Kol Nidre Sermon -- Identity -- Jewish and American

35 years ago or so, my father was visiting me while I was spending a year studying in Jerusalem, and I decided to take him for the most authentic Jerusalem experience possible -- a Betar Yerushalayim soccer game. Jerusalem has two teams, HaPoel and Betar, but Betar is usually the better team. HaPoel fans tends to be wealthier and Ashkenazi; Betar fans are generally less well-off and Mizrachi -- in other words, of Middle Eastern background. My dad, who grew up in a Yiddish speaking home with two Eastern European-born parents, looked at the crowd and asked me why there were so many Arabs at the game. I said to him that they weren’t Arabs, they were Jews of Moroccan, Iraqi, Yemenite or Persian background. In fact, given the leanings of most Betar fans, an Arab would be uncomfortable if not actually unsafe at a Betar game. He still had a bit of trouble digesting this information, and finally he asked me “how did they get so dark?” I responded -- “wrong question, Dad. How did we get so light?” We tend to assume that  our people look like the people we know, that they look like us. But the reality is often more complicated.

If you read the kinds of magazines and website and discussion groups which I as a rabbi read, you may have seen some discussion in the last few months of the question: “are Jews White?” While I understand the motivation for the question, I think the answer is actually very simple. Some Jews are White, and some Jews aren’t. Jews come in many different hues.

It was not so long ago that a rabbi whose spouse was a convert to Judaism would be advised by the Rabbinical Placement Commission that this could be a problem for some congregations. I was told that it was best to get the issue on the table as soon as possible in a roundabout way. That I could say “as a rabbi whose wife is a convert, I think it’s very important we work to make converts feel as comfortable as possible.” That way, it was out there, and if it was a congregation that wasn’t welcoming of converts, both sides would be aware that it was probably not going to be a good match.

Virtually every person who has converted to Judaism has had the experience of being told “you’re not really Jewish.” Sometimes it’s because someone converted in one movement of Judaism and an adherent of another movement doesn’t accept the validity of the conversion. But just as often, it’s because somehow many born Jews don’t really accept or understand the concept of conversion. Since for born Jews being Jewish may well be primarily about a common ancestry, a common history, and certain cultural markers, it stands to reason that you can’t really become Jewish, you’re either born into it or not. To such a person, someone can no more become Jewish than I could become Chinese.

Believe it or not, this issue was addressed almost 900 years ago by Maimonides. He was asked a question by a man who is known to history as “Obadiah the Proselyte” about whether or not he should say certain prayers. “You ask me if you, too, are allowed to say in the blessings and prayers you offer alone or in the congregation: “Our God” and “God of our ancestors,” “You who have sanctified us through Your commandments,” “You who have separated us,” “You who have chosen us,” “You who have inherited us,” “You who have brought us out of the land of Egypt,” “You who have worked miracles to our ancestors,” and more of this kind.”

Maimonides responded: “Yes, you may say all this in the prescribed order and not change it in the least. In the same way as every Jew by birth says his blessing and prayer, you, too, shall bless and pray alike, whether you are alone or pray in the congregation. Abraham our Father, peace be with him, is the father of his pious posterity who keep his ways, and the father of his disciples and of all proselytes who adopt Judaism.

Therefore you shall pray, “Our God” and “God of our fathers,” because Abraham, peace be with him, is your father.

Do not consider your origin as inferior. While we are the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, you derive from Him through whose word the world was created. As is said by Isaiah: “One shall say, I am the Lord’s, and another shall call himself by the name of Jacob” (Is. 44:5).

Maimonides makes it very clear. You can be a Jew because you are biologically descended from our patriarchs and matriarchs and centuries of Jewish ancestors. Or you can be a Jew because, even though not born a Jew, you have attached yourself to the Jewish people and the Jewish way of life. Obadiah the Proselyte was concerned because he was not biologically descended from Abraham and Sarah, but Maimonides assured him that in becoming a Jew, our story became his story and our ancestors became his ancestors as well.

Is this really possible? Can a story from prior generations really become ours even if our ancestors were not a part of it?

When I was a kid in Hebrew school, every once in a while we would discuss the question: “are you an American Jew or a Jewish American?” But as I get older I realized that it’s actually a question which is impossible to answer. Identity is incredibly complex and most of us have many different affiliations which impact each other in interesting ways. This is true for us as we consider what it means to be a Jew, but it’s no less true as we consider what it means to be an American -- let alone an American Jew or a Jewish American.

For me, there is no place in the DC area more moving and more emotional than the Lincoln Memorial. There are so many historic associations with that place. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, Inaugural concerts, the legendary Marian Anderson concert after she was denied use of DAR Constitution Hall due to her race, and even a scene from the movie “Hair” in which I was one of tens of thousands of extras.

But what’s most moving about the Lincoln Memorial is of course the man and the story it memorializes. Our nation torn asunder, both sides deeply flawed, but one side nevertheless fighting to preserve the Union and the ideals it stood for even if imperfectly implemented, the other side fighting to preserve, as Lincoln himself said, the right to wring their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces. And Lincoln himself, making compromises with which he himself was sometimes uncomfortable, holding our country together and paying for it with his life.

And this story moves me so deeply, that even though I have visited the Lincoln Memorial at least a dozen times over the course of my life, every time I do so I cry. It’s story is my story, the words carved in its walls are part of my sacred canon. And yet, here is the odd thing. Not a single one of my ancestors lived in this country when Lincoln was President; they didn’t get here until at least 30 years later. None of my ancestors wore the Union blue or the Confederate grey, but when I visit Gettysburg I am as haunted by the ghosts there as any other American is. And who among us chooses to forego celebrating Thanksgiving because we aren’t Mayflower descendants? Their story has become our story.

Why is this so? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, emeritus Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, has written extensively about the influence of Jewish ideas on Western and particularly American civilization. Rabbi Sacks writes that the United States is a “covenantal polity.” Our Founding Fathers -- by which he means not only those who wrote the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution but also other documents such as the Mayflower Compact -- “not only conceived of civil society in covenantal terms, but actually wrote national covenants to which loyal members of the body politic subscribed.  Covenant is central to the emergence of free societies in the West.”

Rabbi Sacks contrasts the origins of the United States with most of the countries of Europe, for example. Although this is starting to change at least on a legal level, in most European societies what makes you a part of that society is mostly ancestry. I had relatives, now deceased, who survived the Holocaust and immigrated to France at the end of World War II. They left France in the 1960s because they came to believe that no matter how French they tried to become, they would never be accepted as French. To be truly French is not just a matter of citizenship or language. If your ancestors haven’t lived in France for centuries, if your background is not Catholic but rather Jewish or for that matter Muslim, many French will never accept you as being really French.

We Americans have flirted with this idea, known as nativism, from time to time. Many Americans don’t know this, but there is a long history of anti-Catholic prejudice in the United States. The ironically-named Native American Party, more commonly known as the Know Nothings, operated in the 1850s and opposed all immigration but especially that by Catholics. The Know Nothings believed that a Catholic could not be a true American, due to his or her loyalty to the Pope.

But by the 1930s Catholics were well enough accepted that some of them could jump on the nativist bandwagon. The famous radio priest, Father Charles Coughlin, regularly attacked immigrants -- although he was one himself, having been born in Canada -- and especially Jews. He said that Soviet communism was a Jewish plot and supported Hitler and Mussolini as bulwarks against it; under the slogan of “America First” he charged that Jews were trying to force the United States into World War II, a war that was not the business of the United States. In 1939, the Church hierarchy had had enough and forced him off the airwaves.

On Yom Kippur our ancestors practiced, and in the absence of the Temple we read about, the scapegoat ritual. Many ancient societies would choose a human sacrificial victim to bear the sins and evils of society. Our Torah had the humanity and the wisdom to substitute a goat instead. But the secular practice of scapegoating continues, especially when times are tough. Most often it has been the Jews who are society’s scapegoats, and the Nazi-KKK march in Charlottesville taught us that there are still those who seek to blame us for society’s ills. But more often in this day and age those who are scapegoated are immigrants. This despite the fact that for the last several years more undocumented immigrants have voluntarily left this country than have entered it. Despite the fact that immigrants have a lower crime rate and a lower incarceration rate than citizens. Despite the fact that the jobs immigrants occupy, whether as migrant farm workers or rural physicians, otherwise go unfilled because Americans either don’t want or aren’t qualified for them. When people are scared, it is often perception more than fact which motivates them.

But by and large Americans of all religions and all political views have rejected scapegoating. We know that society’s ills are not caused by any particular religious or ethnic group and they won’t be solved by blaming or getting rid of any particular religious or ethnic group. They are solved by working together, by listening to each other, and by having open hearts and open minds. And by realizing that “real Americans”, like “real Jews”, come in many hues and from many different backgrounds.

Opening one’s mind is not always so easy. I can testify to this from personal experience. As both Americans and as Jews, we have inherited legal traditions which at their best provide guidance for every moment of life. As a Conservative rabbi I’m committed to working within that tradition. But as I wrote to you this summer after my mother passed away, there are times when the legal tradition simply doesn’t work well because it makes certain assumptions that were probably valid in previous generations but no longer are, due to societal change.

The Jewish people has always been small in number -- even in the Torah, the same God who promises Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars also says he chose us as the bearers of divine revelation despite the fact that we are the least numerous nation on the face of the Earth. Our fears for our future as a people have always been there, and they were exacerbated by the loss of six million of our brothers and sisters in the Shoah. We still haven’t replaced their loss -- there are still today fewer Jews in the world than there were in 1939. The only way our people will continue its existence is for parents to create and raise Jewish families.

But what is a Jewish family? When I was younger the answer was obvious: a Jewish woman married to a Jewish man raising Jewish kids. But today Jewish families come in many different combinations. Jewish women married to Jewish men, for sure; but also two Jewish women or two Jewish men. Single parent families, blended families. But also: a Jew married to someone who isn’t Jewish, yet they have made the decision to have a Jewish home life and raise Jewish kids. These non-Jewish parents of Jewish kids are the unsung heroes of Jewish life. They shlep and they carpool and they work to pay tuition and synagogue dues. They learn Hebrew so they can help their kids with Hebrew school homework, they learn the rules of kashrut and they learn to make latkes and charoset and matzoh brei. And they do this, in many cases, despite the messages that our movement and our community sends to them that they aren’t really wanted; despite policies -- which thankfully we no longer follow -- preventing them from even having their names listed in synagogue directories or having synagogue mailings addressed to both members of the couple. Our message needs to be: if you’re a parent raising Jewish kids, you’re a part of our community and we appreciate and value your participation. If you want to join us in a formal way, we will make that process as smooth and painless as possible; but if you feel that you don’t wish to or can’t for whatever reason, that’s okay too.

If the notion of who is a Jew or who constitutes a Jewish family is in flux, so is the notion of who is really an American. I firmly believe that most Americans reject nativism and understand that people of any race, religion, ethnicity or orientation can be a part of our American collectivity. What makes you an American is fidelity to a certain set of ideals and a desire to make the American story your own even if it wasn’t that of your ancestors. But there is a legal element as well, and this is where things get complicated. Because sometimes people are brought to this country as children by parents or other relatives who lack legal residency. These kids grow up here, they go to school here, they are your neighbors, the nurse in your doctor’s office, your kids teacher. They may even, like 31 year-old Alfonso Guillen of Lufkin, Texas, have lost their lives going from house to house in a small boat trying to rescue people from Hurricane Harvey. Many of them speak only English and have no memory of their lives in any other country. Because of their parents’ actions, these young men and women now face being uprooted from their homes, their families, and their communities. This shouldn’t be considered a political issue; it’s a human and a moral issue and regardless of your stand on larger questions of immigration, a fix needs to be found for this problem.

During the Days of Awe, we ask God to have mercy on us. Let us act with mercy towards others. We ask God to understand us. Let us seek to understand others. We ask God to listen to us. Let us listen to others. Other Jews may or may not look like us, speak like us, behave like us -- but together we are building the Jewish future. Other Americans may or may not look like us, speak like us, or behave like us -- but together, we are building the American future.

May our people and our country be a blessing in the coming year. Amen.

Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5778

Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5778

Kehilat Shalom

Rabbi Charles L. Arian

What makes pizza, pizza?

What blessing should Jews say before eating pizza? Why?

A number of years ago I read an article in a rabbinic journal discussing this question. In order to answer this question you first have to decide what is the “ikar”, the main essence, of pizza. Is it the crust, or is it the cheese and sauce? The author decided that the crust is what makes pizza, pizza. But that alone doesn’t settle the question, because for grain products that are like bread but not actually bread, you still say the hamotzi blessing if it’s a meal but “borei mini mezonot,” the blessing for pastry and cake, if it’s a snack. Is one slice of pizza a meal, or a snack? So here we need to know not only halacha, Jewish law, but also certain facts on the ground. It’s not a simple question.

The author decided that whether pizza is a meal or a snack could change depending on geography. In Boston, where he lived, one slice of pizza could be a snack because the slices there are relatively small. But New York slices are bigger and even one slice would be considered a meal. So one slice of pizza in Boston is mezonot but more than one is hamotzi. In New York, even one slice is hamotzi.

Admittedly the whole matter can get a little obsessive. Nevertheless,  I do believe that the concept of saying a b’racha before we eat or drink is important. But, we need to understand not only what we say but why we say it.

The whole reason for blessings is to instill gratitude and awareness that what we have is a gift from God. The Talmud in Berachot 35a discusses the question of why we are obligated to say a blessing and states that “anyone who enjoys any of the good things in this world, and doesn’t say a blessing, is, as it were, stealing from God.” In other words, what God provides for us has a price tag. The purchase price is a b’racha.

This is perhaps self-evident if you have a traditional theology and believe in an omnipotent God. But if you have a more naturalistic theology, if you believe along with Rabbi Harold Kushner that God set the world in motion and does not intervene, this becomes theologically problematic. You have probably heard me say from this pulpit that the bad things that have happened -- whether it be natural disasters or tragic deaths -- were not caused by God and that God cries along with us when these things happen. But if we don’t blame God for the bad stuff, why should we thank Him for the good stuff? It does seem somewhat inconsistent.

This dilemma first occurred to me more than 30 years ago when my very old Datsun B-210 broke down. At the time I was going to rabbinical school in Cincinnati and I was teaching a class at Denison University in Granville, Ohio -- 140 miles away. This was well before the era of cellphones. When my car started making funny noises and losing power, I pulled off of I-71. When the car finally stopped altogether it was right in front of a Protestant church, and I managed to coast into the church parking lot. I went inside, explained to the secretary who I was and what had happened, and she couldn’t have been nicer or more helpful. She made sure someone gave me a ride to my class and that the car was towed to a mechanic with a reputation for honesty. When I finally got back to Cincinnati I told my classmates that I wasn’t sure whether I should be mad at God that my car broke down; or grateful to God that it broke down in a place where people were willing to help me. And then I realized that neither one really made complete sense. I don’t really believe that God had very much to do with my car breaking down. I just don’t think the world works that way.

So if I hold that God is not responsible for what happens to us on a day-to-day basis, why do I nevertheless think it’s important to thank God for the good things we enjoy in life?

The answer, I think, has to do with what kind of person  we want to be. In Deuteronomy chapter 8, we read “when you have eaten and been satisfied, you shall bless Adonai your God.” Eat, be satisfied, and bless -- in that order -- which is why we have Grace After Meals. The commentary Merotz Hatzvi says “If one wishes to be satisfied by the results of his labors, if he believes in the Almighty and blesses Him for all he has received, then - he will be sated and satisfied. But if he believes that only his own efforts have brought him his success, he will never be satisfied, as it is written (Proverbs 13:25): “the belly of the wicked is never satisfied.” I would frankly rather be the type of person who does not get angry at God when bad things happen but expresses gratitude to God when good things happen. I think that is the kind of person who is happiest and most pleasant to be around. Conversely, we all know people who never have enough wealth or power or fame, who believe that they are self-made men and worship their creator.

A few years ago at a Rotary Club meeting in Norwich, CT, I met a young man from a nearby town by the name of Dan Holdridge. Dan was working as a civilian IT contractor at the Pentagon on the morning of September 11, 2001. Although he was not a smoker, his work partner was, so Dan accompanied him to the courtyard for a smoke break. When American Airlines flight 77 hit the Pentagon, Dan would have been killed if he had been at his desk. Everyone he worked with, except that one colleague, was killed. Dan was injured.

A few days after 9/11 Dan came back home to Connecticut to recuperate. Dan’s body soon healed but his spirit and soul were shattered. Dan experienced what we know as “survivor’s guilt.” Why did I survive when so many others did not? He threw himself into his work and into volunteer activities, but he still felt empty inside.  He explains that through psychological counseling and involvement in his church, he figured out why he felt so empty and how he could begin to get his life back on track.

There were a few things Dan needed to do, he wrote in his book “Pentagon Prayer,” that would let him put his life back together. One was to give up on his anger. “I have to let go of my anger and hatred for the terrorists. It is eating me up inside and keeping me from moving on. . . If I can do it, they lose their power over me. If I can let go of this anger, I can regain control. I’m going to try.”

I should add that I don’t believe that Dan is saying that the world would be a perfect place if we all just laid down our arms, grabbed hands and sang “Kumbaya.” I think what he is saying is that if we let our anger and resentment control us, those who have hurt us continue to set our agenda and hurt us again and again. Hate can become an all-consuming emotion that prevents us from truly living.

Beyond letting go of his anger, Dan writes that the second key to his inner healing was to learn to appreciate what he still had. He wrote that surviving 9/11 gave him a new understanding of life and the world. It gave him the gift of appreciation. “I now have the ability to be thankful for everything that I have. And I appreciate that. . . Others have the same experience every day. If you want to appreciate life, go volunteer at an oncology ward. Go see people fighting for their lives. Do you think you’re entitled to three square meals a day? Go volunteer at a soup kitchen and watch people appreciate every bite of food. That’s what life is.”

No one ever wants to suffer tragedy, but tragedy can be an opportunity to learn and to grow. In 31 years as a rabbi, I have spoken with a lot of congregants who are suffering from cancer, and their families. It is never an easy thing, but I have often been amazed and appreciative of the bravery and the grace with which so many of those suffering from cancer deal with their illness.

But dealing as a rabbi with a congregant who is fighting cancer, is different than dealing as a son with a mother who is fighting cancer. You all know that my mother passed away in July.  What you might not know is that for six years she lived with a very rare and aggressive form of thyroid cancer -- so rare, in fact, that only 300 cases of it are diagnosed in this country every year. When she was first diagnosed, tests seemed to indicate that pursuing treatment was pointless and her best option was simply to set her affairs in order and enjoy whatever time she had left. Subsequent tests changed things somewhat and ultimately she did decide to pursue treatment. Unfortunately, the treatment itself almost killed her and she asked that it be stopped; she nevertheless survived for almost six more years.

While she was trying to figure out her next step my Mom said something interesting to me. I knew that when I was fifteen she had surgery for an ocular melanoma as a result of which she was blind in one eye. But at the time she had that illness I was on a six-week  teen program in Israel, cellphones had not yet been invented, international phone calls were expensive and pay phones in Israel somewhat scarce, so I guess I never really realized how sick my mother was at the time. At any rate, about six years ago in the hospital she explained to me why she was facing the prospect of death with a sense of calm acceptance.

“When I was 40, I was told that I had six months to live,” she said to me. “That was thirty-six years ago. I got thirty-six extra years, and I enjoyed every day of them, and I was grateful for every day of them.” It is that sense of gratitude which gave her the ability to accept whatever was coming her way with a certain interior calm, and to face her death some six years later, after declining treatment for a recurrence of her cancer, with that same sense of calm.

The 23rd Psalm is perhaps the most popular Psalm for both Christians and Jews. And yet, because we tend to know it in its King James translation or one based on it, we may not really understand what it’s saying. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want” was an accurate translation in 1611 but our language has changed. The Hebrew “lo echsar” means “I lack nothing” and that is what “I shall not want” meant in 1611. It’s not talking about the commandment not to covet but rather, it conveys a sense that I have all that I need.

On the Shabbat before each new moon, we ask God to bless the coming month and ask that it be filled with such things as peace, goodness and blessing. We ask for “osher v’chavod,” wealth and honor. And we ask for “yirat shamayim,” reverence for God. But interestingly, we ask for “yirat shamayim” twice. Why is that? Chasidic commentaries point out that the first mention of “yirat shamayim” comes before we ask for wealth and honor, and the second mention comes afterwards. The idea is that poor people have more yirat shamayim, reverence for God, than wealthy people. So we need to pray that we still have our piety even after we have attained wealth.

The Torah tells us that material wealth is given to us as a blessing from God. But it also warns us not to assume that somehow wealth is our due. The same chapter of Deuteronomy which tells us to say a blessing after we eat, warns us not to allow our hearts to grow proud after we build fine houses, increase our flocks, and amass silver and gold.  “You may say to yourself, “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.” 18 But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.”

The Torah here is reminding us that all we have is a gift from God; but because we also know that we have to work hard for what we have, we may somehow think that material wealth is a sign of God’s favor. We may wrongly believe that people who have wealth, have it because of their worthiness in God’s eyes; and people who lack wealth, are poor because God is punishing them for something.

This idea reached its zenith in a misreading of what sociologist Max Weber called the “Protestant work ethic.” Weber’s analysis says that the Calvinist tradition sees affluence as a visible sign of God’s grace. This work ethic is responsible, according to Weber, for the fact that societies such as the United States, the United Kingdom and northern Europe , which are rooted in Protestantism, are more affluent than societies which are rooted in Catholicism. The Protestant work ethic sees labor and accumulation of wealth as worthy.

But it can too easily lead us to believe that the wealthier we are, the worthier we are, the more beloved of God. This is the origin of the “prosperity gospel” preached by televangelists like Joel Osteen, Jimmy Swaggart, Creflo Dollar, Joyce Meyers and others. Is the accelerated concentration of wealth in the United States -- in 1915, the richest 1 per cent of the population had 15 per cent of the income, while today the richest 1 per cent has 24 per cent of the national income -- a result of this belief? Would Moses or Isaiah have approved of the fact that since 1979, the share of the nation’s income received by the wealthiest  one-tenth of one percent of the population has gone from 2 percent to eight percent?

We have developed an idealization of wealth when what we need is a theology of abundance. Rabbi Naamah Kelman of Jerusalem writes “A theology of abundance is counter to affluence. A theology of gratitude is a reminder that we are vessels of God’s gifts, not totally in control . . . Once there is abundance we can be generous. We reach out to the other, we feed the stranger.”

When we are aware that all we have is a gift from God, then we recognize that it does not really “belong” to us. It is lent to us, entrusted to us, and we are obligated both to thank God for it and to use it for good purposes. If we think that what we have is ours, that we deserve it, it is never enough and we are not likely to share it. The attitude of gratitude, the theology of abundance, the sense of appreciation-- these can get us back on track, as a society and as individuals. When you sit down to eat, take a few seconds to say a b’racha, to thank God for your blessings. Share some of your abundance with those who don’t have enough. Volunteer to help out with the meals our synagogue does at the emergency shelter, or send a donation to my discretionary fund earmarked for those meals.  May we in the New Year appreciate what we have, learn to be satisfied, and share it with others. AMEN.

Charlottesville

I began my rabbinical career in Charlottesville, Virginia. From 1988 to 1991 I was the director of the Hillel Jewish Student Center (today called the Brody Jewish Center) at the University of Virginia. The Charlottesville and U.Va. Jewish communities were a lot smaller than they are now. Besides Hillel there was one other Jewish organization, Congregation Beth Israel, and until shortly before I arrived it did not have a rabbi. My Hillel predecessor, Rabbi Dan Alexander, left Hillel to become the rabbi of Beth Israel and served there for 28 years until he retired last year. Although Beth Israel is Reform, it has Conservative services on Shabbat morning and I attended those on Saturdays when there were no services at Hillel. I also played on the Beth Israel softball team.

When rioting broke out in Charlottesville and then three people died as a result, Keleigh and I were out of the country. But as I read and learn about what happened, and as I listen to the President’s remarks, I grow more and more concerned.

Let’s be very clear here. On Friday night Nazis marched through the U.Va. “Grounds” (U.Va. uses its own terminology and has “Grounds” rather than a “Campus”) carrying torches, chanting the Nazi slogan “Blood and Soil” and “Jews Will Not Replace Us.”

On Saturday, three Nazi militiamen dressed in fatigues stood across from the synagogue carrying AR-15 rifles. The leadership of the synagogue, fearing trouble, asked the city for police protection which was denied. (In fairness, it should be noted that the whole City of Charlottesville has only 127 police officers and they were understandably stretched thin.) So the synagogue hired an armed security guard and removed the Torah scrolls for safekeeping. On Saturday morning, after services, congregants left the building through the back door so they wouldn’t be seen by the Nazi protestors.

Let’s be very clear about what happened. There can be no moral equivalency and no equivocation. The President said that what happened was the fault of both sides. Were there anti-Nazi protesters who acted violently? Yes, there were. But the overwhelming majority were there to silently oppose racism and support equal rights for those of all races, religions, orientations, etc. Clergy from all over the country, including a very close friend who is a Methodist minister from Richmond, locked arms to keep the Nazis away from the counter-protesters. And yet, they were met with violence, and one person was killed -- as were two state police officers in a helicopter crash nearby.

The President said on Tuesday that while there were bad people on both sides, there were also some “very fine people” on both sides. No. Very fine people do not march with Nazis and the Ku Klux Klan. This was not a rally about a statue, although the argument over the Robert E. Lee statue and the renaming of Lee Park to Emancipation Park was the cause celebre to which the Nazis and Klansmen hitched themselves. I absolutely agree that good and decent people were on both sides of the November election and that good and decent people can disagree about whether Confederate monuments should be allowed to remain or not.

But this rally wasn’t called “Save the Statue.” It was called “Unite the Right” and the posters and advertisements for the rally had Nazi, KKK, and anti-Jewish imagery. If you march in a Nazi - KKK rally, you are not a “fine person.” I often get invited to sign a statement or participate in activities initiated by the National Action Network. Very often I agree with the letter or activity but I will not participate in anything that the National Action Network does because it is headed by Rev. Al Sharpton, and as far as I’m concerned that makes it a treif organization. If Sharpton is treif, how much more so the Klan and the Nazis?

This really isn’t about politics. Condemnation of Nazis and the Klan shouldn’t be a political issue and it shouldn’t be difficult. As I was writing this, I received a press release from the Republican Jewish Coalition which I think sums things up very nicely:

The Nazis, the KKK, and white supremacists are dangerous anti-Semites. There are no good Nazis and no good members of the Klan. Thankfully, in modern America, the KKK and Nazis are small fringe groups that have never been welcome in the GOP. We join with our political and religious brethren in calling upon President Trump to provide greater moral clarity in rejecting racism, bigotry, and antisemitism. As representatives of the Party whose founder, Abraham Lincoln, broke the shackles of slavery, and of an organization with many members who experienced firsthand the inhumanity of the Nazi Holocaust, we state unequivocally our rejection of these hatemongers - you can expect no less from the Republican Jewish Coalition.

A Rabbinic Dispensation to Fly in Air Force One on Shabbat?

Air Force One left Andrews Air Force Base on Friday afternoon for Saudi Arabia, and among those onboard were Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump. The family belongs to an Orthodox synagogue and Ivanka was converted to Judaism by a well-respected Orthodox rabbi, Rabbi Haskel Lookstein. White House spokespeople apparently told the press that they had received a “rabbinic dispensation” to fly on Shabbat, something Orthodox Jews are normally not permitted to do. Rabbi Lookstein has denied giving the couple permission to fly on Shabbat, according to the Israeli daily Yediot Aharonot, but the fact of the matter is that he was never identified as the rabbi who supposedly gave this permission.

Is there such a thing as a “rabbinic dispensation”? Did Jared and Ivanka violate halacha by flying in Air Force One on Shabbat? My answer to both questions is “no.”

First of all, there is no such thing as a “rabbinic dispensation.” In the Catholic church, the pope or a local bishop can grant a “dispensation” when in their opinion, following a specific law would create an undue hardship. The most famous recent dispensation came earlier this year when St. Patrick’s Day fell on a Friday during Lent, and many bishops relaxed the prohibition on eating meat on Friday in Lent so that Catholics could eat the traditional corned beef and cabbage. Rabbis have no such power; no rabbi can release a Jew from following Jewish law due to severe hardship.

Since we don’t know who the rabbi was that allegedly gave this “dispensation,” we can’t know the reasoning behind it. However, Rabbi Jeffrey Woolf, a professor of Talmud at Bar-Ilan University in Israel, with a Ph.D. from Harvard and ordination from Yeshiva University, wrote that in his opinion Jared and Ivanka’s plane flight was perfectly permissible. He writes: “there are times when the conflict between observance and public responsibility cannot be avoided. In cases of life or death, the Torah commands that Shabbat be set aside to the degree necessary to save lives. This is the guiding principle of the Israel Defense Forces, and the reason that ministers in the Israeli government sometimes violate Shabbat in an emergency. Most such cases, though, are far less dramatic and occur when pressing demands of the public welfare require the attention of the public servant who is also an Orthodox Jew. The individual is then allowed to violate rabbinically legislated restrictions. This is not because a ‘dispensation’ is given (a Catholic term that has no place in Judaism). Rather, Jewish Law maintains that when these rules were enacted, very limited exceptions were built in for extraordinary circumstances and/or persons.”

To understand Rabbi Woolf’s argument, it’s necessary to know that in halacha there are two types of laws: biblical and rabbinic. Biblical laws cannot be suspended except in cases of life and death, but rabbinical laws can be suspended “when pressing demands of the public welfare require the attention of the public servant who is also an Orthodox Jew,” in Rabbi Woolf’s words.

Without getting too technical, it seems to me that flying in Air Force One on Shabbat involves violation of rabbinic but not biblical laws. While operating a car or other conveyance such as an airplane would be a biblical violation, riding in one is only a rabbinic violation at best. The main violation of riding in a conveyance on Shabbat would be amira la-akum, asking a Gentile on Shabbat to perform forbidden labor on your behalf. If the conveyance is operating regardless of whether you are on it or not, technically there is no violation at all. (The main problem with riding the Metro on Shabbat would be carrying the Smartrip card and operating the fare gates.)

Air Force One took off before Shabbat, so getting to Andrews wouldn’t have involved any prohibitions, and it would have flown the same route regardless of whether or not they were on board.  Of course, they landed in Saudi Arabia on Shabbat and then were driven in a car, but again the car wasn’t provided exclusively for them and at any rate they didn’t direct the driver, so I see no issue of amira la-akum here either.

It’s important to remember that Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner didn’t go to Saudi Arabia on vacation or a private business trip. They both hold official, though unpaid, appointments as advisors to the President and as such are government officials. While I’ve seen suggestions that they should have flown a day earlier or a day later, I’m certain that meetings were held and speeches rewritten in the plane on the way over, and thus being on the flight was part of their governmental responsibilities.

They aren’t the first observant Jews to have to deal with tensions between Shabbat observance and their official duties. While Senator Joe Lieberman usually walked to the Capitol when important Senate business was conducted on Shabbat, there were times when he allowed himself to be driven there in an emergency or when the weather didn’t allow him to walk. He did this only for Senatorial duties, not for politics. He never campaigned on Shabbat and never attended the Connecticut State Democratic Conventions which nominated him, because they were held on Shabbat. Jack Lew -- someone I know personally and in whose house I have had Shabbat meals -- served in both the Clinton and Obama administrations as budget director and also served as both Chief of Staff and Treasury Secretary under President Obama. During both administrations, it was reported that he had a telephone number which was known only to the Oval Office, and which was used only in cases of emergency -- and when it rang, he picked it up.

During the course of my career I’ve met many Jews in government service who have had to make decisions about what they will or won’t do on Shabbat. I’ve spoken with career military officers who have seen their careers suffer because, while they will perform mission-sensitive work on Shabbat, they won’t attend purely social events. Unless we want to maintain that observant Jews can’t serve in crucial government or public safety roles, we ought to respect the decisions about Shabbat observance that others make in good faith, even if we think that in their place we would have decided differently. We also need to make sure that our evaluation of a decision another Jew makes about their observance isn’t clouded by our disapproval of the administration in which that person serves.

I don’t have any problem with the decision that Jared and Ivanka made. I am concerned about the way it was presented. There are valid worries that presenting this as a “rabbinic dispensation” rather than a legitimate setting aside of rabbinic prohibitions for public necessity may make it harder for other observant Jews in the future. “Jared and Ivanka got permission from their rabbi to fly on Air Force One, why can’t you get permission from your rabbi to make this presentation on Saturday?” We may need to explain the difference between government officials fulfilling their public responsibility on Shabbat on the one hand, and making a sales pitch or finishing an audit or a legal brief on the other It’s always an issue when observant Jews are perceived to be acting contrary to Jewish law, even when in fact they are not. It would be a public service for the rabbi who supposedly gave permission to step forward and explain his reasoning. I’m not an Orthodox rabbi, and there is no reason that the Kushner family would turn to me, but had they done so I would have advised them that it was proper for them to accompany the President in Air Force One on Shabbat. But I would have insisted that my reason for doing so be made public as well.

Thoughts After A Civil Rights Tour of Atlanta

I returned very late last night from Atlanta where I attended a conference for “Jewish innovators” called The Collaboratory. As part of the conference, yesterday morning I participated in a Civil Rights tour of Atlanta lead by Billy Planer, a Jewish educator who runs tours of the South for Jewish student and adult groups looking at the history of the Civil Rights movement, including the involvement of Jews in the movement.

Our first visit was to the Pencil Factory. This apartment and retail complex in a gentrifying neighborhood was the site of the National Pencil Factory managed by Leo Frank, a Jewish man originally from New York. In 1913, a 13-year-old female employee of the factory was murdered, Frank was falsely accused and convicted of the murder in a trial replete marked by vicious antisemitism. The governor of Georgia, John Slaton, towards the end of his term in office, concluded the trial was unfair, commuted Frank’s sentence from death to life in prison, and then himself fled the state with his family for ten years. The prison where Frank was held was stormed by a mob and Frank was lynched, the only white person ever lynched in the South. Frank was posthumously pardoned by the Georgia Parole Board in 1986. The Leo Frank lynching was the catalyst for the formation both of the Anti-Defamation League and the modern Ku Klux Klan.

From there we went to the Martin Luther King, Jr., historical site and visited both the Ebenezer Baptist Church where he preached, and the gravesite of Dr. King and his wife Coretta next door. After that, we went to the headquarters of the NAMES Project, aka the “AIDS Quilt.” We heard from the project’s executive director Julie Rhoad about the history of the Quilt and how our society did very little to find a cure or treatment for AIDS/HIV as long as it was thought to be a disease which mainly afflicted the LGBT community.

The unspoken but very real question: what if anything is the connection between antisemitism, racism, and prejudice against the LGBT community? What is the role of religion in both creating and fighting prejudice?

And then we returned to our hotel only to learn that a suspect has been arrested in connection with the spate of telephoned bomb threats to Jewish institutions. As we all know by now, the suspect is a Jewish teenager who lives in Israel and has both Israeli and American citizenship. From news reports, we learn that he was rejected by the Israel Defense Forces under circumstances which lead pretty clearly to the conclusion that he suffers from mental illness.

Before we breathe a sigh of relief that the hoaxer has been caught, let’s remember that it hasn’t only been bomb threats. Jewish cemeteries have been desecrated and swastikas have been painted on Jewish institutions, and it’s not likely that these crimes, too, were perpetrated by a teenager living in Israel. Even if the JCC threats were a hoax, antisemitism remains real.

This arrest also brings up another question for me. Yesterday I studied antisemitism, racism, and homophobia. What of prejudice towards those who are mentally ill? What if Congress repeals laws which require that insurance companies cover mental illness treatments the same way they cover treatments for other kinds of illness?

Lots of things to ponder.

Jews As "Resident Aliens"

More years ago than I care to acknowledge, I was the Hillel Director at the University of Virginia. We had an association called United Ministry which included most of the religious groups on campus, except for the extreme fundamentalist Christians who didn’t believe in participating with non-Christians.  Every year we would have a day-long retreat. We would all read the same book in advance and that would be the focus of our discussions.

One year the Methodist campus minister, Rev. Brooke Willson -- who is still a good friend -- suggested we read what was then a new book, Resident Aliens, by Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willimons. The main thesis of the book is that for most of American history, White Protestant Americans controlled the culture and the government and simply got used to the idea that both reflected their ideals and beliefs. But since the 1960s, this was increasingly not the case. This is what gave rise to groups like the Moral Majority and similar Christian Right organizations. It was an attempt on the part of some White Protestants to turn the clock back.

Hauerwas and Willimons said this was a mistake. That first of all, it probably couldn’t be done. But even if it could be done, it shouldn’t be done. Something had gone wrong when Church and Empire fused under Constantine; and the Church, to be true to itself, should not seek to have coercive power or hold the reins of government. Hauerwas and Willimons said that Christians should learn to be more like the Jews, who lived for centuries under governments which were hostile or at best indifferent to their ideals and nevertheless managed to create supportive communities which met their needs and took care of each other.

Many of us are now concerned about the possibility that the United States may soon, or may have already, become a place where discrimination and xenophobia will become much more acceptable. It seems to me that these things are something against which we must all be vigilant, no matter who you voted for in the recent election.  I was glad to see that the President-elect promised to be the President for all Americans and reach out to those who didn’t support him for guidance and help. All of us -- Democrats, Republicans, and independents -- need to hold him to his word.

At the same time, Hauerwas and Willimons were on to something. As I said in my sermon on Kol Nidre evening, our experience as American Jews who are not subjects but citizens is, in historical terms, very novel. It may well be the case -- I hope not -- that as of January 20, we will be faced with a government that is opposed to many things we hold dear and supports many things we find reprehensible. This may be shocking to us but it would have been utterly familiar to most of our ancestors.

The prophet Micah said to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God.” He didn’t say “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God -- as long as the White House says it’s OK.” The Torah commands us 36 times to love the stranger -- our commitment to fulfilling that mitzvah isn’t dependent on which party holds the White House or the Congress. As individuals and as a community, we can continue to love the stranger, support the weak and the disabled, feed the hungry, heal the sick and love our neighbors. This is at the heart of why we are Jews, and we can do it no matter who is in the White House. So let’s continue to do it, no matter what.

Morning After Thoughts

A couple of weeks ago I sent out a “Prayer Before Voting” which ends with the following words:

Creator of all flesh, we know also that the real work begins tomorrow morning. Whether or not I am pleased with the outcome of this election, help me to be a good citizen and work for understanding and reconciliation among all Americans. May we continue to work for the day when none shall hurt or destroy, when justice shall flow like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

That morning has now arrived. Based on the results in Montgomery County and also on the usual breakdown of the Jewish vote, most of you reading this are not pleased but some of you are. Now that the election is over, the hard work begins.

A few scattered thoughts:

1. We really are two countries, almost evenly divided in population. One of the things which I’ve not seen receive too much notice is that although Donald Trump won the Electoral College, Hillary Clinton seems to have won the popular vote by over 100,000. We have got to, as a nation, figure out how to speak with each other more civilly, try to work together and try to understand each other.
2. Our tradition wisely gives us a road map for dealing with grief and loss. When emotions are at their most raw we don’t do anything but focus on our loss. But there is a time limit. After sitting shiva we get up and ease back into our lives. If this describes you, it’s OK, in fact probably a good idea, to take some time and work through your grief. My only advice to you is be careful how you treat yourself and those around you for the next few days.
3. If you supported the winning side, congratulations. Just be aware that many people around you are in shock and grief. Be compassionate. Treat them as you would want to be treated.
4. Our commitments as Jews and as human beings don’t change or waver depending on who is in power. We are called to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. This hasn’t changed.