Ambassador Dr. Deborah Lipstadt, the US Special Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism tells a story from when she was a professor at Emory University. A student came to her office and for the first time in the four years that she had known him, he was wearing a kippah. Not wanting to be rude, she said nothing; but as he stood up to leave, he turned around and said to her, “Look. You notice?”
“Oh, yeah. What’s that about? You haven’t worn that before,” she said. And he responded, “There have been so many attacks on Jews recently. I’ve decided every time there is an anti-Semitic act, I am going to wear my kippah to show the anti-Semites they can’t frighten me.”
She admired his moxie, his chutzpah, his desire to show his identity and not cower in fear. And at the same time, inside, her heart was breaking – because he had allowed the anti-Semites to determine when he felt Jewish. They were controlling his Jewish identity. He had ceded to them the power over his Judaism.
In short, he was motivated by the “oy” and not the joy of Jewish life.
Lipstadt ends the story saying, “That’s not my Judaism, and I don’t want it to be his.”
Amen, Ambassador Lipstadt! That is not my Judaism either, and I don’t want it to be any of ours.
It’s been a hard year. According to the FBI, anti-Semitic incidents rose by more than 60%. Congregants have asked me, “Rabbi, are you going to speak about antisemitism at the High Holy Days this year?” Yes and No. Here’s my sermon: The best response to antisemitism is living joyful, vibrant Jewish lives.
To be clear, for those that have witnessed or experienced antisemitism this year, we are here for you. We see you, we feel your pain, and we are ready to stand with you. We must not ignore antisemitism.
And we cannot allow our Judaism and our lives to be driven by it. The constant barrage on social media, protests in our own backyard, or finding hate symbols in our parks and schools can make us angry – can make us want to be defiant, just like Lipstadt’s student.
Tonight, I want to urge you (and myself) to not get sucked down that rabbit hole of anger and hate. It’s not worth it. If doom scrolling is not helping you (and it’s probably not), turn it off. And instead of focusing on the hate – focus on the joy.
On October 7th we witnessed the single greatest loss of Jewish life in a day since the Holocaust. Not long after the Holocaust, at a time like ours, when it might have seemed inconceivable to find any joy, German Jewish Reform Rabbi, Emil Fackenheim wrote about what he called the 614th commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Let Hitler Have a Posthumous Victory.” There are traditionally 613 commandments in the Torah; Fackenheim proposed adding a 614th: we have an obligation to ensure our Jewish community continues to thrive. For some, this may sound just like Ambassador Lipstadt’s student, a very negative reason to be Jewish, spiting Hitler and all the anti-Semites. Yet, I do not believe that was Fackenheim’s intention. Rather, he saw the education of each Jewish child as a victory over forgetting and over darkness. Every mezuzah hanging, every conversion, every wedding, every Torah study is an opening for joy and a triumph over despair, hatred and indifference.
That is my Judaism. Cultivating joy through the everyday of Jewish living.
The traditional haftarah reading for tomorrow morning comes from the Prophet Isaiah. Exiled in Babylon, and praying for a return to Jerusalem, Isaiah (55:12) writes:
כִּֽי־בְשִׂמְחָ֣ה תֵצֵ֔אוּ וּבְשָׁל֖וֹם תּוּבָל֑וּן
Go out in joy, and be led home in peace.
Isaiah is in literal exile in Babylon from Israel. But Isaiah is also in spiritual exile. In some ways, we are all in exile – even (especially) those that physically live in Israel feel like they are in spiritual exile this year. Distanced from God. Dislocated from joy.
But if we lead with joy, if we go out in joy, Isaiah reminds us, we might find some shalom – some sense of peace and wholeness, some escape from the feelings of exile and dislocation; some sense of return.
The High Holy Days are all about joy. We begin tonight with a celebration; Rosh Hashanah marks Hayom Harat Olam, the Birthday of the World. With the exuberance of a birthday party, our tradition sets the stage for this season of joy. The High Holy Days end with Simchat Torah, literally, the Joy of Torah. And in the middle of this month of haggim/festivals, under the full moon, we go out into nature and we build. On Sukkot, known as zman simchateinu/our season of rejoicing, we are commanded to, “v’samachata, b’chagecha, v’hayita ah sameach/celebrate in our festivals and have nothing but joy!”
And even Yom Kippur is traditionally a time of joy. The rabbis of the Talmud (Bava Batra 121a) teach, “Yom Kippur is a day of joy, because it is a day of pardon and forgiveness.”
Chaviva Gordon-Bennett, a writer for ReformJudaism.org, notes: “While it is true that these holidays ask us to tie our joy to the calendar, our tradition also recognizes that one cannot set a timer and say “this will be my joyful moment.” These holidays ask something of us that is more difficult: we must actively set the stage for joy and allow ourselves to revel in it, if and when it arrives. We cannot force joy, but we can beckon it.”
We need to set the table for joy and invite it into our lives. Easier said than done. It’s hard work. But that is what this season is all about; doing the intentional work that we know will make our lives more joyful and fulfilling. And we must not do it alone. The path to joy is communal. In fact almost every time we find the word, “Simcha/Joy,” in the Torah, it is in the context of communal celebration. Simcha is joy that is shared.
Chaviva Gordon-Bennett also reminds us that, “Beckoning to joy can require assistance. For those struggling with their mental health or with substance abuse, setting the stage for joy can include a call to a mental health professional.”
Tonight, we re-gather as a community to mark the end of one year and the start of another. It is an opportunity to look back and reflect on the joy we were able to find this past year. And a chance to think about the joy that we want to invite into our lives in the coming year.
As I look back on this year, I think of the moments when my own family worked to cultivate joy amidst so much pain and challenge. Shortly after October 7, some of our own family were evacuated from their kibbutz in the north of Israel and came to live with us here in Philadelphia. Many of you had the chance to meet Dorit and Zohar during their time here. As this year comes to end, and we begin anew, I am holding on to the joyous Jewish moments we shared. Zohar riding bikes with his new friends from Rodeph Shalom and his Jewish day school. Our whole family decked out in matching Hanukkah pajamas that we bought at the Weitzman Museum gift shop. Home cooked Shabbat dinners each week with matbucha, schnitzel, and Dorit’s challah (which, I have to admit, is even better than mine). In each of these moments, we didn’t force the joy, we simply created space for it to grow. For Dorit and Zohar, that little bit of joy gave them the all important peace that they had been seeking since the moment of their physical and spiritual exile. Isaiah was speaking to us, “Go out in joy, and be led home in peace.”
Another story of joy. Recently, one of our local Philadelphia Hillels, the center for Jewish life on campus, was the target of anti-Semitic protests. While I am thankful to university leadership for speaking out and ensuring the safety of all students, I am especially impressed with the Hillel students. In the moments of vitriol being spewed at them, they chose not to directly respond and get dragged down by the hate, but rather to embrace Jewish joy. What did they do during the protests? They went into the kitchen and braided challah for Shabbat. For those students who found the joy in challah braiding amidst so much hate, Isaiah was speaking to them, “Go out in joy, and be led home in peace.”
One last story of cultivating joy (and the resulting peace that it brings). Our clergy have the pleasure of leading Tot Shabbat with our Buerger Early Learning Center students every Friday morning. We set the stage with songs and stories but the joyfully climatic moment comes when we take out our stuffed Torah scrolls. The students each take a colorful plush Torah and we march! Through our Philadelphia Museum of Jewish Art galleries, past our security desk, filling the lobby with the sounds of singing, giggling, and tiny feet dancing to the joy of Torah. Let me be clear, the students bring the joy, we just create an intentional opening. And I have to tell you, Isaiah was right: Go out in joy, and be led home in peace. The sense of peace that our clergy and staff walk away with each Friday morning comes from knowing that there is a future generation of children who will one day lead our community in joy.
As you think back on the past year, how did you cultivate joy? How did you set the table and invite Jewish joy into your lives?
And as you think forward, how will you choose joy this coming year? What concrete actions will you take to beckon joy this next year?
Recently, I found myself getting upset at something I was reading online and my daughter reminded me of something that I often tell her, “You can’t control what other people do, but you can control how you respond.” There is still so much tumult, antisemitism, and pain in this world and in our Jewish lives. And so much of it is out of our control. For so many in our community, this year has felt like a year of exile and we are simply seeking some peace. There is an answer – beckon joy – do the work and invite joy to sit at your table this year. Isaiah’s words to his people some 2500 years ago still speak to us today, “Go out in joy, and be led home in peace.”
Shanah Tovah!
