Welcome
home! I love the High Holy Days because
it feels like a big family reunion. I am
heartened when I look out into the pews and see all of your beautiful smiling faces. It is my favorite moment of the year! Normally, I’d joke that the last time we had
this many people in the building was last High Holy Days, but sadly, that is not
the case this year. It was just days after the shooting at the
Tree of Life Synagogue that hundreds of us gathered on Solidarity Shabbat to
mourn the loss of eleven precious souls.
Our
community was in a cloud, our world upended; there was real fear for our fellow
Jews and our own congregation. Pittsburgh
was the first mass shooting at a synagogue in our nation’s history. And sadly, it was not the last. Since then, our Jewish community has endured
a second shooting at the Poway Chabad Center.
The ADL[i]
recorded a dramatic rise in anti-Semitic attacks over the last couple of
years. In 2018, there were 1,879 attacks
in our country, a staggering 99% higher than 2015.
For 16
years, I have been privileged to preach on the High Holy Days. Not once in 16 years have I spoken about anti-Semitism. This Rosh Hashanah will be the first time. What does this say about our country? What does this say about the state of Judaism
today?
For some
of us, anti-Semitism is an old wound that continues to threaten our lives and
our families. Many in this room remember
a time when we were prohibited from attending specific colleges or couldn’t buy
a home in certain neighborhoods, including Roland Park, solely because we were
Jewish. For others of us, the rise of anti-Semitism
seems to have come out of nowhere. In
either case, there is a new reality that has bubbled up to the surface.
I am not
here to fear monger. I’m not here to
scare you. Yet, it is time to speak
frankly and openly about our changing country; to ask the difficult questions and
search our hearts for answers.
One of
the major changes has been the rise of White Nationalism. White Nationalism uses anti-Semitism as the
fuel to power its anti-Black racism. Eric Ward, one of the foremost thinkers on
anti-Semitism today lays this out in a recent article: “Skin in the Game: How
Anti-Semitism Animates White Nationalism.”
As Ward shares: The successes of the Civil Rights Movement created a
terrible problem for White Supremacist Ideology. Jim Crow had been the de facto law of the
land, yet a Black led Social Movement toppled the political order. As Ward writes, the White Supremacists were
thinking: “How could a race of political inferiors have unseated this power
structure through organizing alone? … Some secret cabal, some mythological power, must be manipulating the social order behind the scenes. This
diabolical evil must control television, banking, entertainment, education, and
even Washington, D.C…. What is this archnemesis of the White race…? It is, of course the Jews?” [ii]
White
Nationalism differs from White Supremacy because it wants to create a Whites Only
Nation with anti-Semitism at its core. If
we care about combatting racism, the mistreatment of immigrants, islamophobia, misogyny,
homophobia, and transphobia, if we care about a just world for all, then we
must end the fuel of White Nationalism, and work tirelessly to end anti-Semitism.
For anti-Semitism
occurs most prevalently in a binary world and plays out best when White Nationalists
feel empowered and when democratic systems such as the judiciary and free press
are weakened and unable to fight back.
When the President of the United States says that “There were good
people on both sides” after the Unite the Right Rally in Charlottesville, we
speak up. When our Jewish loyalty is
questioned, we speak up. When anti-Semitic
tropes are heard on the right, the left, or the center, we speak up. Just as we fight to protect our neighbors and
the democratic institutions that are the bedrock of our country, so too must we
fight to protect ourselves
So, what
should we do? What should be our
personal and also our communal response to anti-Semitism? Bari Weiss Op-Ed Staff Editor and Writer at
the New York Times believes that the Jewish people have had two responses
throughout our history, I’d like to call them: “Accommodation” and
“Separation.”
With
Accommodation, if we only show that we are perfect Greeks, Spaniards, or
Germans than that country will love us.
If we wish to become more and more American and shed our Jewish identity,
than why even be here? Let’s close up
shop and go home.
Separation
is the opposite, it believes that lasting security for the Jews comes when we
turn inward. From the Maccabees to the
Bar Kochba Revolt to Ultra-Orthodoxy, we can only be saved if we rely on our Jewish
leaders and our Jewish movements.
Separation often believes that building ever greater walls and circling
the wagons will protect us and our own.
There is
a third approach, as Bari Weiss writes, "In these trying times, our best strategy is to build, without shame, a Judaism and a Jewish people and a Jewish state that are not only safe and resilient but also generative, humane, joyful and life-affirming. A Judaism capable of lighting a fire in every Jewish soul - and in the souls of everyone who throws in his or her lot with ours." [iii]
When our
loyalty is questioned, when we fear the rising tide of anti-Semitism, when we
are scared about our future, we double down on Judaism. We double down on our Jewish community; we double
down on our Jewish values; we double down on our Jewish commitments, to each
other and to the world around us.
How do we
double down on Judaism? We Live Proudly
as Jews
Judaism
is lived outwardly, through dress, action, and expression. But, throughout our history, from the Greeks
to the Conversos to the modern day, many have been scared to live openly as a
Jew.
Our
exemplar is Esther, the Persian Queen, and hero of the Purim Story. Esther hid her Jewish identity from King
Ahasuerus and from the entire nation. At
the opportune moment, when things were dire for the Jewish people, Esther “came
out of the closet as a Jew,” saved her people, and lived her Judaism proudly.
Like
Esther, we often feel scared. Is it safe
to go to synagogue? Should we tell the
stranger that we are Jewish? Do we speak
up when we hear an anti-Semitic joke?
Esther reminds us that there is no better way to combat anti-Semitism
than by sharing why Judaism matters to us.
When we express our Judaism outside our homes and synagogues, we can
change hearts and minds, including our own.
Yet, for students
on college campuses and for those of us who are more liberal in our thinking,
it can often be a little more challenging.
With the rise of intersectionality, Jews and Israel are often seen as
colonizers. When we are working on
issues such as racism, LGBTQ rights, or Immigration, must we choose between
Social Justice and Israel? Can’t we do
both?
It’s not
easy, but we must share our entire selves, including our Jewish selves. We look to our tradition and the prophets of
old for comfort and guidance. We reach
out to our allies and our neighbors to listen, to learn, and to teach. We speak up when we see anti-Semitism or any
acts of hatred. For is it not better to
work together when we can, than to not be part of the conversation at all?
How do we
double down on Judaism?
We Celebrate
Our Jewish Tradition
We aren’t
the first generation to discover the challenges of anti-Semitism. The prior generations created rituals to
provide us with strength during tough times.
Playing dreidel at Hanukkah (served as a ploy to study Torah); eating
Matzah during Passover (reminds us of our suffering and the suffering of others);
affixing a mezuzah on our door (proclaims that this is a Jewish home).
And then there’s
the story told by the late Rabbi Hugo Gryn.
Many years before becoming a rabbi, young Hugo lived through the
Holocaust and was a child of Auschwitz.
One year during his time in the Camps, Hanukkah arrived. His father created a small menorah and used
their margarine rations as the oil to light the wicks. Young Hugo protested to his father that this
was a foolish act. Every ounce of food
was needed in order for them to survive.
How could they waste this precious resource in order to light the
Menorah for Hanukkah?
Rabbi
Gryn never forgot the words his father shared with him that day. “My child, we know that you can live three
days without water. You can live three
weeks without food. But you cannot live
three minutes without hope.”[iv] Our Jewish tradition is filled with rituals,
holiday celebrations, prayers, and foods.
Each ritual provides us with the strength and more importantly the hope
we need to carry on day after day.
How do we
double down on Judaism?
We Live
Our Jewish Values
For our
Judaism is based upon the values of treating each other with respect,
compassion, and dignity. In the
Babylonian Talmud, we are taught that if a non-Jew is interested in becoming a
member of our community, we are required to ask them these difficult questions:
“Why do you want to become a Jew? Do you
not know that Jewish people at the present time are persecuted and oppressed,
despised, harassed, and overcome by affliction?” If the reply is: “I know and yet I am
unworthy,” than we open our doors and we teach some minor and major
commandments. The Talmud then asks: What
commandments should we teach? The
mitzvah of gleanings, the forgotten sheaf, the corner, and the poor persons’
tithe.”[v]
When
someone wishes to become a Jew-by-choice, what do we do? We welcome with open arms and first teach the
ethical commandments of providing food for the poor, as well as the mitzvot
centered on justice and compassion.
Take that
a step further… when we are the ones feeling oppression and fear, we double
down on our Jewish values, the values of treating all in our world with dignity
and respect. As individuals and as a
congregation, our Jewish values provide us with the strength to go out into the
world and repair the shards of brokenness.
How do we
double down on Judaism? We Join Together.
It can be
lonely to be a Jew. Especially when many
of us don’t live in the Jewish neighborhood or when some of us don’t have Jewish
family nearby. Our rabbis teach us that
we need 10 people for a minyan, 10 people in order to pray. Why?
Because to be a Jew means to be part of community.
I felt
this most prevalently during the hours prior to Solidarity Shabbat, just days
after the Tree of Life Shooting. I had a
pit in my stomach and one question on my mind: “Do we open up the wall at the
back of the sanctuary?” I was fixated on
the wall. It seems silly now, but I was
terrified that no one would show up, that they’d be too scared or wouldn’t care
to be with us that evening.
Forty-five
minutes prior to the service our parking lot was already full and dozens of
people were flooding into the synagogue.
I realized that I didn’t recognize many of the faces. These were neighbors, our Christian, Muslim,
Buddhist, Jewish, and Secular neighbors.
With tears in my eyes, I nodded to Johnny, our Custodian, and the wall was
open, the chairs placed. We ran out of
prayer books that evening; it was standing room only, more people than at the
High Holy Days
Our then
President, Melissa Zieve, looked at me and said, “I feel safer with our doors
open.”
We
doubled down on Judaism that night. We
doubled down on being proudly and unapologetically Jewish. We doubled down on celebrating, singing, praying,
and eating the most delicious veggie potluck ever to feed 300. We doubled down on our Jewish values by
opening our doors to our neighbors. We
doubled down by joining together, hundreds of us gathered in our sanctuary and
social hall.
We were
safer that night because we doubled down on Judaism. We will fight anti-Semitism and will make our
community stronger and our world safer when we double down on Judaism.
[iv]
Adapted from a retelling by Rabbi David Wolpe, “This is the True Lesson of
Hanukkah” – Time Magazine, December 6, 2015
[v]
Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 47a (my own translation/interpretation)
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