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Text Content

 * About Vassar Temple
 * Rabbi Leah R. Berkowitz’s Remarks at the Mid-Hudson Refugee
   Solidarity Alliance
 * Remarks by Dr. Umar M. Ahmad at Mid-Hudson Refugee Solidarity Alliance
   community meeting 11/6/16
 * Welcoming Team Role
 * World Church Service Information


VASSAR TEMPLE BLOG

הבלוג של ק"ק אחים ישראל


“ADDRESSING THE NEW/OLD ANTISEMITISM”, A SERMON FOR YOM KIPPUR MORNING 5785,
RABBI RENNI S. ALTMAN

“Addressing the New/Old Antisemitism”
A Sermon for Yom Kippur Morning 5785
Vassar Temple
Rabbi Renni S. Altman

Five years ago, I spoke about the “New Antisemitism” on Rosh Hashanah.  It was
after the year of Pittsburgh and other deadly antisemitic attacks.  Though in
shock that this could be America in 2019, we adjusted to our new reality by
taking extra security measures, including locking the doors of the temple,
upgrading our camera system and doing active shooter training.  Holocaust
Historian and Special Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism Ambassador
Deborah Lipstadt concluded the introduction to her book Antisemitism Here and
Now, published in 2019 but written before Pittsburgh, with the following
prescient statement, “Sadly, given the unending saga that is antisemitism, I
feel comfortable predicting that by the time this book appears there will have
been new examples of antisemitism that should have been part of the
narrative.[i]

Unbelievably, this unending saga goes on and since October 7th has gotten much
worse.  “Over the three-month period following the Hamas attacks, the
Anti-Defamation League recorded 56 episodes of physical violence targeting Jews
and 1,347 incidents of harassment. That 13-week span contained more anti-Semitic
incidents than the entirety of 2021—at the time the worst year since the ADL had
begun keeping count, in 1979.”[ii]

So, now, beyond locking our doors we have hired security guards (off duty police
officers) for Sunday religious school and for services or programs where we
anticipate a larger than normal crowd.  Thankfully the government has expanded
its Homeland Security grant opportunities and we have applied for funds that
will enhance our security by expanding our camera coverage and strengthening our
front doors, among other improvements.  Thus far, grants do NOT cover security
personnel, so we are most grateful to all who have paid the security surcharge
to help us cover this unanticipated but necessary expense.

The unending saga that is antisemitism has existed almost as long as Judaism.
 There is a sad reality to the old joke:  How do you summarize all the Jewish
holidays in one sentence? “They tried to kill us; they failed; let’s eat!”  From
Pharaoh to Haman to Antiochus our holiday tales feature enemies who hated us;
regardless of the historicity of those characters, they represent the realities
of the authors.

Antisemitism has persisted for thousands of years, morphing in different forms
from its religious origins, to race-based prejudice to its more modern social
and political manifestations.  Sadly, in our polarized nation, antisemitism
exists on both the left and the right – and, depending on which side you land,
the tendency is to see the antisemitism on the other side as more dangerous.

While it is a fearful time to be a Jew, some have mistakenly compared it to Nazi
Germany.   Let me point out just one of many significant differences:  Nazi
Germany was government sponsored antisemitism, hate, violence and murder of
Jews.   Our government, our law enforcement officials, are here to protect us. 
President Biden established a “National Strategy to Counter Antisemitism,” the
most comprehensive US government effort to counter antisemitism in American
History.  It includes over 100 actions the administration is taking to address
the rise of antisemitism, as well as Islamaphobia and all forms of hate.[iii]

To be sure, there are individuals on all levels of government who themselves
manifest antisemitism.  Though not government endorsed, it is not without
danger.  It is dangerous, especially at this time of heightened antisemitism,
for someone in a position of political power to falsely claim that Jews, who
represent less than 3% of Americans, will determine the outcome of an election. 
Such a statement echoes what Lipstadt has called the “antisemitic conspiracy
myth” that Jews enjoy disproportionate power and influence.  We should note who
has and who has not spoken out against this statement and others that foster
hate and who weaponizes antisemitism for political purposes.    

In order to call out antisemitism, to demand protection and to hold perpetrators
of antisemitism accountable, wherever and whenever antisemitism appears, we need
to first understand just what antisemitism is and what it is not.

A complicating factor in this effort (no surprise) is that there is not
agreement on a definition of antisemitism, not within the Jewish community nor
beyond.  

One of the simplest I’ve seen is part of an excellent Guide to Antisemitism put
out by T’ruah, that states “Antisemitism is hostility, prejudice, hatred or
violence against Jews as Jews.”  That means, it is not antisemitic to claim that
a particular Jewish person is miserly because she acts in a miserly fashion, but
to say that she does so because she is Jewish, is antisemitic.  To say that Jews
are all-powerful secret puppet masters behind the scenes of world events, or
that Jews love money and control the world financial system, or that Jews are
untrustworthy and disloyal because of a dual loyalty to Israel – all are
long-held expressions of antisemitism. [iv]



One of the particularly challenging issues we have faced this year with the
protests over the war is balancing the right to free speech and protest with
shutting down antisemitic behaviors, which means determining when anti-Zionism
or anti-Israel speech becomes antisemitism.  Calling something antisemitic is
not only triggering on an emotional level, it can further exacerbate tensions
and can have legal ramifications as well, as antisemitism violates protections
under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act.

First, I want to make clear, while hate speech, pernicious has it may be, is not
an exception to the first amendment protection of free speech, when such speech
involves true threats or incitements to violence, it moves out of the category
of protected speech.  Jews, as with all people, must be protected from such
threats.

Again, where one draws the line between antisemitic and anti-Israel behavior is
much debated.

Here is where I stand:

Criticism of the Israeli government whether by Jews or others is not
antisemitic.

Calls for non-violent protests against Israel for its actions, is not
antisemitic.

Waving symbols of the Palestinian movement is not antisemitic.

Calling for full equality of Israelis and Palestinians, whether in two states or
a binational state, is not antisemitic.

HOWEVER:

Calling for the eradication of the State of Israel, denying the Jewish people a
nation like all other nations, that is antisemitic.

Holding Jews accountable for the actions of the State of Israel, that is
antisemitic

Protesting Israel’s human rights abuses without also protesting the human rights
or abuses of other nations, such as China and the Uyghurs or the genocide
against the people of Darfur, in other words singling Israel out among the
nations of the world — that is antisemitic.

Denying the history of Jews in the land of Israel, that is antisemitic.

Then there are some even grayer areas:

Is chanting the slogan “From the River to the Sea” automatically antisemitic? 
No, if it means that Palestinians should have rights of citizenship and not live
under occupation; but yes, if it means that Israeli Jews should be expelled from
the land.

Is the BDS movement antisemitic?  The principles of boycott, divestment and
sanctions in and of themselves are not antisemitic; certainly not if also
applied to other countries with human rights abuses.  I know many Israeli Reform
rabbis who won’t purchase wine produced in the settlements.  It is antisemitic,
however, if someone boycotts a Jewish store out of opposition to Israel’s
actions or only calls for a boycott against Israel.  And, I will guess that all
who call for divestment from Israeli businesses are not aware of the fact that
the core mission of the official BDS movement is the eradication of Israel which
makes BDS as a movement antisemitic.

Is Anti-Zionism antisemitic?  If it is meant to deny the Jewish people the right
to a homeland, then yes.  If such slogans or protests are being used to oppose
the occupation or simply in opposition to any form of nationalism, then no.

As Rabbi Jill Jacobs, President of Truah wrote:

“It is entirely possible to protest the war in Gaza, to criticize Israel’s
actions, or to support Palestinians without engaging in antisemitism. One key
question activists can ask themselves is whether they would use the same types
of language or the same tactics if protesting the actions of a different
country. Calling for an end to the war, mourning Palestinian lives lost,
protesting at the Israeli embassy or consulate, criticizing Israeli policy,
advocating for an end to arms sales or other changes in U.S. policy toward
Israel, or boycotting Israeli companies are not inherently antisemitic. But
employing antisemitic stereotypes, dehumanizing Israelis, taking out anger about
Israel on Jews or Jewish institutions, and advocating or justifying violence
against civilians or the expulsion of Israeli Jews do constitute antisemitism
and put Jews at risk.”[v]

All of these nuances underscore the dangers of applying the label of
antisemitism too broadly, which can lead to a denial of the essential right to
free speech, cause greater divisions in our society and, ultimately, backfire
against the Jews.  To be clear, that which is clearly antisemitic must be
addressed and when speech involves true threats or incitements to violence, it
must be stopped and those who perpetrate such actions must be held accountable.
 



Once again, we find ourselves struggling to hold two simultaneous truths –
safeguarding free speech in all of its forms and keeping Jews safe in this
country.

The encampments and protests on some college campuses this past year certainly
highlighted this tension.  As colleges resumed this fall, there have been
numerous articles and podcasts exploring what steps some colleges have taken to
address these concerns and not repeat the failures of last year.  Some colleges
have focused on limiting protests by restricting campus access to members of the
college community only; others now require permits for protests and designate
where and when protests can take place.  Other campuses are attempting to
address the deeper issues underlying the atmosphere created by the protests: 
The University of Pennsylvania is creating an Office of Religious and Ethnic
Inclusion to address rising antisemitism, support Jewish students and improve
the campus climate.  Tufts University’s student orientation includes a workshop
for all incoming students focused on understanding and combating antisemitism as
part of a larger series of anti-bias programs.[vi]   Dartmouth College has
initiated The Dialogue Project, a series of programs for faculty, staff and
students that will provide training in the development of collaborative dialogue
skills such as empathetic listening and finding points of connection.[vii]   At
our own Vassar College, President Bradley announced a number of new initiatives,
including strengthening the anti-discrimination policies and reporting
procedures, providing training for administration, faculty and students on
antisemitism and Islamaphobia, developing programs for intergroup dialogue, and
curricular innovations in the areas of Peace and Conflict and Middle East
Studies.

These programs and others are positive steps in creating a safe atmosphere for
students while also providing the skills to engage in healthy debate about
topics of disagreement.  Surely these skills are essential on the college campus
and very much needed in our society as a whole.

An article in the April edition of The Atlantic by Franklin Foer caused quite a
stir, in its title alone: “The Golden Age of American Jews is Ending.”  Foer’s
forecast of doom is tied to broader changes in American society:

“Though right- and leftwing anti-Semitism may have emerged in different ways,
for different reasons, both are essentially attacks on an ideal that once
dominated American politics, an ideal that American Jews championed and, in an
important sense, co-authored. Over the course of the 20th century, Jews invested
their faith in a distinct strain of liberalism that combined robust civil
liberties, the protection of minority rights, and an ethos of cultural
pluralism. They embraced this brand of liberalism because it was good for
America—and good for the Jews. It was their fervent hope that liberalism would
inoculate America against the world’s oldest hatred.

For several generations, it worked. Liberalism helped unleash a Golden Age of
American Jewry, an unprecedented period of safety, prosperity, and political
influence. Jews, who had once been excluded from the American establishment,
became full-fledged members of it. And remarkably, they achieved power by and
large without having to abandon their identity…”[viii]

With the rise of extremes on both sides of the political spectrum, Foer fears
that the values of liberalism will soon be lost – and concludes that this will
be bad for the Jews and, ultimately, bad for America.

Indeed, the values of liberal democracy — civil liberties, the protection of
minority rights, and an ethos of cultural pluralism — have made America not only
a safe place for Jews, but a home where we have flourished.  If we want America
to return to being a safe place for Jews, a home where we can continue to
flourish, we need to protect those values, not for Jews alone but for all who
live here.

As Lipstadt has taught us, Jews will thrive in a country that supports and
celebrates diversity:

“.. the existence of prejudice in any of its forms is a threat to all those who
value an inclusive, democratic and multicultural society.  It is axiomatic that
if Jews are being targeted with hateful rhetoric and prejudice, other minorities
should not feel immune; this is not likely to end with Jews.  And, conversely,
if other minority groups are being targeted with hatred and prejudice, Jews
should not feel immune… Antisemitism flourishes in a society that is intolerant
of others, be they immigrants or racial and religious minorities…. the existence
of Jew-hatred within a society is an indication that something about the entire
society is amiss.  No healthy society harbors extensive antisemitism — or any
other form of hatred.”[ix]

The need to combat hate in this country may get a jump start from a new
campaign, “Time Out Against Hate.”  Perhaps some of you heard about it or saw
its debut during last night’s “Thursday night football” game.  New England
Patriot’s owner Robert Kraft, who founded the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism
in 2019, reached out to the commissioners of all of the major sports leagues to
come up with something that sports could do to help curb hate in America.  The
commissioners came up with idea of a time out and the campaign, to which the
commissioners are committing $50 million, will feature commercials on television
and during sporting events with key figures from each sport making the “T” sign
for Time Out.  As Kraft explained, “Why in sports do you take a timeout? You do
when you want to regroup, you want to make adjustments, you want to win. We hope
that this campaign will recalibrate the momentum in the country against
hate.”[x]



A first step in curbing hate is to raise people’s awareness to it.  Then they
may be open to education and to dialogue and to changing their attitudes.  We
have seen this in a number of sports figures who, when called out about
antisemitic statements, took the time to learn, apologized and changed their
behaviors.

Political leaders can do the same.  Much of the antisemitism of this past year
that has arisen from the protests against the war has been grounded in what is
called the progressive movement.  In June, one of its leaders, Rep. Alexandria
Ocasio-Cortez, made a very bold move.  I don’t share this as an endorsement of
her political beliefs, but I do think she deserves commendation and is a model
for others.  In June, AOC invited Amy Spitalnik, CEO of the Jewish Council for
Public Affairs and one of the main forces behind the lawsuits against the
organizers of the march in Charlottesville, and Stacy Burdett, formerly of the
American Jewish Committee, for a discussion broadcast on her YouTube channel,
entitled “Antisemitism and the Fight for Democracy.”  It is worth watching.  Her
guests spoke about the pain of antisemitism and what a threat it is to Jews and
how such hate threatens democracy and makes all of us less safe.  In the program
AOC condemned antisemitism and called for rebuilding coalitions to protect
democracy and stand against hate.  “We can show up for each other, not because
we agree on everything, but because we can see each other’s pain,” she said.[xi]
The Democratic Socialists of America took away their endorsement of her because
of this show.

This is an example of a step towards overcoming hate; recognizing the humanity
in the other.  Finding common ground, even if we do not agree on everything. 

I may be a naïve optimist, but I believe that we can turn around Foer’s
predictions of doom, that we can strengthen the principles of liberal democracy
that are the core of America.  It comes back to holding simultaneous truths:  we
can speak out again antisemitism while continuing the good work we have done in
various coalitions to address problems in our society of hunger and
homelessness, of poverty and illiteracy, of racism and discrimination.   We need
to educate and to listen, to understand the other’s pain.  At the same time, we
need to continue to demand protection and take steps to ensure our security,
until this scourge of hate is conquered.  Certainly, an end to this horrible
war, a homeland for the Palestinians, security for Israel will help.

We are but a few weeks from Election Day.  The values of liberal democracy — of
civil liberties, the protection of minority rights, and cultural pluralism — are
on the ballot, not only in our vote for President, but also for our
representatives in Congress and in the State Legislation and for local
positions.  In addition, there is a most important proposition on the ballot to
ensure those values here in NY: an “Amendment to Protect Against Unequal
Treatment.”  The NY State Constitution only protects against discrimination
based on race and religion.  This amendment would expand that by protection by
prohibiting discrimination based on a person’s ethnicity, national origin, age,
disability and sex, including their sexual orientation, gender identity, gender
expression, pregnancy and pregnancy outcomes.  The amendment would also protect
against any government actions that would curtail a person’s reproductive
autonomy or access to reproductive health care. 

Historically, Jews have voted in higher percentages than the country as a
whole.  As this most propitious time in America, for Jewish life in America, we
need to vote – and encourage others to vote, to vote for an America that strives
to live up to its purpose, to be the liberal democracy that has enabled Jewish
life to flourish and to ensure the same for peoples of all races, ethnicities,
religions, sexual orientation and gender identities.  Early voting begins
October 26th.

234 years ago, President George Washington made a promise about America to the
Jewish community in a letter he wrote to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, RI:

“The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves
for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy: a policy
worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of
citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the
indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their
inherent natural rights. For happily the Government of the United States, which
gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that
they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in
giving it on all occasions their effectual support.”[xii]

Certainly, we know that America has not lived up to this promise for Jews or for
others, but it is still the fundamental promise and potential of this nation. 
It is now in our hands to ensure that this promise holds true.

To conclude, I return to the conclusion of Lipstadt’s book:  even with our
appropriate focus on antisemitism and actions to combat it, we cannot allow
antisemitism to define us or to limit the way in which we live our lives as
Jews.  We need to focus our attention on the joys of Judaism rather than the oys
of Jewish suffering, of seeing enemies everywhere.  Seeing ourselves as
perennial victims, says Lipstadt, means we “cede to the oppressor control over
one’s destiny.  It leaves many Jews … aware of what it to be against but not
what to be for.”[xiii]  Our best response to antisemites is to live proudly and
with joy as Jews, to strengthen and enrich our communities and our
congregations, to work on behalf of fulfilling the ideals of our country, and to
be engaged in and engage future generations in a Judaism that is vibrant,
relevant and hopeful for tomorrow. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



[i] Deborah Lipstadt, Antisemitism Here and Now, p. xii
[ii]
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2024/04/us-anti-semitism-jewish-american-safety/677469/
[iii]
https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2023/09/28/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-takes-landmark-step-to-counter-antisemitism/
[iv] https://truah.org/antisemitism/
[v]
https://truah.org/resources/criticism-of-israel-and-antisemitism-how-to-tell-where-one-ends-and-the-other-begins/

[vi] Hillel Campus Update, September 10, 2024
[vii] College Uncovered Podcast, The Politics of Protest, September 19, 2024
[viii]
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2024/04/us-anti-semitism-jewish-american-safety/677469/
[ix] Lipstadtp. xi

[x]https://www.nbcnews.com/news/sports/american-sports-commissioners-unite-new-anti-hate-campaign-rcna174584
[xi] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrqNFcrL6I8
[xii] https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/05-06-02-0135
[xiii] Lipstadt, p. 240.


Leave a comment
by Bob Abrams on October 31, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged antisemitism, gaza, Israel, palestine, politics

Posted by Bob Abrams on October 31, 2024

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2024/10/31/addressing-the-new-old-antisemitism-a-sermon-for-yom-kippur-morning-5785-rabbi-renni-s-altman/




“A TIME FOR TURNING”, A SERMON FOR KOL NIDREI 5785, RABBI RENNI S. ALTMAN, DD

“A Time for Turning” – A Sermon for Kol Nidrei 5785
Rabbi Renni S. Altman, DD
Vassar Temple

“Now is the time for turning. The leaves are beginning to turn from green to red
and orange and yellow. The birds are beginning to turn towards the South in
their annual migration. The animals are beginning to turn to store their food
for the winter. For leaves, birds and animals turning comes instinctively. But
for us turning does not come so easily. It takes an act of will for us to turn…
It means breaking with old habits. It means admitting that we have been wrong,
and this is never easy… It means starting all over again, and this is always
painful. It means saying, “I am sorry.” It means recognizing that we have the
ability to change. These things are terribly hard to do. But unless we turn, we
will be trapped for ever in yesterday’s ways. Adonai, help us to turn – from
callousness to sensitivity, from hostility to love, from pettiness to purpose,
from envy to contentment, from carelessness to discipline, from fear to faith.
Turn us around, Adonai our God, and bring us back to You. Revive our lives, as
at the beginning. And turn us toward each other, Adonai our God, for in
isolation there is no life.”

This is one of my favorite passages from Gates of Forgiveness, the prayer book
we used to use for Selichot services.  I love the imagery from nature that
resonate so profoundly for us here in the northeast where we are fortunate to
witness these annual changes, as we focus on the changes that we want to make in
the coming year.  In a year such as this, where the Jewish holidays fell “late”
we are truly in the midst of the fall changing of the leaves. 

Change comes easily in the natural world; it is not so always so easy for us
human beings, as depicted in the following parable:

There are two twins, still in the womb, who know of nothing else. Somehow, they
realize that the world as they know it is about to end.  What will happen to
them?  One of the twins is an optimist, embracing change and seeing it as an
exciting opportunity for growth and development.  “Just think of the new
opportunities that will present themselves,” says the optimistic twin. “We will
get to try new things, to do things another way.  Sure, it may not always work
out perfectly, and some things will certainly be different, but what a great
time it can be!”

The second twin fears change; change upsets the apple cart, turning the world,
as we know it, upside down, leading to frustration and dissatisfaction.  “How
can you talk about opportunities?” says the fearful twin.  “There is no future,
and even if there is to be a new future, it will be so different that we won’t
be able to survive.  Our world, as we know it, is finished.”

Suddenly, the water inside the womb bursts, and the ever-optimistic sibling
tears himself away.  Startled, the skeptic shrieks, bemoaning the tragedy. 
Sitting in his morose state, he hears cries from the other side of the black
abyss.  “Just as I thought, all is lost.  There is no future.  What was, is no
more.  It is time to just call it quits, rather than face the other side.”

But what the skeptic doesn’t realize is that as he is bemoaning the loss of the
world as he knows it, his brother sits on the other side, taking a breath of
fresh air, hearing sounds that he has never heard before, already feeling his
limbs stretching out beyond their previous boundaries.[i]

So, which are you?  Optimist, eager to embrace change, or fearful of something
new and different?  Think about it for a moment – let’s play word association. 
When you hear the word change, as in things are going to change… what words pop
into your head?  Is it – great, exciting, opportunity OR more in the realm, of
“Oy, what will that mean?”

Over the years, I have shared the teachings of William Bridges, author and
lecturer in the field of transitional management and change, because I have
found them to be so helpful when trying to approach changes in our lives more
like the optimistic twin rather than the fearful one.

Bridges draws a distinction between change and transition: change is the desired
outcome; transition is the process we undergo to get us there.  “Change is
situational,” he teaches. “Transition, on the other hand, is the process of
letting go of the way things used to be and then taking hold of the way they
subsequently become. In between the letting go and the taking hold again, there
is a chaotic but potentially creative ‘neutral zone’ when things aren’t the old
way, but aren’t really a new way either.  This three-phase process – ending,
neutral zone, beginning again – is transition.”[ii]

Successful changes emerge out of an intentional process of transition.  The
first step is recognizing, in Bridge’s words, that “every transition begins with
an ending.”   That ending, even when desired and ultimately for the good, still
involves some sense of loss.   Changing – whether it involves moving from one
stage of life to another or kicking a bad habit — means letting go of some part
of our past.  Too often we deny the reality of that loss and any emotional toll
it may take upon us:  even as we enjoy the quiet of the empty nest, we miss
being needed so much by our children; eating less meat will be healthier, but we
do miss that steak.  Without recognizing the sense of loss we may be
experiencing however, we will end up carrying that unfinished business with us,
a burden that will hamper our ability to achieve the change we seek, perhaps
fulfilling our deepest fears that we couldn’t really change anyway. 
Unanticipated change requires even more attention to recognizing those losses.

If, on the other hand, we allow ourselves the time and space to accept and
grieve for those losses, we can see beyond those painful moments with hope
towards the future, buoyed by the knowledge that “every transition is an ending
that prepares the ground for new growth and new activities.”[iii]  We can now
enter what Bridges calls the most important element in the process of
transition, the “neutral zone” -– the in between space between endings and new
beginnings.  It’s the space where we still feel the loss of the old, but we
haven’t yet experienced the benefits of the new; we’ve broken away from the past
but haven’t quite settled into the new present. 
“The neutral zone is… both a dangerous and an opportune place…” teaches Bridges.
“It is the time when repatterning takes place:  old and maladaptive habits are
replaced with new ones …  it is the seedbed of the new beginnings that you
seek.”[iv]



Taking time in the neutral zone enables us to do the work of letting go that
will then enable us to more fully embrace the change, the beginning again. 
These Yamim Noraim are an annual taste of being in the neutral zone as we pause
to reflect, take stock of our lives, and repurpose ourselves for the year
ahead.   I encourage you to find ways to return to the zone in the course of
this year, to seek out opportunities to reflect on whatever transitions you may
be in, address the losses and set goals for yourself for the changes you want to
see.

I spoke about transition in my first High Holy Day sermon at Vassar Temple and
now it comes back again during my last High Holy Days as rabbi of Vassar Temple
as we – you and me – begin another transition.  Although I have been thinking
about retirement for the past couple of years, since the late spring, when that
decision became official, we have dipped our toes into the neutral zone that
will lead to new beginnings:  retirement for me and a new rabbi for Vassar
Temple.

I say we have only dipped our toes, because we are at the very edge of the
neutral zone.  I am looking forward to truly dwelling in the neutral zone that
will begin on July 1st and will last, who knows how long.  It will certainly be
a time of letting go of what has been a most significant and meaningful phase of
my life and, ultimately, figuring out what comes next. Undoubtedly that will be
accompanied by a certain amount of grief and loss.  In the intense preparation
for this holy day season, I kept saying to myself – I won’t miss this, but I
know that, to some extent, I will!   Certainly, there is a great deal that I
will miss about being a rabbi and being your rabbi.  We are staying in
Poughkeepsie for the foreseeable future, so that part of our lives will be
stable, but so much of my life will be very different and will take some
adjustment.  I will also continue to be connected with Vassar Temple.  The exact
nature of that relationship will be determined in broad terms in the very near
future.

Vassar Temple has also entered the neutral zone, preparing for what is never an
insignificant change:   hiring a new rabbi.   As I am your 30th rabbi in 175
years, you have been here before!   A most diverse search committee, under very
capable leadership, has been established and is undergoing important training on
rabbinic hiring practices now provided by the Reform movement.  The committee is
diverse both in demographics as well as those with experience on rabbinic search
committees and those who bring new eyes to the process. Fortunately, there is
helpful guidance through the Central Conference of American Rabbis, the rabbinic
organization of the Reform movement, on the hiring process and through the Union
for Reform Judaism on rabbinic transition.  As you have read, the committee has
received applications and the interview process has begun.  I remind you of the
appeal from the search committee to submit any questions or offer input. 

I do want to take this opportunity to address some questions and concerns that
some of you have raised about the process and my role and relationship with the
new rabbi.    The CCAR has an extensive Code of Ethics and established
guidelines for rabbinic relationships.   First, I am not involved in the search
or selection process.  I have no idea who the applicants are.  Typically, a
candidate will reach out to the current rabbi to learn more about the
congregation from the rabbi’s perspective.  If candidates want to speak with me,
I will be most happy to speak with them.  I will be glad to pass on what Rabbi
Arnold said to me:  the only problem is that they are all menschen!

When a new rabbi begins the former rabbi has one major responsibility:  to give
the new rabbi full support and to make way for the new rabbi to get established
and build relationships with the congregation.  In order to enable this to occur
most easily, the guidance of the CCAR is for the former rabbi to keep some
distance from the congregation, most certainly for the first High Holy Days and,
if possible, for the first year.  Thereafter, the appropriate protocol and
respect for the current rabbi is that requests for the former rabbi to do
anything connected to the congregation – teaching a class, officiating at a
funeral, speaking at a service — must go through the current rabbi.

I have been blessed to have good relationships with Rabbis Arnold and Golomb. 
Of course, the Arnolds moved too far a distance away to be engaged with the
congregation on any regular basis.  Through the arrangements the congregation
made with Rabbi Golomb, he continues to teach his Talmud course (mostly by
zoom), he has been on call most times when I have been on vacation and he has
led a Shabbat service most summers and participated in others.  I certainly
intend to be a support to the new rabbi and have every reason to believe that we
will continue in this pattern of positive rabbinic relationships.

But that is all very much down the road.  We have only just dipped our toes in
this neutral zone.  While it is a time of uncertainty of what next year will
look like for both of us, we can and should take advantage of the creativity
that is possible in the neutral zone.  It is a time for the congregation to do
some stock taking of who you are and who you want to be as you seek out new
rabbinic leadership.  For me, it is an opportunity to focus my energies on doing
all of the rabbinic tasks that I love and are so meaningful to me (and, those
that aren’t as well!).



There will be opportunities in the last spring for more formal endings of this
stage of our relationship.  Until that time, I will continue to say Hineini,
“Here I am,” to you with my fullest self, as I have done since I became rabbi of
Vassar Temple almost seven years ago.  My hope in this new year is that we will
continue to say Hineini to one another, that we will be present for one another
so that the wonderful “family” that is Vassar Temple will continue to grow
stronger even in this time of change.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i] Rabbi Jan Offel, “Changes,” Erev Rosh Hashanah 5767/2006, Temple Kol Tikvah,
Tarzana, CA
[ii] William Bridges, The Way of Transition, p. 2
[iii] William Bridges, Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes, p. 42
[iv] William Bridges, Managing Transitions, p.9


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by Bob Abrams on October 31, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged bible, god, judaism, religion, torah

Posted by Bob Abrams on October 31, 2024

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2024/10/31/a-time-for-turning-a-sermon-for-kol-nidrei-5785-rabbi-renni-s-altman-dd/




“ISRAEL: THE DAY AFTER OCTOBER 7TH” A SERMON FOR ROSH HASHANAH MORNING, RABBI
RENNI ALTMAN, DD.

“Israel:  The Day After October 7th”
A Sermon for Rosh HaShanah Morning
Rabbi Renni S. Altman, DD

Two days before Rosh Hashanah in 1993 the Oslo Accords were signed on the White
House lawn.  The negotiations had been such a well-guarded secret that no one
outside of a very small circle knew.  Amidst the loud applause that day, if one
listened very carefully one could hear a very big rip that went across the
rabbinic world–all those sermons that had to be rewritten. 

My husband would say I procrastinate every year, but writing this year has been
particularly challenging.  I kept hoping that I would have to rip up what I’ve
written (or press Control-A-Delete) because a ceasefire would have been reached,
the hostages released and the war come to an end.  Nonetheless, I had to keep
writing through the ever-changing realities – hoping to have to change it all. 
Sadly, no need to rip or delete for good news; the situation has only worsened
with Iranian missiles the day before Rosh Hashanah.  As of this writing, we
anxiously await to see if this war will expand further.

In four days, we will reach the unbelievable first anniversary of the horrific
attacks of October 7th. 

There will be a number of communal commemorations throughout Dutchess County. 
Vassar Temple is co-sponsoring with Federation and area synagogues a program on
the night of the 7th, hosted by Temple Beth-El.  We will remember that day, and
those who perished and the hostages through song, poetry and memorial prayers. 
We will also remember that day during the Eleh Ezkera, the martyrology segment
of our Yom Kippur afternoon service.

Oct. 7th is a date that is now seared into our memories, similar to Sept 11th. 
In the US there was life before Sept 11th and life after Sept 11th.  For Israel
and for the Jewish people, there is now life before Oct 7th and life after.

Life on October 7th and after has been nothing short of traumatic – most
severely in Israel, to be sure, but here in America as well. 

The trauma of that day, even as we approach the year anniversary, has not
abated.  Perhaps those families who are coming up to the first yahrzeits for the
loved ones have learned to adjust to that loss.  The freed hostages no doubt
endure PTSD, the tens of thousands of evacuees are still dealing with being
homeless – after a year, those in the north may soon be returning to their
homes; some people from the Gaza envelope have returned home; others have no
home to which to return or cannot face the trauma of being there.  Let us never
forget the 101 souls still being held in Gaza, whose whereabouts are unknown,
living or dead, no one knows, and the on-going trauma of their families whose
anguish is simply unfathomable.

Israel is still traumatized from losses of a different kind:

The loss of faith in core institutions of Israeli society:  the government and
the IDF, both of whom are supposed to protect them and failed them miserably. 
Will those responsible in positions of power be held accountable?

We wonder what of Israel, the “startup nation” will be left after these wars. 
There is not a family who has not been touched by this war, who has not lost a
loved one or close to a hostage family.  The economy is falling.  Fears of a
brain drain are very real. 

On a very deep level, Israel has failed in its essential purpose:  to be a safe
homeland for the Jews.  Zionism was born out of Jews escaping pogroms and
antisemitism; on October 7th a pogrom happened in Israel.

In the world after October 7th, Israel has also lost so much of its standing in
the world as the lone true democracy in the Middle East (though after Iran’s
attack, some of that has been regained).  The initial support of Israel’s
absolute right to defend itself began to wane as the war in Gaza raged and the
casualties of Gaza civilians mounted.  Israel had fallen into Hamas’ well laid
trap.  How can one fight a moral war against an immoral enemy who hides behind
civilians, in tunnels below hospitals and schools? 

Perhaps there was another way, but with the trauma of that attack, there was no
searching for an alternative.  Certainly, the Israeli government could have done
more to provide humanitarian support for the civilians (though Hamas was
stealing it).  Laying out a strategic plan to its own people and to America with
an end goal for Gaza would have helped to secure greater support.  But the
numbers and images of Gaza were overwhelming, creating space for long held
anti-Zionist and antisemitic forces to sprout around the world.  It was Israel,
and not Hamas, that faced charges of Genocide, while it is Sinwar who turned
innocent Gazans into unwilling martyrs in Hamas’ mission to eradicate Israel –
and the Jews.  Israel does not seek to wipe out the Palestinian people nor are
the attacks collective punishment.  Israel, unlike other countries in wars
taking place around the globe, does try to avoid killing civilians, to give them
notice to move to safer areas (which it is also doing in Lebanon).  And yet, the
sad reality of Gaza is that no place is safe, when the enemy is underground. 



Initially, most Israelis, still traumatized from October 7th, could not find any
empathy for the Gazans.  R. Levi Weiman Kelman, a peace activist, participant in
Rabbis for Human Rights, said in an interview: 

“I’m ashamed at how my heart has shrunk… I think on October 7 all of our hearts
were broken, and since then everyone is just trying to cope with so much, and
we’re limited human beings… The suffering in Gaza is real.  I definitely don’t
wish anyone in Gaza harm, but I just don’t feel I have the emotional capacity to
contain all this… This is the ultimate Hamas victory.  They made me a worse
person, they made me a less compassionate person.  I’m just so angry about
that.”[i]

At that time, it seemed impossible to hold two truths: that Israel had the right
to defend itself and that one can be concerned about the Palestinian civilians
and their health and safety.

That challenge held sway in Israel and abroad:

To be critical of the Israel’s actions in the war was deemed anti-Zionist.

To be sympathetic towards the Palestinians, was a betrayal to Israel.

I felt it most strongly in two situations:

I went down to the rally in DC in November because I felt it was very important
to show strong support for Israel though I was concerned about the tenor of the
rally.  The war in Gaza was in full force and civilian Gazan casualties were
mounting.  I still believed in Israel’s absolute right to defend itself, but I
couldn’t support or condone the slaughter of innocents.  I stood with others of
the Reform movement, whose leaders had publicly echoed my feelings.  Among the
speeches that were overwhelming supportive of Israel and mostly focused on
release of the hostages (which was fine and expected), there were just a couple
who dared to mention the Palestinian civilians:  the actress Debra Messing hoped
for a free and flourishing Gaza; and a young woman with six relatives being held
in Gaza courageously said, “We can pray for Palestinian children and for Israeli
children.”

Some months later I, along with a number of Vassar Temple folks, attended
multiple City of Poughkeepsie Common Council meetings to speak against the
passage of so-called “Ceasefire resolutions” being proposed around the country
by anti-Israel groups, resolutions that never mentioned Hamas, equated the
hostages with political prisoners and did not recognize the right of Israel to
live in safety and security.  I was fully supportive of a temporary ceasefire,
if it was partnered with the release of hostages and a permanent ceasefire only
when Hamas would agree to abide by it.  These resolutions were clearly a first
step in other anti-Israel actions of the BDS movement.  The vitriol in that room
from the pro-Palestinian side got worse with each successive meeting.  Things in
that room were very black and white; there was little space for the gray area of
complexity and nuance.

So it was with protests on college campuses.  If you supported Israel, then the
understanding was that you supported the killing of Palestinian civilians.  And
if you were against the war in Gaza, you had to be against the existence of the
state of Israel.  Sadly, this binary thinking has also impacted families,
especially across the generations, where people could not engage civilly on this
topic.

The response to this war was being limited by what social psychologist, Jonathan
Haight, calls tribalism, where we seek out affinity groups and see the world as
in our group or the other.  If you’re in the other group from me, then you’re
bad.  It’s all very black and white; I’m right they’re wrong…

“… the human mind is prepared for tribalism,” writes Haight “…. Tribalism is our
evolutionary endowment for banding together to prepare for intergroup conflict. 
When the “tribe switch” is activated, we bind ourselves more tightly to the
group, we embrace and defend the group’s moral matrix, and we stop thinking for
ourselves.”[ii] 

We saw this dynamic play itself out with some of the campus protestors who, when
interviewed about chanting “from the river to the sea,” didn’t even know which
river or sea or the deeper implications of the chant.  Too often social media
posts are forwarded by individuals who don’t fully understand their message.
 Thus, the divide deepens.

In an article entitled “Celebrating Simultaneous Truths” in Sources, a magazine
of the Shalom Hartman Institute, Stephen Bartell, a college senior and president
of Princeton’s Center for Jewish Life, offers an alternative model to the binary
approach of tribalism. 

He writes about the challenges he encountered on campus navigating his views and
the two encampments, though peaceful, on adjacent lawns.  “Each time I
approached the scene, my complicated, constantly evolving thoughts about the war
were flattened into a binary decision: Which side do I stand on? I can either
care about Israeli lives or Gazan lives but not both.  I can pray for the return
of Israeli hostages or advocate for the safety and self-determination of
displaced Palestinians, but these values sit on opposite patches of greenery.
 Although, at their core, both sets of protesters were advocating for the safety
of innocent people in Gaza—one group calling for justice for Palestinians and
the other demanding the return of hostages—each seemed convinced that they had
nothing in common.  I often walked by these demonstrations without engaging with
either side, out of fear of the message it might send to the other.[iii]



By applying certain principles he learned as a math major, Bartell discovered
that he could hold simultaneous truths: “My liberal Zionist convictions and
commitments are not undermined by my calls for Israel to act morally as it
defends itself.  My assertion that all human lives should be protected is not
contradicted by my hope that the hostages held in Gaza are returned home
immediately.”[iv]

He shares two important lessons in the path towards holding simultaneous truths:

 1. We ought to be intentional about the language and labels we use:  what does
    it mean to be pro-Israel or pro-Palestinian or Zionist?  We should clarify
    our own understanding of those terms when we apply them to ourselves and not
    make assumptions about others and impose our understanding of the labels
    they may use or the groups with which they may stand.  We need to engage
    with them and ask what those identities mean to them.
 2. We need to find empathy and extend compassion… “lest we all become convinced
    that ideological misalignments should keep us from maintaining
    compassionate, humanizing avenues of communication.”[v]

If we can act in this way, hopes Bartell, “we each gain a great power: the power
to define what we believe on our own terms, to build communities around mutual
understanding and empathy, and to create thoughtful dialogue that challenges us
in the spirit of a Jewish tradition we can all be proud of.”[vi]

We actually find an image for holding simultaneous truths in the sounds of the
shofar we heard this morning. 

In a Talmudic debate about the different sounds what they represent, one rabbi
makes a linguistic connection to the story of Deborah the Judge.  Deborah led
the Israelites to victory over the Canaanites when their general, Sisera was
killed.  Deborah’s victory poem concludes with an image of Sisera’s mother,
peering through the window looking for her son, and wailing, wondering if he
will return.  The word for wail is related to the word for sounding.  To achieve
the desired sound of the blasts, whether the cry of the shevarim or the whimper
of t’ruah, the sages in fact call upon us to remember the suffering of Sisera’s
mother.  Deborah, the victorious warrior who protects her people, can also bear
witness to the suffering of the other.  We can celebrate Deborah’s strength and
victory, even as we can hear Sisera’s mother’s cries.  We don’t have to hold
them equally, but can we hear both?  Can we hold simultaneous truths?[vii]

I’ve been trading What’s App messages with a young Israeli man with whom my
family has a close relationship.  His messages to me have been so powerful and
painful.  They demonstrate the struggles that Israelis are enduring trying to
hold too many simultaneous and contradictory feelings about their country.  With
his permission, I share his story with you.  We hosted Amit for four months when
he and our son were juniors in high school, about 14 years ago.  Amit had a
warmth and charming personality that immediately enveloped you.  After
graduating high school, Amit completed his mandatory army service, became an
officer and served an additional three years.  He studied law in college and
became, what else, an entrepreneur.  He started a real estate investment
business, recruiting Israelis to buy property in the US.  He married and by the
start of the war had two sons – Eitan and Noam, ages 4 and 2.  On October 7th
his wife’s cousin, Einav Elkayam Levy, was murdered at the Nova Festival.  Her
husband Or Levy, was taken hostage and remains in Gaza, held in the tunnels,
they believe.  (Though we have been in touch throughout the year, I only learned
about Or in these exchanges.  I will add him to our prayers for the hostages.)
 Their son, Almog, who recently turned 3, shuttles between his grandparents,
barely remembering his parents.  Amit was called into reserves in the aftermath
of October 7th.  He served for months and returned to find that his business had
almost completely collapsed.  He had to take a bank loan to buy groceries.  Amit
was finally getting his business back together and his wife gave birth to their
third son.  Two later, he is back on reserve duty.  When he was home on leave
recently, Amit overhead his eldest son, Eitan, talking to his cousin Avia.  Avia
was telling Eitan that they were going to spend Shabbat with family in a
different town.  Eitan’s only question: “Do they have a safe room there? Because
if you hear alarms you need to go there fast.”  “Is this the way I want my kids
to grow up,” asks Amit?

When I asked him about the assassination of Nasrallah, he shared the following
story that he had never told us:  during his Bar Mitzvah in Haifa, just as he
was being called up to the Torah for his Aliyah, the sirens went off and they
all had to run for the shelters.  It was 2006, the war started by Nasrallah. 
Ever since, Amit has been waiting, in his words, “to hear that Nasrallah the
devil has been killed.”

Amit is 31 years old.  He has participated in 3 wars as a combat commander, and
grew up through the Intifada, the second Lebanon War and a few more operations. 
“I am so tired of this,” he wrote, “I’ve paid such a high personal price I
really just want to get away from here… I need to breathe… I truly love my
country. I do, I just feel so exhausted and sad.  And EXHAUSTED….



Nonetheless, he asked me to tell you that “the Israeli people are strong.  We’ll
keep holding the fort and doing what is right which is defending the Jewish
people and the people of Israel.”

At the same time, he wants to go to the moon, “where no hate can reach us.”

I think Amit and his family will stay in Israel, as long as he can rebuild his
business, as they are strongly connected to their families.  At least, I hope so
because Israel needs them.  But he – and we — need an Israel where his children
and their children and their children after them don’t have to worry about
alarms going off and houses needing safe rooms.

There has to be a better path to achieve what seems to be a utopian dream. 

This summer I learned about a theory of change called “Crashing,” developed by
Rabbi Benay Lappe, president and founder of Svara, a traditionally radical
yeshiva.[viii]  The basic premise of Crashing is that every religion, society,
or organization has a master story to answer basic questions of its existence
and purpose.  If successful that religion, society, organization will last a
long time, but at some point, every master story will crash.  Participants will
find a compelling story whose answers they’ll like better, an event will occur
that makes the story’s answers no longer work, or something inside of the person
shifts and old answers no longer true. 

Lappe posits three possible responses to a crash:

 1. Deny anything has changed – hold onto the master story, build walls around
    it for protection;
 2. Accept that the story has crashed; reject the story and jump into new one;
    or
 3. Accept that the story has crashed, stay in it but reinterpret it through
    lens of the crash, building a new story from the amalgamation of the
    original story, the crash material and new interpretations.

The thing about Option 3 is that it will look very different from the master
story before the crash.  The example Lappy used in her Eli talk about this was
the destruction of the second Temple, surely a major crash for Judaism.  The
priests chose Option 1, holding on to their old ways as best as they could. 
Most Jews of the time chose Option 2 and disappeared into Roman society.  A
group of radicals chose Option 3 and crafted a new form of Judaism taking the
best of the old master story and reshaping it.  Those radicals became known as
rabbis and the form of Judaism they created, prayer and Torah study in place of
sacrifice, became known as “rabbinic Judaism” and the foundation of Judaism that
has been practiced for the past 2000 years, where priests no longer function.

On October 7th Israel’s master story crashed.

The current government has chosen Option 1, relying on military force to weaken,
if not defeat its enemies, and maintain control over the West Bank.

It is unknown how many of Israel’s “best and brightest” will choose Option 2 and
leave Israel to rebuild their lives in other countries.

The master story of Israel contains essential values:  to be a homeland for the
Jewish people, to be a Jewish and democratic state guided by the principles of
its Declaration of Independence, to be a state that “will be based on freedom,
justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel”.  My great fear is
that those values cannot be preserved with Option 1.  When will victory be
achieved and what will that mean?  Yes, Hezbollah has been weakened as has
Hamas, but the hate that they teach has not been eradicated.  It may well fester
more among the Lebanese who had no battle with Israel before, but will now after
their homes have been destroyed.  It certainly has in Gaza and support for Hamas
continues to grow in the West Bank.  This war will end one day – but that will
not end the cycle of violence that has plagued Israel throughout its existence.

Option 3, creating a new master story out of this crash, will demand visionary
leaders, people willing to take new risks, who will choose to pursue a political
path rather than the military paths of the pre-October 7th story, one that
envisions sharing this land in some way that creates safety and security for
Israelis and Palestinians.

Even more challenging than finding such leaders – and supporters – within Israel
are the partners in the Arab world who must also leave behind their master
stories and create new ones:  ones that will involve giving up their commitment
to the destruction of Israel and recognizing its legitimacy.

Option 3 seems really impossible right now; many would say naïve.  They cannot
reach a ceasefire in Gaza, the hostages remain there, Israel is now fighting in
Lebanon, and Iran is shooting missiles that sent most of the country into
shelters.  Nonetheless, I firmly believe that the only long-term path to
security for Israel is a new path.  This war has put recent positive steps in
relations with some moderate Arab nations are on hold and a truly life changing
possibility of relations with Saudi Arabia waits just beyond reach.  We may not
be able to see that path right now, but that doesn’t mean we can give up on
trying reaching for it.



While certainly a minority voice in Israel and Palestine, there are radical
peace seekers.  In August, former Israeli prime minister Ehud Olmert and former
Palestinian Authority foreign minister Nasser al-Kidwa announced an agreement to
cooperate on advancing peace between Israelis and Palestinians, including a
ceasefire and hostage deal in Gaza, and the eventual establishment of a
Palestinian state.[ix] 

Maoz Inon is an entrepreneur and peace activist, who has founded several tourism
initiatives in Israel and in the Middle East to promote understanding.  He was
raised on a kibbutz close to Gaza; his parents were burned in their home on
October 7th.  He pursues his vision for peace with greater intensity, partnering
with Palestinian journalist Aziz Abu Sarah, who moved from seeking revenge for
his brother’s death by Israeli soldiers to becoming a peace maker.  

These are lights of hope; though they may be dim they can grow brighter.

Our Israeli Reform Movement has long been a beacon of hope, working hard to
ensure that Israel lives up to the commitments of its Declaration of
Independence and for a peaceful future with the Palestinian people.  Since
October 7th, our rabbis and synagogues have been providing spiritual and
practical support, making a difference in the lives of some 5000 Israelis,
including evacuees from settlements in the Gaza envelope and the north, families
of hostages, and, especially, the children.  Our rabbis and their congregants
are among those evacuees, and they work even harder now to maintain a sense of
community despite their dispersion.  Reform rabbis bring Havdalah to the weekly
protests for the hostages, offering comfort and hope through prayer and song. 

It is a very helpless feeling to watch missiles raining down over Tel Aviv.  I
hope that if you know Israelis, you are reaching out.  That contact, just
knowing that you care, means so much to them.

But there are two very important practical ways that we can support Israel in
this time and the values we believe in.  The first is by providing financial
support.  Many of you may already be contributing to Federation or organizations
whose work you support in Israel.  I hope that you will also consider our own
Reform movement, the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism, in its Emergency
Campaign so that it can continue to do the good work that it is doing for
Israelis who are struggling so.  There are flyers on the back table and in the
lobby with directions how to donate.

In the spring, the World Zionist Congress will hold its elections that take
place every four years.  The World Zionist Congress controls an annual budget of
over $1 billion that is dispersed in Israel and sets policies that affect the
status of Reform Jews in Israel and millions of Israelis.  Through strong
representation in the last Congress, we have been able to support policies that
help foster a strong democracy in Israel and uphold our values of equality and
justice.  We need even stronger representation now as Ultra-Orthodox groups are
campaigning against the influence of Reform Jews.  Every Jew age 18 and over can
vote.  If you want to help in Vassar Temple’s get out the vote effort, please
contact me.  You will hear more about this in coming months.

In this most challenging time for Israel, for the Jewish people, we are called
upon to raise our voices like that shofar.  May we find the strength to speak
out for Israel, for the Israel that we believe in and pray can yet be.  May we
find the courage to hold simultaneous truths until the day when there will be
only one truth, because we will have had the daring and vision to support the
path leads towards a secure and peace future. 

I close with the words of Israeli poet Aharon Shabtai, who wrote this poem on
October 10, 2023:

Tikkun (Repair) 1

The horror

The terrible disaster

The shame,

The fragments of stupidity,

The foolishness of religion

The blindness of eyes,

The violence of despair

Will not be repaired, neither by an officer,



Nor a bomb, nor an airplane,

Nor by any more blood.

Only the heart’s wisdom can repair

Only the doctor, the physician can repair,

It is only the good teacher who can repair,

The medic, whether Arab or Jew,

The peaceful traveler can repair, the bicycle rider,

The sandwich carrier

The one who walks in the street.

The one who opens eyes can repair,

The one who speaks compassionately can repair

The listener can repair,

The educated person can repair,

The one who waits and ponders can repair,

The guide can repair

On the paths of generosity, of love,

The painter can repair, the poet,

The students of peace can repair,

The gardeners of peace.

May we all be gardeners of peace.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i]
https://forward.com/forward-newsletters/looking-forward/574527/takeaways-from-reporting-jerusalem-tel-aviv-haifa/

[ii] Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt, The Coddling of the American Mind:  How
Good Intentions and Bad Ideas are Setting up a Generation for Failure (Penguin
Books, 2018), p. 58

[iii] https://www.sourcesjournal.org/articles/celebrating-simultaneous-truths

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Ibid.

[vi] Ibid.

[vii] Teaching from Rabbi Jill Maderer, CCAR Webinar: Israel Complexities and
Nuance; references Babylonian Talmud Rosh Hashanah 33b and Judges 4

[viii] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBWIEAR_GQY

[ix]
https://www.timesofisrael.com/liveblog_entry/ex-pm-olmert-ex-pa-foreign-minister-propose-plan-for-two-state-solution-to-conflict

 1. Rachel Korazim, et. al, Shiva:  Poems of October 7 (The Institute for Jewish
    Research and Publications, 2024) ↩︎

Leave a comment
by Bob Abrams on October 7, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged gaza, hamas, Israel, palestine, politics

Posted by Bob Abrams on October 7, 2024

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2024/10/07/israel-the-day-after-october-7th-a-sermon-for-rosh-hashanah-morning/




“LET US BUY A FIELD OF HOPE”, A SERMON FOR EREV ROSH HASHANAH 5785, RABBI RENNI
S. ALTMAN, DD.

“Let us Buy a Field of Hope”
A Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5785
Vassar Temple
Rabbi Renni S. Altman, DD

A group of elderly, retired men gather each morning at a cafe to discuss
life. Given the state of the world their talks are often depressing. One day one
of the men startled the others by announcing: “You know what, I’m an optimist.”
The others are shocked, but one exclaims: “Wait a minute, if you are an optimist
why do you look so worried?” The other responds: “You think it’s easy to be an
optimist?!”  

Entering a new year is meant to be a time of excitement, a new beginning filled
with possibilities, hope for the future.   Those words don’t exactly describe
the feelings that I’m guessing most of us are experiencing as we enter 5785.

Grateful that the Iranian missiles were stopped by Iron Dome and American
defenses, we anxiously await the Israeli response; the potential for an expanded
war becomes more and more real.  Any ceasefires move further and further beyond
reach.  We can’t even think about the situation of the hostages still held in
Gaza. We fear for Israel’s future.  

Incidents of antisemitism have reached new heights since October 7th.  Last
month the police foiled a plot of a man in Canada planning an attack in New York
City on this October 7th. 

Students have returned to college.  Will Jewish students feel safe?  Will they
be protected?  Will the encampments return?

And in just over a month, we will hold a presidential election that to both
democrats and republicans feels like one of the most consequential of modern
times, with each side believing that if the other side wins, our nation is
doomed.  Polarization in our country has only increased since the last
presidential election and fears are very real about what will happen after
November 5th.

COVID is back and rates are rising….

And, within our community, individuals are dealing with very real and
frightening personal challenges – illness, loss, job insecurity, marital
struggles, broken relationships…

So many of us enter this new year with feelings of anxiety, fear, despair, with
worried looks on our faces – indeed, it isn’t easy to be an optimist.

So here we are – together as a congregation marking the eve of Rosh Hashanah,
our new year.  We come for many reasons – for some it is a longstanding
religious tradition; for others it’s simply what Jews do; for many, we come to
connect to and draw strength from our community and our religious heritage.
 Here, we seek to tap into resources for hope; after all, Judaism is a religion
grounded in hope. 

Hope is even stronger than the optimism of our elderly gentleman; but hope
requires more from us.   Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, former
Chief Rabbi of Britain and a leading thinker of the 20th century, taught “Many
of us confuse two concepts: optimism and hope.  They sound similar. But in
truth, they are very different… Optimism is the belief that things will get
better.  Hope is the belief that together we can make things better.  To be
optimistic requires no courage.  A certain naivety suffices.  But to hope
requires great courage.  No Jew who knows the history of our people, much of
which was written in tears, can be optimistic.  But no Jew, if they are a true
Jew, can give up hope.  Hope is what changes the human condition.”

Furthermore, he taught, “Western civilization is the product of two cultures:
ancient Greece and ancient Israel. The Greeks believed in fate: the future is
determined by the past. Jews believed in freedom: there is no “evil decree” that
cannot be averted. The Greeks gave the world the concept of tragedy. Jews gave
it the idea of hope. The whole of Judaism – though it would take a book to show
it – is a set of laws and narratives designed to create in people, families,
communities and a nation, habits that defeat despair. Judaism is the voice of
hope in the conversation of mankind.”[i]

We see that voice of hope in the Hafatarah portion that we will read tomorrow
morning from the prophet Jeremiah.   Jeremiah lived through one of the most
traumatic times in Jewish history:  the Babylonian conquest of Judah, the
destruction of the First Temple and the exile of most of the Judeans to
Babylonia, the first time Jews lived outside of their land since they entered
under Joshua.  In chapters preceding our reading tomorrow, Jeremiah sends a
letter to the leadership of Judah already in exile before the Temple was
destroyed, in which he writes: “Thus said …. the God of Israel, to the whole
community that I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in
them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. You should take wives and beget sons
and daughters; and you should take wives for your sons, and give your daughters
to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there, do not
decrease. And seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray
to God in its behalf; for in its prosperity, you shall prosper.” (Jer. 29:4-7)



In other words, settle in Babylonia; build lives there.  At first glance, one
might understand this as Jeremiah saying, give up on the dream of coming back to
Judah and Jerusalem; settle where you are and make the best of it.  But that is
not actually the case.  Two chapters later, in our Haftarah portion, Jeremiah
conveys God’s promise of forgiveness and return if they turn back to God. 
“There is hope for your future, declares the Eternal, and your children shall
come back to their own borders” (Jeremiah 31:17).

The next chapter includes a truly incredible tale of hope.  Imagine the scene:
 the Babylonians are besieging Jerusalem, Jeremiah has been imprisoned by the
King of Judah for his prophies of doom, the first phase of the exile has begun. 
Now, with the destruction of the Temple immanent, God tells Jeremiah that his
cousin will come to him in prison and ask him to purchase his land in Anathoth
(about 15 km north of Jerusalem).   And from his prison cell, Jeremiah purchases
the land and has the deed and related documents sealed in an earthen jar, “So
that they may last a long time.” (Jeremiah 32:14)

Clearly Jeremiah didn’t consult a Century 21 advisor – Jerusalem is under siege;
the whole country is about to be destroyed; Jeremiah himself will be carried off
to Egypt. Not exactly a great time to invest in land near Jerusalem!

Every action in the prophet’s life was symbolic for the nation.  Here, to quote
my colleague from The Temple in Atlanta, Rabbi Peter Berg, Jeremiah was not just
buying land, Jeremiah was buying “a field of hope.”  Despite overwhelming
circumstances his purchase was in hope for the future, the Divine Promise of a
return to their land – whether in his lifetime or not.  

By telling the people to live full lives in Babylonia, Jeremiah was guiding them
to navigate the present reality, but his purchase of the land in Judah said,
“hold onto hope for the future.”

It took a great deal of courage for Jeremiah to purchase that land.  Like
Jeremiah, we, too, can be courageous to live in this challenging world, to deal
with difficult present realities, even as we hold onto hope and take steps for a
better future.

We can find the path towards hope in one of the central prayers of these Yamim
Noraim; a prayer that at first glance may seem to be saying just the opposite. 
In the most powerful of words, the Unetanah tokef reminds us of the
uncertainties of our lives, of what we can lose in a moment.  I will never
forget the challenge of reading these words in my former congregation in the
days immediately following 9-11.  I have a similar feeling this year as we
approach the first anniversary of October 7th.  This prayer emerged out of a
theology that developed in response to the shattering experience of the
destruction of the First Temple and the exile, attributing those events to
Divine will as a consequence for the people’s sins.  While that theology held
for centuries, most certainly in modern times most of us reject it.  Still, we
know that bad things happen to good people and “stuff” happens that we cannot
control.

The Unetanah tokef offers us a path for what we can control – guidance as to how
we can navigate living with the uncertainty and any challenges that arise, to
find the courage and ability to hope:

U’teshuvah, u’tefillah, u’tzedakah ma’avirin et roah hagezera

Through repentance, prayer and acts of justice.

Teshuvah, repentance, is in itself one of the most hopeful lessons in Judaism.

As HaRav Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of pre-state Palestine, taught: “Repentance
encompasses the major part of the Torah and life; upon it are based all the
hopes of the individual…as well as the community…This is the entire bases of
repentance:  ascent of will and its transformation to virtuousness, emergence
from darkness to light, from the “valley of disturbance” to the “gateway of
hope.”[ii] 

These Yamim Noraim are a gift of hope, based on the fundamental belief that
because we are human, we will make mistakes, we will fail, we will hurt others. 
But there is the hope that if we learn from our mistakes, we can be better. 
Every Rosh Hashanah we get a chance to try again, it’s an annual do-over.  We
can learn not to make the same mistakes; we can work at rebuilding struggling
relationships.

How can we find the strength to do that?  One path is tefillah, prayer. 

Through prayer we reach out to something beyond ourselves, something many of us
call God – an eternal Source of hope, strength and comfort. 

The prophet Isaiah, offering comfort to the people after the destruction and
exile, called upon them not to lose hope and faith in God: 



“They who trust in the Eternal shall renew their strength

  As eagles grow new plumes.

They shall run and not grow weary,

They shall march and not grow faint.”

Prayer is also a time for introspection; the Hebrew word Tefillah comes from the
root “to judge oneself.”  It is an opportunity to turn off everything else and
look deep within, to let ancient words carry you somewhere else, old and new
melodies to open up your soul.

Personally, I have always found prayer most meaningful in community.  Drawn
together through common heritage or association, we find strength in one
another, build deeper personal connections and support a shared vision and sense
of purpose.  We have a very special Shabbat evening community and I encourage
those who have not yet taken part, to join us.

Hope is both essential to and a by-product of the third prong of the Unetanah
tokef, acts of tzedakah, actions by which we can bring justice to an unjust
world.  Theologian and leading Conservative Rabbi Milton Steinberg, understood
in Jeremiah’s promise of “hope for your future” … “a hope for society:  the
assurance that it will in the end be regenerated into something fairer, its
evils purged away, its good perfected and made permanent… [The Messiah] will not
arrive all at once.  It will be achieved slowly, cumulatively, “precept by
precept, line by line, line by line; here a little, there a little” (Isa.28:10).
[Steinberg’s reading of Isaiah].  [And where is God] in this process…? [God] is,
as always at work in [people], in their hopes and aspirations, in the skill and
fortitude with which they pursue them.[iii] 

Each act of tzedakah that we perform – every donation that we make, every scarf
that we knit, every book we read to children at the Morse School, every pint of
blood we donate, every meal that we serve at the homeless shelter or at Lunch
Box – and the fact that our time at Lunch Box  is in partnership with the mosque
in these challenging times for Moslems and Jews is in itself a great act of hope
– all of these acts and so many more, bring us one step closer to that future
time when justice for all will truly prevail.  Each act is an expression of hope
that we can get there.  The sages of the Talmud taught us not to be overwhelmed
and not to give up:  remember, if you save a life, you save an entire world. 
And Rabbi Tarfon encouraged us with his famous teaching of 2000 years ago: “It
is not upon you to finish the task; neither are you free to desist from it.”
(Pirkei Avot 2:16) Each meal we provide gives hope to that hungry person;
knowing that what we do can make a difference, adds to our hope. 

“Tefillah, teshuva and tzedakah avert the severity of the decree.”  These
actions can move us towards hope rather than despair, they help shine the light
through the darkness.  With hope we act in these ways; and, in return, such
actions ultimately build up our resources of hope.  As 15th century rabbi and
philosopher Joseph Albo wrote, “hope is the cause for strength, and that
strength is a cause for more hope… the two mutually reacting upon each
other.”[iv] 

In a tribute to being a Jew, the 19th century French poet Edmund Flegg wrote “I
am a Jew because at every time when despair cries out, the Jew hopes.”[v] 

There is no one in modern times who manifested this sense of hope in the darkest
time of despair more than Elie Wiesel.  “We must hope in spite of despair,” he
taught, “because of our despair; we must not give despair the victory…. And yet,
I do not believe in despair.  People speak of a leap of faith.  I believe we
require a leap of hope.”  Quoting Camus, he continued, “Where there is no hope,
we must create it.”[vi]   Hope is what motivated the resisters in the Holocaust;
what motivated acts of goodness and kindness in the camps.  Hope motivated
survivors not to seek revenge but to move forward and build new lives. “Hope is
a choice,” taught Wiesel, “and it is a gift we give to one another.  It can be
absurd.  It does not rely on facts.  It is simply a choice. Once you make that
choice, to create hope, then you can look at evil without flinching, without
falling.  And this is the first step to fighting it, to protesting it.”[vii]

“The death of hope is the death of all generous impulses in me,” wrote
….Wiesel.  “It is the end of all possibilities, options, inquiries, renewals of
redemption… Where, under which sky, would we be if we were deserted by
hope?”[viii]

As we enter 5785, despite all of the challenges that accompany us from 5784, let
us not give in to despair.  Rather, let us choose hope, let us create hope, like
Jeremiah, let us buy that field of hope even as we struggle in the mud and muck
of current realities.  Through each kind gesture, each act of tzedakah, each
step we take to move one step closer to that Messianic time gives hope to others
and adds to our hope that we can make a difference, we can repair our broken
world.



Let us draw strength for that vision through this ancient prayer, with we close
our worship services, our prayer that envisions a world that one day will be
one.  As we turn to Aleinu, this is our fervent hope.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i] Lord Jonathan Sacks: 
https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/how-the-jewish-people-invented-hope/

[ii] David Arnow, Choosing Hope:  The Heritage of Judaism (JPS, 2022), p. 1

[iii] Ibid., p. 155

[iv] Ibid., p. 13

[v] As cited in Mishkan Tefillah (CCAR Press, 2007), p. 203

[vi] Ariel Burger, Witness:  Lessons from Elie Wisel’s Classroom, p. 184

[vii] Ibid., p. 186

[viii] Arnow, p. xvi

Leave a comment
by Bob Abrams on October 7, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged babylon, god, hope, jeremiah, jesus

Posted by Bob Abrams on October 7, 2024

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2024/10/07/let-us-buy-a-field-of-hope-a-sermon-for-erev-rosh-hashanah-5785-rabbi-renni-s-altman-dd/




OUR FAMILY HISTORY AT VASSAR TEMPLE

Our Family History at Vassar Temple
A talk delivered by Joel Kelson
at the L’Dor V’Dor (Generations) and Membership Shabbat Service
on December 1, 2023

Our family history in Poughkeepsie and with Vassar Temple is about 100 years
long. It started in the early 1920s with my grandparents. My mother grew up here
and moved away for college and afterward, but my grandparents stayed. In 1970,
my parents separated, and my mother returned to Poughkeepsie to be near her
mother. I lived in Poughkeepsie during the 1970-71 school year and had my Bar
Mitzvah at Vassar Temple. I moved back to the Poughkeepsie area after college in
1981, and have been here since. Let’s go back to the beginning.

My grandparents, Samuel and Fannie Berlin, both immigrated to the US from
Eastern Europe with their families, and got married in 1912. They had a son,
Joseph Berlin, in 1913, and my mother Doris Berlin was born in 1919. Sam Berlin
was a pharmacist and the family lived in Newark NJ. Shortly afterward, they
moved to White Plains and then in 1922 Sam bought a drugstore in Poughkeepsie.
In around 1924, they joined Vassar temple, which had been Conservative but just
in the past year had switched to Reform Judaism. The Berlin family was in
general not extremely religious, but my grandmother kept kosher, and they were
in the habit of walking to temple, which was a long way. To give you an idea:
Around that time they purchased land at the intersection of Main, Church, and
Fountain Place, and had a 3 story apartment building built there. Remember,
Vassar Temple was at the corner of Vassar and Mill Street then. That is a 1.3
mile, 1/2 hr walk each way, and they did that almost every Friday night.

I did a lot of research in the Poughkeepsie Journal archives, and found a
mention in December 1925 (it was called the Poughkeepsie Eagle-News then) of a
Hanukkah play taking place at Vassar Temple, in which my mother was listed as
participating. She was 6 1/2 years old then. We take for granted modern
electronic communication such as email, the World Wide Web, and texting. In
those days, there were just newspapers and telephones. So articles such as the
one on the Hanukkah celebration listed every child participant. And then there
were announcements of temple events with a long list of people who intended to
be going. You would read the list the day before and decide if you wanted to go,
or perhaps you didn’t because such and such was going. The number of people on
these lists was impressive. For example, for Vassar Temple Sisterhood events in
the 1950s and 60s, there seemed to be 50 or more women who planned on attending
every event.

Back to the Berlin family: My grandpa Sam had a drugstore on the ground floor of
1 Fountain Place, and the family had an apartment on the 2nd floor. They rented
out the other apartments and my grandma Fannie took care of all tenant business,
because Sam was busy in the pharmacy. Grandma was a wonderful mother, cook, and
hostess. Poughkeepsie became an upstate getaway where her and Sam’s siblings and
families met frequently. My grandmother was very active in the Vassar Temple
Sisterhood. Like in her home, she was a hostess at many an Oneg Shabbat and
temple function, according to the Poughkeepsie Journal archives. In fact, I read
that on the day after my birth in 1958, on Shabbat, she was honored with 2 other
women for their longtime service to the temple. How happy she must have been for
that recognition and to be a grandmother for the first time!

Skipping back in time to some sad events: 1931 was a horrible year for the
Berlin family. My uncle Joe Berlin died early in the morning on what was to have
been the day of his high school graduation. He broke his neck diving into
Wappingers Creek a couple days before. I’m named in memory of my uncle: My
Hebrew name is Yosef. During that summer of 1931, my mother must have scratched
a mosquito bite too much and her leg became infected. The infection went into
the bone, and this was before antibiotics; the only way to save her life was to
cut away the infected bone. It was thought she would never walk again. After
several operations during high school, she managed to walk, but with a limp. My
mother’s outcome was so good because she was operated on by Dr. Max Simon,
father of temple members Georgine Dreishpoon and Fredrica Goodman. My mother
became friendly with the family, and Dr. Simon’s younger sister-in-law, Lucille
Erdreich, was perhaps my mom’s best friend in her 80s.

A happy event was the birth of my uncle Arthur in 1934. The whole family was
active in Vassar Temple. In a November 1941 article in the Poughkeepsie Journal,
there was a special religious school assembly in honor of Thanksgiving, and my
uncle and Georgine Simon are listed as participants. In 1947, for whatever
reason, my uncle decided that he wanted his Bar Mitzvah at the Orthodox
synagogue, Schomre Hadath. The opposite happened in 1954 when my cousin Debby
married Dave Badian at Vassar Temple. The Badians became active members of
Schomre Israel. Uncle Arthur returned to Vassar Temple at least a little: In
1948, at his confirmation service, he gave the opening speech. Arthur became a
pharmacist, the family profession, and spent his adult life in New York City and
Toms River, NJ. Art died a few weeks before my twin children were born in 2002.
I named my son Samuel Arthur Kelson, after my grandpa and my uncle.

Back in time to the 1940s: My mother went on to medical school and because of
her leg, decided on a medical specialty in which she could sit – she became a
psychiatrist. She had a private practice in New York City and met my dad there.
He was a cardiologist, so I can say “I have a good heart and mind.” My parents
married in 1952 and lived for a while in Forest Hills, Queens, but then decided
to move to raise children away from New York City. In 1956, my dad got a job at
the United Auto Workers (UAW) union medical clinic in Toledo, Ohio, where I was
raised. I went to school in Poughkeepsie only in 1970-71 when my parents
separated, but moved to the area again in 1981.

I have a lot of good childhood memories of Vassar Temple. I vaguely remember
being at my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary in 1962 as a 4 year old. The
layout of the place was almost identical to what it is now, except for some
renovation in the classroom wing. Of course, the paneling in the social hall was
also different. The social hall was full of relatives, and I remember thinking
of how huge it was. It is pretty big, but of course I was a lot smaller then. In
1971, I had my Bar Mitzvah after studying with Rabbi Henry Bamberger, who was
extremely intelligent. We had a great day, including a fun reception in the
social hall. I remember having so much stage fright, I had to be prompted for
the Sh’ma after I brought the Torah out of the ark. Just like at my children’s
B’nai Mitzvah later, I read from a Torah written by my great-great grandfather
in 1853, and handed down from my father to me. This Torah is a very small Torah
and is here now at Vassar Temple for whoever needs to use it.

My twin children Sam and Mariel were born in 2002. In 2007, I had a small
celebration of the 2-Chai (36th) anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah. It snowed even
more than in 1971 – more than 2 feet – and only about 15 people showed up. Rabbi
Golomb helped me prepare and officiated. My children had a great B’nai Mitzvah
in 2016, with Rabbi Leah Berkowitz officiating. Rabbi Berkowitz had many
religious school sessions and events to prepare the whole relatively large B’nai
Mitzvah class of 12 students. Naomi Kamlot helped with my kids’ Torah and
Haftorah reading preparation. They had a lot less stage fright than I did, and
did an excellent job. We had a lovely reception at the Grandview, with over 150
people attending. In 2019, with Rabbi Altman officiating, my children had a
confirmation service. Thank you, Rabbi Altman, for your wonderful teaching and a
beautiful service.

Over the years, I’ve loved being a member of Vassar Temple. My wife Claudia and
I attend as regularly as possible and for years I have enjoyed the New Paths
services on Saturday morning. I have been on the Nachamu committee and I
contributed to and typed up the Bereavement Guide. I am a member of the social
action committee, the ritual committee, and the music committee. In 2013, with
knowledge from my job as a programmer at IBM, I re-wrote the Vassar Temple
website for a new software platform. For these and other contributions, I was
given the Arnold Award in 2014. I currently help maintain the website and I am
responsible for delivering the Can Jam program food to various food pantries
locally.

I cannot forget to mention that my mom donated funds to keep an ongoing
Sisterhood lecture series in my grandma’s name. Since my mom’s death, it is now
the Fannie and Doris Berlin Lecture series. We have had such notable speakers as
Deborah Tannen, Phyllis Ocean Berman and Arthur Ocean Waskow together, and Sally
Priesand, America’s first woman rabbi.

Leave a comment
by Bob Abrams on December 16, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged bar-mitzvah, family, Hanukkah, judaism, kelson-family-history, torah

Posted by Bob Abrams on December 16, 2023

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2023/12/16/our-family-history-at-vassar-temple/




“HUGGING AND WRESTLING:  SUPPORTING ISRAEL THROUGH A TIME OF CRISIS” A SERMON
FOR YOM KIPPUR MORNING 5784

Do you remember Yom Kippur fifty years ago?  One must be of a “certain age” to
have clear memories of that day, of services being interrupted when someone got
a message to the rabbi who then announced to the congregation that Israel had
been attacked.  My congregation was hosting two Israeli teens that fall.  I can
still see Na’ama’s tear streaked face, her eyes filled with fear.

Israel was still euphoric over the glory of the ’67 victory which, we see in
hindsight, blinded them to the signs of the build up towards these attacks.  In
the first three days of the war, more than 1300 Israeli soldiers were killed,
half of the ultimate death toll in the war and an overwhelming number given that
the Israeli population numbered 3 million at the time.  If an aide to Prime
Minister Golda Meir hadn’t convinced her to stop him, Defense Minister Moshe
Dayan would have broadcast to the nation his fears that Israel might lose the
war.  Ultimately, Israel did turn it around and would have reached both Damascus
and Cairo if not for the UN called ceasefire.  Not since the ’48 war of
Independence had Israel faced such an existential crisis.  Thankfully, no war
has brought them to that point again.

For the tens of thousands of Israelis who march in the weekly demonstrations
that have taken place since the Israeli government announced its plans for the
judicial overhaul in January, Israel is facing another existential crisis.  For
the hundreds of Israelis who marched in the streets of NYC this week and
everywhere Prime Minister Netanyahu stopped on his trip – Israelis living in
America, Israelis rearranging travel plans to include the US, Israelis making a
special trip to be here – Israel is facing another existential crisis.

The danger of the Yom Kippur War was external; the danger of the current crisis
is internal.  The fear of the Yom Kippur War was for the physical destruction of
the State itself; the fear now is for the loss of Israel’s soul, the destruction
of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state.

To fully appreciate the depths of this crisis in the hearts of Israelis, one has
to understand that Israelis are not big on protests.  Sure, there have been
periodic protests over the years, but never like this.  Israel ranked as the 4th
happiest country in the world according to 2023 World Happiness Report – this,
despite the incredibly high cost of living, required service in the military for
men and women, and living under constant threat of attack.  And, with so much of
the country closed on Shabbat, Saturday nights are the one night they can go
out, even as they have work and school the next day.

Since the government announced plans for the judicial overhaul, however, their
love for their country has driven Israelis to rise up, to heed the call of the
prophet whose words we read this morning, to raise their voices like a shofar,
and to do so in astounding numbers.  One report tallied a cumulative total of 7
million protestors in all of the demonstrations![i]  Though that number clearly
includes many who participate in multiple demonstrations, even weekly, it is
still astounding.  Another source estimates that almost 5% of the population has
been protesting (here, that would be 18 million Americans)![ii] 

The protests have been a true grassroots effort, with individual organizers and
groups coming together.  Even more impressive than its stamina is how diverse
THE protests have become.  What began as left of center has extended well beyond
that, as described by two Israeli Reform rabbis: “These protests have succeeded
in mobilizing the entire spectrum of Israeli society – from every social,
political, and economic sector.  Supporters of both the political right and the
left – men and women from every generation, ethnic background, and profession –
stand side-by-side at these massive protests.  Week after week, hundreds of
thousands of blue-collar workers, high-tech employees, social workers, teachers,
lawyers, teenagers, students, and entire families attend demonstrations
throughout the country.  The demonstrators have managed to unite such disparate
groups as supporters of West Bank settlements and supporters of Palestinian
Independence”[iii]

In another truly new phenomenon, Israelis living abroad have organized, forming
UnXeptable, which calls on world Jewry “to come together and preserve the
democratic identity of Israel as the home of all Jewish people.” 

Even as they are tirelessly speaking out to preserve democracy, there is a real
fear among many Israelis that the overhaul will be successful and their beloved
country will abandon the democratic values upon which it was founded, no longer
the country where they want to raise their families.  A recent poll found that
28% of Israelis are exploring other places to live, including 3,000
doctors.[iv]  Some tech companies, who have built Israel into the Start-Up
Nation it is known for and upon which a significant portion of its economy
relies, are planting roots in other countries.  The fear is that this Start-Up
Nation is imploding; if there is a serious brain and economic drain, what, then,
will Israel’s future be?

To briefly recap the major issues so that we are all on the same page:

In the last election, Benjamin Netanyahu, though he did not win a majority of
the vote, was given the first chance to form a coalition government.  This is
common practice in Israel, a country with a multi-party parliamentary government
where no one wins a majority.   The only coalition Netanyahu was able to form
has resulted in the most right-wing, nationalistic government in Israel’s
history.  Their coalition agreement calls for the annexation of the West Bank.  
Leaders of these parties are openly anti-pluralist and homophobic and would
legalize forms of discrimination based on religious beliefs, constrict women’s
rights and formalize the exemption of ultra-Orthodox men from military and
national service.  The yeshiva students who screamed and spat at us when I was
with my colleagues praying with Women of the Wall are affiliated with the
parties of this government.  The people did not vote for this coalition.



In this parliamentary system where the Executive and the Legislature are one,
the only check to their power is the High Court. The proposed changes to the
judiciary would denude the Court of its power, freeing the governing coalition
to implement its proposed legislations.  There are 170 pieces of legislation
waiting to be passed, many of which would harm minority groups and give the
Orthodox even more control of daily life, in contrast to the promises of the
Declaration of Independence: to “foster the development of the country for the
benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace
as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of
social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion,
race or sex…” 

While 60% of Israelis polled agreed that some level of reform is needed in the
Court system, the vast majority oppose the current plan.  In a country without a
constitution, the High Court stands as the only restraint on actions of the
Executive and the Legislature.  While this Court has not stood in the way of
settlement expansion or even legitimizations of formerly illegal settlements,
for example, it has put a stop to actions that would have allowed for the
confiscation of legally owned Palestinian lands.  Progress that the Reform and
Conservative movements have finally made, including recognition of our
conversions for the purpose of citizenship, which number more than 300 a year
now, has been through the Courts.  This government could well pass a law that
would reverse that Court decision, putting into doubt the citizenship of those
who have converted through our movements.

The judicial overhaul was presented as a three-stage process.  Thus far, only
the first step, removing the “reasonableness” test as a vehicle for the Court to
strike down government or ministerial decisions, passed over the summer.  A
number of appeals are being argued before the High Court right now.  The
government has not committed to abiding by the decision of the Court.

Rabbi David Hartman (of blessed memory), a leading thinker among philosophers of
contemporary Judaism and founder of the Shalom Hartman Institute, taught that
the first temple (and first Jewish commonwealth) was destroyed because of the
sins of bloodshed, lust, and idolatry as described by the Biblical prophets. 
The Second Temple (and second Jewish Commonwealth) was ended because of the sin
of baseless hatred as told in Talmud and Midrash.  Now we have a third Jewish
commonwealth in the State of Israel.  The test for this commonwealth will be a
moral one, whether it uses its power justly.   

As the years of the occupation of the West Bank turned into decades and Israel
became a powerful force, both economically and militarily, this moral test
became a reality.  How does Israel use its power justly as it navigates the
myriad challenges of the overwhelming complexities of this still young nation:
meeting the needs of and protecting the civil rights of the various populations
of its citizenry; addressing the plight of the millions of Palestinians living
under its military authority; all the while, protecting its people from the
constant threat of attack?

And what is our role, our voice, as Jews who are not living in Israel but who,
as part of the Jewish people are connected to the State, the land and its
people.   The founding principal of Zionism is the establishment of the State of
Israel as the homeland for the Jewish people, all of the Jewish people.

For decades, the understanding was that American Jews, as with the rest of
Diaspora Jewry, would offer their unequivocal support for Israel and its
government:  financially, especially through Jewish Federations and those blue
and white JNF boxes; emotionally, by visiting Israel, teaching about Israel, and
including Israel in our prayers; and politically, by urging our government’s
support for Israel, the only true democracy in the Middle East.  Criticism of an
Israeli government’s policies was verboten; unless you lived in Israel, fought
for Israel, voted in Israel – you had no right to speak out.  Perhaps
disagreements could be expressed in house, within the “family”; but any public
expression was likened to washing our dirty laundry in public.  When it came to
Israel, only absolute unity was tolerated; anything else was viewed as
dangerous, anti-Zionist, and would only give fodder to our enemies.

At some point in time, perhaps after the collapse of the Oslo accords, as any
hope for a two-state solution faded away, cracks in that unity began to appear,
slowly at first as many American Jews began to struggle with the gap between the
values that we teach and try to live by, values about treatment of the stranger,
about human dignity and all people being created in the image of God, and the
actions of Israeli governments, especially those that supported the settlers and
the on-going occupation.   Organizations such as J Street and Truah: The
Rabbinic Call for Human Rights were founded to provide legitimate spaces for the
segment of the American Jewish community whose love for Israel drove them to
speak out when they believed the Israeli government was not using its power
justly.  A new idea emerged, that one could be lovingly critical, a “hugger and
wrestler” as some called it.  Personally, I was grateful for such alternative
voices and have been a member of the J Street rabbinical cabinet and a Rabbinic
Chaver of Truah since they were founded. 



It is important for American political leaders to understand that the Jewish
community is not monolithic with regard to Israel (as with many other issues)
and that we are not represented by any one organization.  Even more, it is vital
that young people be welcomed to express their views and to see such hugging and
wrestling modeled within the organized Jewish community or many will disconnect.
 A Pew Research study from 2021 found that “younger Jews – as a whole – are less
attached to Israel than their older counterparts. Two-thirds of Jews ages 65 and
older say that they are very or somewhat emotionally attached to Israel,
compared with 48% of those ages 18 to 29.”[v] 

There are those within the Jewish community and outside of it who continue to
see any criticism of Israel as anti-Zionist or worse antisemitic.  Mostly, this
argument is used as a political tool.  Support of Israel has always been and
will continue to be a non-partisan issue.  To claim criticism of Israel or
voting a certain way in America as being disloyal to Israel or associating those
who speak out against the Israeli government’s actions as aligning with Israel’s
enemies who seek Israel’s destruction is simply wrong and malicious.  Criticism
of Israel becomes antisemitic when it denies the right of the State of Israel to
exist, which is where the BDS movement crosses the line, for example.

This afternoon we will read from the Holiness Code, Leviticus Ch. 19, where
among the obligations to be a holy people is the command to “Rebuke your kinsman
but incur no guilt because of him.”  We have an obligation to rebuke those we
love when we see them doing wrong.  If we see a family member doing something
dangerous, would we remain silent?  Would we enable those actions?

The Kli Yakar, a 17th century rabbi of Prague, taught, “if you do not rebuke him
then his sin shall be upon you because ‘all Israel is responsible for one
another.’”   We, Jews in America and Jews in Israel are responsible for one
another and we need to hold one another accountable for our actions.  We are
partners in this enterprise of Jewish living as part of the Jewish people. 

The current crisis has brought this realization to a new level, a watershed
moment in Israeli-Diaspora relations, where Israelis are now asking us to speak
out and join them in protest as Rabbi Josh Weinberg, the URJ vice president for
Israel and Reform Zionism underscored in his remarks at the rally in Times
Square last week:  “We are here not to protest Israel but to support democracy
and to support and be in solidarity with the movements in Israel because
Israelis are asking us to do that.  We love Israel and we want Israel to be a
Jewish and democratic state where all Jews can be welcome.”[vi]

While Israeli citizens will always have the final say through their vote, there
is now greater recognition that the Jewish people ought to have a voice in the
direction of our homeland.

When asked following a webinar what she would like American Jews to know, Rabbi
Talia Avnon-Benveniste, Director of the Israeli Rabbinic program at HUC in
Jerusalem, shared the following:

“Israel doesn’t belong to Israelis. It belongs to the Jewish people and it’s
upon all of us to shape the Jewish state in our reflection of our Jewish state
of mind and if Israel falls (again) we won’t be able to recover from it. Unlike
previous attempts, exile will not save us, from us. And we have the obligation,
in our generation, to make sure that the history of Israel will not be written
in the book of Lamentations, rather in the Chronicle of all times.”

The stamina of the Israelis protesting is incredible – it has gone on for nearly
40 weeks.  The energy has not waned, not even after the vote.  This is a moment
of truth for Israelis.   Yet, they do not despair.  When I was in Israel in
February for my convention, we heard from numerous speakers about the crisis.
 Time and again they quoted a line from one of Israel’s classic songs, Ain Li
Eretz Aheret, “I have no other country.”  It will take a lot, even for those
looking to leave, to actually leave.  They are not giving up.

They need our support; they need to know that American Jews also care about the
character of the State of Israel, that we cannot allow this third Jewish
commonwealth to fail the test of its morality and just use of power.

Israeli Reform Rabbi and Knesset member from the Labor party, Gilad Kariv, has
asked for our support in the following ways:

If you know Israelis who are engaged in the protests, reach out and send them
words of encouragement.  It will mean so much to them to know that you stand
with them.

If possible, join in an UneXptable protest. 

Support organizations that are working to build the kind of Israel we want to
see.  There all kinds of NGOs, partnered with organizations here, working to
support civil and human rights in Israel.



Prime among them is our movement, the Israeli Movement for Progressive Judaism,
through its congregations, communities and the Israeli Religious Action
Center.    The IMPJ has established an emergency campaign because it is in
danger of losing significant funds from the government that it depends on to
support its various activities.  The movement has been engaged in the
demonstrations since the start, making Havdalah at the sites of the protests
before joining in to convey the message that protesting is a Jewish value.  The
interest in Reform Judaism that has been growing has the potential to expand
greatly with the awakening of secular Israelis to the Jewish values that need to
be protected and upheld in a Jewish State.

If you are not a member of ARZA, I implore you to join – we are an ARZA
Congregation and by sending in your membership through Vassar Temple, a small
portion comes back to us.

Your support of ARZA helps our movement in Israel, but you can also support IMPJ
directly.  There is information on a flyer in the lobby.

We are a people of hope.  Throughout our most complex history, even in the
darkest hours, we have never given up hope.  At a time when all seemed lost, the
rabbis developed the notion of a Messiah who would herald a time of perfection
and peace.  The Messiah, they said, would be born on Tisha B’Av, our national
day of mourning for the destruction of the Temples.  After nearly two thousand
years of living under foreign rule, the independent State of Israel was born. 
And its national anthem?  HaTikvah, The Hope.

The indefatigable spirit of Israelis protesting gives us hope.  In an interview
at the Times Square protest, Lior Hadary, an activist with the Brothers in Arms
veterans group who finished his service in an elite IDF combat unit shortly
before the coalition took power said, “Since then I’m fighting for Israel again,
but this time in the protests.”[vii]

Can we find hope in the possibility of a Saudi Deal that includes a path back
towards a two-state solution, something antithetical to the current Israeli
government?  One never gives up hope; we’ll have to wait and see what evolves.

The most powerful expressions of hope come from Israel itself.  I share these
reflections from an essay by Rabbi Naamah Kelman, the first woman ordained at
HUC-JIR in Jerusalem:

As we approach the seventh-fifth birthday of the State of Israel, it remains a
miracle.  A story of haven, refuge, home, and incomparable achievements.  It has
also come at an incredible cost:  wars, displacement, occupation, terror.  The
next seventy-five years must be devoted to reconciling this terrible equation. 
Messianic and extremist forces promise to destroy our fragile democracy. 
Secularism and capitalism are threats to the values of the revival of Hebrew
culture, humanism and deep Jewish values of chesed (loving-kindness) and tzedek
(justice)!  I firmly believe that our worldwide Reform Judaism has and will play
an invaluable role in tikkun and healing in this country we love.  I can now say
that the huge pushback to the so-called Judicial Reform has been a reclamation
of Israeli Judaism.  The demonstrations are demanding an Israel that is both
Jewish and Democratic, based on these two sets of values.  Speakers of all
streams of Judaism are presenting from the finest of our prophetic tradition
that inspired Israel’s Declaration of Independence.  Speakers also include Arab
citizens, holding up democracy and pluralism.  This is perhaps the most hopeful
development.  We Israelis will not compromise our values and we will partner
with Diaspora Jews who are committed to that shared vision for Israel.[viii]

I close in prayer – please join me in the Prayer for the State of Israel, on p.
288 in the Mahzor.

Avinu ­ – You who are high above all nation-states and peoples –

Rock of Israel, the One who has saved us and preserved us in life,

Bless the State of Israel, first flowering or our redemption.

Be her loving shield, a shelter of lasting peace.
Guide her leaders and advisors by Your light of truth;

Instruct them with Your good counsel.

Strengthen the hands of those who build and protect our Holy Land.

Deliver them from danger; crown their efforts with success.

Grant peace to the land,

lasting joy to all of her people.



And together we say: Amen.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i] “Diaspora Jews and Isarel’s Judicial Overhaul:  Differing Stances,” Times of
Israel “What Matters Now” podcast, Sept. 22, 2023

[ii]
https://www.cnn.com/2023/03/12/middleeast/israel-protests-benjamin-netanyahu-intl/index.html

[iii] Rabbi Kinneret Shiryon and Rabbi Nir Ishay Barkin, “From Demonstrations to
Demonstrating the Power of Social Change”, The Reform Jewish Quarterly, (CCAR:
Summer 2023) p. 140

[iv]
https://www.timesofisrael.com/28-of-israelis-considering-leaving-the-country-amid-judicial-upheaval

[v]
https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2021/05/21/u-s-jews-have-widely-differing-views-on-israel/

[vi]
https://www.timesofisrael.com/hundreds-protest-overhaul-in-new-york-as-netanyahu-meets-with-world-leaders/?utm_campaign=daily-edition-2023-09-20&utm_medium=email&utm_source=The+Daily+Edition

[vii] Ibid.

[viii] Rabbi Naamah Kelman, “Reform Judaism and Israel at Seventy-Five,” The
Reform Jewish Quarterly, (CCAR: Summer 2023) p. 79

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Posted by rabbialtman on September 28, 2023

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2023/09/28/hugging-and-wrestling-supporting-israel-through-a-time-of-crisis-a-sermon-for-yom-kippur-morning-5784/




“YOM KIPPUR:  OUR ‘ONE MORE DAY’” A SERMON FOR KOL NIDREI 5784

Five times a day my phone alerts me to a message; that message says “Remember: 
You are going to die.” No, this is not a threat, it is a promise, a reality. 
The app, appropriately entitled, “We Croak” is inspired by a Bhutanese folk
saying: ‘to be a happy person, one must contemplate death five times a day.” 
The invitations come at random times at any moment, “just like death” says the
promotional materials.  With each warning comes a quote about death from a poet,
philosopher or notable thinker.  I learned about the app recently, as I was
researching for this sermon, and I’ve only just started using it.  I haven’t
found most of the quotes all that helpful, though there have been some good
ones: 

  From American poet and essayist Jane Hirschfield:  You may do this, I tell
you, it is permitted.  Begin again the story of your life.

  From Victor Hugo:  It is nothing to die.  It is frightful not to live.

The app is not meant to maudlin.  It encourages you to pause and take a moment
for contemplation, reflection, meditation, conscious breathing.

The goal of the app is to encourage us to think about our lives – even for a
moment.  It can get us in the midst of a hectic day, at a down moment, or even
in a laugh.  It encourages us to pause, reorient ourselves to what matters most.

The app tries to give us, in regular doses, what we may feel when tragedy hits,
when illness strikes or comes close.  We pull our loved ones tighter.  We say we
are not going to take anything for granted.  We’re going to follow up on those
promises we made to ourselves.   We may even stay in that space for a little
while, but then we tend to slip back into our daily grind, lose sight of our
purpose, take much of life for granted.

Yom Kippur is our annual “We Croak” day. 

We deny ourselves food and drink and other basic physical pleasures (including
sexual relations).  We recite the vidui, confessional prayers, in every service
on Yom Kippur.  The only other time one recites the Vidui is in anticipation of
death.  Yom Kippur is a rehearsal for death. 

On this day, we stand face to face with our mortality.   The day is designed to
encourage us to consider the most difficult questions of our lives:  What is my
life about?  Will I achieve my dreams?  When I am gone, will I be remembered for
having done something worthwhile?  Has my life mattered?   By confronting death,
we hope to learn better how to embrace life.

The search for life’s meaning is not a new one.  It has been going on since the
dawn of humanity; indeed, it is part of what makes us human.  More than 2000
years ago, a man going by the penname Ecclesiastes wrote a book exploring the
purpose of life; it is included in our Sacred Scriptures and the tradition is to
study it during the upcoming Festival of Sukkot.  The Book of Ecclesiastes is
the musings of a man trying to find meaning in life when things do not add up as
he had imagined.  He amassed great wealth and power in his life, but as he nears
the end of his days, he comes to the realization that those things will do him
no good because, as we know well, “you can’t take it with you.”  What purpose is
there to life, he wonders, when we will all die eventually, while the world
carries on?  There is, after all, “nothing new under the sun.”  Ecclesiastes
devotes himself to searching for ways to live forever – through accumulating
wealth, through study, through fun, even through acts of piety.  In the end, he
discovers that nothing lasts. “Utter futility!” he cries.  The great irony of
Ecclesiastes’ life is that in his quest for eternity, he misses out on exactly
what he is seeking:  meaning.  The goal of living is not to escape death – the
goal of living is to live.  But it wasn’t that Ecclesiastes was so afraid of
death itself.  As Rabbi Harold Kushner describes him, Ecclesiastes is “a man
desperately afraid of dying before he has learned how to live.”[i]

The overwhelming perspective of the Book of Ecclesiastes is so negative that the
rabbis debated whether it was appropriate to include in our Bible.  They made it
acceptable by attributing it to King Solomon and by adding a coda about revering
God and following the mitzvot.   Still, buried within his negative outlook are
positive gems about how to find the meaning in life that, sadly, eluded him.

Following his now famous poem about parallel experiences in life, “To everything
there is a season,” Ecclesiastes concludes: “Thus I realized that the only
worthwhile thing there is for them is to enjoy themselves and do what is good in
their lifetime; also, that whenever a man does eat and drink and get enjoyment
out of all his wealth, it is a gift of God.”   (Ecc:  3:12-13)

Enjoy life, do good and appreciate all that you have.

This lesson was articulated most profoundly by a leading Conservative Rabbi of
the 20th Century, Milton Steinberg in an essay he wrote entitled, “To Hold with
Open Arms”:



“After a long illness, I was permitted for the first time to step out of doors. 
And as I crossed the threshold, sunlight greeted me… so long as I live, I shall
never forget that moment… And everywhere in the firmament above me, in the great
vault between earth and sky, on the pavements, the buildings – – the golden glow
of the sunlight.  It touched me, too, with friendship, with warmth, with
blessing…

In that instant I looked about me to see whether anyone else showed on his face
the joy, almost the beatitude, I felt.  But no, there they walked – men and
women and children in the glory of a golden flood, and so far as I could detect,
there was none to give it heed.  And then I remembered how often I, too, had
been indifferent to sunlight, how often, preoccupied with petty and sometimes
mean concerns, I had disregarded it….

It rang in my spirit when I entered my own home again after months of absence,
when I heard from a nearby room the excited voices of my children at play; when
I looked once more on the dear faces of some of my friends; when I was able for
the first time to speak again from my pulpit … to join in worship of the God who
gives us so much of which we are careless.

…I said to myself that at the very first opportunity I would speak of this….only
to remind my listeners, as I was reminded, to spend life wisely, not to squander
it.”[ii]

Spend life wisely.  Sounds like it shouldn’t be too hard, but it is for too many
of us.  We’re so busy searching for something – success, fame, perfection –
that, like Ecclesiastes, we miss out on living.  I once read an interview with
an 85-year-old woman from the hill country of Kentucky.  When asked to reflect
on her life, she said, “If I had my life to live over, I would dare to make more
mistakes next time.  I would relax.  I would be sillier, I would take fewer
things seriously…. I would eat more ice cream and less beans… I’ve been one of
those persons who never went any place without a thermometer, a hot water
bottle, a raincoat and a parachute.  If I had to do it again, I’d travel
lighter.”[iii]

 “Enjoy happiness with a woman you love all the fleeting days of your life that
have been granted to you under the sun –all your fleeting days” urges
Ecclesiastes.  (Ecc 9:9)

Enjoyment of life is enriched by sharing it with others.  Whether it’s the love
of a spouse or partner, a child, a parent, a sibling or a dear friend, love
makes our lives worthwhile.  Even on our worst days, when we feel as though we
have failed in some significant way, a hug or word of reassurance from a loved
one is helpful; even though it cannot make everything better, it reminds us that
we are loved and valued.

But love takes nurturing and attention. All too often, love can be taken for
granted and neglected.  Pay attention to the confessions we will utter in our
worship.  How many of them relate to our interpersonal relationships?  What do
we offer in our private confessions?  Not listening to one another, spending too
much time away from home, dumping our anger on those closest to us; not showing
enough appreciation; fighting with siblings; talking back to parents, the list
goes on and on.  Yes, it’s human nature and we are not perfect, but if we do not
attend to our relationships, we will lose out and the meaning of our lives will
be diminished.

Thinking about this sermon, I was reminded of a book I read many years ago by
the author Mitch Albom, most famous for “Tuesdays with Morrie.”  In this book,
“For One More Day” Albom recounts the experience of a man that he met named
Charlie.  A lot of things had gone wrong in Charlie’s life and at one point he
was in such a bad way that he decided his life just wasn’t worth living.  He
jumped off the water tower in his hometown and somewhere between life and the
death he had anticipated, he had a vision of his dead mother.  He got to spend
one day with her during which he finally came to understand her and his father
and all their relationships, things he never understood in his life; he got to
say things to her he had never been able to say.   Obviously, Charlie didn’t
die, since he told Albom his story two years after this experience.  Did he
really meet his mother again?  Who knows but whatever it was, the experience was
very real for Charlie, and it changed him. He got help and rebuilt the shattered
relationships of his life.

Yom Kippur is our “One more day.”   

This is the day that calls us to make things right with those with love, with
those with whom we are in relationship.  As the Talmud teaches, “For sins
between one person and another, the sincere observance of Yom Kippur will not
atone until we have appeased that person.”[iv] 

Our relationships, while significant, are not the only sources of fulfillment in
our lives.  We need to find meaning in the ways in which we fill our days. 
Ecclesiastes urges us “Whatever is in your power to do, do with all your might.”
(Ecc. 9:10)  We all need to find that something that gives us a sense of
meaning, of personal fulfillment, of accomplishment, to which we can dedicate
ourselves.  For some it may be a career; for others volunteerism; for others,
raising a family.



On this day we pause to ask ourselves:  Do I end my day feeling as though I had
made a meaningful contribution to the world and to my life?  And if the answer
is no, then it is time to make changes.   Certainly, some people have to work in
jobs that they find less than personally fulfilling in order to pay the bills
and there may not be an option to change.  In such cases, our jobs do not have
to define us.  We can seek personal fulfillment outside of our professional
lives.  Volunteerism can add meaning to our lives – there certainly are
innumerable opportunities to make positive contributions on a local level and
beyond. 

Some people are more fortunate and have the opportunity to make a change — to
leave an unfulfilling job and seek another, to stay at home or go back to work,
to retire – but they are frozen in place by fear:  fear of change, fear of
adapting to something new.  In such moments, let us remember that the choice is
in our hands:  we can carry on the same and look back at our lives one day with
the bitterness and regret of Ecclesiastes, or we can take his advice and pursue
what we really want with all the power that is within us so that we can reflect
on our lives with pride.

A leading scholar of the early 2nd century, Rabbi Eliezer, taught, “Repent one
day before your death.” A disciple asked, “Rabbi, does anyone know when he will
die so that he can repent?”  R. Eliezer answered, “All the more he should repent
today lest he die tomorrow, and then all his days will be lived in
repentance.”[v]

Yom Kippur calls out to us – Hayom!  Today!  This is our day to decide how we
want to live the rest of our lives.  It is the day on which we ask ourselves the
most difficult of questions:  Does my life have meaning?  Will I be remembered
for having done something worthwhile?  And if we are not satisfied with the
answers, then let us find the strength to make the necessary changes:  to
rebuild broken relationships, to seek ways to add meaning to our days, to set
aside time to help others, to learn something new, to stop and smell the roses,
to spend more time with loved ones, to live more wisely, with few regrets or
missed opportunities.

On Rosh Hashanah we celebrate the birth of the world; on Yom Kippur we
contemplate our deaths.  Our lives are compressed within these ten days.  So,
too, one day, will our lives be compressed on the tombstones of our graves,
where our names will be etched, perhaps the most meaningful relationships of our
lives will be included or some other phrase that characterizes us.  Always
included are the date of our birth and the date of our death.  The thing that
matters most?  The dash between those dates.

A woman named Linda Ellis who had written poetry as a child, but ended up
working in the corporate world, wrote “The Dash Poem” in 1996.  It was read on a
syndicated radio show and became an overnight sensation, changing her life
completely.  The poem became the lesson of her life.  It is easy to understand
its allure; the message of the poem resonates with all, most especially for us
at this season:

The Dash Poem (By Linda Ellis)

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
From the beginning…to the end

He noted that first came the date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time
That they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
Know what that little line is worth

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering this special dash
Might only last a little while

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent YOUR dash?[vi]  

May we spend it wisely.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i] Harold Kushner, When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough (Summit Books,
1986), p.37

[ii] Milton Steinberg, “To Hold with Open Arms” in A Treasury of Comfort, ed.,
Sidney Greenberg, Melvin Powers Wilshire Book Company:1954) p.273

[iii] Kushner, P. 144

[iv] Yoma 8:9

[v] Ecclesiastes Rabbah 9:8

[vi] https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1184764/the-dash-poem-by-linda-ellis/



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by rabbialtman on September 28, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Rabbi_Altman

Posted by rabbialtman on September 28, 2023

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2023/09/28/yom-kippur-our-one-more-day-a-sermon-for-kol-nidrei-5784/




“EMBRACING THE JEWISH CONNECTED”: A SERMON FOR ROSH HASHANAH MORNING

Barry grew up in an active, engaged Jewish home.  His family belongs to a Reform
congregation where his parents have held leadership positions.  Barry and his
siblings went to religious school through Confirmation and Barry was in the
youth group.  In his last year of college, Barry met and fell in love with
Nancy, a Christian Asian American.  Their relationship grew stronger over the
years.  Nancy joined his family for Seders and, when schedules allowed, for
other holidays.  Nancy didn’t feel attached to her religion but she did
celebrate Christmas and Easter with her family.  Her parents were devout and
attended church regularly. 

As their relationship deepened and turned towards marriage, Barry and Nancy
talked about religion.  It was very important for Barry to have Jewish
children.  Nancy felt that out of respect for her parents she could not convert,
but she respected Jewish teachings and was happy to raise their children as
Jews.

Barry and Nancy’s story is well known to us.  If intermarriage is not part of
our immediate families, it is certainly close to us.  But intermarriage is not
new, it is as old as the Jewish people itself.   We need only open the Torah to
Bereshit, the Book of Genesis.  Joseph marries Asenath, daughter of an Egyptian
priest.    Moses, the greatest of all prophets, marries Tziporah, a Midianite.  
The only intermarriages the Torah specifically forbids are with the 7 Canaanite
nations, for fears that they would lead the Israelites astray to idolatry (Deut.
7:3).

There was another group of people mentioned in the Torah, the gerim, the
strangers who chose to live among the Israelites and followed their laws.  The
Torah commands: “the strangers who reside with you shall be to you as your
citizens; you shall love them as yourself for you were strangers in the land of
Egypt…” (Lev 19:34).  We read in Deuteronomy that the strangers are to be
included in the future public reading of Torah “that they may hear and so learn
to revere the Eternal your God and to observe faithfully every word of this
Teaching. (Deut. 31:12).  Now, this was a time before any formal process of
conversion existed and these strangers were welcomed in.  Nothing is said with
regard to marrying gerim, but it’s hard to imagine that such marriages didn’t
occur.

As Judaism developed amid occupation by foreign nations, some of whom sought to
control by religious coercion, the community understandably turned inward,
concerned especially about self-preservation and intermarriage became taboo.  We
see this in the writings of Ezra the priest and scribe, who led the people upon
their return from exile in Babylonia at the end of the 6th century BCE.  While
living in Babylonia, many men had intermarried.  Ezra commands them to cast off
their foreign wives and their children, and the people agreed.

While the leadership may have been fearful of intermarriage, the people were
not.  The populace’s response to the harshness of Ezra’s decree came in the form
of the beloved folktale of Ruth, the Moabite daughter-in-law of Naomi who
pledges her loyalty to Naomi, to her people and to her God.  She cares for Naomi
after their husbands died and ultimately remarries and gives birth to a son. 
The book concludes with the revelation that Ruth’s son is a progenitor of King
David, from whose line the Messiah is destined to come.  All of this is more
powerful because of the Torah’s prohibition against Moabites, a former enemy
nation, becoming part of the Israelite community, even in the tenth
generation!  

The intermixing that occurred in Babylonia became unheard of through the
centuries of persecution that followed that kept the Jewish people isolated and
apart.  With the age of enlightenment and modernity, Jews in Western Europe were
given the opportunity of citizenship for the first time.  Some chose complete
assimilation, often through intermarriage.  The roots of Reform Judaism were
sown then and later in America with the radical notion that one could be both
Jewish and a citizen of the country in which you dwelt.  It would take a few
more centuries before the doors of society would really open to Jews, giving us
the opportunity to attend any university, enter any profession, and live in
diverse communities. 

With these privileges and acceptance, the rates of intermarriage among American
Jews began to rise, slowly at first.  By the latter decades of the 20th century,
those figures soared.  Before 1970, 13 percent of Jews intermarried.  By 1990,
it was 43% and by 2001, 47%.[i]   Parents threatening to sit shiva or refusing
to attend a child’s wedding would not change the hearts of young love. 
Intermarriage became a reality, an outgrowth of our success and integration in
American society.

In 1978 the visionary President of the Reform Movement, Rabbi Alexander
Schindler, established the Reform Jewish Outreach program “predicated on the
assumption that intermarriage will remain a reality of American Jewish life,
that, far from diminishing, the rate of intermarriage is likely to increase, and
that, in consequence, the better part of wisdom is not to reject the
intermarried, but rather to love them all the more, to do everything we humanly
can to draw them closer to us and to involve them in Jewish life.” [ii]

Schindler taught us that a young person’s choice of a mate did not have to be
seen as a rejection of their Judaism.  If we would welcome such couples into our
synagogues, we could support them in having a Jewish home and raising Jewish
children.   Thirty plus years later, we see how prescient he was.  The Pew
Research Center report, Jewish Americans in 2020, found that among Jews who had
married since 2010, 61% were intermarried.  Fully 42% of all married Jewish
respondents indicated they had a non-Jewish spouse. 

The report also indicates that endogamous Jewish marriages have a much higher
rate of raising Jewish children.  Only 28% of Jews married to non-Jews are
raising their children Jewish.[iii]  Certainly, with all of the challenges that
two adults face when marrying and raising children, being a unified family in
terms of religion, including extended families, can make life simpler,
especially for children as they formulate their own identities. 

But people are more than statistics.  Over my 35 years in the rabbinate, I’ve
seen numerous interfaith families raise educated, committed Jews.  I accepted
some of those adult children into the rabbinical program at HUC-JIR when I was a
Rabbinical Program Director.  We certainly know them well here at Vassar Temple;
they are part of our temple family, even leaders in our community.  Today,
almost 50% of the families with children in our religious school are
intermarried.

Once they had children, Barry and Nancy joined a synagogue. They brought their
children to Tot Shabbat and later enrolled them in religious school.   They
attended family services and got involved in the synagogue’s group for young
families.  Nancy helped organize activities; she joined the religious school
committee. 

In synagogues where interfaith families are welcome, the active involvement of
both parents in the life of the synagogue has been encouraged.  Where this has
been successful, a new phenomenon occurred:  in many cases, the non-Jewish
partner like Nancy, also became engaged in synagogue life.

Over time, synagogues found themselves encountering situations they had never
anticipated:  would Nancy light the candles at Friday night services when her
son becomes Bar Mitzvah, as other mothers do?   What would her role be during
the Bar Mitzvah service?  Could she only be a silent observer?  What are the
appropriate boundaries?  Where should distinctions be made between Jews and
their non-Jewish spouses? 

The Commission on Reform Jewish Outreach created resources for congregations to
help them set policies that would address these questions in ways that would fit
their unique identities and communities.  Such policies are needed for a number
of reasons.   First, it is welcoming to let people know the ways that they can
be involved and participate; otherwise, they are left in the dark, fearful of
doing something wrong.  By setting policies, we move away from making decisions
on a case-by-case basis, where one family can be treated differently from
another.  The non-Jews in our congregations, aside from bringing us their
children, may have wonderful gifts to share, skills and talents, new
perspectives and creative ideas that can only strengthen congregations, when we
find positive ways to engage them. 

I learned upon my arrival here that Vassar Temple had not gone through a formal
process to determine ways in which non-Jews could be engaged in the synagogue.  
The membership policy in the by-laws was changed at some point to open temple
membership to “Any person or persons of the Jewish faith, or any person seeking
to be associated with those upholding the Jewish faith.”  In terms of
governance, the leadership positions of board members or officers are limited to
Jews.  Matters of ritual are not included in the by-laws and, for the most part,
have been left to the discretion of the rabbi. 

While I believe that certain aspects of ritual, such as marriage officiation,
ought to be completely under rabbinic discretion, I feel that congregational
ritual policies should be developed by the rabbi in partnership with the lay
leadership.  Past president Susan Karnes Hecht had been anxious to get such a
process started here and brought to the Board a resolution to approve the
formation of a Jewish Adjacent Task Force to “develop a coherent policy that
reflects the Reform vision along with Vassar Temple history and practice,
through a process of learning and discussion.”  The Task Force was charged with
developing guidelines in the areas of membership, ritual, and governance to
propose to the Board.  Where those guidelines might include changes to the
by-laws, codified processes would be followed.

The expression “Jewish Adjacent” is a relatively new term, developed, I think by
the Reform movement to be a more welcoming way to refer to someone who is not
Jewish, defining someone in a positive way, rather than by what they are not. 
Even so, one of the first things that the Task Force did was reject that term,
feeling that it was too cold and distant. We came up with the expression “Jewish
Connected” and defined it as “someone who is or was related to a Jewish person
through marriage or partnership, supporting a Jewish home.”

The Task Force is composed of broad representation of the congregation,
including the continuum of Jewish choices:  Jews married to Jews, Jews married
to the Jewish Connected, Jews by choice and the Jewish Connected.  We have been
meeting just about monthly for almost two years, using exercises from the
Outreach Commission’s resources, Reform responsa and essays from leading Reform
thinkers to guide our discussions, which began with a grounding in the purposes
of the synagogue and the values it seeks to transmit.   As you might imagine, we
have engaged in some very challenging discussions.  As trust grew among the
members, people felt empowered to express very deep feelings.  I continue to be
so impressed by this group, their thoughtfulness and respect for one another. 
 We all stretched and struggled, me included, and ultimately were able to
present our first set of guidelines, ones that we could all support, even if
they didn’t meet everyone’s ideals.

We chose to address ritual first.  To be clear, people are free to participate
in the congregation in any way that they are comfortable.  Our task was to
determine the appropriate participation of the Jewish Connected on the bema,
such as for lay led services or honors, like lighting candles. It goes without
saying that these would be options available to those Jewish Connected who might
to desire to participate. 

We began with study, learning about the various types of prayers, discussing
both their literal and symbolic meanings.  We discovered that the majority of
the prayers are not really particularistic in nature and could be said by
anyone.  Even a prayer asking God to bring peace upon Israel can be said by
someone who isn’t Jewish.

The challenges arose around the two most particularistic elements of the service
which are also typically given out as honors.

The first are rituals such as lighting candles or leading kiddush, the blessing
of which includes the phrase asher kidshanu b’mitvotav v’tzivanu, “who has
sanctified us through commandments, commanding us to…..”  Most of the Task Force
had never really considered the actual words of the blessings which led to
rather intense discussions on what that sense of being commanded means and how a
Jewish Connected person might feel commanded.   We also discussed the symbolic
meaning of these rituals.  When a mother lights candles on the Shabbat of her
daughter’s Bat Mitzvah service, it means more than just welcoming Shabbat.   Can
one who is not Jewish, but who celebrates Shabbat in her home and, in this case,
has raised a Jewish child, say those words before the congregation? 

The other major area of challenge was the rituals around Torah:  carrying Torah
in a Hakafah, reciting the blessing of the Aliyah, lifting and dressing Torah. 
Torah is the unique possession of the Jewish people and, perhaps, the most
particularistic of our symbols.  The language of the Torah blessing, asher
bachar banu m’kol ha’amim, “who has chosen us from among all peoples” is an
affirmation that one is part of the Jewish people.  The other rituals, carrying,
lifting and dressing, while they have no liturgy associated with them, have been
seen as part of the Torah ritual, also affirming its centrality and one’s
connection to it.  In addition, participating in the Torah service has been
viewed as among the highest honors given out in a congregation.

And yet, our understanding of rituals and their symbolic meaning has changed
over time.  Vassar Temple has moved well beyond the traditional format for the
aliyot, for example.  We have group aliyot during these Holy Days, honoring all
of those who have volunteered and served in different ways in the congregation.
 Shall we exclude the Jewish Connected who are among those volunteers? 

We discussed the unique place of the Jewish Connected at Vassar Temple.  Like
the biblical stranger, the ger, who dwelt among the Israelites, today’s Jewish
Connected person has a unique status because they have chosen to be part of a
Jewish home and members of our congregation.  Therefore, the Task Force
concluded that there should be a different status for the Jewish Connected when
it comes to rituals as well.   We recommended that Jewish Connected individuals
be “welcome to receive “non-textual” honors during a service such as opening the
ark doors, carrying the Torah for the hakafah, lifting the Torah and dressing
the Torah after it is read.”  Opening the ark is an honor that we already offer
to anyone, including non-Jewish relatives of the B’nei Mitzvah families.  In as
much as the Jewish Connected do have a connection to Torah and do bring honor to
the Torah through their commitment to a Jewish home, the Task Force concluded
that these honors around Torah — bringing Torah into the congregation, raising
it so that all could see its words, and helping to dress after it is read –
could rightfully be expanded to include the Jewish Connected.

Because the language of the aliyah, along with the language of blessings such as
that of lighting candles, most clearly identifies the person reciting the words
as part of the Jewish people, the Task Force concluded that it would not be
appropriate for the Jewish Connected to say those words alone.  Rather, they
proposed the following: “In as much as a Jewish Connected person is such through
a relationship, such an individual may take part in such prayers together with a
Jewish partner.”   Depending on their comfort level, the Jewish Connected person
could also choose just to stand with their partner or read an alternative prayer
in English recommended by the rabbi.

This policy would also apply to B’nei Mitzvah services.  One of the unique
features of B’nei Mitzvah services in many congregations, including ours, is the
passing of Torah from generation to generation within the family.  Over the
years, I have come to appreciate that Jewish Connected parents who commit to
raising Jewish children and support their children’s Jewish education, that such
parents are, indeed, passing Torah to the next generation even if they were not
raised with it.  So, I have invited Jewish Connected parents to be part of this
ceremony, even as I indicate their unique role.

We recognize that these ritual changes, especially around Torah, may be jarring
for many of us who grew up being told that non-Jews shouldn’t touch the Torah.  
In reality, however, there is nothing wrong with someone who is not Jewish
touching or holding a Torah scroll as Maimonides taught, “[Even] those who are
not ritually fit, may take hold of a Torah and read from it, for a Torah cannot
become ritually unfit.[iv]

It is only in relatively recent Jewish history that rituals around Torah were
opened to women within liberal Judaism.  Many of the same arguments would have
been used in opposition to this change as they still are in orthodox circles. 
Just as women’s inclusion has not diminished the power of Torah in any way but
has added to it, I hope that people will not feel that these honors are being
diminished in any way because we have again expanded the net of those eligible
for them.  I hope that we can view the Jewish Connected who are engaged in the
life of the synagogue as living Torah in ways that add to these rituals and do
not detract from them.

People have many reasons why, even if they are not actively practicing another
faith, that they are not prepared to take on the identity of Judaism for
themselves, even as they support Judaism in their home and, like the biblical
gerim, participate in many aspects of it with great respect and affinity.  I
fully respect their choices and as a Jewish people we owe them a tremendous debt
of gratitude for raising Jewish children and supporting the future of the Jewish
people.  Sometimes, even after many years of living as a Jewish Connected
person, someone does decide to become Jewish.  In my experience, such a choice
does not come about out of a desire to participate in certain rituals or take on
particular leadership positions.  It happens because it feels right for that
person to take on this identity.  Our commitment to a Jewish future calls upon
us to enable Jewish choices in a variety of contexts.

This process has been a journey for me.  I ended up in a different place from
where I was when I led this process with my former congregation 20 years ago. 
Changes in Jewish life that I have witnessed throughout my rabbinate and my
personal connections with such families have moved me to change my positions. 
The constant is my belief that that I am acting in ways that I believe will best
serve the Jewish people and ensure our future. 

Nonetheless, I do believe there is a difference between the Jewish Connected and
a Jew.  I think the Task Force has reached a very creative solution that
reflects our desire to include the Jewish Connected while respecting this
difference.

I presented the recommended guidelines from the Task Force to the board at its
April meeting.  After a couple of months of discussion and reflection, they were
passed at the July meeting – not unanimously, but by a strong majority.  We will
be sharing these guidelines more broadly with the congregation in the weeks to
come.  The work of the Task Force continues as we move on to the area of
governance.

To conclude my remarks this morning, I would like to invite the Jewish Connected
who are here to join me at the ark, as I offer a blessing for them, in
recognition of the blessing that they are to this community, to their families
and to the Jewish people.

Blessing at Ark[v]:

May the one who blessed our ancestors and their families,

whose actions strengthened the Jewish People,

bless each one of you.

Like our Biblical ancestors –

          Yitro, Moses’ father-in-law, who gave sound advice on leading the
people;

          Ruth and Orpah, who married Jewish men

                     and stood by their mother-in-law, Naomi,

                     even when her sons had tragically died;

          Zipporah, Moses’ wife

                     whose action in the wilderness of circumcising her son

                     ensured that they would remain a part of the covenant –

you too have responded to the call.

We now bless you for saying “yes.”

We are inspired by you for giving of yourself to the Jewish community.

We are inspired by you for helping your children to be proud Jews.

At a time when so many forces are tearing apart the Jewish people,

we bless you for building up the Jewish people.

(Priestly Blessing)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i]
https://www.nytimes.com/2003/09/11/us/survey-finds-slight-rise-in-jews-intermarrying.html

[ii] Rabbi Alexander M. Schindler, Preface, Defining the Role of the Non-Jews in
the Synagogue: A Resource for Congregations, published by the Commission on
Reform Jewish Outreach, 1990].  

[iii]
https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2021/05/11/marriage-families-and-children/  

[iv] Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Tefillin 10:8

[v] Adapted from For Sacred Moments:  The CCAR Life-Cycle Manual, CCAR, 2015





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by rabbialtman on September 17, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Rabbi_Altman

Posted by rabbialtman on September 17, 2023

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2023/09/17/embracing-the-jewish-connected-a-sermon-for-rosh-hashanah-morning/




“CARRYING FORWARD THE VISION AND ADAPTABILITY OF OUR FOUNDERS” A SERMON FOR EREV
ROSH HASHANNAH 5784

The year was 1848 – 72 years after the American Revolution, 13 years before the
start of the Civil War. It was the year the Mexican American War ended and
Wisconsin became the 30th state. It was the year that American feminism was born
at the Seneca Falls Convention and the rules of baseball changed to allow the
1st baseman to tag the base instead of the runner for the out. And, my personal
favorite, it was the year that Willam G. Young patented the ice cream freezer.

It was also the year that the Congregation Brethren of Israel was officially
organized in the City of Poughkeepsie. It was the first synagogue in Dutchess
County, the first Jewish institution in the Hudson Valley and the 28th oldest
congregation in the country.


Three years earlier, five men – Jacob Baker, Isaac Haiman, Herman Hart, Aaron
Morris and Solomon Scheldburgher started to meet informally for worship, even
though they were but half a minyan.

While we don’t know anything about the background of these men, one might well
imagine that they would have reflected the demographics of the American Jewish
community of the time; most likely they were immigrants. From 1820 to 1840, the
American Jewish population rose from 3,000 to 15,000; by 1860, it was 150,000.
They came from a variety of countries, mostly from Central Europe. These
immigrants were mostly lower middle-class; 30% were married with children. They
were escaping economic challenges, political discontent and rising antisemitism.
They were drawn to America for hopes of economic prosperity and religious
freedom.

According to an 1860 census, Jews made up most of the 16,000 peddlers in the
country, a relatively new occupation resulting from the “market revolution” of
the mid-19th century brought on by new modes of transportation. These traveling
merchants also brought Judaism with them wherever they went, introducing Jews to
communities that had never met one before! Many settled in the Midwest, which is
why the Reform movement took root in Cincinnati. While one-quarter of all Jews
lived in New York City, there were synagogues in 19 states and the District of
Columbia. (1)

So it was that these 5 men settled in Poughkeepsie. With no synagogue between
New York City and Albany, these pioneers took it upon themselves to create one,
meeting initially at irregular intervals in a meeting room on Main Street,
filing papers of incorporation in 1851, moving to the upper floor of the law
library on Market Street the next year and purchasing land for a cemetery in
1853, a sure sign of their commitment to the establishment of a Jewish presence
in the area. Visiting rabbis led services occasionally; mostly they were lay
led.

In so many ways, the history of this congregation is marked by two essential
characteristics: vision and adaptability. It is amazing to think that there were
only 16 member families when the congregation acquired its first building in the
1860s, the former Congregational Church on Mill and Vassar Streets, and hired a
rabbi. They must have believed in the Field of Dreams adage, “If you build it,
they will come.” Indeed, the congregation did continue to grow in size and in
the depth of its offerings, establishing a Sisterhood and a Men’s Club, in
addition to a religious school. Almost a century after buying their first
building, thanks to the generous donation of the land, the congregation, now of
140 families, moved to our current location in 1953, carrying with them the
beloved name, Vassar Temple (the exact origins of which are still up for
debate).

Their vision for the future not only inspired them to purchase larger buildings,
it also empowered them to adapt to the changing times. By the turn of the
century the congregation began to move away from its orthodox roots. Its worship
style began to change, one might imagine with the introduction of English in the
service, mixed seating of men and women. In 1923 they adopted the Union Prayer
Book, the prayer book of the Reform Movement. These modernizations were felt by
some to be too radical a shift and a group of families left Vassar Temple,
ultimately to form Temple Beth-El in 1928. The congregation weathered that storm
as we did others over the years. In a very progressive move, Mrs. Josephine Kahn
was elected president in 1934; a first in the country, we believe! Vassar Temple
continued to strengthen its identity as a Reform congregation, officially
affiliating with the movement in 1951 (a movement which it predated by 25
years!) (2)

There is so much about which we can proud as we celebrate Vassar Temple’s 175
years of history. There will be multiple opportunities for celebration
throughout this new year, including a gala on April 14th and plans are in the
works for a special anniversary Shabbat service (stay tuned for details). If we
only celebrate our past, however, we will be missing a most significant
opportunity that these milestone anniversaries provide – to carry forward the
vision and adaptability of our founders as we look ahead towards the next
milestone anniversary and beyond. Just as we, as individuals, embark upon the
process of heshbon hanefesh, deep personal reflection, as we begin a new year,
considering who we have been, who we are and who we want to be, so should we
reflect upon the same for Vassar Temple and like our founders, dare to adapt and
change to meet the needs of today and tomorrow.

Perhaps the greatest change in Vassar Temple in recent years has been our jump
into the age of technology. COVID forced us to fast track what had been talked
about for many years – broadcasting our services. Thanks to the many supporters
of the Lilah Matlin Technology Fund, we were able to install a fairly
sophisticated system, all volunteer run, by those first Days of Awe when we were
zoom only. We have continued in hybrid format for services and many programs
ever since. I repeat – this is ALL volunteer run. Larger congregations are able
to pay for these services; we are not in that position. Our team has continued
mightily now for three years. We really need more help. I’m sure some of you
have developed zoom hosting skills by now. If so, we need you – the rest is not
that hard to learn!

As we had hoped when we only dreamt about this technology, there are people now
who are able to join us for Shabbat and holiday services, Torah and Talmud
study, along with other temple activities, who would not have been able to
participate without this technology. Geographic boundaries are no longer
limiting. Zoom meetings have a higher attendance rate. And, yes, people can join
on those Friday nights when they are simply bushed and don’t want to leave their
homes.

This is all wonderful, though not without its challenges. How do we maximize
this technology to enhance our mission while also building community, when we
are divided between in-person and on-screen? There is a reason that 2000 years
ago Hillel taught, “Do not separate yourself from the community.” (3) When all
is said and done, it is the community, the interpersonal relationships, that are
at the heart of synagogue life. I am pleased to report that our in-person
attendance at Shabbat services has been increasing and there are plans to bring
back some congregational Shabbat dinners as they once were wonderful
opportunities for social bonding. I hope you will join us and be part of our
community.

Building a community takes more than just creating opportunities to gather
together, however. Real community is an inclusive space where everyone feels
that they belong.
I gained a new perspective on inclusivity and belonging from a diversity
training program for clergy offered by the Religious Action Center in which I
participated last year. It has had me thinking about who feels like they belong
at Vassar Temple today and who else should.

One particular image of the training has stayed with me: it was a slide of a
tree in the wrong environment. Now, I don’t remember exactly what tree it was;
let’s say it was an apple tree in a desert climate. How long will that tree
survive? Not long. A tree won’t grow in the wrong ecosystem. If we want that
tree to grow, we need to change the ecosystem. Now, think of a congregation as
an ecosystem. We like to think that we are a welcoming congregation and
welcoming to all. But how diverse are we? Now, we can’t expect diversity to just
happen. People from marginalized backgrounds won’t thrive in an environment for
non-marginalized people. Creating a diverse community requires first ensuring
that the ecosystem here will support that diversity. Diversity is an outcome of
a healthy ecosystem, not the other way around.

While there are multiple marginalized populations both within our congregation
and outside of it that could be brought in, tonight I would call our attention
to two populations that are already here, perhaps not always so apparent, and
are not always as included as they should be: people with disabilities and the
LGBTQ+.

Last year, as part of their curriculum about B’tzelem Elohim, the Jewish value
that all people are created in the Divine image, our 7th graders conducted an
accessibility audit of the congregation and presented their recommendations to
Lisa-Sue, our president. One of the great things about being thirteen is that
you’re not limited by fiscal realities as most adults are. They were free to
reach for the sky. So, yes, for many reasons it would be great to remove the
pews and replace them with flexible seats so that wheelchairs could get through.
And it would be awesome to have a gender neutral handicapped accessible bathroom
upstairs. Other recommendations, including installing more handrails on the
steps to the bema, building a ramp to the bema, and making the existing
bathrooms handicapped accessible, while quite challenging are not beyond the
realm of possibility. Clearly, this sanctuary, designed in the 1950s, did not
take accessibility into consideration. No one did back then.

We have taken some steps towards accommodations. We have large print
prayerbooks; we have to make them more available. We do invite those who cannot
climb the stairs to the bema to participate by reading from below this pulpit;
still, it doesn’t feel quite the same. We do have an elevator to get downstairs
– a little rickety to be sure, but it works! But we don’t always remember to
wait for those making their way down slowly down to the Oneg before we begin
kiddush.

These bandaid steps are okay as temporary measures but they do not create the
ecosystem that conveys the feeling “you belong here.” With an aging population
-we are blessed with at least a minyan of nonagenarians – as well as others with
physical limitations, it is time that we found ways to move beyond these
temporary measures and adapt our physical structure to meet the needs of our
current and future congregants.

There is one easy to fulfill recommendation from the 7th graders that we are in
the process of addressing: the students pointed out that the mezuzah on the
doorway into the sanctuary is beyond the reach of someone in a wheelchair. We
are looking for just the right mezuzah to add to that door at the appropriate
height. Incidentally, when the students went to look for the mezuzah on the
front door, they discovered that there isn’t one! That will also be remedied —
with one lower down as well.

Displayed on our front door, on the lawn next to the Vassar Temple sign, and on
our website, are signs saying LGBTQ Safe Space. These signs give a very
important message of welcome to a population that is coming under increasing
attack in our nation, whose basic rights are being denied in more and more
states and in recent Supreme Court rulings. The 2022 National Survey on LGBTQ
Youth Mental Health by the Trevor Project found “nearly 1 in 5 transgender and
nonbinary youth attempted suicide.” However, “… LGBTQ youth who felt high social
support from their family reported attempting suicide at less than half the rate
of those who felt low or moderate social support.” (4) In June, I joined a group
of congregants staffing a table at the annual Poughkeepsie Pride Fest. The
number of people who stopped by and expressed their astonishment and
appreciation that a synagogue was there was quite gratifying. This welcome can
be lifesaving.

According to a recent Gallup poll, 7.1% of US adults and nearly 21% of
Generation Z adults (those born between 1997-2003) self-identify as lesbian,
gay, bisexual, transgender or something other than heterosexual. (5) They are
not strangers. They are our family, our friends, our neighbors and co-workers,
they are our teachers and our students. They are us.

If we are to live up to the promise of our signs, then we need to ensure that
Vassar Temple is also a place of belonging for the LGBTQ+ and their loved ones.

To be sure, we have taken some positive steps to be inclusive. The definition of
membership was broadened some years ago to include “two adults who reside in the
same household,” (this was before marriage equality). Instead of spaces for
husband and wife, our membership applications have “Adult 1” and “Adult 2.” This
year we held our first Pride Shabbat. We addressed the challenges faced by those
who are transgender and the need for support from their families and community.

What would we see if like our 7th graders, we did an inclusivity audit of Vassar
Temple for the LGBTQ+ population? We would see that our only bathrooms are
labeled Men and Women. Which room does someone who does not fit into that gender
binary choose? Given the statistics, there will be, if there aren’t already,
children in our religious school who do not fit into a gender binary. Do they
feel like they belong here?

As with handicapped accessible bathrooms, the solution to this problem seems
impossible right now. There are less challenging adaptations that we can make to
change our ecosystem – they are not costly, they just take our willingness to
change and move beyond the discomfort of what may feel uncomfortable at first.

I recently received an email from a young man who grew up in my former
congregation inquiring if I might be available to officiate at his wedding. I
couldn’t answer because he omitted any details, including the name of the person
he was marrying. I started to write back, wishing him mazal tov and asking for
details, including some information about his …… and then I stopped myself. Do I
write fiancé with one e or two? I didn’t want to assume that he was marrying a
woman because that would be really awkward if he were marrying a man. It is time
to stop making such assumptions. They become microaggressions that marginalized
people experience all the time. I didn’t want to possibly contribute to that.
Ultimately, I found a creative way around it by being a bit old fashioned – I
referred to his “intended.”

Retraining ourselves not to make assumptions about people we don’t know, not
only with regard to their sexual orientation or their gender identity, is
essential to creating an inclusive atmosphere. The language that we use is also
key to conveying a message of true welcome. The pronouns that we use can make a
big difference in how people feel they are being received and affirmed. Let’s
face it – using “they” instead of “she “or “he” is uncomfortable, hard to get
used to, and it’s wrong if you care about grammar. But this is the term that has
taken hold in the trans and gender fluid communities. If we want to be
inclusive, if we want the LGBTQ+ to feel that they belong here, too, then we
need to adapt and call people by their preferred terms.

There is an area of Jewish life where gender neutrality is especially
challenging. Hebrew is a gendered language. There is an institute in Israel
currently working on more non-gendered terminology, but it has a ways to go. For
generations we have had Bar and Bat Mitzvah. Bar, son, for boys and Bat,
daughter, for girls. Ever since that diversity training, I’ve been thinking
about those trans and gender fluid children who are certainly in our
congregation. I want them to feel that they belong here, that this synagogue is
their spiritual home. I want one of the most significant Jewish experiences of
their young lives to be affirming of who they are. A new, gender neutral term is
taking hold within the more liberal denominations: B. Mitzvah. I know – awkward!
This term could be used when speaking in general and as a child is preparing for
his, her or their service, they could choose whichever term they felt most
appropriate. I would urge us to consider such a change. No cost to us, just an
adjustment.

Even more important than the steps that we can take to create a more inclusive
community for the LGBTQ+ and their families here are the actions that we can
take to ensure equality in our country. Just yesterday I learned from the
Religious Action Center that all 12 bills that are part of the budget resolution
to fund the federal government contain some element of anti-LGBTQ+ language,
such as limiting federal funding for gender-affirming medical care, banning drag
performances on military bases and authorizing anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination in
federally funded programs. If you share in the values of Reform Judaism that
teach us that we are all created in the Divine Image and that discrimination
against people because of their sexual orientation or gender identity is wrong,
then I would urge you to go to RAC.org where you can send emails to your
representatives in Washington, asking them to oppose any such provisions in the
appropriation bills.

After meeting with the 7th graders, Lisa-Sue shared the students’
recommendations with the board. She raised the idea of a Task Force on Inclusion
and Accessibility to assess our congregation and take steps to make the
necessary changes to be the inclusive community we want to be. In the coming
weeks she will propose that the Board pass a resolution to formally initiate
such a Task Force that will then move forward with assessment, research and
recommendations. Some challenges certainly seem overwhelming right now, but
creative minds can find creative solutions. It takes vision and adaptability.

Let us be inspired by the 5 men who met for prayer and formed a synagogue and
the 16 families who bought a building. And a congregation that had the vision to
adapt and change over time and now celebrates its 175th anniversary. May there
be many, many more to come.



(1) Historical information from American Judaism: A History by Jacob D. Sarna
(Yale University Press, 2004)
(2) Information taken from Vassar Temple archives

(3) Pirkei Avot 2:3

(4) https://www.thetrevorproject.org/survey-2022/

(5) https://news.gallup.com/poll/389792/lgbt-identification-ticks-up.aspx



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by rabbialtman on September 17, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Rabbi_Altman

Posted by rabbialtman on September 17, 2023

https://vassartemple.wordpress.com/2023/09/17/carrying-forward-the-vision-and-adaptability-of-our-founders-a-sermon-for-erev-rosh-hashannah-5784/




“SAVING LIVES AND PROTECTING RELIGIOUS FREEDOM”

A Sermon for Yom Kippur Morning 5783

Rabbi Renni S. Altman, DD

Vassar Temple



The news reports of the start of a new Supreme Court term this week may well
have triggered feelings of anger, fear, and anxiety in many of us, bringing us
back to the announcement of decisions from the last term, most especially Dobbs,
the reverberations of which are ongoing.

Today in America, abortion is illegal in thirteen states, some with minimal
exceptions.   Some states criminalize traveling to a different state for an
abortion, others subject anyone who assists someone getting an abortion to
criminal charges, which can be brought by anyone and for which bounty is being
offered.

Fourteen states are considered “hostile,” meaning that they are on a path
towards prohibition or severe restriction, and three are “not protected” which
means abortion is still accessible, though without legal protections.  Twenty of
the fifty states do protect abortion:  nine are considered “protected” states,
meaning that there are some limitations on access to care, and eleven states,
including New York, have expanded access to full reproductive care.[i]

More than 100 bills restricting abortion access were introduced this year; some
would establish fetal personhood, while others would ban particular abortion
methods, allow medical providers to refuse care, restrict insurance coverage or
restrict access to telehealth services for medication abortions.  Some bills
await passage, others are being adjudicated in the courts.

At the same time, this summer we witnessed the people of Kansas rejecting a
proposed state constitutional amendment that would have made abortion illegal. 
Similar ballot measures may be forthcoming in other states; Michigan just
included one for this November.

Sara Rosenbaum, a health lawyer and professor of public health at George
Washington University, who signed onto a friend-of-the-court brief in Dobbs
analyzing “Medicaid’s role as the country’s leading health insurer for millions
of vulnerable pregnant women, children, people with disabilities” recently
commented, a  year later, that “the harms she and her colleagues laid out —
particularly the disparate impact on marginalized people — are already beginning
to come to pass. 

“We’ve never lived through anything like this.  We are now living in a world in
which if my daughter was a resident of Texas or Oklahoma or Tennessee or Idaho
or any of the states with these bans, I would tell her: Do not get pregnant… If
she were a physician, I would tell her: Do not practice obstetrics or
gynecology. You are suddenly in a world that is impossible to navigate, either
as a patient or a physician. We have made the world completely unsafe for people
who want to have a baby or who practice in a lot of states.”[ii]

The right to abortion is now dictated by geography and that poses tremendous
danger to millions.  According to the Guttmacher Institute, a leading research
and policy organization committed to advancing sexual and reproductive health
and rights worldwide:

“the Dobbs decision has resulted in a chaotic legal patchwork that, as of August
2022, leaves some 22 million US women of reproductive age living under highly
restrictive laws more typical of low- and middle-income countries than of
high-income countries…

Evidence from countries around the globe suggests that, although restrictive
abortion laws in many US states are unlikely to substantially lower the
incidence of abortion, they will likely increase the proportion of abortions
done under unsafe conditions.”[iii]

With studies showing that one in four American women will have an abortion by
age 45, you can do the math to determine just how many women’s lives are at
stake (and that may not include all who can get pregnant, meaning those in the
LGBTQ population who do not label themselves as women). 

I would imagine that this information is not new to most of you, nor is it the
first time many of you have heard me speak about abortion rights.  Yet, on this
most holy day of our Jewish year, when we recognize just how precious life is,
when we fast and contemplate the very meaning of our existence, I feel compelled
to speak to this topic once again because of this most dangerous situation in
our country and because it is, for a number of reasons, so very much a Jewish
issue, one that demands our on-going concern as well as action.

Our Torah reading this morning, taken from Parshat Nitzavim, near the end of the
book of Deuteronomy, includes a covenantal affirmation ceremony with the younger
generation of Israelites as they prepare to enter the Promised Land.  In
exhorting them to follow the mitzvot, Moses reminds them that ultimately the
choice is theirs: “life and death I have set before you, blessing and curse. 
Choose life – so that you and children may live, by loving, obeying and staying
close to Adonai your God.”[iv]

“Choosing life.”  In the context of reproductive rights, the language around
choice to be “pro-life” was most cleverly usurped by the anti-abortion movement
when it took form fifty years ago after Roe.  Judaism is very clear that the
obligation to choose life in the case of a pregnancy, means choosing the life of
the woman over the that of the fetus.  There are circumstances when abortion is
not only permitted, but is demanded, because in Judaism life begins at birth and
NOT at conception.

We learn this in Exodus, Chapter 21, which describes the case for damages when a
pregnant woman miscarries as a result of being pushed. The responsible party
must pay damages. If that pregnancy loss would have been considered murder, the
penalty would have been life for life.

The Mishnah, codified in 200 CE, clarifies that life begins when the largest
part of the fetus emerges in birth. Up until that point, if the mother’s life is
in danger, one must abort. As Jewish law develops, opinions vary on situations
when abortion is called for: the most stringent legal opinions limit abortion to
cases when the mother’s life is physically at risk, while others – even within
the Orthodox community – will permit abortion based on the mother’s physical,
psychological or emotional wellbeing.  One case in the Talmud required abortion
where the woman’s child could only have her breast milk which was not available
while she was pregnant.  The principle here is that the pregnancy is to be
terminated to save an existing life.  Certainly, within Reform Judaism, which is
predicated on the principle of individual autonomy and choice that is informed
by tradition and conscience, we support the right of individuals to make this
most difficult, personal decision, based on any number of factors that impact
their lives and the lives of their families.

In Jewish law, the fetus is considered to be part of the woman and not a
separate entity.  That is why when a pregnant person converts to Judaism, the
baby born is Jewish.   Rashi, the great biblical and Talmudic commentator of the
12th century, ruled that a fetus has no legal rights.  Even as a fetus is
considered a life in development, Judaism rejects current notions of fetal
personhood. 

Judaism teaches that human beings are created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of
God.  Therefore, all life is sacred and pikuah nefesh, saving a life, is our
greatest obligation.   It is that principle that guides us in the debate about
reproductive rights.  Today, protecting the lives of pregnant people means
ensuring that they receive and have available to them, where they live, complete
health and reproductive care, including abortion.  It means that medical
personnel must also be able to treat their patients with all tools available to
them and to provide their patients with their best medical advice.

The right to abortion is also a matter of justice.  As Jews, we are commanded to
pursue justice:  “Tzedek, Tzedek Tirdof, Justice, Justice shall you pursue,”
screams the Torah in Deuteronomy.[v] 

We cannot have a just society when women do not have full autonomy and control
over their reproductive decisions, decisions that impact their lives and the
lives of their families, when we are not allowed the dignity of being able to
make these decisions privately, in consultation with our chosen advisors,
without the threat of government interference.

We cannot have a just society where “barriers to health care place any
individual’s autonomy, health, economic security, or well-being at risk.”[vi]

The populations hit hardest by current abortion restrictions are those who are
already marginalized:  low-income women, who compromise 75% of those who get
abortions; black and brown women; young people, 60% of women who get abortions
are in their 20s; members of the LGBTQ population; and people with
disabilities.  These are among the populations who cannot afford to travel cross
country, who don’t have sick days available to them, who need childcare (59% of
women seeking abortions already have one child), and who don’t have the
financial resources to pay privately for safe reproductive services.[vii] These
are the women whose lives are most at risk and the ones who may be forced to
bear a child against their will. 

The danger of Dobbs extends past the physical, emotional and economic threats it
poses for pregnant people.  Together with other recent Supreme Court decisions,
it weakens that most precious wall that separates church and state in this
country, the fundamental principle that ensures freedom for people of all faiths
– or no faith – not to be bound by the religious beliefs or practices of another
faith.  The Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, “Congress shall make no
law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise
thereof,” guarantees freedom of religion.  The determination of when life begins
is a matter of faith.  My faith teaches me that that life begins at birth and
that the life of the pregnant person must take priority.   Laws outlawing or
limiting abortion access deny my freedom of religion. 

Jews living in thirteen of the fifty states in this country are currently denied
free expression of their religious freedom; they may soon lose that freedom in
seventeen others.

But we are not powerless; we can fight for change and protect our rights and
religious freedom.   Though we may be a minority, we can join in coalitions with
others who support reproductive rights as part of a just society and believe in
the preservation of the first amendment.

We can advocate for federal legislation in support of reproductive choice:

As the Women’s Health Protection Act seems out of reach for now, efforts in the
Reform movement are focusing on the Equal Access to Abortion Coverage in Health
Insurance Act (EACH) that would repeal the Hyde Amendment, which bans federal
insurance coverage, such as Medicaid, for abortions, with very narrow
exceptions, thereby limiting abortion access for poor women.

We need to ensure that the broad protections and access currently in place in
New York State remain that way, which is where our vote comes in!  There are
efforts underway to pass an Equal Rights Amendment to our State Constitution. 
It already passed in the legislature earlier this year but needs to pass another
legislative vote before going to the ballot in the November 2024 election.  The
ERA would protect New Yorkers from discrimination on the basis of ethnicity,
national origin, age, disability, creed, religion and sex, and it will provide
explicit protection of reproductive autonomy.

Al ta’mod al dam re’echa, “Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor
reads.”[viii]  We will read this commandment from the Holiness Code of Leviticus
this afternoon.  While we live in a state with expanded abortion protection and
that welcomes and assists people from other states to come here for health care
services, it is upon us to assist those who are not so fortunate.  A National
Network of Abortion Funds has been established to ensure that patients get the
care they need even when they have to travel far from home.  You can find out
more about these funds and other opportunities to take action on the Women of
Reform Judaism or the Religious Action Center websites.[ix] 

Local planned parenthood clinics are always looking for more escorts to help
create a safer experience for their patients, who are coming to the clinic for
any number of reasons, who must pass by protestors saying horrible things in an
attempt to intimidate and frighten them. 

We must speak out on this issue, otherwise the only voices out in the public
square, the only ones getting out the vote and speaking with their
representatives, will be Conservative Christians and those who would like to
suppress other religious voices.

We have an opportunity literally to be in the public square this coming
Saturday, when there will be a Women’s March downtown as part of a National Day
of Action, marking a month before the midterm elections.  The march will step
off from the corner of Market and Main streets at noon and head to Waryas Park. 
Our Civic Engagement committee is organizing a group to march together.   I will
be joining them after services and encourage others to add their voices and
presence.

In June the Supreme Court opened a door that has the potential to take our
nation backwards to half a century ago.   Many states have already followed that
path and others are prepared to follow.  Our individual rights, our religious
liberties, are under siege.   It is hard to remain optimistic even as bright
moments of hope do occasionally appear.  But ours is a people of great hope who
despite overwhelming odds even of our very survival, has never given up, has
never lost sight of that vision and promise of a better time, a world that is
whole and at peace, that is yet to be.  Ours is the task to be God’s partner and
take part in bringing that day about, to be relentless in our pursuit of
justice.

And we have never given up on our commitment to the ideals of this great
nation.  It is a long-standing Jewish practice to pray for the welfare of the
country in which we have lived, “for in its prosperity you shall prosper,”
taught the prophet Jeremiah.[x] Thus I close with part of the prayer for our
country included in our mahzor:

God of holiness, we hear Your message: Justice, justice you shall pursue.  God
of freedom, we hear Your charge: Proclaim liberty throughout the land.  Inspire
us through Your teachings and commandments to love and uphold our precious
democracy.  Let every citizen take responsibility for the rights and freedoms we
cherish.  Let each of us be an advocate for justice, an activist for liberty, a
defender of dignity.  And let us champion the values that make our nation a
haven for the persecuted, a beacon of hope among the nations.

We pray for all who serve our country with selfless devotion – in peace and in
war, from fields of battle to clinics and classrooms, from government to the
grassroots:  all those whose noble deeds and sacrifice benefit our nation and
our world.

We are grateful for the rights of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness
that our founders ascribed to You, our Creator.  We pray for their wisdom and
moral strength, that we may be guardians of these rights for ourselves and for
the sake of all people, now and forever.[xi]  

Amen.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[i]
https://reproductiverights.org/abortion-trigger-bans-take-effect-in-three-states-tomorrow/

[ii] https://19thnews.org/2022/09/100-days-since-dobbs-decision/

[iii]
https://www.guttmacher.org/article/2022/08/undoing-roe-v-wade-leaves-us-global-outlier-abortion

[iv] Deuteronomy 30:19-20

[v] Deuteronomy 16:20

[vi]
https://www.ncjw.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Jewish-Values-and-Reproductive-Justice-.pdf 

[vii] https://www.guttmacher.org/united-states/abortion/demographics

[viii] Leviticus 19:16

[ix] www.wrj.org or www.rac.org

[x] Jeremiah 29:7

[xi] Mishkan HaNefesh, Yom Kippur, p. 286

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by rabbialtman on October 12, 2022  •  Permalink
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