that time Bibi, I need you to understand that while the missiles may no longer be flying from Gaza, they are flying here and I don’t want you to win the battle but lose the war.

Bibi, I know you might view this outside criticism as inherently unfair and anti-semitic. You can even suggest that for the sake of zion we should be silent: we don’t live in israel, we haven’t served in her army, we don’t pay taxes, but even your own people are criticizing you. Haaretz suggested that you are “lost at Sea” and this supporter and rabbi is heartsick. Simply put Bibi, I need you to act courageously, commit to peace and please, stop shooting yourself in the foot.

Bibi, this week’s Torah portion details the story of the israelite spies, how, on Moses’ command they scouted the land of canaan and returned with a negative report. After this incident, God is furious with the Israelites because of their behavior, specifically because of their panicked reaction visa vie their enemies. So God decrees to the Israelites that they will now have to wander in the desert for 40 years. And more importantly the generation who panicked will in fact die in the desert and never make it to the Promised Land. After this message is revealed, the people of Israel are so upset they want to make amends by now going out to war and fighting these same enemies. In fact they go out and attack the Amalekites and the Canaanites. But Moses tells them, "Do not go up, lest you be routed by your enemies, for the Lord is not in your midst." (Numbers 14:42). And of course the children of Israel receive a shattering blow from Amalekites and the Canaanites.

My colleague Rabbi Rich Kirshen points out that “Through these two stories, the Torah is teaching us that there are times when we need to take action even if the task before us is frightening. And yet we also need to learn how to restrain ourselves even if we are not scared at all. It is the wrestling match with which we as Jews in the 21st century must continually struggle. We as a people are still not sure where we are when it comes to powerlessness and power. Personally I subscribe to Rabbi Yitz Greenberg who writes," "Jewish powerlessness is absolutely incompatible with Jewish existence. But Jewish power is incompatible with absolute Jewish purity." Indeed this is a difficult balance for Israel in a very tough neighborhood.

“But for a State like Israel that is so creative and so inventive, if we consistently respond to the conflict in the narrowest and most self destructive manner it is going to hurt us in the end. Maybe we can learn from this week's Torah portion that the answer is not about being overwhelmed by your enemies and frightened into submission. But neither is the answer to be found the IDF's catch phrase "if force doesn't work, use more force."”

Bibi, I know that the enemy is not these flotilla protestors. The enemy is Hamas who is bent on Israel’s destruction and Iran who funds Islamic fundamentalist regimes throughout the middle east. I know that without Iran acting as the sugar daddy, support for Hamas would dry up. So Bibi, I commit to speaking, writing and acting to let others know who the real enemy is. I just need to be sure you focus on the big dream of Israel, not the small little skirmishes. You are right, it wasn’t a love boat, it was a hate boat but the fact remains, it was a boat, people died and the way the world sees it, the blood is on your hands.

So Bibi, my chaver, my ben-dod, my relative, know that I write to you out of love, know that I share these feelings with you, not because I want to see Israel defeated but the opposite, because I want her to live, to endure, to thrive and to be at peace. Please Bibi, I implore you, please do not miss another opportunity. They don’t come along too often and I fear that one day it will be too late. And then, it would be too late for all of us, because I don’t think diaspora Jewry could survive if Israel - love her or hate her - wasn’t around.

Sending you thoughts for shalom,
Rabbi Daniel Gropper

The ‘Crime’ of Praying with a Tallit, and a Plea for Tolerance – Forward.com

2009-11-30T17:48:00.000-05:00

The ‘Crime’ of Praying with a Tallit, and a Plea for Tolerance – Forward.com

5 Myths About Health Care Around the World by T.R. Reid

2009-10-22T11:53:00.000-04:00

T.R. Reid writes, "As Americans search for the cure to what ails our health-care system, we've overlooked an invaluable source of ideas and solutions: the rest of the world. All the other industrialized democracies have faced problems like ours, yet they've found ways to cover everybody -- and still spend far less than we do.

"I've traveled the world from Oslo to Osaka to see how other developed democracies provide health care. Instead of dismissing these models as "socialist," we could adapt their solutions to fix our problems. To do that, we first have to dispel a few myths about health care abroad..."

T.R. Reid, a former Washington Post reporter, is the author of "The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care" published Aug. 24, 2009

Rights Watchdog, Lost in the Mideast

2009-10-20T06:07:00.000-04:00

By ROBERT L. BERNSTEIN
Published: October 20, 2009
In repeatedly condemning Israel, and mostly ignoring closed regimes in the Middle East, Human Rights Watch is drifting from its core values, and its role as a global arbiter of morality.

Health Care Cafe Outline

2009-10-19T22:12:00.002-04:00

This is a wonderful Health Care Cafe Outline produced by the Washington Office of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. It can easily be adapted for Jewish groups by substituting the opening and closing texts from Luke and John respectively with Jewish texts such as: Mishna Yoma 8:6 and Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 73a for the opening (From where do we know that one who sees his collague drowning in a river, or a beast is mauling him, or robbers are coming after him, that he is obligated to save him? The text says: "do not stand idly by the blood of your brother" (Leviticus 19:16)) and Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 17b, Ta'anit 21b and Shulkhan Aruch, Yoreh Deah, 249 for concluding texts.

Let Congress Go Without Insurance

2009-10-09T16:17:00.000-04:00

An opinion piece by NY Times columnist Nicholas Kristof in which he ends: The collapse of health reform would be a political and policy failure, but it would also be a profound moral failure. Periodically, there are political questions that are fundamentally moral, including slavery in the 19th century and civil rights battles in the 1950s and ’60s. In the same way, allowing tens of thousands of Americans to die each year because they are uninsured is not simply unwise and unfortunate. It is also wrong — a moral blot on a great nation.

A Guide to the Health Care Reform Debate

2009-09-30T11:18:00.000-04:00

The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (RAC) and PICO (the national

community organizing network) have joined forces to provide you with this toolkit
on the current health care reform debate. It is designed to educate and spark
discussion about how to live out our pursuit of tikkun olam. This guide includes
Jewish background, a status update on the state of U.S. health care, a look at past
attempts at health care reform, a helpful guide for understanding all the terms,
options, and key choices in the current debate, a look at the role of the faith
community and what values can shape our health care decisions, plus a list of what
you and your community can do to promote health care reform that makes coverage
more affordable to families and serves the common good.

Faithful Reform in Health Care

2009-09-24T22:35:00.002-04:00

Faithful Reform in Health Care will:

expand the depth and breadth of support for health care reform within the religious community
educate people of faith about the issue and
activate the prophetic voice to promote affordable health care for all in the United States as a moral value.

Faithful Reform in Health Care has developed the following Faith Inspired Vision of Health Care

As people of faith, we envision a society
where each person is afforded
health, wholeness, and human dignity.

That vision embraces a system of health care that is
inclusive... accessible... affordable... and accountable.

Vision ~ Inclusive: Health care is a shared responsibility that is grounded in our common humanity.

Vision ~ Affordable: Health care must contribute to the common good by being affordable for individuals, families and society as a whole.

Vision ~ Accessible: All persons should have access to health services that provide necessary care and contribute to wellness.

Vision ~ Accountable: Our health care system must be accountable, offering a quality, equitable and sustainable means of keeping us healthy as individuals and as a community.

Health Care Reform and 'American Values'

2009-09-24T16:12:00.000-04:00

Dr. Alan Brett, a professor of medicine and bioethicist at the University of South Carolina, writes about the notion of “American values,” the assumptions made in the health care debate, and what system, if any, might come close to representing what is America

A Cure for Doctors' Bills - The Atlantic (October 1930)

2009-09-24T15:45:00.001-04:00

An article from 1930 that speaks of an era before health insurance. Times were very different then and clearly there was a need for insurance. The crazy thing is that what we created then only led to the mess we are in now.

A Cure for Doctors' Bills - The Atlantic (October 1930)

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How American Health Care Killed My Father - The Atlantic (September 2009)

2009-09-24T15:38:00.002-04:00

After the needless death of his father, the author, a business executive, began a personal exploration of a health-care industry that for years has delivered poor service and irregular quality at astonishingly high cost. It is a system, he argues, that is not worth preserving in anything like its current form. And the health-care reform now being contemplated will not fix it. Hereâ€™s a radical solution to an agonizing problem.

How American Health Care Killed My Father - The Atlantic (September 2009)

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Rabbi Elliot Dorff: "Why We Must Support Universal Health Care"

2009-09-24T15:29:00.003-04:00

by Rabbi Elliot N. Dorff

http://www.jewishjournal.com/cover_story/article/why_we_must_support_universal_health_care_20090826/

Whether or not we are believers in the Obama plan, or any of the particular plans for universal health care currently winding their way through Congress, support for universal health care is an imperative in Jewish law. Although what is available in medicine and its cost have changed radically, particularly over the past century, the fundamental right to receive good care — and to be compensated for giving it — goes very far back in our heritage, though perhaps, ironically, not all the way to the Torah or even the Mishnah.
When physicians could not do much to heal a sick patient, their services were easily attainable, relatively cheap, and, frankly, not much sought after. "The best of physicians should go to hell," the Mishnah says, reflecting people's frustration in the second century C.E. with doctors' inability to cure.
With the advent of antibiotics in 1938, as well as other new drug therapies, and, especially, new diagnostic and surgical techniques, however, there has been an immense increase in the demand for medical care, precisely as it has become much more expensive. This raises not only the "micro" questions of how physicians should treat a given person's disease, but also the "macro" questions of how we, as a society, should arrange for medical care to be distributed. It is precisely this argument that is taking place in town halls and in the halls of Congress these days, sometimes in rational arguments but all too often in shouting matches that are clouding the real issues.
Jewish tradition imposes a clear duty to try to heal, and this duty devolves upon both the physician and the society. Jewish sources on distributing and paying for health care are understandably sparse, however, because before the 20th century, medical care was largely ineffective and inexpensive. The classical sources that describe distribution of scarce resources and apportioning the financial burden for communal services deal instead with questions like providing for the needy or rescuing someone from captivity, from highway robbers or from drowning. Still, those discussions raise moral problems and suggest solutions that are often similar to those associated with scarcity and cost in modern medical care.
One set of issues is this: Who should get what when medical interventions are scarce and/or expensive? The other set of questions is this: Who should pay for health care? I discuss at some length the answers that emerge from the Jewish tradition to both of these questions in Chapter 12 of my book, "Matters of Life and Death: A Jewish Approach to Modern Medical Ethics" (Jewish Publication Society, 1998). I will share here a general sense of how the Jewish tradition responds to these questions, which are at once so ancient and so contemporary. (For specific source references, visit this article at jewishjournal.com.)

The Distribution of Health Care: Five Criteria for Triage
If particular forms of medical treatment are scarce or expensive, who should get them? Although this question of triage is most dramatic when the decision is one of life or death, it affects the quality of people's lives in less threatening situations as well. Who, for example, should get a hip replacement when society cannot afford to provide one for everyone who needs one? Who should have the benefit of a heart bypass operation or transplant, and who shall be denied that? Which AIDS patients should get the regimen of drugs now available to lengthen their lives, and for whom is that just too expensive? In the High Holy Days liturgy, "who shall live and who shall die" is God's decision; but with the benefit and responsibility of today's technology, we find ourselves all too often in the uncomfortable position of having the responsibility to decide that ourselves.
The rabbinic passages that might give us some guidance about triage go in five different directions:
Social hierarchy. One passage in the Mishnah determines priorities on the basis of the victim's position in the hierarchy of society — with knowledge of Torah trumping all other social stations.
Close relationship. Jewish laws on charity provide a second reservoir of precedents that may guide the provision of health care. In concentric circles, you are most responsible for yourself first, then for those closest in relationship to you, then for the rest of your local Jewish community, then for all other Jews, and then for all other people.
A hierarchy of social needs. A third set of sources we might use as the basis for a Jewish ethic of the distribution of health care concerns the prioritizing of the community's duties to fund specific needs. The Shulchan Arukh specifies the order of preferences as follows: "There are those who say that the commandment to [build and support] a synagogue takes precedence over the commandment to give charity [tzedakah, to the poor], but the commandment to give money to the youth to learn Torah or to the sick among the poor takes precedence over the commandment to build and support a synagogue.
One must feed the hungry before one clothes the naked [since starvation is taken to be a more direct threat to the person's life than exposure]. If a man and a woman came to ask for food, we [Jews acting in accordance with Jewish law] put the woman before the man [because the man can beg with less danger to himself]; similarly, if a man and a woman came to ask for clothing, and similarly, if a male orphan and a female orphan came to ask for funds to be married, we put the woman before the man.
Redeeming captives takes precedence over sustaining the poor and clothing them [since the captive's life is always in direct and immediate danger], and there is no commandment more important than redeeming captives…. Every moment that one delays redeeming captives where it is possible to do so quickly, one is like a person who sheds blood."
The Shulchan Arukh recognizes the varying needs of the community — physical, educational, religious and social. Each can be easily justified in terms of broader Jewish commitments to life, human dignity, worship and other religious expression, education, economic solvency and close social ties. Consequently, if one were to create a contemporary list based on these Jewish values for funding communal projects in the United States, it would probably closely resemble the Shulchan Arukh's list. Saving people who are threatened by human attackers would clearly come first, followed by providing food and clothing to prevent disease, followed by some order of curative health care, defense, education, culture and economic infrastructure.
A hierarchy of need. Yet a fourth possible criterion in Jewish sources is that health care should be provided to the ones who need it most. Thus the Shulchan Arukh includes the following: "We redeem a woman before a man. If, however, the captors are used to engaging in sodomy, we redeem a man before a woman."
This ruling is clearly based on the author's judgment of the relative needs of women and men in captivity. Since male captors would be more likely to rape female captives than to sodomize males, we must redeem women first, for they need to be saved not only from slave labor, but from sexual violation. If, on the other hand, the captors are known to sodomize male captives, we must redeem men first, for sodomy is, in this author's estimation at any rate, an even greater threat to the captive's life and dignity than rape is. Whether one agrees with that assessment or not, it is clear that the attempt of this ruling is to base the priority of recipients on who needs help most.
Equality: First come, first serve. Finally, a fifth strain in Jewish thought and law objects to any hierarchy, whether governed by social position, family ties, communal duties, or even relative needs of the specific individuals involved in the choice; instead, it emphasizes the equality of everyone, as each of us is created in the image of God.
Although this guideline for the distribution of health care evokes warm, universalistic feelings and stems from deep theological roots in our common origins as the creations of God, it suffers from the hard, pragmatic realities that prevent societies from giving all things to all people. These egalitarian principles, though, must have a call on all Jews who take their Jewish identity seriously.

The Cost of Medical Care
Who should pay for medical care? The Jewish tradition divides that responsibility among the physician, the individual, family members and the community.
Normally, Jewish law permits physicians to charge a fee for their services. Indeed, the Talmud opines that "A physician who charges nothing is worth nothing!" At the same time, there is great concern that the poor should have access to medical services. The Talmud thus approvingly sets forth the example of Abba, the bleeder, who "placed a box outside his office where his fees were to be deposited. Whoever had money put it in, but those who had none could come in without feeling embarrassed. When he saw a person who was in no position to pay, he would offer him some money, saying to him, "Go, strengthen yourself [after the bleeding operation]."
There are similar examples among medieval Jewish physicians, and the ethic must have been quite powerful because it is not until the 19th century that a rabbi rules that the communal court should force physicians to give free services to the poor if they do not do so voluntarily.
Today, not just the poor, but most people simply cannot pay for some of the new procedures, no matter how much money they have or can borrow. The size of the problem makes even conscientious and morally sensitive physicians think that any individual effort on their part to resolve this issue is useless. Moreover, the enormous costs of gaining a modern medical education must somehow be compensated for — to say nothing of ongoing malpractice insurance, overhead for their offices and for the hospitals in which they practice, staff, etc.
Indeed, like everyone, doctors have a right to earn a living, and Jewish law imposes a limit on them no less than on other Jews as to the percent of their income that they may donate to charity — specifically, 20 percent of their income. So although physicians have some responsibility to care for others gratis or at reduced rates, they alone cannot be expected to bear the burden of financing health care.
Individuals also bear some of the responsibility for paying for their own medical care, as they do for their ransom: "If someone is taken captive and he has property but does not want to redeem himself, we redeem him [with the money his property will bring] against his will."
Although this source speaks of redemption from captivity and not health care, the duty to redeem captives is based on the danger to their lives in captivity, and thus this is a reasonable source for determining that an individual has a financial responsibility for his or her own health care. Moreover, one must pay for one's own health care before one pays for anyone else's, for saving one's own life takes precedence over saving anyone else's.
In addition to paying for his own health care, a man assumes an explicit obligation in marriage, according to Jewish law, to pay for the medical care of his wife, children and other relatives if they cannot care for themselves. Once again, the precedent for this comes from the laws of redemption from captivity: A father must redeem his son if the father has money but the son does not. A gloss, by Rabbi Moses Isserles: "And the same is true for one relative redeeming another, the closer relative comes first, for all of them may not enrich themselves and thrust the [redemption of] their relatives on the community."
In today's more egalitarian society, this would presumably mean that spouses of either gender have responsibility for the health care of each other and of their children.
The immediate implication of these teachings is that one may not preserve the family fortune and make the Jewish community or the government pay for one's health care, except to the extent that the government itself makes provision for all sick, elderly citizens in programs like Medicare without restrictions as to a person's income or estate. Options can include using one's own assets or buying a health insurance policy, either privately or through one's employer. Public aid, though, is limited to when and if one qualifies for aid to the poor through programs like Medicaid, or for the elderly, like Medicare.
The individual also has a duty to contribute to the medical care of others besides one's family. Although this is never spelled out in just those words, the Rabbis, as we have seen, see the absence of health care as shedding blood. Since the physician alone cannot be expected to bear the costs of health care for those who cannot afford it, this duty devolves upon the community, and the costs of health care for the poor become part of the charity one must give. Maimonides asserts: "If a person wants to give no charity at all, or less than is fitting for him, the court compels him and flogs him for disobedience until he gives as much as the court estimates is proper. The court may even seize his property in his presence and take from him what it is proper for that person to give. It may pawn possessions for purposes of charity, even on the eve of the Sabbath."
Thus, with donations from, or taxes on, its members, the community as a whole has the duty to pay for the health care of those who cannot afford it themselves. In medieval Spain, for example, Jews played a prominent role in the state's program of socialized medicine, while in other places, Jewish communities, on their own, hired surgeons, physicians, nurses and midwives among their staff of salaried servants. Whatever the arrangement, the community as well as individual doctors were under the obligation to heal, and that was taken very seriously.
In turn, the community must use its resources wisely, a demand that can serve as the moral basis within the Jewish tradition for some system of triage. The community must balance its commitments to afford health care with the provision of other services. The Talmud lists 10 such services: "It has been taught: A scholar should not reside in a city where the following 10 things are not found: (1) A court of justice that can impose flagellation and monetary penalties; (2) a charity fund, collected by two people and distributed by three [to ensure honesty and wise policies of distribution]; (3) a synagogue; (4) public baths; (5) toilet facilities; (6) a circumciser (mohel); (7) a surgeon; (8) a notary [for writing official documents]; (9) a slaughterer (shohet); and (10) a school-master. Rabbi Akiba is quoted [as including] also several kinds of fruit [in the list] because they are beneficial for eyesight."
Several items here are relevant to health care. Since there was no indoor plumbing then — actually until the 19th or even 20th century in many places — it was important for purposes of public health to have public baths and toilet facilities. The "surgeon" mentioned in the list was the person who could perform the most important form of curative care known at the time — letting blood. Finally, Rabbi Akiba's addendum concerns one's ability to procure healthy foods in the town, recognition that our choice of food is important on a preventive basis in assuring health. Because no community's resources are limitless, and because social needs other than health care must also be met, the community must ensure that those who receive public assistance for health care deserve it.
Thus, if a person repeatedly endangers his or her health through practices known to constitute major risks, such as smoking, drug or alcohol abuse, or overeating, the community may decide to impose a limit on the public resources that such a person can call upon to finance the curative procedures she or he needs as a consequence of these unhealthful habits. The legitimacy of the community enforcing such limits is established in Jewish sources with regard to captivity, the case that has served as the paradigm for many of the rules of assessment of cost throughout this essay: "He who sold himself to a non-Jew or borrowed money from them, and they took him captive for his debt, if it happens once or twice, we redeem him, but the third time we do not redeem him…. But if they sought to kill him, we redeem him even if it is after many times."
Everyone is assisted in overcoming the consequences of the first and perhaps even the second indiscretion that endangers the person's life, but beyond that the community no longer has the duty to act.
Even when the person will definitely die unless something drastic is done, the community has the right to assess the chances of success before deciding to expend the resources. The Shulchan Arukh assumes that a high enough ransom will surely redeem the captive, even after many times, but some medical procedures do not carry that certainty. So, for example, smokers cannot rightfully expect the community to pay for repeated lung transplants, and alcoholics may not call upon the community to pay for repeated liver transplants. Indeed, in light of the shortage of organs for transplant, the cost of the procedure, and the bad prognosis for smokers and alcoholics to benefit significantly from such transplants, current medical practice denies them even one transplant. This policy is warranted from the standpoint of Jewish law: Individuals must take responsibility for the consequences of their behavior, especially after being duly warned through captivity, sickness, or, in our time, education.
Of course, those who have no resources to pay for health care may accept public assistance to procure it. In fact, they must do so, for to refuse needed care is to endanger their lives, which is, for Jewish law, tantamount to committing suicide. Still, the Shulchan Arukh strongly condemns those who use public funds for their health care when they do not need to do so, and it appreciates those who postpone calling upon the public purse for as long as possible: "Whoever cannot live unless he takes charity — for example, an elderly person or a sick person or a suffering person — but he forces himself not to take [communal funds] is like one who sheds blood [namely, his own] and he is liable for his own life, and his pain is only the product of sin and transgression. But anyone who needs to take [charity] but puts himself instead into a position of pain and pushes off the time [when he takes charity] and lives a life of pain so that he will not burden the community will not die until he sustains others, and about him Scripture says, 'Blessed is the man who trusts in God.'"
Conversely, unless a given drug or medical procedure is so scarce that the government has put limits on who may obtain it even with their own money, individual patients who have the money to afford something that the government or their private plan does not provide may decide to pay for the drug or procedure privately. Individuals are free to spend as much of their own funds as they wish to redeem themselves or their relatives: "We do not redeem captives for more than their worth out of considerations of fixing the world, so that the enemies will not dedicate themselves to take them [Jews] captive. An individual, however, may redeem himself for as much as he would like…."
This could seem unfair, but it is only the unfairness built into any capitalist system. Jewish sources do not require that Jews use socialism as their form of government or their rule for distributing and charging goods.

Applying the Tradition to Contemporary America
On the basis of these Jewish sources, the entire community is responsible to ensure that all its members receive the health care they need. This does not mean that everyone should get every possible treatment, no matter how remote its possibility of benefit or how high its cost. The community has both the right and the duty to make considered decisions about how it will allocate its resources among its various responsibilities.
Those who can benefit most from the procedure must come first, and then first-come, first-served, regardless of social position, wealth, or relationships to the health care personnel involved. Jewish principles justify concern for the people of one's own nation first in such procedures as the supply of organs for transplant and of rare, new drugs, unless international agreements can be reached to provide medical services, for example, to the citizens of any nation visiting another or in the organ transplant supply based on need, not nationality. It is only absent such agreements that concern for one's own can legitimately come first.
The Jewish demand that everyone have access to health care does not necessarily mandate a particular form of delivery, such as socialized medicine or government-sponsored health insurance for those who cannot afford private plans. Any delivery system that provides basic needs will meet these Jewish standards. Thus, while President Obama's original proposal for government-sponsored health insurance for those who cannot obtain or afford private insurance would surely fit Jewish criteria for meeting communal responsibility, so too would any other mechanism that provides basic minimum health care to everyone.
The fact, however, that more than 40 million Americans have no health insurance is, from a Jewish point of view, an intolerable dereliction of society's moral duty. The Torah, the Prophets, and the Rabbis of our tradition all loudly proclaim that God commands us to take care of the poor, the starving and the sick. Given the current costs of health care, almost all of us fall into that category. On both moral and religious grounds, then, we simply cannot let the present condition continue; we are duty-bound to find a way to afford health care for all American citizens.
A pragmatic concern also requires that we act now. The fact that some of those people will ultimately get health care in the most expensive way possible — namely, in the emergency room, usually when they are sickest — means that the United States is currently neglecting its fiduciary responsibility to spend its communal resources wisely. We Americans spend about 15 percent of the gross national product on health care; our Canadian, Western European and Israeli friends spend about half that — 8 percent. Yet their morbidity and mortality rates are much lower than ours. Yes, they give up some of their autonomy in their health care, but the vast majority of Americans have very little choice now. We get what our employer provides — no more, no less.
It is time that we carry out our Jewish duty to manage our resources wisely as well as our obligation to provide health care for everyone. How we do that is a legitimate topic for debate, but we simply must do it.

Rabbi Elliot N. Dorff is the Distinguished Professor of Philosophy at American Jewish University and chair of the Conservative movement's Committee on Jewish Law and Standards.

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If you can't get out of it, get into it.

2009-09-07T19:50:00.005-04:00

I'm reading a book by Parker Palmer called, "The Active Life." It was a gift from a friend when I left my former congregation. He speaks about becoming a more complete and fulfilled person, not through quiet meditation and contemplation but rather, by living a life of action.

In one of the first chapters Parker tells a story of being on an outward bound course. While repelling down a cliff face, he finally gave into his fears and leaned way back. When he came to a huge opening in the rock wall and began to freeze, the instructor called up and said, "Now it's time for you to learn the Outward Bound motto: 'If you can't get out of it, get into it.'" For me, that sums up a lot of where it feels like I am in my life at this time. So I'll try to practice this motto. I guess in a Jewish way it's a reminder to live Hineini.

But an earlier statement of his caught my attention. He spoke of going to Outward Bound in his early 40's, at a time of life when monsters abound. Well I'm in my early 40's. What sort of monsters abound? If I am being really honest, I guess there are monsters that ask, "is this what my life is going to look like?" Monsters about career choices, where I'm living, who I'm married to, how I'm behaving as a dad, a husband, a son. I guess that the monsters are ones connected to notions of self-worth and self-esteem. You look around and see what cars your peers are driving, the houses they live in and the vacations they take. You wonder if you'll ever have that and why you won't. You question some of the choices you've made - not at all in a negative way but just a natural questioning way. And I guess that the monsters are ones of envy, suspicion, and a feeling that "it's over," that you won't get the opportunity for adventure, starting over, and hitting the open road as you once might have. Those are probably some of the monsters.

Which got me to thinking. Forty is the age Jewish tradition says you can begin the study of Kabbalah. The Sages state that it is "only at the age of 40 that the disciple is fit to understand properly the thought of his master," for "40 years is the age of wisdom." That is why, in general, the kabbalists prefer to "transmit" their teaching to disciples who are at least 40 years old. In their opinion, at that age the human soul becomes spiritually mature. The Hebrew word 'neshamah,' soul, confirms this; the letters which compose it also make up the words 'mem shanah,' 40 years. (from Torah.org - http://www.torah.org/features/spirfocus/kabbalah.html)

The reason I usually give is that by age 40, one has (hopefully) spent a long period studying Torah and other sacred texts (or in a secular vein, has become very specialized in a particular field) and so is quite grounded in tradition. Since Kabbalah takes one on a mystical journey, one must not begin such a journey unless he (or she) is sufficiently grounded and ready (to use the metaphor of a forty year journey through the wilderness or a forty day period on top of a mountain, one has reached the end of a particular stage) for the next stage of one's journey. Similarly, since mystical texts get to the heart of the reason for many mitzvot and might even lead one to contemplate reforming the commandments (a shanda, says the Reform rabbi) or realizing one need not observe them at all, it was felt that by age forty, one would be grounded enough in both the teachings of Judaism and in one's own idenity to not be swayed, or as the above Torah.org statement called it, "spiritually mature."

Yet Parker Palmer's statement of one's early forties as a time when monsters about got me thinking. Maybe the reason why one would begin the study of Kabbalah at age forty is precisely because it gives one the tools to battle the monsters. It teaches one how to lead an active life and grounds one in spiritual practices that assists in confronting and battling those monsters, no matter how powerful they might be. Because the truth might be that in our early forties, we are really quite spiritually immature.

As a man in my early forties, that's reason enough for me. And so too is the Outward Bound mantra, "if you can't get out of it, get into it."

Inglorious Basterds - Is it Jewish?

2009-09-07T18:05:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been in one of those "what if?" situations? A movie I saw the other night was filled with them.

While watching Inglorious Basterds I felt like the Jewish 12 year old who had been raised to think that the entire world was out to get us, and finally I was getting revenge. It felt great. I also felt like I was right back in youth group when we had late night discussions that included, "if you were walking down the street and saw Hitler coming toward you, what would you do?" As the theater burned and the entire Nazi establishment went down in flames (sorry for giving it away) I cheered a little inside. What Jewish kid wouldn't want the opportunity to take Hitler out. It was like Quentin Teratino had played into every Jew's imagination and dark side. I can only imagine the Weinstein Bros. (the Exec. producers) reaction when Teratino first tried to sell the script. "Yes. Finally they get what's coming. Finally, we come out victorious." So there I sat, feelings of glee and revenge welling up inside.

And as the credits began to roll I felt a little guilty. Is revenge a Jewish value? What about wishing someone dead? Doesn't religion preach pacifism? What am I, a rabbi, doing cheering on the death of someone else. The Talmudic story of Rabbi Meir and his wife Beruriah crept into my mind. It goes like this: There were once some thugs in the neighbourhood of Rabbi Meir who caused him great distress. He accordingly prayed that they should die. His wife Beruriah said to him, “How can you think that such a prayer should be permitted, considering it is written, ‘Let sins [chatta‘im] cease’. Is it written ‘Let sinners [chot’im] cease!? [No] it is written sins [chatta‘im]! Furthermore, look at the end of the verse ‘and let wicked men be no more.’ Since the sins will cease, there will be no more wicked peple! Rather pray for them that they should repent, and there will be no more wicked people.” He did pray for them and they repented. (Talmud Berakhot 10a) Is revenge a male trait while forgiveness, compassion and understanding a female one?

I once learned that unlike Christianity, Judaism does not condone turning the other cheek. As someone pointed out, when you turn the other cheek, you expose it to be struck, just like the first. Judaism condones striking back, even pre-empting in cases of self defense.

So what does Judaism say about revenge? The Torah strictly warns us against taking revenge: “Don’t take vengeance and don’t bear a grudge against the members of your nation; love your neighbor as yourself”. (Leviticus 19:18.) But isn't revenge permissible when we need to protect our rights? Is there a distinction between a case where it's a personal issue vs. a national one?
Our sources tell us that we should do all we can to let cooler heads prevail (hence Beruriah's teaching) and to refrain from any action but should keep the matter in mind, even maintaining cool relations until the other person has asked for forgiveness.

What about those cases in Scripture where we find that vengeance is proper? For example, the children of Israel are ordered to attack the Midianites in revenge for their aggression (Numbers 31:2); and Samson is granted Divine assistance when seeks vengeance against the Philistines for the loss of his eyes (Judges 16:28). The distinction is clear: in these cases the leaders of the people are not being petty or vindictive for their own private honor, but rather are defending the honor as well as the safety and well-being of the entire people. (you can learn more from the Jewish Ethicist at: http://www.aish.com/ci/be/48881912.html)

But there is another possible understanding of how to legitimize what I saw and my feelings. The Torah and Jewish tradition has something known as the law of the rodef or the law of the pursuer or the law of the rodef. A rodef (Hebrew רודף, lit. "pursuer"; pl. רודפים, rodefim), in traditional Jewish law, is one who is "pursuing" another to murder him or her. According to Jewish law, such a person must be killed by any bystander after being warned to stop and refusing. The source for this law is the Tractate Sanhedrin in the Babylonian Talmud, page 73a, which begins:

And these are the ones whom one must save even with their lives [i.e., killing the wrongdoer]: one who pursues his fellow to kill him [rodef akhar khaveiro lehargo], and after a male or a bethrothed maiden [to rape them]; but one who pursues an animal, or desecrates the Sabbath, or commits idolatry are not saved with their lives.

So... if I were one of these solidiers in Inglorious Basterds how would I justify my actions? Through the law of the rodef and are defending the honor as well as the safety and well-being of the entire people.

As far as the movie, what did I think? Well, I'm no critic but it was classic Taratino. Snappy dialogue, great cameos and lots of blood. Well worth the price of admission.

May Peace Be With You

2009-06-09T23:15:00.000-04:00

I set up this blog years ago (or at least it feels that way) but I never made the time to actually write anything. My hope is to change that. My goal (and dream) is to write for 20-30 minutes a week and see where it gets me. Musings of the Ryer Rebbe. Writings based on spiritual experiences and encounters I have. This way I'll recall them. Perhaps you'll see yourself reflected back. All this is part of my dream to create a Judaism that is meaningful, that empowers others to lead Jewish lives that are authentic to themselves, and to foster the creation of transformative memories through study, worship and the practice of acts of loving kindness (tikun, hesed, gemilut chasadim)

So here goes.

Over the past couple of days, I attended a seminar of STAR (Synagogue Transformation and Renewal) called Good to Great Rabbis. It's goal is to give rabbis the tools to transform their rabbinates from merely good to great. Simply, the formula for greatness is: Big Dreams (based i God, Torah, Israel and Community) + Competence/Ability (made up of self awareness, self-care, roles (skills), and relationships) = Greatness. So I'm learning, thinking, reflecting and trying my best to articulate my Big Dream and the action plan to come from that. But that's not the focus of this post.

On Monday, June 8, the moon was full. It was the 16th of Iyar. That date on the Hebrew calendar is my sister's yahrzeit. Naomi died of a brain tumor four years ago (on June 23 in the Gregorian calendar). I knew I was going to be in this setting for her yahrzeit. I also knew that I would have many opportunities for prayer and for saying kaddish.

Following the way Jews tell time (days begin the evening before at sundown), I said Kaddish for Naomi at the Ma'ariv service on Sunday, June 7 and then at both Shacharit and Mincha on Monday. It was also personally intersting that since, by sheer luck, those services were led by Conservative rabbis, that no one asked for the names of mourners. If you had kaddish to say, you just stood. No one asked me for whom I was saying kaddish. I did it and it was nice to have something that was mind amidst all this work going from Good to Great.

When we came to mincha I suddenly realized that this would be the last time I would say kaddish for Naomi for an entire year. I was overcome with sadness but also with calm. As I came closer to the end of the Kaddish Yatom, I said, "See you later Naomi. I'll see you in a year." It was a peaceful thing to say and do. It also reminded me that while she is dead, I am here among the living and I have a lot of living that needs doing. And finally, I know that a year from now, I'll be back to visit with my sister. As I later told the group (and they thanked me for sharing and feeling safe enough to do so) they gave me an enourmous gift of getting to be with my sister for the whole day. How often do I (or any of us) pray Ma'ariv, Shacharit and Mincah in the same day. For me, the answer has been never. This year, on this day, I got to be with my sister for the whole day and then to wish her well.

As we said, "Oseh Shalom" I was reminded of a teaching by my friend Rabbi Zoe Klein. She once said that if God has to create peace in the heavens before bringing that peace to us, then perhaps it's not so peaceful in heaven. And that peace has to be creatd. Like Shabbat, it takes effort to create peace or rest. It doesn't mean, "do nothing" In both cases, one has to work.

but the message of Oseh Shalom this year was different. This year I understood it as, "Naomi is creating a peaceful place for herself in the high heavens (the meromam) and so I pray to God to allow that same peace that is created for her to decend on us, on our family, on our friends and onto our communities.

It worked for me this year. It reminds me that I can begin to approach the saying of kaddish with a sense of shalom and not a sense of yirah (fear, awe, magesty) and apprehension. That is very freeing. And maybe we need to bring some people together to talk about changes in worship and how others are dealing with it. But for this year I am goint ot take comfort in that I had the honor and privledge of spending an entire day with Naomi and for keeping her with me.