A Jewish View of Guns and Violence

Many sections of the Hebrew Bible constitute a testimony to the great violence, which people had to endure in Ancient times. War and insecurity were the norm, not the exception. The ways in which our ancestors referred to God reflected their violent surroundings: God is Adonai Tzeba’ot, “Lord of Hosts,” and Yish milchama, “Man of War.”
In the midst of such violent times, our people were able to create a system of values that helped them develop a more just and equitable society. So, why can’t we? Why can’t we end the violence in our cities and schools that destroys so many innocent lives? We are blessed with freedom from invasion and constant war; we live in the wealthiest nation the world has ever known, so why do acquiesce to laws and regulations that make mass shootings in our malls and schools possible? Why do we continue to tolerate the laws that the gun industry has written, which do not represent Jewish values?
Recently, after a 20-year hiatus, gun legislation has resurfaced. It is too early to tell what will come of it or if anything will change for good, but the fact that the U. S. Senate is discussing it, on a bi-partisan way, is encouraging. All Reform Jews may not agree on every aspect of the divisive political issue that gun violence invokes, but we must all learn and struggle with what our tradition teaches about the use of weapons in general, and guns in particular.
The Torah is remarkably contemporary in its approach to the issue. After all, the issue violence perpetrated with weapons meant for defensive purposes only is not new –the misuse of weapons is as old as weapons themselves. How does Judaism deal with this issue?
One of the typical case studies found in the Torah is that of the “blood avenger.” If someone committed manslaughter, he could flee to a “city of refuge” and be safe from revenge. The cities of refuge could control who brought weapons into the city, with the understanding that the “blood avenger” may be tempted to violate the refuge status of the city. In this case, the rabbis of Talmud were in favor of regulating and controlling access to weapons (follow the link in my blog and read M. Katz’s piece on for a study of the relevant texts).
Katz concludes: “the risk of allowing weapons to fall into the hands of unstable people who may actually misuse them outweighs any consideration of defense.”
Just to be clear: The Jewish tradition is not pacifist. We Jews have had armies and weapons of all kinds, not only in Modern times but throughout the Middle Ages and back into ancient and Biblical times. Self-defense is a Jewish value. You can certainly protect yourself, says our tradition, but not at all costs. If in our eagerness to protect ourselves we facilitate the acquisition of weapons for illicit goals, then we are liable for the damage those misused weapons cause.
In the light of what our tradition has taught since ancient times, I cannot see how we can support the radical agenda of the gun-lobby and be true to our religious tradition. The approach of our tradition is not radical, but rather sensible and measured. According to our tradition, Jews are allowed to own weapons for personal use, but always keeping in mind how having this or that weapon affects others: other Jews, the mentally ill, criminals, and the safety of our cities and towns. Judaism is very different from American individualism. I find it very hard to understand survivalists and those prone to conspiracy theories –they seem so foreign to our tradition. We do everything as a community. Judaism is an ethical system based on balance approach and compromise. Judaism values the individual contributions to the greater cause of the Jewish people and by extension to society. Our ancient faith teaches us that we are better individuals when our community is better.
I fail to see how high capacity magazines and military-style assault weapons placed in the hands of individuals without universal background checks contributes to a built a better society. Plainly stated: If they do not contribute to the goal of a better society, they go against our Jewish values.
Our sages taught, kol yisrael arevim ze bazeh, all Jews are responsible for one another. The time has come for our nation to heed and learn the lesson of our tradition: We are all responsible. If violence plagues our malls and schools, we may not be guilty for the actions of others, but we are all responsible. In a democracy, we have no excuse, whether we own guns or not, whether we live in the safest neighborhoods or not, we are all responsible.
Please, join the discussion.

Passover and Immigration

Passover and Immigration

This week I have been thinking about the similarities between the story of the Jews in Egypt and immigration policy in our country. Here are some thoughts:

1. During Joseph's time we had free entrance of Jews into Egypt, a welcoming government; we were provided with food and resources. As a result, the Jews settled in Goshen and prospered. 
2. During Moses' time: Jews were considered resident aliens, and were enslaved, and their babies could be killed at will. We were also deprived of our freedom of movement ("Let my people go," was Moses' cry). The Torah is clear that things deteriorated, “and a new Pharaoh rose who did not know Joseph.

I understand that Ancient Egypt was not a democracy and that policies changed often capriciously, but I see an striking and troublesome parallel between what our ancestors experienced in Egypt and what many immigrant communities have experienced in America in the past 120 years. As in Egypt, there was a time (roughly until WW I) when MOST immigrants were admitted to our country -we had an "open immigration" policy. But beginning in 1924, things changed dramatically. The total volume of Jewish immigration from 1881-1914 was 2,400,000, overwhelmingly from Eastern Europe. It went from 119,000 in 1921 to 2,755 in 1932! Immigration policy to the U. S. has never been back to welcoming laws pre-1924. Visit www.entrydenied.org to learn about immigrants' stories and to find out if YOUR ancestors would have been admitted had they tried to immigrate to our country under current law.

During the Seder we read,  “In every generation we are obligated to see ourselves as though we personally went out from Egypt.” Re-living this journey helps us appreciate our own freedom anew, but it should also teach us to empathize with all of those who live in fear and are seeking their own promised land. 

What is your immigration story? Share it with us below.

Follow the development of the our movement's joint action for sensitive comprehensive immigration reform at https://www.facebook.com/groups/190598967730541/

A Caring Community

Some years ago, due to various reasons, our congregation discontinued the Sisterhood and Brotherhood. Both organizations brought people together and fostered a sense of community; they also made it possible to help each other through difficult times in life as well as to rejoice together. Although our dedicated volunteers have shifted their time and efforts to other important areas of our congregation, some of the needs those organizations used to address are currently unfulfilled.

Auxiliary organizations are based on the Jewish value of solidarity. The culture of service to others has a strong basis within the history of Jewish communal life. For instance, classic rabbinic texts underscore the importance of the mitzvah of bikur cholim (visiting the ill or suffering). All members of the community are obligated to engage in bikur cholim. 

We read in the Talmud that when one of Rabbi Akivah's students was ailing no one would come to visit this person. Finally Rabbi Akivah himself went to the ill student's bedside and began to sweep and make some order. The student subsequently recovered and credited his recovery to Rabbi Akivah's visits. This tale reminds us of our power to bring wholeness, refu'at hanefesh (healing of the spirit) through our presence and our caring. Through the example of his actions Rabbi Akivah taught that reaching out to others in bad times is a mitzvah that we all must consider. 

The caring presence and concrete assistance of a caring person can help heal another. It is also a wonderful way of engaging members of our congregation in mitzvot that bring holiness into each other’s lives. In order to honor this ancient tradition, our congregation is coming together again. In the next few months we will launch a new program focused on compassion and care. We are still working on the details, but it will include visiting the sick, delivering some meals, and providing support in times of sorrow as well as of simchah –happiness.

We want to be as effective as possible, but in order to do so, we need everyone’s involvement. I welcome your input. Please, share your thought in the comments below.

I am curious to know what would you like to see happen. What do you think our members need? How would you like to participate? Let us come together once again and create a stronger community.

JEWISH HUMOR AND JEWISH TRAGEDY

Jewish humor is essential to Jewish culture. In America, the strongest influence comes from Yiddish culture. Some Yiddish words may sound comical to an English speaker. Terms like “shlemiel” and “shlimazel” are often exploited for their humorous sounds, as are “Yinglish” words such as “fancy-schmancy.”

         Among the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe, the powerful were often mocked subtly, rather than attacked overtly—as Saul Bellow once put it, “oppressed people tend to be witty.” For instance, a story was told that after the assassination of Tsar Alexander II of Russia, a government official in Ukraine menacingly addressed the local rabbi, “I suppose you know in full detail who was behind it.” “Ach,” the rabbi replied, “I have no idea, but the government's conclusion will be the same as always: they will blame the Jews and the chimney sweeps.” “Why the chimney sweeps?” asked the befuddled official. “Why the Jews?” responded the rabbi.

         Humor and Jewish tragedy play a central role in the celebration of Purim. We laugh at the plans of Haman, who ALMOST destroyed all the Jews. We are never told exactly why Haman hates the Jews; it seems that Haman’s hate is innate to his personality. Neither the text nor our tradition ever explains why Haman hates the Jews ... The question is as old as our people: Why do they hate us?

         The traditional answer is basically that “they are out to get us.” It teaches that the “enemy” of the Jewish people is always out there waiting, hiding. This is quite a depressing view of our history, but quite popular even today. Nowadays, it can be a person or a country or both. The insistence on this troubling view of the world prompted the eminent Jewish historian Salo W. Baron to coin the phrase “lachrymose conception of Jewish history.” (The word “lachrymose” comes for the Latin word for tear, lachrymal; in English it is an adjective that means given to tears or tending to cause tears). Baron thought that there was more to the Jewish experience than persecutions.

         Let’s turn to the story of Purim. The selected reading of Jewish history fostered by the supporters of the lachrymose conception of Jewish history can be seen in how the story of Purim has been told to us in school.

         The story of Purim has a less popular side: The Jews killed more Persians than Persians killed Jews! We read in the megillah:

         “And the king said to Esther the queen, ‘The Jews have slain and destroyed five hundred men in Shushan the capital, and the ten sons of Haman.’”

         There is something positive in celebrating the survival of our people; however, stressing only the persecution and survival of the Jew on Purim and making no mention of this violence seems, at the very least, disingenuous, and, at most, chauvinistic. Fostering Purim as the festival of our survival, while knowing how many people WE killed, seems rather unsettling. For many centuries now, books, teachers and rabbis have inculcated in us the lachrymose conception of Jewish history and have implanted it at the center of many of our dearest rituals and celebrations – Purim being a prime example.

        As we celebrate Purim this month, let us rejoice and be merry, and let us boo Haman and eat his “ears.” But let us remember that the story of Purim is also a story of our triumph over our enemies, and be mindful of the “other” side of the story, because with victory, then and now, comes the responsibility to be a “holy nation” and a light of peace unto the peoples of the world.

       

Where do you come down on this debate? Is Jewish history a succession of persecutions and tragedies? Or is Jewish history an inspiring example of how to respond to adversity and misfortune? Why do they hate us? Are we still at risk? Are we still the victims of history? What do YOU think? 

Jewish Camp Works

Lazy summer afternoons, drought, triple digit temperatures: All part of what many of us faced this summer at camps across the nation. Things have gotten better since the first Jewish overnight camps opened 100 years ago. We now have some fans and AC for most of the staff … But comfort is not we offer at Jewish camps. We make an effort to create Jewish connections. We want every camper to find the commitment to our people, which will last a life-time.

In a recent report, scholars asked Jewish adults about their commitment to Judaism and Jewish causes. They found out some amazing data about the impact of overnight Jewish camps on Jewish identity. The report ("Camp Works") offers the fullest picture to date of the impact of Jewish summer camp. The basic question which framed the analysis was: "Does Jewish camp work?" The report demonstrates that summers at Jewish camp are an important part of the process whereby adults become and sustain a strong commitment to the Jewish community and to Jewish practice.

The report found that Jewish summer camp attendance is strongly related to the likelihood of adult participation and identification. As adults, campers are: 30% more likely to donate to a Jewish charity; 37% more likely to light Shabbat candles; 45% more likely to attend synagogue monthly or more; and 55% more likely to be very emotionally attached to Israel.

Everyone can take an active role in encouraging our families to consider Jewish summer camps (day and overnight) –regardless of the composition of your family. In addition, we must continue the work of making those Jewish connections at our congregation the rest of the year. The more our members are involved, the more examples we can offer our children of what an adult Jewish life means. We have a golden opportunity to be an example to our youngsters during our “GUCIbat” Service. If you have never been to camp, join us and have a taste of summer. Been a camper yourself? Join us for a trip down memory lane. And of course, if you would like your children to be campers, be sure you and your family join us for our camp-style Shabbat service in January. We welcome everyone; we want everyone there! Let us all show our support for OUR future.

To access the full report follow this link, 

http://www.jewishcamp.org/static/website/uploads/Camp_Works_for_Web.pdf

How Jewish camp impacted you and your family? Does the report represent your situation? How can you be part of the report in the future? Do you want to be? Please, leave a comment!

Unity and the Next Twenty Years

            During our last Consecration service, we rejoiced in the beginning of a new cycle of reading the Torah as we initiated three new students in the path of Torah study. It was a touching moment to see so many of our children parading around the sanctuary with little plush Torah scrolls. Our 5773 Consecration class made us all proud as they recited the Shema and shared some fun Shabbat songs with our congregation.

            Many of you saw the pictures on our Facebook page. The pictures showed a congregation united in celebration, yet, the pictures only tell part of the story. The view from the bimah was a sanctuary with empty seats. Excluding the families and teachers of our consecrants, other attendees were sparse. While no one is taking “roll call,” I am concerned by the unspoken message this may be sending to the families and to those children of our next generation. Do we truly exemplify the achdut, “unity,” that our founders envisioned when they named our congregation?

            I am proud that our congregational community is comprised of individuals and families with many diverse interests. This diversity extends to the energetic support of both Jewish causes as well as other activities in our general community. However, many of our personal schedules fill up quickly each season, forcing us to carefully prioritize how and where we can be physically present to lend our support. Surely, the event which marks the beginning of Torah study for this Consecration class and their families merits a high priority for our congregation.

            Let me offer a statistical perspective. This year, enrollment in our Religious School is about 30 students –- that is a third of what we had 20 years ago. Twenty years ago, a Consecration class might have been four to five times bigger (I do not have to guess, their pictures are hanging in our hallway). In those days, if we did not have a child in school, and perhaps chose not to attend that particular Shabbat service, our new students would still have been welcomed by a warm and engaged crowd. The sheer number of families and friends was enough. Fast-forward 20 years and that circumstance yields this year’s rather meagerly attended celebration. I do not know how to say it enough: We need your support for our next generation. 

So, how can we engage you to help them on their paths to enrich their lives and to become adults with living Jewish values? What are you willing to do to reach our achdut? Please, feel free to leave a comment so we can continue the conversation.

Why Shabbat Matters?

During a Shabbat Symposium held in 2007, Rabbi Eugene Borowitz said, “Let’s start with the main problem. We don’t take God very seriously. If we took God seriously, we would want to say hello once in a while. If we took the covenant between God and the Jews seriously, we would want to renew our [covenantal] relationship with God and with the Jews as a community every once in a while. And if we did that, if we cared about that, we would have a little sense of what it means to have a day that is holy. Holy has something to do with God. And that it has to be on Saturday is because this is a Jewish community thing and not just an individual thing, even though you are doing it by yourself.

Shabbat observance was crafted by our ancestors with one purpose in mind: to connect us to God and to lead us to be ethical, moral human beings. But in the last 200 years, we, as a people, have struggled with keeping Shabbat. Decades ago, our response to the challenges of Shabbat observance led our Reform movement to emphasize, “Make Friday night Shabbat.” Limiting our observance of Shabbat to Friday night (or to Sunday in some cases) allowed us to avoid many of our conflicts with American culture (shopping, errands, sports, which take place on Saturday).

In the book of Exodus, the Torah uses superlatives for Shabbat –words like covenant  (B’rit) for all time and a sign (ot) for all time. The implication is that we should take this mitzvah very seriously. Yet, what the Torah requires of us regarding Shabbat seems a bit different than what our Sages suggest. In the Talmud we read, “Shabbat is committed to your keeping, not you to its keeping. (Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 85b). A great midrash says, “Six days you will labor and do all your work” (Exodus 20:9). But is it possible for us to do all our work in six days? Rather, we should rest as though all our work were finished.” (Midrash M’chilta, Yitro 7).

The rabbis understood that we need a more attainable goal: Keep Shabbat but not at the expense of your own well-being; work but do not rush to finish everything before Shabbat –lest you are too tired to enjoy it! Observing Shabbat means being nice to yourselves: take a shower, put on clean, nicer clothes, and make time to study and eat special food. In the year ahead, I invite everyone of us to face the struggle of keeping Shabbat head on; I would like that each one of us, as individuals as well as a community, can find our place in the chain of Shabbat observance. Stepping back from our lives to see the “bigger picture” doesn’t come naturally to us. The day of Shabbat was created to help us do just that: It can be an antidote to so much of what worries us about the world in which we live today.