Before our opening dinner in this beautiful tent-like structure at Merkaz Shimshon, headquarters for the World Union of Progressive Judaism (like the URJ but for liberal congregations throughout the world and outside North America), we were greeted by a very enthusiastic marching band. They accompanied us from the David Citadel hotel, down the road to Merkaz Shimshon. They followed us in and continued to play enthusiastically inside the building, while we were enjoying hors d’oevres and shmooze time. I am just getting my hearing back, but it was quite festive.

The highlight of dinner, besides catching up with colleagues and friends, was a visit from Jerusalem’s mayor, Nir Barkat. Someone actually commented to me that he is the Obama of Israel. Pretty high praise, I think. A successful businessman and philanthropist, Barkin praised Jerusalem as a “3,000 year old brand.” He urged us to do our part to ensure the arrival of ten million tourists over the next ten years. And while he spoke of the greatness of Jerusalem, he also expressed concern over the profound poverty that plagues the city. Speaking to Netta, one of our wonderful madrikhot (youth counselor) early in the day, I learned that security issues dominate poverty issues, and that it is really important for the new government to find a way to prioritize both. Security concerns rule the day, for logical reasons. However, the poverty in Israel is doing as much to erode Israel’s viability.  Barkat also spoke of a very important middah (virtue), aravut hadadit, which conveys a sense of mutual responsibility among people for one another. Pluralism, within the Jewish community or among Jews and Arabs, is not simple. Jerusalem, and Israel at large, will improve more from a sense of service between mutually responsible human beings than it will from striving to kill enemies. I took away a sense that business approach to confronting Jerusalem’s and Israel’s problems will be more effective than a military approach. I hope this sense mutuality will continue to expand with respect to the relationship between secular and Reform/Progressive Israelis.

Lailah tov.

Blog Entry #3—25 February 2009

 Blog #3–24-25

I am staying at an old hotel in New Jerusalem on Yaffa Road, right across from Ben Yehuda street. It’s an interesting place. An inexpensive hostile that has real old style charm. In fact, I have tiny little bungalow on the rooftop. No phone. No television. A little space heater to keep me warm. It is a little chilly. I stand upon the rooftop, looking down on the street. Late at night, the place becomes surreal, like a scene in a noir film.  As the night wears on and the people go home, the streets become deserted. The moment is quiet and dreamy and dark. 

I went for an early morning run through Jerusalem, and lo and behold, I ran into a dear friend and mentor, Don Goor, who’s here on sabbatical. I told you I would have such an encounter. I have known Don since I was 16, when we met at Jewish summer camp. We have done some special work together, not only at camp but with a transitional living project in Southern California. Together with a vibrant, interfaith community, we helped homeless people get off the streets and back into a more life-affirming reality. Don also co-officiated at Betsy’s and my wedding. A great rabbi and person. 

Today, some of my colleagues and I traveled to Tel Aviv to visit the Reform mechinah. A mechinah is a program of study and service, designed for high school graduates who would like to wait a year before entering the Israeli army. There are all sorts of mechinot authorized by the Israeli government, and the fact that there is one run under the auspices of the progressive movement in Israel is a big deal. Its presence represents a substantial step in authenticating Reform Judaism in Israel.

 My colleague Dennis Eisner and I studied with three delightful young men, Natan, Yedid and Moshe. Natan wants to enter special forces akin to American Rangers. Yedid wants to join an acting troop, which entertains his fellow soldiers. Moshe wants to be a pilot in the Israeli Air Force.  All three find great meaning in Reform Judaism. As teenagers, they like spirituality it offers but also the freedom it gives them to make up their own minds. They are excited by the discipline of asking hard questions that reflect meaningful the meaningful changes in their lives. Soon they will take on big responsibilities for their country’s welfare and security. The army likes to have soldiers who think on their feet, who really consider the significance and purpose of their military service.

We took some time to consider the nature of leadership. We looked at texts ranging from the ancient Khazari to Yehuda Amichai, a famous contemporary poet. For good measure, we also reflected on the lyrics of a popular rapper named Hadag Nachash. A dag is a fish, and a nachash is a snake. We decided after studying the text that sometimes leadership is about rallying people around a common goal. Sometimes it requires the leader to make unpopular stands.

After lunch, we traveled with the students to their volunteer jobs. I went with the kids to an after school program with at-risk kids from Israeli Jewish and Arab families. The program is called Kadima, which means “moving forward.“The kids were like any kids. They were playful with one another, and at times contentious. They were very cute, and some worked very hard on their homework. One young boy of Ethiopian orgin, named Yoni, entertained me with running flips. One teen, Ido, and I worked with a young girl of Arab descent named Jennifer showed me how to write some letters in Arabic. We had lots of fun together.

What I took away from the experience is the understanding that these young children grow the appreciate and enjoy these wonderful Israeli teens. The teens dedicate themselves to the young Jewish and Arab people. They learn that not all Israelies act badly. Some, like these teens, interact with them when their parents cannot. When their parents cannot feed them on a regular basis, the young people recognize the caring support from the Israeli teens. This work is so important because shapes a much more positive view of Israelis. If you are interested in learning more about the Reform mechinah, please go to their general website—www. Hamechina.org.il.

That’s all for now.

Lilah tov….

My plane ride only got more interesting because I sat in between some interesting people. To my left was Rabbi Jackie Ellenson, who is married to Rabbi David Ellenson. You may remember David invested me at Kol Haverim. Jackie heads the Women’s Rabbinic Network, who will also hold its convention in Jerusalem. It follows right after the CCAR meeting. There is nothing like a long journey to get to know someone you see around here and there but don’t know much about. And there is also nothing like some open space on the plane to stand around and chat, while you are stretching your legs. Reform Judaism, or Progressive Judaism as its often called outside the US, has made important strides in Israel. If memory serves, there are some 30 Reform/Progessive congregations in Israel, and many of them are led by women. That is a big deal in place where quite a few Israelis don’t yet relate well to female rabbis. There are some 25 women who are rabbis in Israel, and together with their colleagues from North American and elsewhere, they will get together for a few days to study and pray together. Their conference will connect them with all sorts of Israeli women making a difference in literature and the arts, law and politics, medicine and nutrition, and social justice and social change.

Sitting on my right was a lovely person named Lynn White, who was making her first trip to Israel. Lynn is a Christian woman, who proudly told me how hard she has been studying for trip. There is nothing like someone for whom their first Israel experience is like being a child in a candy store. I relished in the purity of her excitement to visit places she has read about in her Bible, which she reads for an hour a day. We even took a moment to talk about my favorite passage in the Christian Scriptures, Matthew 5, which is known as the “Sermon on the Mount.” This is a beautiful passage, written for a Jewish audience. Among other things, Jesus interprets the Aseret HaDibrot, the Ten Commandments. Also significant in our conversation was Lynn’s expression of strong support for Israel, especially during these difficult times. In her central Virginia drawl, Lynn proclaimed with a voice of abiding faith that the world just has to understand how important Israel is.

Lailah tov. 

Blog 1: 23-24 February 2009

 As I boarded the plane Monday afternoon, I expected to encounter rabbinic colleagues traveling to Jerusalem for the 120^th gathering of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. For those of you who don’t know, the CCAR is the rabbinic body of the Reform movement, and every seven years, we assemble in ha’Aretz (literally, the Land (of Israel)). Anyway, as I made my way to my seat, I was not disappointed. Seated not far from me was my colleague Joel Mosbacher, a dear classmate in Israel during my first year of rabbinic school. We both also served congregations in Atlanta for a time and have become friends over the years.  I was glad to share the journey  back to Israel with an old friend.

Israel is like a magnet. The land and its people beckon Jews, Christians and Muslims to come forth from far and wide to witness Israel’s magic, to experience its complexity, to touch its antiquity, to taste its modernity. And,  in spite of the probability of connecting with friends and colleagues on this particular El Al flight, it never ceases to amaze me when I bump into someone I know. Naturally, it is a lot more likely to encounter someone I know on a plane filled with only a few hundred passengers. But it’s not much different once I arrive in Israel. There always seems to be some random connection with a good friend who is there, too. I wonder what surprises lay in store. I will let you know. Lailah tov.

            When Dr. Joseph A. Olzacki, Director of Visual and Performing Arts for Bloomfield Public Schools, invited me to join high school students, some staff and members of the community in a one-day trip to the U.S. Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  After all, I had been to the museum years ago, had been to Israel’s Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem, twice, and have even been to a Holocaust Museum in New York City.  But, I had never gone with such a group.

            The experience turned out to be so much more than just a field trip to the Museum.  It was an emotional learning event, the type that board members, staff and even students rarely have the opportunity to experience.

            The idea of the day was to “see history through each other’s eyes”.  Dr. Olzacki prepares the 54 students, virtually all members of the high school band, by having them read and discuss the Holocaust and Genocide.  The idea is a melding of the music and the history, together with social justice, that helps students better understand the world around them and strengthens their creativity.  It is part of the “Identity Project,” which examines lessons from Genocides past and present for life lessons about the future.

            What makes this a truly special project is that the learning that took place transcended generations, religion and even race.  The adults on the trip (referred to as the “Elders” – a new moniker I was not really ready for) were black, white and a healthy mix of Christians and Jews.  The students were all Afro-Caribbean Americans, who had to get up at 3 AM to be there.  And, each Elder was teamed with a student for the day.

            The Elders were an interesting group of about 20, including two rabbis (one had written about his Holocaust experience and his book was pre-trip required reading for the students); State Senator Jonathan Harris, who got help from the State to support the project; other Holocaust survivors; the head of Hartford Symphony’s education department; a leader of a Jewish statewide organization; and community members who were interested in coming.

            I was teamed with Kristopher Hodge, a senior who hopes to go to the University of Hartford next year to major in music.  He has a quiet, reserved personality among adults, though he certainly had fun with the other students.  His father is a pastor, mother a gospel singer and brother a bassist for Mary J. Blige.  He is interested primarily in jazz.  He wanted to go to the Museum to “get a better idea of what happened in the Holocaust…you can learn only so much from movies”.

            We left Hartford at around 6:30 am and after landing in Baltimore, we were bused into Washington.  As an “extra” for the group, we met Congressman John Larson outside the Capitol and he spoke to us about the importance of Connecticut in having been the first state with a Constitution.  We then stopped at the World War II Memorial, where Dr. Olzacki encouraged students to thank some World War II veterans who pulled up while we were there for what they had done for all of us.

            The Museum is a sturdy, stark brick structure meant to look like a concentration camp building.  Museum staff begins your tour by providing you with the “passport” of a victim containing his or her life story.  We later learned that a number of these survivors actually work in the Museum as volunteers.

        As we waited for the elevators to take us up to the exhibits, Jackie Dodd, the Senator’s wife, stepped forward and introduced herself.  She works as a volunteer at the Museum, too.  She spoke to the group about her father, who fought in the South Pacific during World War II and helped liberate prisoner of war camps.  Then she described  Thomas Dodd’s work at the war crimes trials, which has been memorialized by the current Senator, in a book containing the letters he had written to his wife (Letters from Nuremberg: My Father’s Narrative of a Quest for Justice).  

            She talked about Connecticut’s “legacy of justice” and encouraged the students to “never forget what you see here” and to take the message back to all students.

Kristopher

            The Museum’s exhibits begin with when the Jews in Germany were accepted members of the community and proceed to Hitler taking over, the progressively tougher restrictions and degradations of the Jews, the start of the War and the Nazis capturing much of eastern Europe, where killings began immediately.  We saw how the Nazis made the Jews appear to be “less than human” and of course, we saw pictures and artifacts from the death camps and the crematoria.  We walked through the exhibits and having done much reading on the Holocaust, I tried to explain to Kristopher what was happening and why.

            Kristopher was obviously interested and stuck close.  I learned afterwards that he felt a certain closeness between us as we walked through the Museum.  He’s a quiet student and this was came as something of a surprise to his teachers.  We talked about how the Jews’ right to practice their professions and attend schools was taken from them, about how others were silent (and even collaborated) with the Nazis and this enabled the anti-Semites to carry out their atrocities.  We talked about those who became slave labor and how Kristopher’s ancestors, too, might have been slaves. 

            Kristopher, like me and, I’m sure, like a lot of other people who visit the Museum, struggled with how people could be so inhuman to each other.  He felt “shocked” on learning that Hitler had been democratically “voted in”.  He said that, “sometimes the people who vote don’t make good choices and the people who don’t vote are also contributing to which way the leadership goes”.  How apt during this political season.

            He felt “anger at some of the sights, because the Nazis didn’t give people a chance to speak and I felt bad for them – they had no control” over what was happening to them.  He said that, “Me, being black and understanding slavery, can’t understand why everyone can’t be viewed as human”.

            Kristopher’s feelings were obviously echoed by the other students and the adults.  They walked through the exhibits in a hushed, almost reverential quiet – not silence, since there was much explaining and commenting.  But, like the other over 1.7 million people who tour the museum each year, there was a feeling of awe, as if merely seeing the photographs and exhibits was a way of, to paraphrase the great writer and Holocaust survivor Eli Wiesel, bearing witness to what had happened.

            After lunch, a representative of the Museum spoke to the group about Darfur and the Genocide that is going on in the Sudan.  We spoke about the feelings that the students and adults had, about anger and feeling overwhelmed.  And, how going to the Museum required some to face their own fears.

“Don’t Be A Bystander”

            Wiesel had said that “what hurts the victim most is not the cruelty of the oppressor, but the silence of the bystander”.  During the discussion, Senator Harris asked the students to learn to “not be a bystander” when bad things are done by one person to another.

            He encouraged students to get educated about what they could do, to speak up when they heard inappropriate jokes or remember in school halls.  “We learned today that when even small things strip away one’s dignity, it can lead to worse things…Speaking up about smaller things can ‘condition’ you to speak out about larger things.”

            Later, on the way back to the airport, we had the opportunity to stop at the Lincoln Memorial and we saw where Martin Luther King had made his “I Have A Dream” speech.  Somehow that seemed a fitting and uplifting way to end our journey.

Reflections

            I had expected the day to be about seeing through Kristopher’s eyes and the eyes of the other students.  There was certainly much of that.  But, interestingly, I realized that Kristopher’s reactions were not any different than mine. We were both appalled at the sights we saw and had trouble processing the inhumanity of man.

            I think that those of us who shared the day came away with a deeper and more meaningful understanding of the importance of and strength in diversity and respecting the dignity of all people.  These lessons touched every member of our diverse group.

            This shared experience, learning about the worst horrors mankind has ever perpetrated, together with seeing symbols of the best of our own nation’s ideals, reinforced the finest, the most caring, most unifying and the most positive emotions in all of us.  And, I believe that on some level, no matter whether the individual was a student, a teacher, a member of the community or one who just wanted to be part of this event, we were affected in the same way.

            I thank Dr. Olzacki, Kristopher and the other students and the Bloomfield community, for letting me be part of this amazing experience.     

I remember my reluctance to go so far away from home. I was 25 and the farthest I had been from home (Los Angeles) was Palo Alto for graduate school. And Israel, at the time, was simply a place I had to go to because HUC-JIR required my presence. But upon arrival, I bent low to kiss the tarmac at Ben Gurion Airport (a sabra, a native Israeli, challenged and encouraged me to do so). I then saw the Israeli flag, and I felt magically transformed. During those intial weeks in Eretz Yisrael, I touched the Kotel. I saw the Kinneret. I climbed Metzada. I swam in the Red Sea. I witnessed kibbutz life, an evolving Reform Judaism, religious diversity in the Old City, the reality of peace among Jews and Arabs, the potential for greater peace. When I see the Israeli flag, I feel a depth of identity. When I see the Israeli flag, I feel pangs of Jewishness that link me deep into history. I feel a connection to Israel as a homeland, a bond that I could not have shaped simply as a Jew in America, which has been incredibly rich and transformative in its own right. I feel connection to the entirety of the Jewish people, across the generations. I walk down Israeli streets, and I feel linked to Israeli’s vibrant modern history and its ancientness. I feel at home.

When you see an Israeli flag, what do you feel?

Shabbat shalom!

Rabbi C.

Kol tuv:

Rabbi C.