Our Jewish practice, as well as the practice of countless other minority religions in our nation, is protected by the separation of church and state, a separation that was trampled on by this week’s Supreme Court ruling in favor of a public high school football coach who engaged in public prayer while on duty and welcomed students to join him.
Public prayer led by public school officials establishes state religion, contrary to our Constitution’s First Amendment and in the case of a captive, vulnerable audience such as students on a sports team, coerces Americans in the minority. Whenever a vulnerable population is targeted, it signals to us a violation of the moral mandate from our tradition that teaches us to love the stranger, the widow, the orphan. We are deeply concerned about the overturning of long-standing precedent that protects the separation of church and state, about the religious fundamentalists advancing their aims, and for those students who are the first to be impacted.
This Sunday, the first ever session of Camp Indigo Point will begin. Camp Indigo Point, according to their website, aims to offer traditional camp experiences — such as canoeing, archery, swimming, sports, arts & crafts, and outdoor excursions in rural Makanda, Illinois.
So what’s the big deal? It sounds like lots of camps that many of us went to as kids…
What makes Camp Indigo Point unique is that it is a camp specifically for LGBTQ+ youth to build intentional community with each other. Again, according to their website:
Camp Indigo Point seeks to give LGBTQ+ youth the chance to experience a community of peers in a fun, exuberant, affirming environment. We hope that by creating a space where LGBTQ+ youth can share their hopes, fears, and stories, we can empower young folks to carry the feeling of queer community wherever they go.
Clearly this camp was filling a need as within a few weeks, the camp was full and already had a 50 person strong waiting list. Camp Indigo Point is not a Jewish overnight camp. So why am I talking about it tonight? Well, first – it’s Pride Month! And second, the camp was started by a Reform rabbi and a Jewish summer camp song leader.
Shira Berkowitz was building a career in Jewish camping when a camp told them not to return. Berkowitz told The Forward in a recent interview, [quote] “It got around that I was that was queer, and that that wasn’t appropriate for me to be a program director for girls. And that was really harmful to my identity. I went back in the closet for a few years.”
Berkowitz’s career and personal identity recovered, and they went on to work at Camp Sabra, Missouri’s biggest Jewish overnight camp, which they described as far more accepting. Berkowitz continued, [quote] “But I was also very aware that there was almost no queer staff, except for myself and one or two other people,”
Berkowitz and longtime camp friend Daniel Bogard, a St. Louis rabbi who is raising a transgender child, dreamed up the camp late last year, as the Missouri legislature was gearing up for a session in which three anti-trans bills were introduced within the first month.
It’s no surprise that alumni of Jewish camps are leaders in the effort to create inclusive camps. Jewish camp has long been recognized for the leadership skills — problem solving, communication, creativity, independence, critical thinking — which are developed and refined as a camper or as a counselor. And most importantly, recognizing, honoring, protecting and providing for the queer community is a Jewish value. And we see it in this week’s portion, Nasso, from the Book of Numbers.
This week, we read about the famous Birkat HaCohenim/The Priestly Blessing.
Adonai spoke to Moses: Speak to Aaron and his sons: Thus shall you bless the people of Israel. Say to them: May God bless you and keep you! May God’s light shine upon you and may God be gracious to you. May you feel God’s Presence within you always, and may you find peace. Thus they shall link My name with the people of Israel, and I will bless them.
This powerful blessing is now used at various services and life-cycle moments in Judaism. I offered this blessing just moments ago to little Asher and tomorrow Cantor Hyman and I will bless Drew and Rachel with these same words. In a moment, I want to delve into this blessing and how it speaks to our need to celebrate and protect our LGBTQ community but first, let’s start at the end. The most profound element of the blessing lies in the concluding sentence: “Thus they shall link My name with the people of Israel, and I will bless them.”
In the ancient world, magi, oracles and soothsayers were held to have the power of blessing. They were able to invoke supernatural forces. Next month we will read the story of Bilaam and Balak about an evil king who hires a sorcery to curse the people of Israel. There was a real belief in ancient times that certain people had the power to bless and curse.
But it is clear from our text that it is not the priests who bless the people, but God. In themselves, they have no power. They are intermediaries, channels through which God’s blessing flows. Similarly, we as clergy are not special – we have no magical powers. It is not just clergy or cohanim (the descendants of the ancient priests) who can offer this blessing. Traditionally parents also offer this blessing to their children every shabbat. We are all agents of God’s blessing – we all have the ability to bring God’s blessings into this world.
Our threefold benediction is simple yet powerful. It begins, [Heb] “May God bless you and keep you.”
The word for keep, shamor, can also mean to guard; it is about protection. We, this very community, acting as the metaphorical hands of God, have the power to shamor, to protect and guard our LGBTQ community against those that seek to curtail their rights. We have the power to bring security, safetly, the ability to feel comfortable in one’s own skin. To be free to live full lives without fear. We can protect the most basic fundamental rights that are enshrined in our sacred Torah and in our constitution. But words are never simply enough – blessings inspire us to act. To truly bless and guard our LGBTQ community we need to show up.
Consider joining me next week on June 14th for a program co-sponsored by Keshet (an LBGTQ Jewish advocacy organization), WRJ (Women of Reform Judaism), and the RAC (Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism) called, “Active Allyship: Reform Jews Showing Up for Fundamental Rights”
At this online program, we will learn how current trends in anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-abortion legislation and threats to bodily autonomy are interconnected and how we, as Jews, can be active allies and fight against these bills. Plus, hear from a Jewish transgender teen, an educator, and a medical provider about how the current political landscape is affecting their lives. Advocating for LGBTQ+ rights is a mitzvah — join us to act upon and live in our Jewish values fully this Pride Month.
The second line of the blessing is, [Heb] “May God’s light shine upon you and may God be gracious to you.”
Ya’er – to light up, to shine a light on. This is about being seen. Representation matters. This is about using the correct pronouns for people, about ensuring that our bathrooms and other signage is inclusive and representative. This is about avoiding heteronormative langauge that assumes all people are straight and cis-gendered (meaning their gender identity is that same as their assigned gender at birth). We see this part of the blessing being lived out in RS pRiSm programs like “Our Queer Jewish Journeys” where we lift up and shed a light on the variety of queer experiences within our diverse Rodeph Shalom community.
Shining a light on our community is directly connected to the second half of this line – may God be gracious to you. We understand – chen, grace to mean God’s unconditional love, a spontaneous gift from God to people, generous, free and totally unexpected and undeserved. What would it mean in our world for us to be instruments of God’s grace? To love all people unconditionally, without regard to their sexuality or gender – or even more with regard – not in spite of, but because of their uniqueness, because we celebrate the divine and the diversity in all people – created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God.
And lastly, the final line of the blessing, “May you feel God’s Presence within you always, and may you find peace.”
Peace, shalom. Not as in an absence of war, but rather wholeness. The Hebrew word Shalom comes from the root shin, lamed, mem, meaning completeness, fullness, wholeness. Ultimately, this is one of the greatest gifts any of us can hope for in this life; to feel whole and complete. To be seen for the whole of our being and to be included.
As I think about wholeness this year in Philadelphia, I am heartened to know that our own Pride Celebrations this year are much more whole. After reports of racism and transphobia, Philadelphia Pride organizers disbanded and started anew with a much more inclusive vision of what pride month in Philadelphia could look like. The new and improved Pride is much more inclusive of the trans community and black and brown members of the LGBTQ community.
But we still have a long way to go. Our aspirational Birkat kohanim/Priestly Blessing implores us to be God’s angels, to be messengers of the divine.
Pride is about celebrating – I love the rainbow flags, the parties, the parades. But as so many of you know, the first pride was a riot. A riot led by mostly trans people of color. Pride month is about activism and protecting the most vulnerable among us.
Speaking about the need for Camp Indigo Point, not just in times of crises, Shira Berkowitz said:
We believe that LGBTQ+ youth deserve a place and environment made specifically for them in community and safety with lgbtq+ adults to thrive as kids: have fun, build lasting friendships, take risks, and build joy.
Camp Indigo Point, the new reimagined PHL Pride Collective, and our own pRiSm group at RS, are amazing examples of living out the priestly blessing in meaningful ways. These are organizations that are truly working to bring God’s blessings to our community. May we all continue to partner with God to shamor/to protect, to ya’er/to enlighten, v’asem l’cha shalom, and to bring shalom/wholeness to our LGBTQ community and to the world.
Today marks the 50th anniversary of women rabbis in America. June 3, 1972, Sally Priesand becomes the 1st woman ordained in our country and the first woman ordained at a seminary. And, now over 1000 women and non-binary rabbis later, we understand: even honored firsts, are complicated.
There was a woman rabbi ordained before Sally. Rabbi Regina Jonas, history has since revealed, was the first woman in the world to be ordained. Although not from a seminary, Rabbi Jonas was ordained in Germany in 1935, served the community in Berlin, and then during the Holocaust, pastored in Terezin until she was murdered at Auschwitz. Jonas’ rabbinate cut tragically short by the Nazis, and her story buried, Rabbi Sally Priesand always reminds us: Rabbi Regina Jonas was the first. But the history predates Rabbi Regina Jonas as well. For, the story of “firsts,” is also the story of “almosts.”
Just several years ago, when Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR), the Reform seminary, was in a search for a new president my teacher Rabbi Dr. Carole Balin applied and advanced as a finalist. She did not get the job. After a different candidate—a man—was appointed president Dr. Balin reflected that when HUC eventually appoints a woman, some day in the future, her own achievement as a finalist will be a part of that story. Often times, in the journey of social change, the almosts, take a next step. Yes, with excitement I celebrate 50 years of women in the American rabbinate, and we should not be marking 50 years of women in the American rabbinate; we should be marking 100 years.
Our Rodeph Shalom Suffrage Project has uncovered the impact of women’s voting justice work. It is no coincidence that only one year after women get the vote in 1920 the Jewish community begins to take baby steps toward equality. In 1921, Martha Neumark is taking courses at HUC and applies to join an academic track towards ordination.
In 1922 the Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR) – the Reform rabbinic association, which is independent from our seminary – at its annual convention, attended by rabbis and their wives, debates the question: do rabbis need to be men? In the middle of the men’s discussion, the meeting chair turns over the floor, to the wives– 3 women speak! It is then, 1922, that the men of the CCAR decide “Women cannot justly be denied the privilege of ordination.” 100 years ago. Because women spoke. How often social change is about, who gets a voice.
But, back at the seminary, that next year, even though the CCAR rabbinic association would accept her, the Hebrew Union College seminary Board of Governors votes it down. Martha Neumark is denied a track to ordination. Indeed, the story of “firsts,” is also the story of “almosts.”
To be clear, Rabbi Sally Priesand, was almost an almost. She later learned that the HUC president Dr. Nelson Glueck’s life-goal was to ordain her; apparently his Board still needed convincing.
For in response to Sally’s first inquiry here is an excerpt from a letter from HUC, June 17, 1963:
Dear Miss Priesand, Women are welcome in any of our courses, and we would be glad to discuss with you the various programs in which you might be interested. Since you state in your letter that your interests lean specifically to the rabbinate, we would have to inform you candidly, that we do not know what opportunities are available for women in the active rabbinate, since we have, as yet, not ordained any women. Most women prefer to enter the field of Jewish religious education.
Isn’t it a common motto of change resistance: Well they don’t want access anyway.
From a letter dated June 20, 1963:
Miss Priesand, Some clear knowledge on your part, of what it will mean to you, to have graduated from our school, is essential for you, prior to your thinking about entering.
Isn’t this a common strategy of change resistance: the waiting period – from Sally’s not-quite-admission letter, to limits on reproductive rights, it’s interesting to look at the waiting periods, that ask: are you sure you’ve really thought about this? — that show up in resistance to social change.
Three not-quite-admittance-you-can-enroll-but-we-probably-won’t-ordain-you letters later:
May 14, 1968: Dear Sally (first name basis-they must be old friends by now!)– Dear Sally: I am pleased to inform you officially, that you have been admitted to the Rabbinic School of Hebrew Union College. Dr. Glueck and the Faculty join me in welcoming you, and in expressing good wishes for your happiness and fulfillment, in your studies in the rabbinic department!
From that first letter in 1963, to Sally’s acceptance letter in 1968, Dr. Glueck must have very been busy. Finally, the Board of Governors is sufficiently convinced.
Once Sally is enrolled at HUC, Dr. Glueck is determined to help her, and women, become accepted by the Reform Movement. He invites her to lead a prayer at the Board of Governors meeting, and to lead services when they are in town. And knowing congregations may be slow to invite her to lead, Dr. Glueck arranges for speaking engagements to help prepare the field for her ordination. True wisdom- he helps her pave the path through inequitable circumstance.
Still, what a burden Sally Priesand carries through the wilderness of those early years, and all with no peers –no women classmates or colleagues, with whom she could share. During her student years, there are classmates who pose dating and marriage options and there are faculty who encourage it, because they think: maybe if we can get her married, we can get rid of her.
Beyond the initial achievement, being the first, means stretching people’s imagination about identity–can they see you as a rabbi and as a non-male, all at once? –as a woman, a mother, a wife, a CEO, and a religious authority? Being the first means climbing out of the boxes of definition, such as gender roles. It is not a coincidence that in her daily climb, to be respected as a rabbinic leader, Sally does not find space to marry and have children, as she originally thought she might. I believe she knows how harshly she may have been judged, had she integrated the identities beyond people’s imagination.
As a student and then as a rabbi, instead, her focus is on, being the best–for being first means there is no room for mediocrity. She always feels she needs to be better. We owe her a debt…for her sacrifice, but most of all for her lessons.
Rabbi Priesand teaches humor—and if she can maintain a sense of humor, we all can.
Rabbi Priesand teaches us to appreciate the allies, from Dr. Glueck to her own classmates — who she likes to share, all spontaneously stood in solidarity at her moment of ordination — to the head of job placement who, when she could not get hired and wanted to write a pointed article, told her it would destroy her career, and instead, he would take the risk — he would write an article with these points, to use his power, to open people’s eyes.
Rabbi Priesand teaches us to not lead with ego. A symbol of controversy, she does not get sucked into conflict. In response to offensive comments, she just says “Thank you for your opinion” and walks away.
To the B’nai Mitzvah guests, who say “you’re the first woman rabbi I’ve ever seen” she responds: “I hope I won’t be the last.” And that has been the essence of her rabbinate. Rabbi Priesand always says: I’ve tried to not only open the door, but also to hold it open, for others to follow in my footsteps.
We at Rodeph Shalom have felt the impact of Rabbi Priesand, holding open the door for others.
I recently had the privilege, of interviewing the 2 women who served as rabbis at RS before my time here. Our first, Rabbi Patrice Heller, began in 1981 and served for 5 years; our second, Rabbi Ellen Greenspan, began in 1986 and served for 4 years. As much as Rabbi Heller and Rabbi Greenspan found their work here meaningful, and loved their connections with congregants, it was not easy for these vatikot—these early women. No doubt, I owe them a debt. We all do. And I honor their contribution to our journey.
Last night, in a national gathering of female-identifying and non-binary rabbis Rabbi Priesand, now well into retirement, shared: she would have thought, we would have made, more progress by now.
Indeed, the journey continues, in the work of: pay equity, career advancement, family leave, Reform Movement leadership, and combatting gender misconduct and bias…and in the work of: belonging for all marginalized identities, that we may build a Jewish clergy and community, that reflects the multi-gender, multi-ability, multi-racial, multi-generational diversity of the Jewish People.
I honor 50 years of women in the American rabbinate, and we should not be marking 50 years; we should be marking 100 years, at least. So, as we celebrate the firsts and the almosts, their stories compel us to ask: What should the Jewish community have understood and acted upon 100 years ago, and today, what should we understand and act upon now, for the sake of community, equity, and the future of the Jewish people? Our work, for the next year, and the next 50, is to understand, who are the firsts and the almosts, who need to show us the future.
Rabbi Sally Priesand opened doors.
For gender justice and beyond,
may we be inspired to open doors,
and to hold them open,
for those who followed Rabbi Priesand,
and for those who will follow us.
Shabbat Shalom.
*Drawing on: Sacred Calling, Jewish Women’s Archives, Teachings of Rabbi Dr. Carole Balin, Women Who Would be Rabbis, Dr. Pamela Nadel
Rabbi Jill Maderer
Congregation Rodeph Shalom, March 11, 2022 Vashti is Now: Accountability in the Reform Movement Sexual Misconduct Reports
Next week, we celebrate Purim. It is undisputed: the Purim story is implausible—never happened. Megillat Ester/the Book of Esther is a farce. A text for a ridiculous time when the Jewish calendar prescribes that we let go of the weight of the world and laugh. And trust me, at our Sunday morning shpeil and carnival and our Wednesday Erev Purim celebration, you will see: I welcome that lighter side of Purim. For when we fulfill the mitzvah/the sacred act, to hear Megillah and we see the shpeils/the creative skits, we should laugh. It isn’t real.
And. Even comedy offers some truth. That’s what makes it funny— a shared understanding. With Megillah, sure enough, moments worthy of a serious look, before Purim arrives. Moments when we say: yes. That tells our story. We see our world, our society, ourselves. When Esther faces fear and finds her bravery in the words: maybe you are here for just this time- maybe you have attained power for just this purpose. And we hold up a mirror to ask ourselves: for what purpose are we here? For what purpose can we use our power? It’s our truth, too.
And Vashti. Before Esther enters the picture, the Megillah teaches: King Ahashverosh attempts to coerce Queen Vashti into dancing naked for his party guests. Queen Vashti refuses. And she is never seen again – Banished, killed, or somehow disappeared. For years, I’ve told this coercion part of the story, by mocking Ahashverosh, making fun of this silly man — or of any man – who does not understand how wonderful it is to be with a partner who can think for themself. Twisting it into a positive message that we can draw out of our megillah.
But tonight, I’d like to be sure to do so with eyes wide open. Not in a Purim moment of levity, but in a harder look at the truths in our narrative. In the explicit lessons we ought to learn.
What does King Ahashverosh’s story say about consent, and what does our storytelling of an abusive king — cast as a silly fool – say about accountability? In ultimately protecting the Jews at the end of the story, Ahashverosh does finally see things Esther’s way, and ally with our people. But we cannot allow ourselves to forget the king’s role in the first half of the story. The king abuses his power with Vashti. And in an often glossed over part of the story about the king’s acquisition of a new wife, he is in a position to coerce the young women who are brought to him to audition for the position of queen. Bad enough that he would be judging the young women on their looks, it was assuredly not only their looks that were involved in the pageant. Reflecting a different time and society, the text does not even pretend the women have agency.
And the king…is it because the king eventually helps to save the Jews, that when it comes to his abuse of women we tend to let him off the hook? Do we forgive Ahashverosh his misogyny because he joins our stand against Jew-hating? Tonight, let’s lift the masks and uncover the truth. Let’s not miss this: in his abuse of women, the king takes no responsibility. He is never held to account. And we cannot pretend that only happens in ancient Persia. Aren’t there today, too, the many who feel license to coerce, who abuse power, and often because of their talents, contributions, or status, they are never held to account. Silenced, their victims witness their impunity.
Indeed, something of Vashti’s truth is shared with many women and people of all genders who sit and listen to Vashti’s story, and knowingly nod and understand. Victims and survivors who have been unseen, unheard, dismissed, disappeared.
The Reform Movement just issued the last of the 3 sexual misconduct reports of the leading institutions of our national Reform Jewish community. Our Reform seminary, Hebrew Union College/HUC, our rabbinic arm, the Central Conference of American Rabbis/CCAR, and our Movement of congregations and summer camps called the Union for Reform Judaism/URJ, conducted independent investigations of past misconduct and shared publicly their devastating reports. I honor the courage of survivors who came forward and also respect those who have chosen not to. If my raising this topic for you triggers trauma, please consider reaching out to clergy or to the resources offered below.
Of our seminary, HUC: the investigation reports decades of sexual abuse, harassment, a culture of protection of abusers, of gender-based bullying and professional gatekeeping, and of sexist attitudes. Hundreds of women were harassed or assaulted by men in the very highest levels of power including HUC presidents. Women before my time look back on their ordination—a memory I have the privilege of cherishing—and they recall their abuser or their friends’ abuser laying his hands on them, tarnishing their sacred moment. HUC has committed to a process of tshuvah/repentance that includes accountability, learning, restitution, and change.
Of our rabbinic arm, the CCAR: the investigation reports on an ethics process, in need of repair. Already the CCAR has taken steps to improve and professionalize the ethics work and has committed to create a better future, both for victims and for accused rabbis. Accountability is critical for the victims, for justice, and for safety. And also, a process for accountability is important because we are all imperfect. We all have the capacity to do wrong, real harm, and need paths for repair. Not all offenses are of the same severity; that’s the problem with zero-tolerance policies. There is a difference between someone’s worst moment, or in the case of a predator, someone’s many moments. So paths of tshuvah are complicated. I’d guess you can say, as I can: I know people who have been victims and I know people who have been accused or have perpetrated. It is my care for all of them and my love of the rabbinate that makes me long for fair processes and just outcomes.
Of our Movement-wide arm, the URJ: the investigation reports a history of URJ staff and camp professionals’ harassment, covering up, and boundary-crossing. In my involvement with Camp Harlam I am grateful to say I have witnessed a new reality. For years, URJ camps have become a shining example of transformation past societal wrongs into safe practices. What I have seen in places like URJ Camp Harlam and URJ Six Points Creative Arts Academy are environments for youth that are as safe, respectful, and Jewish values-driven as any setting that I have experienced, anywhere.
And still, no justice can feel complete. Among the many tragic effects of misconduct, I see the fate of Vashti. So many of these victims dismissed, unseen, even vanished. Their disappearance from Jewish life reflects deep pain that breaks my heart. But it is not only the victims’ loss. It is the Reform Movement’s loss, the Jewish People’s loss. Potential talents, clergy, would-be leaders, congregants, Early Learning Center parents, souls…lost to the Jewish world.
We will never be able to reconnect them all. What has been taken, cannot fully be restored. So we devote ourselves to ensuring: we do not allow for another Ahashverosh.
I do not believe the misconduct reports reveal a particular problem in the Reform Jewish community.
The reports reveal a problem—a truth—that exists throughout our society, our institutions, our communities, Jewish and not. It is not only hundreds of women who were abused by power at HUC; it is hundreds of all genders in your workplace, at your school, in your neighborhood.
Those words from the Book of Esther “you are here for just this purpose” demand the Reform Movement, our congregation, and each of us, hold up a mirror and ask ourselves: “for what purpose can I use my power?” compelling us to bring our voice where we have influence:
to do the hard work of improving systems that hold predators and enablers accountable and guard against retaliation;
to update staff trainings, reporting practices, and HR manuals;
to reject excuses for the abusers who are contributing to their field or donating to our cause;
compelling us…
to transform cultures of absolute power and covering into cultures of safety and respect;
to listen when someone discloses even if they accuse someone you admire, even if your support puts at risk your own friendship, career network, financial gain, or reputation;
compelling us…
to never ask what she was wearing,
to share resources for survivors’ healing—to combat shame and ensure no one faces pain alone;
to learn more about how we can shape communities that are worthy of trust.
This is the ongoing work for our congregation, and for us all.
As for the Reform Movement reports, by undertaking the investigations and releasing them publicly–imperfect and incomplete though the reports may be—and by committing to repair, the Reform Movement has acted with integrity, modeling for us, tshuvah. It is ours to stand with our Movement, to not avert our eyes from injustice, to take responsibility in the pursuit of safety, equity, and truth, for the past, present, and future.
On Purim, we bring the joy. And for this moment, we uncover hard truths.
Refuse to be Ahashverosh,
the one with no accountability.
And refuse to be his enabler.
See Vashti in her story of invisibility.
Hear Vashti’s calls from banishment.
Know Vashti in our story of tshuvah.
Because Vashti is not in Persia,
and Vashti is not in the 5th century BCE.
Vashti is here, Vashti is now,
her fate, our responsibility,
her story, our truth.
In this holy community, may we use our power for justice,
Compelled to heed the words of Megillat Esther—
you are here for just this purpose.
___________
If raising this topic triggers trauma or pain for you, please consider reaching out to clergy or to a resource:
WOAR: Philadelphia’s Rape Crisis Center, woar.org;
While we have no reason to believe there has been misconduct at Rodeph Shalom, we seek to ensure everyone’s safety, so we have set up a confidential email for reporting misconduct in the congregation: confidential@rodephshalom.org
As COVID cases have dropped 90% from national pandemic highs, our Pandemic “How We Gather” Task Force has recommended that we loosen our protocols. In doing so, we are prepared to re-implement protocols with very short notice if trends change and case/positivity/hospitalization levels rise.
We are saddened that thousands of mostly unvaccinated Americans continue to die each day from COVID-19. Most of these deaths were preventable.
We also understand that it has not just been the disease itself but the impact of quarantining on both work and personal lives. We have read of cases where a parent had a very mild case but could not hug their children for 10 days.
We continue to act according to our Rodeph Shalom Reopening Values & Plan Guidelines adopted in May 2020. Specifically:
• We follow the science
• We follow the government regulations even when they do not apply to houses of worship
With widespread vaccination fending off severe disease for most of those who are vaccinated, the thresholds of mandates and our protocols are no longer based on cases but rather on severe disease and hospitalizations.
Mandates
The City of Philadelphia 4 levels of mandates are tied to 4 levels of COVID spread. Although the mandates may not apply to RS because we are a house of worship, our Board has stated that the government regulations will serve as our minimum protocols. Following these mandates helps us to protect our community.
As I write this, we today have reached the Level 1: All Clear/Low Community Level. Philadelphia mask requirement mandates have been dropped except in schools and healthcare settings and on public transportation.
We are now dropping our building’s vaccination verification procedure. However, we continue to require all who enter the building who are eligible to be fully vaccinated and boosted when eligible.
Starting March 7, Rodeph Shalom is planning to drop its mask requirements for services and most events. As the Philadelphia School District continues to have a mask requirement, Berkman Mercaz Limud will continue to have its mask requirement. When the Philadelphia public schools drop its mask mandate, Berkman Mercaz Limud will reconsider whether to drop its mask requirement. Similarly, the Buerger Early Learning Center (ELC) continues its mask requirement for children ages 2 and up as well as for its staff. For all who are on site during hours of operation of the Buerger ELC, masks continue to be required in our hallways.
We understand that our Congregational membership views on precautions vary widely. We know that many of our members are or live with individuals who are immuno-compromised or who have children under 5 in their households. As we move forward, we are committed to continuing our multi-access approach to our services and programs.
We are delighted by the recent trends. We have learned over the past two years that the only constant is change. We are prepared to respond to any COVID-19 variant spread changes. We will always put protecting the lives of our community first.
A conversation overheard in Grand Central Station, recounted in Kathryn Schultz’s book called, “Being Wrong:”
You said pound cake.
I did not say pound cake; I said crumb cake.
You said pound cake.
Don’t tell me what I said.
You said pound cake.
I said crumb cake.
I actually saw the crumb cake, but I didn’t get it, because you said pound cake.
I said crumb cake.
Well, I heard pound cake.
Then obviously you weren’t listening; crumb cake does not even sound like pound cake.
Well, maybe you accidentally said pound cake.
I said crumb cake.
~and scene~
It feels so good to be right. As “crumb-cake” author Kathryn Schultz says:
One of the downsides of wrongness is this: If I know I’ve been wrong before, it reminds me I could be wrong now – maybe I did say pound cake! And being wrong now might lead me to believe – it could happen again.
We are imperfect. Only with the acknowledgement of wrongness, can we live our lives fully, can we sustain our relationships, can we learn, can we grow.
In the words of the Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai:
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
We cannot be human and always be right. We cannot be human and always do right. The Hebrew word for sin, chet, comes from an archery term – we miss the mark. Tomorrow morning in the Unetane Tokef, we will pray these words to God: “Elohenu melech mochel v’soleyach / God of Pardon and Forgiveness– You do not wish the death of sinners, but urge us to return from our ways and live. You wait for us. If we return, You accept us at once.” Our imperfection does not distance us from God and with tshuvah/repentance, it need not distance us from one another. To sin is to turn away; with tshuvah we turn back. When we go astray the conviction that we can change and improve is the source of our hope to mend and to grow.
Our tradition’s faith in our potential, does not mean that repentance is easy. Our sages provide a guidebook for tshuvah, because they know how hard it is.
A crucial but difficult step when we are wrong, is admitting: we are wrong. Over the next 24 hours in our Communal Vidui/Confession, we will hold each other up as we together list in every way possible, our wrongs – the wrongs we committed, the wrongs our neighbors committed and we enabled, the wrongs every one of us has the potential to commit.
Tonight, I’d like to focus on those tshuvah steps, that address what we ought to do, once we realize that we are wrong, that is, those steps involving apology.
In Jewish tradition, apology is not accomplished by simply uttering the words, “I’m sorry;” it involves a serious process of repentance. According to the great 12th century thinker, Rabbi Moses Maimonides, tshuvah is our path towards taking responsibility for our mistakes, and making a change. Maimonides outlines a process for each transgression we have committed. Here’s what we do. Step 1: Recognize and regret that we did something wrong. Step 2: Articulate our regret and responsibility, in a confession and apology, to the party we harmed. Step 3: Commit not to repeat the deed– that is, commit to change. Step 4: When faced with the opportunity to repeat the deed, don’t make the same mistake– make the change.
If, from public confession to making amends, you see signs of the wisdom of 12-Step Recovery in here, you are not alone. Jewish tshuvah and recovery share profound truths about the transformative power of public confession, apology, repair, responsibility, and our capacity to return to a better path.
To be clear, here’s how not to apologize:
I’m sorry you thought I said pound cake.
or
I’m sorry that Yom Kippur services are so long!
Now, why are those apologies invalid?
What is the problem, when I say: “I’m sorry you thought I said pound cake?” Apology is not valid if I apologize for your thinking, rather than for my wrong action. Am I owning up to anything there? No- just deflecting responsibility.
Now, what’s the problem, when I say: “I’m sorry that Yom Kippur services are so long?” Actually, there are 2 problems. First, it’s dishonest; I don’t think they are too long, in fact, I wish we could do this all night! Second, if I say I’m sorry the service is too long, it is not a valid apology because, although I take responsibility for the length, I have no intent to change it.
There are countless other inadequate ways to apologize: the apology for something out of my control that seeks just to shut down conflict; the over-apologizing that trivializes responsibility for harm; the very vague apology that misses the point; the apology that is not called for, and dilutes real apologies.
With so many ways to stumble, Jewish tradition guides us to focus on taking personal responsibility and making a change – tradition’s deep wisdom for us to sustain, strengthen, and mend our relationships. As much as apology is about the past, it is about the future.
Some weeks ago, I officiated at a funeral for an elderly man, who never did the work to make amends. His family has granted me permission to tell their story. The man was a violently abusive father. Many people who survive such a scary childhood would understandably — as adults seeking a healthy existence — find their only option to be separation, complete estrangement from their father. But not the case with this family. Incredibly, the abusive man’s children remained in his life. Not the right answer for everyone, but it was the right answer for them, and it blew me away. The family had healed; their extraordinary emotional and spiritual health, and clarity about boundaries, led them to permit the father, to remain in their lives in limited ways, protecting themselves and their own children, but not completely severing ties.
But the father – the father never apologized, he never took responsibility, he never acknowledged he was wrong. Why?– The family has accepted: they cannot know. Perhaps this man lacked the capacity to reflect, to perceive self-truth, to have a difficult conversation, perhaps he was paralyzed with shame. But there was no reckoning, he never held himself accountable, he never truly mended his relationships. So, his relationships with his children, although not severed, could not fully develop. Intimacy could not deepen. There was not growth.
As the Amichai poem teaches — From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring. Relationship, without repair, stagnates. There is not growth.
At the funeral the family found peace, but as we lowered the casket into the earth we all understood, when it came to a deep reckoning, it was too late.
When this man was on his deathbed, face to face with the end of his life, what might have gone through his mind? Did he feel regret? What did he wish he had done differently, since the abuse? We will never know. We only know, he did not take steps to express remorse or make amends.
When we Yom Kippur worshippers, come face to face with the reality of our finitude, what might go through our minds? Do we feel regret? What do we wish we had done differently? What steps do we need to take to express remorse or make amends? Our Yom Kippur death rituals – fasting, the empty casket of the ark at Kol Nidre, white robes… demand we confront our mortality. Death is our deadline; mortality is our reminder that there is a deadline. Its date, unknown. When it comes to apology, making amends, spiritual growth, anything in our lives, we do not have forever. The pandemic revealed what, deep down we already knew: tomorrow is not guaranteed. Tonight is our time to heed that urgency.
The only thing we know for sure is that we are mortal. If you have wrongs you need to right, do not wait!
Most of us have not violently abused family. But we are human, so we have harmed, really harmed others, God, and ourselves, and may have yet to fully address those wrongs.
Our words of prayer: God of Pardon and Forgiveness– You do not wish the death of sinners, but urge us to return from our ways and live. You wait for us. If we return, You accept us at once – our words of prayer compel us to do the work, to return, to ensure we do not become the person who masks self-truth, avoids the difficult conversation, or becomes paralyzed with shame.
In every service throughout Yom Kippur, our ritual includes the Vidui/Confession, and in almost every Confession, the Al Chet, the long list of sins introduced with the words: Al chet shechetanu lifanecha/the sin we have committed against you.
Except, at the very conclusion tomorrow evening, in our Neilah service, the Al Chet sin list is replaced. Instead we pray to God: Atah Noten Yad / You reach out Your hand… You give us the power to turn.
Tonight it’s the urgency of mortality; tomorrow night, it’s the compassion of God’s outstretched hand. Throughout, it’s faith.
Faith that we are not alone—that we are strengthened by, and can turn to God—whatever we imagine God may be. Faith that we can count on one another. Faith in our intention, to be honest with ourselves about our failings. Faith in our potential to repair relationship. Faith in our capacity for change.
Intimacy in our relationships, depends on the fundamental understanding, that we are imperfect. Only when we take responsibility for our wrongs, can we grow, can we return to each other, to ourselves, and to God. This sacred season beckons: Heed the words of our text. Take in the depths of our ritual. With open heart, picture your casket, feel your hunger, speak your confession, do repair.
Elohenu melech mochel v’soleyach / God of Pardon and Forgiveness– Help us to understand deep in our souls: From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring.
God of Pardon and Forgiveness—
You do not wish the death of sinners, but urge us to return from our ways and live. You wait for us. If we return, You accept us at once.
Thank you for inviting me to speak today, Rabbi Maderer.
I am always struck by the beauty and solemnity of this moment, this Yizkor Memorial service that is so meaningful to all of us. It is a time to remember our loved ones within the context of this solemn day of Yom Kippur, as our congregation gathers as one. And whether you are here in our sanctuary or joining on live-streaming, we are as one.
And as we like to say in the beginning of our services, this is a time to take a deep breath…and release…as we put aside the cares and stresses of our daily lives and we fully focus on the lives and memories of our loved ones who have died during this past year, or in years past. This is why we are here, both physically and virtually, to recite the names of the loved ones we have lost, and to honor their memories.
Each name represents a life. Each name was a person – a loved one of someone who is part of our congregational family.
This service is named for the prayer we will recite shortly, the “Yizkor” prayer: “Yizkor Elohim nishmot…” “May God remember these names…” In this prayer, we are asking God to remember our loved ones, praying that God will watch over them and protect their souls. But at the same time, “the implication is that this act of remembrance also constitutes a guarantee of the continuation of the Jewish people, beyond just those we remember. [Rabbi Aaron Panken].
We recite the names of our ancestors to honor their memory, but also to emphasize one of the most important concepts of Jewish tradition, to honor the idea of “L’dor Vador,” “from generation to generation.” In the news recently, there was a story about the attempt to rescue the historical register of Jewish burials from the modern-day Romanian city of Cluj-Napowka, which had been stolen by the Nazis during the Holocaust. The United States government recently recovered these documents and plan to return them to their communities of origin. They contain priceless historical information. They contain Jewish funeral scrolls and records that were taken from the Jewish Communities in Romania, Hungary, Ukraine and Slovakia during the Holocaust. [Article in NY Times by Colin Moynihan, July 26, 2021].
Why is this so important? Because they contain the names of loved ones who died, just as our Yizkor list contains the names of our loved ones. Those rescued burial records represent invaluable cultural religious artifacts that should be properly returned to the few survivors of their original Jewish communities. Burial records, hand-written in Hebrew and Yiddish. These lists include records from cities largely destroyed in the Holocaust.
One of the survivors was born in hiding in a cellar during the war, as his mother miraculously escaped the Jewish ghetto of Cluj. He is now the president of the JC of Cluj – and he said, “very little belonging to our JC’s survived WWII.” He called the burial registers “very precious for the history of our community.” It is their memory. The word Yizkor comes from the Hebrew word meaning “memory” – “to remember.”
Here we have a story of a group of descendants of the victims of the Holocaust who have worked tirelessly to get these burial records returned – 76 years later! They contain the names of their own loved ones, and the names of Holocaust victims, who are no longer here to mourn their dead whose names are on these lists. It makes us realize how blessed we actually are to be able to be here with each other as we mourn our dead.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Holocaust is the fact that all of the future generations of those 6 million victims were never born. Imagine what the world would have looked like if those millions of Jewish children and their children’s children had been given a chance to be born and had lived. The world would have been a very different place. I am reminded of one Jewish couple from Greece who miraculously escaped from Nazi death camps, and later had a child named Albert. Albert Bourla grew up and became the CEO of Pfizer pharmaceutical company and he led the effort to produce the first Covid vaccine, which has saved millions of lives already. How many other Jews like Albert Bourla may have been born, had they been given the chance?
But there are so very few left to say kaddish for the victims, and to honor “L’dor Vador” “from generation to generation.”
This is why it is so important for the surviving remnant in Cluj to get their burial records returned to them, so they can remember – so they can say Yizkor – so they can say Kaddish for them – so their memories will not disappear, so their memories will be a blessing.
But it is also important for us to include the 6 million plus victims in our prayers, and to never forget. While it is impossible to literally say kaddish for 6 million + people we never knew, we can start by honoring the memories of our own loved ones – at Yizkor services/ and every day of our lives.
This is why we are here today. To remember our loved ones who have passed on – and to keep their memories alive, “L’dor Vador” from generation to generation.
People wonder why Judaism has survived for so long. I believe it is because of our long-standing dedication to this concept of L’dor Vador. It is as old as the Book of Psalms, believed to date back almost 3,000 years. In Psalm 146, we read:
“Yimloch Adonai L’olam
Elohayich Tziyon
L’dor Vador – Hal’lu-Yah!”
“The Eternal will reign for all time, Your God from generation to generation – Hal’lu-Yah!”
And that Psalm became enshrined in one of the most important prayers in all of Jewish liturgy, in the “T’filah” / simply known as the “the Prayer.”
The end of this prayer speaks powerfully to us today: “L’dor vador nagid gadlecha…” “We will teach God’s greatness l’dor vador – from generation to generation. And to the end of time, we will affirm Your holiness.
This prayer is recited and sung many times throughout our High Holy Days- and every time we say that prayer, we are making a solemn vow to be responsible for keeping Judaism alive and thriving for all time. Each of us is a link in “shalshellet ha-kabbalah” “the chain of Jewish tradition.” As we read in our machzor, “It is up to each of us, parents, grandparents, teachers to share its teachings with the next generation. The chain of transmission l’dor vador, is woven not just by sages and scholars, but by all who cherish Jewish heritage and tradition. In our topsy turvy world, the Jewish people must continue to uphold the sanctity of God and teachings of Jewish wisdom. Each generation imparts the Jewish message of empathy, compassion and justice to the next. Thus, we offer our next generation a solid moral grounding to sustain them over the years.” [Mishkan HaNefesh – Rosh Hashana p. 185].
As critically important as this is, we know that in today’s world it is so difficult to ensure the future of the Jewish people. We face so many challenges. On the one hand, there is rising antisemitism. And on the other hand, there are the challenges of the rising secular world, with all the surveys telling us that there is a waning interest in religion of any kind.
Some observers say the future of Judaism is in jeopardy, and that assimilation and intermarriage are going to lead to our downfall. But I have a different opinion. Some congregations, like ours is on the cutting edge of an open and welcoming approach – embracing all seekers with open arms – creating new pathways to provide meaning and connection to all who enter our sphere, a sphere of a vibrant and living Judaism – to inspire us to pass on our heritage L’dor Vador, from one generation to the next.
A synagogue does not belong to a single generation. It is a place of history, which gathers up the faith of the whole people and proclaims the spirit of God which has united our people as we have hoped, and suffered and believed across the centuries. [After A. Scott Berg].
The act of remembering our loved ones through the Yizkor prayer and by saying Kaddish for them, constitutes a guarantee of the continuation of the Jewish people well beyond just those we remember here today. In remembering and in asking God’s remembrance, we request divine help in continuing our people’s trajectory beyond ourselves to achieve the ultimate aims of our people’s history. [Panken].
And as the sun sets this day, the light illuminates a little more of the path that lies before us, as the passage of each year further defines our effort. In one decade after the other, we see that the silhouette of our people’s history spreads across time, and into our own lives. [after Berg]. And we know it is up to us. It is our task, our responsibility, our sacred honor to see it through to the next generation.
Today, we pledge to keep the memory of our loved ones alive, and to keep Judaism alive, to keep the Jewish community alive. And to keep this congregation strong.
Yizkor, in the end, is not a prayer for the dead, but a promise / by the living. [Panken].
AMEN.
MATERIAL GATHERED FROM: Mishkah HaNefesh, Yom Kippur, Rabbi Aaron Panken prayer in Yizkor Service, CCAR Press, New York, 2015. New York Times article, “Historical Jewish Records Seized,” by Colin Moynihan, July 26, 2021. Mishkan Ha Nefesh, Rosh Hashana, “We will teach Your greatness,” CCAR Press, New York, 2015. Wilson, by A. Scott Berg, Penguin Random House, New York, 2013.
When I was a student at Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati studying for the rabbinate, as part of the training, HUC required that we be student rabbis in small congregations that did not have full time clergy. We travelled every other weekend, to serve as the rabbi of congregations that had been in the program for many years. As a result, they were patient teachers of young aspiring students.
Sixty years ago, I was such a student. I selected Temple Sholom in Galesburg, Illinois, a small town in the western part of the state, the people were most welcoming. They introduced me to the town and its historic sites, one of which is Knox College. There i was introduced to a bit of history. In 1858, Abraham Lincoln was a candidate for the U.S. Senate. His opponent was stephen douglas. They engaged in a series of seven debates, the fifth of which was held at Knox College, in galesburg. Even though Lincoln lost the election, it is virtually the unanimous opinion of historians that it was this fifth debate in galesburg that set Lincoln on the path to the presidency.
The nearly exclusive subject of all the debates was slavery. In 1858, a discussion of that subject when running for public office was a political nightmare. It was common that politicians would change their message depending on where they were speaking – in a slave state of or a free state. Political messaging often was sectional and regional. Douglas tried to accuse Lincoln of such political gymnastics. In this fifth debate in Galesburg, Lincoln would have none of it. I quote from his speech – now, said Mr. Lincoln, I confess myself as belonging to that class in the country who contemplate slavery as a moral, social and political evil, having due regard for its actual existence amongst us and the difficulty of getting rid of it in a satisfactory way, and all the constitutional obligations which have been thrown about; but nevertheless, desire a policy that looks to the prevention of it as wrong, and looks hopefully to the time when as a wrong, it may come to an end.
Lincoln did something in that moment that changed the trajectory of his life-he advanced the discussion of slavery from political to moral. Whether it was a political death sentence or not to speak against slavery no longer was the issue – it was morally wrong, and as such there was no choice but to oppose it.
One of the early leaders of Reform Judaism in America was Rabbi David Einhorn. In 1855, he became the rabbi of Har Sinai Congregation in Baltimore. He was known as being anti-slavery. In April of 1861, he was driven out of town as a result of a sermon that he delivered on the subject of slavery. He fled to Philadelphia and for a period of time was the rabbi of Reform congregation Keneseth Israel. His rabbinic career ended in New York City. Many consider him to be the ideological inspiration of Reform Judaism in America. His prayer book, Olat Tamid, was the model for the first edition of the Union prayer book, which, for many years, was the standard siddur for Reform congregations throughout the country.
I learned much from my years as a student rabbi, but perhaps nothing more important than from Abraham Lincoln of 1858 in Galesburg, Illinois and David Einhorn of Baltimore in 1861. Both Abraham Lincoln and David Einhorn used their pulpits to condemn slavery because it created a class of people who were considered less than human. In their minds there could be no compromise with the moral implications of that stance.
We rabbis, your rabbis, on many occasions must face the choice between speaking out on a subject that has deep moral implications, or staying silent for fear of being accused of being political by those who disagree.
As we join together on these High Holy Days, there are serious issues that have become political landmines, that have divided friendships and even separated families, but which cannot be ignored – issues which I as a rabbi deem it imperative to discuss, which if not given the moral weight they deserve threaten to destroy human life as we know it or worse, render it extinct – issues which i learned from Abraham Lincoln and David Einhorn must be elevated from the political to the moral.
We hardly need more evidence than the wildfires that are consuming large swaths of the western part of our country and the devastation from this latest hurricane to prove that climate change is an imminent danger to this earth and all that live on it. Many sections of this globe are experiencing record heat. The oceans are warming and rising, ocean currents are changing in such a way that entire continents are threatened. Arctic ice is melting. Climatologists point to numerous signs that human behavior is destroying the planet. It is no secret that some, perhaps many, serving in public office take money from the fossil fuel industry and then lobby on their behalf to prevent the development of clean energy. For many climate change is a myth, perpetrated by those who pretend to be the intellectual elite of society. It is not and should not be a political statement to say that we support those who take the human destruction of this earth seriously, and who will work to save our planet. That is our moral responsibility. The future of life on this earth is at stake.
I recently read of clergy in some areas of this country who have either rallied their congregations against being vaccinated for covid or are silent on the issue for fear of losing their jobs. They serve people who have a variety of beliefs about the vaccinations – that it is a lie that the vaccine is effective perpetrated by those who want to kill them or that some device will be implanted in their bodies to enslave them, or other myths spread by those who also sell snake oil. That also is true of government officials attempt to mandate against the wearing of masks. A primary obligation of Jewish tradition and Talmudic law is pikuach nefesh – the saving of life. To remain silent on the subject of vaccinations or wearing masks is to contribute to human suffering and death. To say that any politician who does not follow the guidelines of our health experts and who places his or her political ambitions before the health and welfare of their community is endangering human life and should not be in public office is not a statement
Of political preference. It is a statement reflecting the moral underpinnings of the history of the people of Israel.
A third subject, so glaring at this moment reminds us, especially us, why our ancestors fled to America. We came here to escape centuries of being persecuted because somehow we were perceived as being religiously evil, financially devious, less than human, or just the “other”. Now, here in this nation founded on the principle that all people are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we find ourselves in the midst of a white supremacist movement that would deny those rights to large segments of our population. Isabel Wilkerson, in her book “Caste”, with great clarity, explains that the early settlers of America created a caste system that said that white people were the dominant caste, and that the ideals expressed in our original documents were intended to apply only to them. The election of a black president only heightened the fears of this white caste and has caused them to rise up to attempt to rule the nation even it means the destruction of our democratic republic. It should not be a political issue that we insist that our elected officials actively support equal rights for all Americans, voting rights, educational rights, employment and social rights for all – no matter their race, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. That is the America of the song – this land is your land and this land is my land. That is the America to which the lady in the harbor with the torch welcomed us all.
I do not intend to ignore many other subjects – such as a woman’s right to choose – that must be addressed. This is but a sampling of the difficult but necessary road we must tread if we are to be true to our values and our heritage.
We are here to observe Yom Kippur. Some would have us believe that we are here to apologize, to say we are sorry, to beg for forgiveness from human and divine so that all of our sins and shortcoming will no longer be a stain on our reputation. I submit to you that we are here for a larger purpose. We are here to examine our deeds, not simply for forgiveness, but to change our behavior where that is necessary – to become something better, for no one is perfect. That must involve a personal discussion, a self evaluation about our own moral standards. This morning we read from a prophet often called Trito Isaiah. He spoke to the people of Israel at the end of their Babylonian exile in the sixth century BCE. As they returned to Jerusalem, reminding them it is not ritual but social justice and action that must be their redemption. “is this not the fast that i have chosen”, the prophet says their god demands, “to unlock the shackles of injustice, to let the oppressed go free, to share your bread with the hungry, and to bring the homeless poor into your house?” In the afternoon service we read the holiness code, kedoshim tih’yu – you shall be holy. It speaks of deeds, not words. – to act honestly, to care for the stranger, to not pervert justice, to love your neighbor as yourself. The haftarah was from the book of Jonah who was sent to Nineveh to change the moral and religious behavior of its people. The following admonition is in the book of Deuteronomy, which we also read this morning: this day i call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live. That is our charge. Those are our texts. That is our mission, that is the message of Yom Kippur – choose that which is moral if necessary choose that which is hard, not that which is easy. Remember pikuach nefesh – the saving of human life. Remember tzedek, tzedek tirdof – justice, justice you shall pursue. Answer the call, as did the prophet, with a resounding “here i am, send me.” So that there will be future generations who will say of us, they chose life so that we, and our children and our children’s children may live.
It is so wonderful to connect with one another virtually and in person!
Many of us have been busy over the summer renormalizing our lives only to now contend with this recent variant wave of COVID. However, I’m glad we can connect with one another during this sacred time.
This is a meaningful time spiritually for all of us and for me it is a special occasion—
On the High Holy Days 50 years ago, I entered this Sanctuary for the first time. In 1971, I was a freshman at Penn and had been directed to Rodeph Shalom by Rabbi Wice’s sister, Sophie Gordon, both of blessed memory. Sophie Gordon belonged to my home congregation, Adath Israel in Louisville, Kentucky.
While missing my family and the comfort of my family’s pew in my home temple—a soaring, monumental 1906 Neo-classical sanctuary that I had known all my life to that point—I remember entering this Sanctuary and feeling immediately at home in this place that has become my spiritual home.
I couldn’t have imagined back in 1971 the profound impact that this synagogue, its clergy and members, its worship services, its educational programs and all its activities would have on my life. While my parents and grandparents were fundamental in grounding me in my Jewish values, Rodeph Shalom has been instrumental in broadening my understanding on Jewish issues and leading me to pursue a life of meaning. Through my volunteer work here at this synagogue, I came to understand that the words of the Torah and our Jewish texts can be applied to my daily life, and that each individual can make a difference in repairing our fragile world.
Just as Rodeph Shalom has had a profound impact on my life, I know that many of you feel the same about this Congregation and this Sanctuary. All of us here are stewards of the gifts around us given by generations of members in this Congregation’s 226-year history. My questions to you today are: What are you willing to do to ensure that the gifts that have been entrusted to us are available to the next generations of members of Rodeph Shalom? Are you willing to act to ensure the future of this Congregation and Reform Judaism in this city?
Over the last few years, the Board of Directors and other leaders of the Congregation have been engaged in conversations to ensure the future of our beloved RS. As you are aware, Rodeph Shalom today still maintains its important founding principle that no one is refused membership because of financial hardship; however, this contributes to the need to continue to fund the Congregation’s visionary work through four strategic streams.
Our leaders’ conversation centers on four tracks, what I call the four-legged stool. These four legs are (1) increasing the number of members and membership revenue; (2) monetizing the use of our facilities through rental of space; (3) increasing the contributions to our temporarily restricted special purpose funds; and (4) increasing the size of our endowment to relieve pressure on RS’s operating budget.
While RS staff and leadership are now working on all four legs, we have placed a high priority on increasing the size of our endowment. As we have learned from the pandemic, membership revenue, school revenues and facility rental fees cannot always be relied upon in the same way as funds from endowment. A stronger endowment will ensure the sustainability of Rodeph Shalom, so that our Congregation remains a Center for Jewish Life in Philadelphia for generations to come.
Over the last months, Rodeph Shalom leadership has been focused on the Quiet Phase of an Endowment Campaign, which is crucial for ensuring the stability, sustainability, and the future of our Congregation.
And so, it is my pleasure today, while we are gathered in our Sanctuary and in our homes, to share with you some information about the Rodeph Shalom Endowment Campaign, which we have named Keren Or, Ray of Light. RS Past President Susan Klehr has graciously agreed to be the Campaign Chair.
The vision of Keren Or is:
To help provide financial stability and sustainability for Rodeph Shalom by transforming the way we fund our visionary work;
To continue to serve the community as the only Reform congregation in Philadelphia; and
To put RS in a position of financial strength and security so that we remain vibrant, enduring and relevant for years to come.
I am thrilled to say that we have Campaign commitments from 100 percent of the Board of Directors, and are in the process of obtaining commitments from our Board of Advisors. We have been excited and encouraged by the confidence, enthusiasm and generosity of our early Campaign donors!
Together with our Campaign leadership, we are planning for a vibrant New Year, when we will officially launch the public phase of the Campaign. We look forward to sharing more information with you about the Campaign at that time. We will celebrate what Rodeph Shalom has meant to each of us, and will come together to secure our Congregation’s future. During that time, all Rodeph Shalom members will be asked to participate in this crucial endeavor, and you will receive a personal and tailored invitation to support the Campaign.
I hope that, in the meantime, you will think about the questions I asked earlier—What are you willing to do to ensure that the gifts that have been entrusted to us are available to the next generations of Rodeph Shalom? Are you willing to act to ensure the future of this Congregation and Reform Judaism in our city?
To mark my 50th year anniversary here at RS, to show my commitment to the future of this sacred Congregation, and to express my gratitude for how RS continues to support all of us during the pandemic, I felt compelled to make an early leadership gift to the Campaign. I hope that when you are asked, each of you will make gifts to the Campaign that are meaningful to you, so that together we may ensure a Rodeph Shalom that is financially secure and strong, an RS that you are proud to call your spiritual home, a Ray of Light in Philadelphia and to the future of the Jewish people.
G’mar chatimah tovah–may you and your loved ones be sealed for the good.
Imagine a tangled rope. A lump of knots and twists with two ends sticking out. If we want to untangle the rope, we can’t just pull on the ends – in fact that will make it even worse. We need to work our way through the tangle, through the knots, slowly, delicately, painstakingly, intricately untying and unweaving until the rope is untangled.
Today, for me, that tangled rope is the current conversation about the line between anti-Israel criticism and antisemitism. And the more we pull at the ends of that tangled rope, the worse it gets. With inflammatory comments on either side of the political spectrum like, “Ben and Jerry are antisemites,” or “Israel is committing genocide,” we are simply pulling on the ends of the rope and causing more knots, more pain, and more division in our community. To untangle this rope, we need to be in relationship with one another, listen, dialogue, and be open to nuance beyond polarizing soundbites.
One of my favorite parts about being in a large, diverse congregation is our varying opinions that reflect our different life experiences. We are taught in the Talmud (Berakhot 58a:3) that when seeing a large group of Jews we say the blessing, “Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Sovereign of all, Who knows secrets.” Why? Because, the Talmud continues, “God sees a whole nation whose minds are unlike each other.” Our myriad of opinions are literally a blessing.
I am excited to share that we recently convened a renewed Israel Engagement Task Force*, here, at Rodeph Shalom to learn from each other and help untangle the rope. We just held our first meeting and used the time together to simply share and listen. We heard stories such as a life changing visit to the Kotel/the Western Wall, or living in Israel during the Yom Kippur War. I shared my own story about my first time in Israel as a teenager and the immense feeling of Jewish pride and connection when my brother became a bar mitzvah on the top of Mt. Masada. I shared the story of how my wife’s grandparents fell in love in Tel Aviv shortly after the Holocaust. And I shared about seeing Israel anew through the eyes of our Rodeph Shalom teens as they discovered this complicated country for themselves on one of our congregational trips.
Our renewed task force is not working in a vacuum and in addition to our congregational voices, we are working closely with the URJ’s Israel Leadership Network, “a network of lay and professional leaders coming together to further the Reform Movement’s connection to Israel and Reform Zionism.”
Reform Zionism is the belief in both Israel’s right to exist and security and the Paelstinian’s right to self-determination. After the conflict in Gaza last spring, Rabbi Maderer wrote an opinion piece in The Inquirer entitled, “My empathy for Palestinians does not diminish my devotion to Judaism.” She writes:
“Any positions that entirely demonize one side or the other miss the humanity in both; any positions that entirely affirm the pure right of one side or the other miss the responsibility in both. Devotion both to Israel’s right to exist and the Palestinians’ right to self-determination, as taught by Reform Zionism… is not often appreciated by the far right or the far left. Moderation does not lack a stance; it denies the extremists and rejects a false binary model, holding space for multiple narratives and histories.”
The extremists that Rabbi Maderer writes about are pulling on the ends of the rope, refusing to accept multiple narratives. Reform Zionism is in the middle, trying to untangle the knot. So let’s get into the tangle. The line between anti-Israel comments and antisemitism has become blurred to much of society and we must clearly mark what is acceptable criticism and what is not.
Let me begin by stating as clearly as possible, criticism of Israel is not automatically antisemitic. On multiple occasions, our congregation has invited civil rights activist Anat Hoffman, one of the fiercest critics of Israeli policy, who shines a light on the human rights abuses committed by the state against Arab-Israelis, women, and progressive Jews. Anat Hoffman is not an antisemite. We heard from former IDF soldiers as part of the group Breaking the Silence who spoke about the pain of seeing Palestinians suffer while serving in the West Bank. Those soldiers are not antisemites. And myself and other members of our clergy have spoken about policies of the Israeli government that go against our Jewish values. We are not antisemites.
However, there are many instances when criticism of Israel crosses the line and clearly becomes antisemitism. One framework for determining if criticism of Israel is antisemitic is the “3D” test conceived by Natan Sharansky. The three D’s are:
Delegitimization.
Double Standards.
And Demonization.
When people deny only the Jewish people’s right to self determination; when they characterize a return to our homeland of 3,000 years as a racist, white-colonialist endeavor and call into question Israel’s very right to exist — this Delegitimization is antisemitism.
When the United Nations human rights council calls out Israel for half of all their human rights condemnations — more than the resolutions against the regimes of Syria, Iran and North Korea combined, this Double Standard is antisemitism.
And when the Israeli Defense Force is characterized as terrorists, or Nazis, wantonly killing Palestinians in a “genocide,” this Demonization is antisemitism.
Delegitimization: the denial of the Jewish people’s right to self-determination.
Double Standards: a different moral standard for Jews and Israel compared to the rest of the world.
And Demonization: the portrayal of Israel and Jews as evil, demonic, or other sinister stereotypes.
This summer, Ben and Jerry’s made the controversial decision to no longer sell its ice cream in West Bank settlements. While some applauded the decision and others criticized it, it is actually incredibly nuanced and a good example of the tangle that is the Israel debate in our Jewish community and beyond. In the spirit of understanding multiple perspectiveslet’s take a look at this tangled knot.
I’m still not sure where I fall on this debate exactly but let me lay out some of the issues as I see them. First, this boycott only applies to West Bank Settlements – not all of Israel. This action is not the same as the BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanction) movement which often seeks to boycott all of Israel and ultimately, for many in the movement, to deny Israel of its right to self-determination. While our congregation does not support BDS because of these deceptive goals, the nuanced approach of only boycotting West Bank Settlements, while still selling ice cream in the rest of Israel, is actually a good refection of our Reform Zionist postion.
Second, any settlement boycott that applies only to the West Bank raises questions of targeting Israel with a double standard. I don’t know if Ben and Jerry’s sells ice cream in Tibet or Crimea or Western Sahara, and even if it does, it is legitimate for people to care about some issues more than others. I don’t find it to be automatically antisemitic that someone is more emotionally invested in what happens to Palestinians than what happens to Uighurs.
Third, a one-size-fits-all approach to settlements makes for bad policy, and that applies here as well. Not all settlers are hardline fundamentalist who believe that the entirety of the Biblical Land of Israel including the West Bank and Gaza are Divinely promised to the Jewish people. Some settlers are just average Israelis like you and me who are trying to buy a decent house in the suburbs and provide for their families. Decades of Israeli government policy, irrespective of which party was in power, promoted West Bank settlements that abut the Green Line and provided incentives for people to move there. These so-called ‘quality of life settlements,’ that the Palestinians are willing to cede to Israel as part of a land swap, are not the same as ideologically-driven, toxic, settlements deep inside the West Bank that are nefariously designed to destroy Palestinian contiguity.
Lastly, given the history of boycotts against Jews, this is a sensitive topic. Comparing Ben and Jerry’s to Nazis is outrageous; denying Chunky Monkey to settlers is not the Nuremberg Laws or Kristallnacht, no matter how many people in your social media feed appear to think otherwise. Still, that does not negate the fact that there is a long and ugly history of boycotting Jews and restricting their economic activities.
Now the problem with all I just laid out – it won’t fit into a pithy social media post. While social media can be a tool for real dialogue, often it is used to oversimplify issues and lacks the subtlety that is needed to have an authentic conversation about a very complex issue.
Holding space for multiple perspectives requires empathy – listening to others and learning from them. Among the litany of sins that we communally confess today in our vidui is the sin of being stubborn. We chant in our ashamnu prayer, “keesheenu oref/We have been stubborn.” But keesheenu oref literally means “stiff-necked.” We are unable, unwilling to turn our heads to see another person. We are unwilling to look our friend, our neighbor, in the eye and seek to understand their point of view. We have refused to have empathy for others’ narratives. We have refused to be willing to bend, to change our opinions in light of new information. We have been fearful and acted based on our insecurities, which drive us to care only about our security. We have refused to grow or learn. Keesheenu oref/We have been stiff-necked.
Our communal confession reminds us that we are one community and that we are all responsible for each other. And we have a responsibility to engage with Israel; to learn, to visit, to hear the stories, and to truly understand for ourselves. I love Israel; the land, the people, the culture, the food, the discomfort, the challenges, and the discourse. I pray that all of us can find our own connection to Israel as well this year.
We have space in our community for a multifaceted perspective of Israel and sharing those differing narratives with one another is what brings our community closer together. Let’s stop pulling on the ends of the rope. Let’s untangle the rope together.
Shanah Tovah
*To join the Israel Engagement Task Force, contact Ned Hanover
