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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If possible, join in an UneXptable protest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instruct them with Your good counsel.

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

Deliver them from danger; crown their efforts with success.

Grant peace to the land,

lasting joy to all of her people.

And together we say: Amen.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vii] Ibid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yom Kippur is our annual “We Croak” day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yom Kippur is our “One more day.”   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dash Poem (By Linda Ellis)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May we spend it wisely.

---

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

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

[iii] Kushner, P. 144

[iv] Yoma 8:9

[v] Ecclesiastes Rabbah 9:8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blessing at Ark[v]:

May the one who blessed our ancestors and their families,

whose actions strengthened the Jewish People,

bless each one of you.

Like our Biblical ancestors –

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

          Ruth and Orpah, who married Jewish men

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

                     even when her sons had tragically died;

          Zipporah, Moses’ wife

                     whose action in the wilderness of circumcising her son

                     ensured that they would remain a part of the covenant –

you too have responded to the call.

We now bless you for saying “yes.”

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

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

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

we bless you for building up the Jewish people.

(Priestly Blessing)

---

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

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

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

[iv] Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Tefillin 10:8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(3) Pirkei Avot 2:3

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

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

(Posted for Rabbi Renni Altman)

“Saying Hineini Across the Divide”
Rosh Hashanah Morning 5779
Rabbi Renni S. Altman

Jack was an atheist, but he went to synagogue religiously, every Saturday morning.  His grandson watched this and knowing his grandfather’s strong feelings, was very confused.  Finally, one day he asked him, “Grandpa, I don’t understand it.  You say you are an atheist, but you go to synagogue every week.  How can you pray if you don’t believe in God?  Jack answered, “My boy, I don’t go to synagogue to talk to God; I go to synagogue to talk to Goldberg.”

Religion is really about relationships.  That is especially true in Judaism.  If one Hebrew word could capture the essence – and sometimes challenges – of being in real relationship, it is the word Hineini – one word that means “Here I am.”

Some of you may remember this word from Hebrew school as the answer when the teacher took attendance – Hineini – meaning simply, I’m here, I’m present. In the Bible, the term Hineini takes on much greater significance.  Altogether, Hineini appears fouorteen times in the Hebrew Bible.  Three of those instances are in the powerful Torah reading we read this morning, the

Akedah, the Binding of Isaac, including the very first time that this phrase is uttered.  Though Abraham appears on the scene much earlier, it is only here, when he is called to his last and most challenging of ten trials that his relationship with God is put to its greatest test.

With the first Hineini, Abraham responds to God’s call, without even knowing what he would be asked to do.  It is a statement of absolute readiness to act on behalf of another.

With the second Hineini, Abraham responds to the call of his son, “Avi – My father” as they walk up the mountain together.  It is the response of one who is present for another, even in times of great stress and difficulty.  Abraham does not reveal the potential horrors of what lies ahead, concerned here only for his son.

With the third Hineini, Abraham responds to the call of the angel stopping him from committing the unthinkable. So intent is Abraham on fulfilling his understanding of God’s word that the angel must call out to him twice, “Avraham, Avraham!” Here, Hineini is the response of one awakening to the reality of what he is about to do.  It is the response of one who is trying to be fully present in two roles:  Abraham, the believer, present to God, while at the same time to be Abraham, the father, present to his son, Isaac.

In his study of the meaning of Hineini, Dr. Norman Cohen, professor of midrash at HUC-JIR, concludes: “Hineini, in part, has to do with sacrificing for the other, and every time it appears it forces us to consider the nature of our relationships.”^[1]  He posits three primary meanings to the response Hineini:  one; it indicates an ability to be present for and receptive to others; two, it indicates a readiness to act on behalf of others; and, three, it indicates a willingness to sacrifice for someone or something higher.

During these Yamim Noraim, as we reflect on our lives and consider where we have missed the mark, most of us, I’m sure, think first and foremost about the various relationships in our lives and where, too often, we feel that we may have fallen short of our best.  We strive to say Hineini, “I’m here for you” with full integrity in all of our relationships but we know how challenging that can be, even in the best of circumstances.  Life’s demands pull us in so many directions. What family with working parents doesn’t struggle to achieve that ever-elusive work life balance?  The normal ups and down of family dynamics test us at different points in our lives, in some painful cases to an extreme.  We want to be present but the other person isn’t ready or able to let us in; or, we don’t yet know how to be present in a way that they need.  We try to be there for our friends, but we can get so caught up in our lives, that we sometimes lose track of what is going on with others.

As a community, this congregation tries very hard to say Hineini to its members.  Through organized efforts such as the Reyut and Nachamu committees, we have set up structures to support one another through times of illness and loss.  Each Shabbat we share birthdays, anniversaries, and other personal simchas, creating an opportunity to connect and share in one another’s joys as well.  In the small gatherings that were held this summer and through numerous conversations I’ve had with people, I’ve heard very powerful stories from those for whom this community has truly become their “family” and about how this congregation has supported them through the most painful of times.  Of course, no one and no institution is perfect; surely, we have missed the mark at times and for this I would apologize to those who may have been hurt as we try to learn from past mistakes.  I would encourage those who remain on the periphery to become more engaged in the life of the congregation that you might benefit from the full sense of community that this congregation that strives to say Hineini to its members can offer to you.

This morning I want to focus on a particular challenge that we are facing in saying Hineini to one another that is impacting the nation as a whole, religious communities, our relationships at work and even our families.  I’m speaking of the ever-widening political divide in this country where people are less and less able to respond “hineini” – I can listen and be here for you – to those across the divide; in a growing number of cases, it seems, people cannot respond to one another at all.  This gap is eroding our society as a whole, leading to escalating negative attacks on one another, to dysfunctional government, and to divided communities, destroyed friendships and broken families.

An article in the New York Times from just a few weeks ago described some of these situations: “A couple in Georgia, married two decades, won’t speak when the husband leaves his unwashed mug supporting President Trump in the sink; his wife refuses to touch it. A teenager eating at a Texas fast food restaurant had his “Make America Great Again” hat ripped off his head and a drink thrown in his face. A mother in New England sought the help of professional conflict mediators during the holidays because her two daughters — one who was pro-Trump, the other anti-Trump — had stopped speaking to each other.”

We know that concerns about “the great American divide” are not new to this unique time period in American history.  Nonetheless, it feels as though we are at one of our lower points in national discourse and there doesn’t seem to be a way forward.

Studies by the Pew Research Center and others show a widening and toxic political gap.  A Pew Study from last summer noted that since the Trump presidency, the partisan gap has surpassed earlier record levels reached during the Obama presidency.  Partyism is now a bigger wedge between Americans than race, gender, religion or level of education. Today, sizable shares of both Democrats and Republicans say the other party evokes feelings of not just frustration, but of fear and anger. Most politically engaged on either side see those in the other party as not just wrong, but “so misguided that they threaten the nation’s well-being.” ^[2]

The pollster Frank Luntz recently commissioned a survey on the topic of political dialogue and division. In 1,000 interviews, he said, he found one result especially troubling: nearly a third of respondents said that they had stopped talking to a friend or a family member because of disagreements over politics and the 2016 election.

One organization on the front lines of trying to counter these trends is The National Institute for

Civil Discourse, a non-partisan center based at the University of Arizona’s School of Social and

Behavioral Sciences, founded in the aftermath of the 2011 assassination attempt on the former Arizona congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords.  The Institute provides lawmakers, businesses and communities with strategies to solve disagreements with civility and respect.    Reflecting on the 2012 presidential election, Executive Director Carolyn Lukensmeyer noted “We got not a single message from anybody in the country about incivility in the campaign process… [t]hen 2016 rolls around … This is now deep in our homes, deep in our neighborhoods, deep in our places of worship and deep in our workplaces… It really is a virus.”^[3]

Religious communities are not immune to this divide and these feelings.  Rare is the synagogue whose very identity is defined by being either left or right, blue or red.  Most of us are various shades of purple.  Certainly, Reform congregations such as ours have become more diverse politically over the years and while we accept diversity in religious practices, it is much more challenging when it comes to political points of view.

For some the answer is to avoid the challenging issues altogether, to keep the synagogue as a sanctuary, a safe space away from anything that might hint of controversy.  I agree that the synagogue should be a sanctuary and a safe space, but not as an escape from the outside world.  Judaism has taught us the opposite, as we learn in the Talmud: “A person may only pray in a house with windows…”^[4] We pray with windows so that our gaze can be towards the heavens, but so, too, do windows bring the outside world in; we cannot avoid it.  In Judaism, we find the sacred not by escaping to some monastic life meditating in the mountains; rather, we find the sacred by dealing with the challenges of daily existence and bringing the obligation to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy people” to those challenges.  The Torah passage we will read on Yom Kippur known as the Holiness Code, Leviticus 19, reminds us that we strive for holiness in our relationships with one another by being fair in our business practices, through our obligation to care for the stranger, the poor, the widow and the orphan, by not dealing deceitfully with one another, by being responsible for one another, and by loving our neighbor as ourselves.  If we do not address how we can bring our values to bear on the challenges of our lives and in our world, in a way that invites everyone into the conversation, then the Torah, our ancient teachings and Judaism as a whole will become irrelevant.  Our faith provides our moorings, our moral grounding in a world that is more and more unmoored.  Judaism can help us to navigate these very rough waters.

We, too, have a long history of communal divisions.  You see, even as Judaism and Jewish law developed, it was never monolithic as we might imagine it to have been.  There were always multiple houses of study led by different rabbinic scholars who reached different conclusions regarding questions of Jewish practice.  Throughout the Mishnah and Talmud, we find records of debates between rabbis followed by the statement:  and the halakhah (the law) is according to Rabbi Ploni.  If the law is according to one interpretation, why record the minority opinions at all?  Because they still had a place within the Jewish community and, therefore, within the records.

Among the most famous pairs of rabbis in the time of the Mishnah was Rabbi Hillel and Rabbi Shammai, each the head of a different school.  They disagreed about practically everything and rare was the time that a ruling was according to Shammai.  Still, they had respect for one another as is recorded in the Talmud:

…for three years there was a dispute between the School of Shammai and the School of Hillel, the former asserting, “the halachah is in agreement with our views,” and the latter contending, “the halachah is in agreement with our views.” Then a Divine Voice emerged and proclaimed,“both are the words of the living God, but the halachah is in agreement with the rulings of the School of Hillel.”  Since, however, both are the words of the living God, what was it that entitled the School of Hillel to have the halachah fixed in agreement with their rulings?  Because they were kindly and modest, they studied their own rulings and those of the School of Shammai and were even so [humble] as to mention the actions of the School of Shammai before theirs.^[5]

Elsewhere in the Talmud we learn that even though they disagreed with each other’s rulings and had different interpretations for some Jewish practices:

The School of Shammai did not, nevertheless, abstain from marrying women of the families of the School of Hillel, nor did the School of Hillel refrain from marrying those of the School of Shammai. This is to teach you that they showed love and friendship towards one another, thus putting into practice the scriptural text, “you must love truth and peace.” (Zechariah 8:19)^[6]

Sadly, too many within the Jewish world today are not following these ancient practices!

The following teaching from Rabbi Nahman of Bratzlav, one of the most beloved and influential of the 18^th century Chassidic masters, can be a guide for us today:

The essence of shalom is to unite two opposites. Therefore, do not be alarmed when you meet someone whose opinions are diametrically opposed to yours, causing you to believe that it is absolutely impossible to live with him in peace. Similarly, when you see two people of extremely contrasting natures, do not say that it is impossible to make peace between them. On the contrary, the very essence of peace is to strive for harmony between opposites, just as God makes peace in the heavens between the contrasting elements of fire and water.^[7]

It is my fervent prayer that as a nation we can find ways to achieve some harmony, to bridge the divide that is tearing us apart, so that we can bring out the best in one another as opposed to the worst.  So, too, do I pray that if you find yourself in a similar situation to the respondents in the survey who have lost friendships or who aren’t speaking to relatives because of this political divide, that you can find a way to reach out and rebuild those fractured relationships for the greater whole that is shalom.

My concern this morning is about us, Vassar Temple.  How do we as a congregation build upon the strong foundation of community that exists here to bridge some of that divide, lest we will either move closer to irrelevance, unable to discuss or act on many issues of concern, or we will create an atmosphere where some people may no longer feel welcome in their own spiritual home.   I know that these are stark choices and I’m not saying that this is where we are, but I fear that this is where we will be heading if we do not find a way to become a true sanctuary, a sacred space where we can say Hineini to one another, that we can talk about difficult issues even when we disagree, and that we can find common ground upon which we can act to live out the values and teachings of our faith.

First, we need to try to be able to talk to one another and to understand one another.  I have found the work of a social psychologist, Dr. Jonathan Haight, and a sociologist, Dr. Arlie Hochschield, most enlightening in trying to understand some of what is behind the current political divide.

In his groundbreaking research, Haight explores the processes by which we make moral judgments, fundamental decisions that shape our view of the world.   We actually use two different processes of cognition:  intuition and reasoning; and, while we might like to think that we use our powers of reason and intellect to make such decisions, Haight discovered that, in fact, it is our emotions that guide us in making quick, instinctive moral judgments.  Our powers of reason only come into play once we have already made our decision to justify them afterwards.  He uses the metaphor of a rider and an elephant to describe how the mind functions here.  The rider represents the controlled process, such as reasoning and intellect; the elephant represents

the automatic processes, such as emotion and intuition.  (Yes, I said an elephant.  Haight explains that he chose the elephant over the horse because elephants are bigger and smarter, a better representation of the strength of the automatic processes that run human minds.)  Though the name, rider, might imply other, the rider does not control the elephant; rather, it is the elephant who controls the rider.   The rider is really just the spokesperson for the elephant, finding justifications for what the elephant has done or will do next.  Haight gives an example from his own life of a time when his wife complained that he had left dirty dishes on the counter that morning, something she has asked him not to do numerous times before.   Haight, who believes that lying is wrong and often chastises his wife for exaggerating in her stories, finds himself coming up with a very reasonable explanation for having done so, except that it is all a lie.  He later realizes that because he doesn’t like to be criticized as soon as he heard the criticism coming, his inner elephant started to react by claiming innocence and then the rider jumped in with all kinds of justifications that sounded reasonable, though not true.

In his book, The Righteous Mind:  Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion, Haight applies this process of reasoning to the divisions we see in our society today.  If we are going to understand people across the political divide or have any hopes of changing someone’s mind on an issue, we need to better understand the forces behind their intuitive responses to reaching their decisions or in Haight’s terminology, “[we]’ve got to talk to their elephants.”^[8]

Haight references Henry Ford who taught, “If there is any one secret of success it lies in the ability to get the other person’s point of view and see things from their angle as well as your own.”^[9]  So, too, does this apply to conversations on moral or political issues. We need to be able to see things from the other person’s angle as well as our own.  Haight concludes, “And if you do truly see it the other person’s way – deeply and intuitively – you might even find your own mind opening in response.  Empathy is an antidote to righteousness, although it’s very difficult to empathize across a moral divide.”^[10]  Difficult, but not impossible.  “When does the elephant list to reason?” asks Haight, “The main way that we change our minds on moral issues is by interacting with other people.  We are terrible at seeking evidence that challenges our own beliefs, but other people do us this favor, just as we are quite good at finding errors in other people’s beliefs.  When discussions are hostile, the odds of change are slight…The elephant may not often change its direction in response to objection from its own rider, but it is easily steered by the mere presence of friendly elephants… or by good arguments given to it by the riders of those friendly elephants…”^[11]

In other words, we need to get out of our echo chambers, not only by reading other opinion pieces or seeking out news from other sources, but most productively by trying to get to know people who are across the divide – and not on the other side of an argument, but by getting to know them as people first, getting to know their elephants.

The sociologist Arlie Hochschield does just this in her book, Stranger in Their Own Land.

Hochschield, an admittedly political liberal from the very blue city of Berkeley, CA, had been watching the growing political divide for some years when she concluded that she could not understand those on the other side of the divide from a distance; she needed to get to know the people who were completely dumbfounding her.  She decided to focus on one issue, the environment, and in one area, in and around Lake Charles, Louisiana.  In the course of five years of research and ten trips to the area, Hochshield spent time in deep conversation in people’s homes and work places where they spoke openly and shared their stories.  “As a sociologist I had a keen interest in how life feels to people on the right –that is, in the emotion that underlies politics.  To understand their emotions, I had to imagine myself into their shoes. Trying this, I came upon their “deep story,” a narrative as felt.”^[12]

Referring to one of the first women in Louisiana who opened her home and her life story to her, Hochshield wrote “…it occurred to me that the kind of connection she offered me was more precious than I’d first imagined.  It built the scaffolding of an empathy bridge.  We, on both sides, wrongly imagine that empathy with the “other” side brings an end to clearheaded analysis when, in truth, it’s on the other side of that bridge that the most important analysis can begin.”^[13]

Hochshield’s book is a powerful one and one I highly recommend.  It certainly opened my mind to understanding some people who are across the political divide from me and how neglected and lost they had felt from the political leadership of our country for so many years.

If we can create opportunities for real dialogue here, not with the goal of changing people’s minds, but simply to begin to understand why they think the way they do, we, too, can build empathy bridges, as we may then open our minds to some of the concerns of the “other” in a new way.  We can say Hineini.  We can say I disagree with you, but I now understand you.  Such conversations will strengthen us as a community and may lead us to find Bratslav’s harmony between opposites.  In doing so, perhaps we will also discover more ways to join hands and take action on issues of common concern to better our community, our country and our world.  I invite you to join with me in envisioning what might be small group conversations where we really listen to one another in a safe environment where we can speak freely and openly, without critique.  If you would like to partner with me in this venture or participate in such conversations, please let me know.

Just over a week ago our nation paid homage to Sen. John McCain, an elder statesman who spoke the language of Hineini (even if he didn’t actually know the word!)    First and foremost, he lived Hineini through his life of sacrifice for this nation, through both his military service and his political leadership.  He lived Hineini by doing what he believed was right, even going against his own political party to do so.  He lived Hineini when he defended his political opponent against racist charges because it was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t the most expedient for his campaign.   He lived Hineini when he admitted his mistakes.  Personally, I disagreed with John McCain on many issues, but I have the greatest respect for him as a man of integrity and decency who was willing to put aside differences and reach across the aisle for the sake of what he believed was better for our nation.  His choreography of his own funeral was his final testament that a different form of political discourse is possible and preferable for the wellbeing of our country.  May he inspire other leaders to pursue that better path.  May he inspire us to respond to opportunities for service, to be willing to sacrifice – – even on a much lesser scale – for the good of others, to act on behalf of causes we believe are important, to reach across the divide and say Hineini.

The final three Hineini’s in the Bible are not uttered by any person; they are words of promise from God spoken through the prophet Isaiah.  Hineini is God’s promise to the Israelites of the ultimate redemption that will come when they change their selfish and hypocritical ways.  We will read one such passage on Yom Kippur morning, where Isaiah reminds us of the nature of the fast that God desires  – that when we fast we will also share our bread with the hungry, that we will reach out to those in need, that we will be willing to sacrifice for others, that we will no longer act in ways that exile us from one another.  When we can truly say Hineini, I am here for you, then our redemption will be at hand and then the promise of Isaiah will be fulfilled and God will respond to us, Hineini, Here I am.

Rabbi Renni Altman

Sources:

Cohen, Dr. Norman J., Hineini in Our Lives:  Learning how to respond to others through 14 Biblical texts and personal stories (Jewish Lights,2003),

Haight, Jonathan The Righteous Mind:  Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion (Vintage Books, 2017)

Hochshield, Arlie Russell Strangers in Their Own Land:  Anger and Mourning on the American Right (The New Press, 2016)

Peters, In a Divided Era, One Thing Seems to Unite:  Political Anger (New York Times, August 17, 2018)

Pew Research Center: Partisanship and Political Animosity in 2016 (6/22/16) http://www.peoplepress.org/2016/06/22/partisanship-and-political-animosity-in-2016/

[1] Dr. Norman. J. Cohen, HIneini in Our Lives:  Learning how to respond to others through 14 Biblical texts and personal stories (Jewish Lights,2003), p. 4

[2] Pew Research Center: Partisanship and Political Animosity in 2016 (6/22/16) http://www.peoplepress.org/2016/06/22/partisanship-and-political-animosity-in-2016/

[3] Ibid

[4] BT Berakhot 34b

[5] Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 13b

[6] Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 14b

[7] Likkutei Etzot, Shalom, #10

[8] Jonathan Haight, The Righteous Mind:  Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion, p. 57

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid., p. 58

[11] Ibid., p. 80-81

[12] Arlie Russell Hochshield, Strangers in Their Own Land:  Anger and Mourning on the American Right, p. ix

[13] Ibid., p. xi