Rabbi’s Grater’s Sermons

Hechsher Tzedek: Finding a Meaningful Kashrut

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 20:00:30 -0700

When you think of the most visible sign of being Jewish, what comes to mind? Is it keeping Shabbat? Having a mezuzah on the door? Wearing a kippah or tallit? Doing tikkun olam, bringing justice and kindness to the world? In an article I read recently, the author indicated that according to polls and research, the most visible sign of being Jewish is a kosher kitchen. Keeping kosher — one of the oldest communal activities of the Jewish people — is a sign that one is active and involved in a committed and engaged Jewish life. Now, you might disagree with this assessment, which is fine, but for tonight, I want to use this information to discuss a very serious and egregious situation in the world of kashrut that you may or may not be aware is taking place right now.

If we keep kosher, and if we eat meat — which I don’t, so this topic is already outside of my personal experience — we know that finding a kosher butcher is paramount in our ritual practice. And, if we buy kosher packaged foods, we know that a religious symbol — most famously the OU — is a sign that whatever product we are purchasing has been inspected and supervised to certify its status as kosher. Yet, what we may not know is that the business of the hecsher, or kosher religious symbol, is a multi-million if not billion dollar enterprise, and it is not so pretty. And to be clear, the Torah teaches us in two different places, once in Leviticus and again in Deuteronomy, that there are to be distinctions in the animals we can eat, based on whether they have cloven hoofs and chew their cud for meat, fins and scales for fish. The concepts of how we kill the animal, known as shechitah is established in the later rabbinic codes, as are all of the laws about separation of milk and meat, different sets of dishes, waiting periods in between milk and meat meals, and of course, the need for a kosher symbol, a hechsher, on processed foods. And, as we have gotten more and more sophisticated in our food production, the laws of kashrut have had to adapt and expand. However, with the advent of modern, industrial meat production, the level of compassion, concern and overall chesed for the animals and ourselves — which is one of the main Biblical injunctions about kashrut — have all been soured in the name of business and bottom-line. And just a few weeks ago, in the middle of the country, in Postville, Iowa, before all of the horrible flooding that we see now took place, there was one of the largest federal raids on a business we have seen in some time.

Postville is home to Agriprocessors, or Rubashkinʼs, which provides sixty percent of the country’s kosher beef. It’s also the biggest employer in the region, with a largely Latino workforce of almost 1000 workers. Last month, immigration officials raided the plant and a third were arrested. This story made national news and has been the talk of the Jewish media, including several blogs, since the news broke. And even before that, since 2006, Jewish leaders, including ones from our own Conservative movement, have had their eye on Agriprocessors, aware that something was afoul. Now, with the feds involved, the situation is clearly more serious. Most of those arrested in the raid were undocumented workers, which is the subject of a whole other sermon about the failure of our immigration policy, but the story for tonight is how poorly these workers were treated, both in pay and working conditions, and whether this kind of treatment affects the status of this meat as kosher. Do you think it should?

Many Torah prohibitions are being undermined at this plant. Deuteronomy 24:14 states that one “should not abuse a needy and destitute laborer.” Leviticus 19:14 says that you “should not put a stumbling block before the blind.” The prophet Malachi 3:5 extols us, in the name of God, “I will act as a relentless accuser against those…who cheat laborers of their hire…” An often-repeated proof-text in the rabbinic literature against harming or cheating workers is a line from Proverbs, “So that you might walk in the way of the worthy and follow in the paths of the righteous.” (Mishlei 2:20) And finally, the Sefer HaChinuch — a 13th century, anonymously authored explication on the 613 mitzvot — offers us, “It is our pride and glory that we are kind to those who work for us.” (Sefer Hachinuch 482) All of these teachings seem to be saying the same thing: workers are not to be exploited, employment is a serious business, as much on the capital side as the moral and ethical side, and that there is something inherently necessary to a healthy life which involves treating others with compassion and kindness, especially those that we employ. And, most importantly, I feel that Jewish law takes very seriously the idea that the spirit of the law is just as viable in our practice as the letter of the law. One Talmudic story makes that point clearly. Bava Metzia 83a offers the following:

Some porters broke the wine keg of Rabbah Bar Channah. He took their cloaks. They brought the matter before Rav. He told Rabbah: Give them back their cloaks. Rabbah said, rather incredulously, ʻIs that the law?ʼ Rav answered: Yes, so that you might walk in the way of the worthy. So he gave them back the cloaks. They then said to Rav: We are poor people. We worked all day and are bent over [from the work], yet we have nothing to show for it. So he said to Rabbah: Go, pay their wages. Said Rabbah: Is that the law? Rav answered: Yes, and follow in the paths of the righteous.

In his commentary on this piece of Talmud, the great medieval master Rashi equates this thinking with the concept of lifnim mʼshurat hadin, acting above and beyond the letter requirements of the law, “even as Rav argues that such behavior should be what the law requires.” (Rabbi Avram Reisner, Hecsher Tzedek: Al Pi Hadin) What is the import of this story for us today? I see the Talmud as coming to remind us that ethical considerations, most notably compassion and concern for the poor and downtrodden, have as much weight, if not more, than the actual letter of the law. So, while the meat at Rubashkinʼs might be technically kosher, and even that is being debated due to the way these animals are actually being cared for in the slaughtering, the fact that the workers are being exploited and the working conditions are so horrific can and should affect the kashrut of this meat. Going above and beyond the letter of the law is one of the great attributes of the Jewish judicial system, and certainly applies to the issue of kashrut in this case. How can we eat meat that is being produced under such corrosive conditions? I won’t give you the details of what some of the workers have been telling rabbis and Jewish communal leaders who have gotten involved in this case, but I assure you that “horrified, disgusted and appalled” would be descriptive language you would be using upon hearing the stories. Thankfully, our movement has created an incredible commission and organization to address these concerns.

Two years ago, Hechsher Tzedek, an ethically based kashrut commission was created, under the aegis of the Rabbinical Assembly and United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, headed by Rabbi Morris Allen. It has been featured in the New York Times and is helping to get major press attention to the issue at Agriprocessors, along with another more recent on-line, grassroots based group called Uri LʼTzedek. Hechsher Tzedek is a supervision not of the details of slaughter and list of ingredients of food products, but a supervision of the human labor that went into their manufacture. It is a supervision of worker pay, provision of health benefits, vacation, sick pay, training, health and safety, corporate governance and transparency and environmental impact. It is putting the practice of lifnim mʼshurat hadin into reality, asking us to realize that the ethical standards behind what we eat are far deeper and more profound than just the actually food itself. There is a whole establishment responsible for food production, and for something to be deemed kosher, we should be looking at all aspects of that production. Thankfully Hechsher Tzedek is doing just that. Some have called this the most important initiative our movement has ever undertaken.

As I said, I am a vegetarian so am not personally affected by these issues. And in looking at Genesis closely, I concur with many rabbinic scholars, present and past, who say that vegetarianism is the most authentic kashrut. I eat fish, so I am not fully there, and I know that there are issues with fishing and the fact that the world might run out of fish in our lifetime, but it pales in comparison to the serious nature of the beef and poultry industry. However, I can still relate to the fact that my love of kashrut and my appreciation of the system is being tarnished by Rubashkinʼs practices and by the whole nature of the kashrut business — my participation in the ways of kashrut make me responsible if I am not fully guilty. Heschel taught us that lesson. And so, my hope and prayer is that we all become aware of the situation, and in doing so, make a commitment to not eat meat from this plant, which has many different labels and brands, and if we buy kosher meat, to make sure our butchers and suppliers refuse to purchase from Agriprocessors until this investigation is finished. Members of Uri LʼTzedek and others have been meeting with the leaders of the plant and are putting pressure on them from within, even as the government puts pressure from without. The idea of tochecha — honest, compassionate critique of another member of the community — is value a of Torah that helps us to confront one another in a way that sees the humanity of the other, and out of love, seeks to rectify a problem by working together. If kashrut is going to remain a strong, viable and holy endeavor for our people, we must find a way to live out the principles of our faith in accordance not only with the letter of the law, but also, and perhaps more importantly, in accordance with the spirit of the law. That is what it means to be a “holy nation.”

Shabbat shalom.

Living for Today, Really

Fri, 16 May 2008 20:00:28 -0700

How many times have you heard the idea that if you knew the day of your death you would act differently? Do you think you would? The nature of the human experience, which is so focused on the future and the past, is greatly challenged in regard to the present, to recognizing that each moment, each second of life matters, is critical. We pray about it, we have therapy about it, we have breakdowns about it, and perhaps it is our fate to not be able to accept this truth and adjust our lives accordingly. The book of Job, from thousands of years ago, illustrates this ongoing struggle, one that haunts us from the very early moments that we grasp a sense of personal consciousness, what is now called existentialism. Pirke Avot understood this fact when one of the teachings says, “Repent everyday before your death.” This clearly means we are to repent at the end of each day, for we know not what tomorrow brings.

I am personally in this mindset as I visited one of our oldest family friends yesterday in the hospital after she had a massive brain aneurism; went to bed with a headache, woke up to the reality that she will probably never wake up again. She has three kids, six grandkids, and was vibrant and healthy before this tragedy. As I prayed with her daughters, women that I have known since I was ten years old, we cried and asked how is this possible? And, as I have learned from my rabbinic experience, there are no answers to offer, no reasons to give, no pithy phrases, no wise words. There are only tears, only prayers, only hope that are available to us in these moments. And so, I am asking myself, as I believe we all ask ourselves, what can I or should I be doing different in my life now that I have witnessed this horror firsthand? Am I capable of changing habits, living more fully, speaking more kindly, laughing more, loving more, giving more, doing more things that are meaningful and important to me? Is it possible to break habits, change the living cycle that grinds us through life? And if so, what are the tools to make it stick?

For me, my experience of Jewish meditation, Shabbat and prayer are some of the healthiest and profound tools I have discovered to help me to be more aware, more awake to each present moment. It doesn’t always work, as I struggle each and every day with achieving goals, being kind and compassionate, seeing the moment and appreciating; yet, these tools provide me the foundation for returning each time that I drift away. We don’t need to wait for major health scares, car accidents, near death experiences, loss of life or any other situation that might radically wake us up from whatever internal slumber we are in; rather, a life based on daily practices which can shape our consciousness, slowly, methodically and continuously, these are the tools which will make a difference. I use meditation each morning to focus myself on a certain attribute of presence, be it compassion, endurance, love, strength, peace, hope, joy, health or forgiveness. These moments of meditation, while sometimes powerful in the moment, sometimes bland in the moment, are a foundation for me to carry throughout the day. Meditation is less about the actual practice of breathing in and breathing out, and more about what that practice gives us throughout the rest of the day, the interactions we have, the decisions we make, the words we use. It also helps me to keep perspective on any given situation. I can tell you, the traffic I was sitting in at 1:00 PM on the 405 coming from the hospital bed of our family friend had much less significance or ability to bother me as long as I kept it in perspective. It is hard to do all the time, but the goal of life, I believe, one that we are constantly in pursuit of achieving, is to keep this perspective. Meditation helps me to do this, reminds me to be present to the moment.

Shabbat and prayer are two other ways that I find most useful in my attempt to stay present and focused on what is most important in life. Stopping each week to rest from work, rest from email, cell phones, outside chatter and come to pray, be with my family, eat well, sing, pray and rest — this has been a recipe for tremendous insight and internal light in my life. Reminding myself that the grind of the daily regiment, the desire to achieve production and success, the drive to produce, as Heschel says, is not the essence of life. Will all of that matter if I wake up with an aneurism, find out I have cancer, get in a car accident, lose a loved one, or realize that I have lived my life too entrenched in these goals and have missed my kids’ childhood, not seen their baseball games, taken walks with my wife, read a good book, planted a tree in my yard, cooked a meal for my family? Probably not. The Talmud reminds us that in the world to come, God will ask us not about how much money we made or how famous we were, but how much Torah we learned, how many opportunities we took for joy, how honest we were in business. Shabbat helps me to gain perspective each week, not allowing the corrosion of my soul to be caked over from inattention that I cannot get back on track. Only six days go by before the gift of Shabbat allows for deeper penetration of soul and self. It is a divine gift, one that we should all find ways to incorporate more into our lives.

And finally, prayer. The incorporation of prayer into one’s life can really bring a new perspective. And I am not just talking about structured daily prayer, morning, afternoon and evening. Blessings over food remind us of how grateful we are to be eating; blessings over ordinary experiences elevate them to the holy, be it seeing a rainbow, having a unique moment that calls for a shehecheyanu, or even going to the bathroom in a healthy way, acknowledging how lucky we are when our body works in the right way. For me personally, daily blessings have really helped me to focus on the present moment, re-prioritizing my life in such a way that tries to focus on what is truly important rather than fill my head and heart with all of the seemingly important but ultimately insignificant worries or stresses that I, and I am sure most of us, often do. By saying the shema morning and night, along with the rest of the daily prayers, I find life to have more balance, more calm, more presence.

I close with a teaching of Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, known as Reb Zalman, the founder of the Jewish Renewal movement and one of the great rebbes of our time. He teaches about the word hineni, “here I am,” that its numerical equivalent is 115, which is also the numerical value of three other important Hebrew words: anachnu, we, aliyah, ascent and haʼam, the people. When we are present in our lives, aware and awake to the moment we have a greater sense of the other people around us, the “we” in our lives, a greater opportunity for aliyah ascent, higher and higher into the realms of consciousness and deeper and deeper into the moments of our lives that really matter, and finally to haʼam the people, the world in which we live, caring in a more profound manner for others. I have been deeply shaken by the tragedy wrought upon my family’s close friend and her family; I only pray that this awakening will not fade away once the next traffic jam starts to get on my nerves.

Shabbat shalom.

Nonviolence: Is it Still Possible?

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 20:00:24 -0700

In a recent conversation I was having with some of our teens, we somehow stumbled onto the subject of today’s video games and how they might impact our lives. I was talking about something from history, at the very beginning of a session, as we were settling in eating lunch, so I don’t quite remember what sparked it, but one of the kids said, “Yeah, that is like something that happens in this new game, Assassins Creed.” “Oh, I said, sounds like a real fun game!” In explaining it, the kids articulated that there were many historical lessons in this game, stuff from the Middle Ages, and that the lessons are valuable, even though the game is all about killing people. Here is the quote from the games website, introducing its purpose:

Jerusalem, 1191 AD. The Third Crusade is tearing the Holy Land apart. You are an elite Assassin sent to stop the hostilities by suppressing the powers on both the Crusader and Saracen sides. But as you carry out your missions, a conspiracy begins to unfold. You find yourself tangled up in a conflict that threatens not only the Holy Land, but the entire world. Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

When I asked if it might be possible for any successful video game to not have violence and killing as its premise, they said probably not. And then said something interesting. They said, “It is our history right, lots and lots of killing?” “Yeah,” I said, kind of sadly, “that is sort of true.” We continued on with the conversation for a big longer, then got into what I had actually planned to talk about before we wandered into this gem of a moment. Teaching happens that way sometimes, stumbling on an unexpected moment of learning; I was glad that I ran with it a bit and learned something valuable that I had not anticipated.

This experience, which I feel blessed to have shared with some of our teens, is just one of many that have been floating through my consciousness recently in regard to how our world looks, how it is perceived, what is real, what do we think is imaginary, what matters and what gets ignored. Do video games really affect the society such that people who play killing games all day will be more prone to kill in real life? Most of the kids I was talking to thought no. I am not so sure. I believe that all of the video games and violent movies we encourage in our society are affecting our brains. When I asked the kids if we could have a game that promoted peace, diplomacy, solving conflict in nonviolent ways, they told me that there was still Mario and Pacman, along with puzzle games — those are not violent! And, there happened to be one game where you play a lawyer, so that was getting closer, kind of! The message we are delivering to our youth, with all of these games, internet sites and continued obsession with violent movies, is one that I believe we should be analyzing more closely, studying more deeply and paying more attention to. I have been feeling that we truly need a universal agreement to slow down and examine the consequences of our actions, collectively, so that we can know more clearly what we are doing and if we are succeeding. Who is in charge of our global strategic plan? We need some serious assessment and evaluation, if not some serious retooling. A collective Shabbat, a surrender to the moment. We should be asking ourselves if the path we are on is truly the one we wish to be on. Can the violence we live with ever be stopped? When I pushed the teens on living without violence, many of them said, “aren’t we just made that way? We have been violent forever. It is in our nature, in our DNA.” And sadly, once again, they were right. I love raw assessment of reality, as only teens can provide! Cain and Abel got the ball rolling and we have never stopped that ball. We pray about peace, write about peace, dream about peace, teach about peace, but with all of that, we can’t figure out how to make peace. Oseh shalom alludes us. And so, we continue to pray.

Recently, we have been reading a great deal, with the 40th anniversary of his assassination, about Dr. Kingʼs double persona and his deep commitment to nonviolence, even in the face of tremendous opposition and pressure, the same kind it appears the Dalai Lama is experiencing with his people in this heightened moment of crisis for them. There comes a time in every conflict, in every encounter, in each moment, when we have the choice of whether to be violent or not. Sometimes violence is thrust upon us, yes, but we then still have the choice of how to respond. Now that King is officially dead longer than he was alive, it might help us to more deeply understand the motives that drove him and how his sense of justice, equity and peace always revolved around the practice of nonviolence.

In a very interesting and thought-provoking book, Nonviolence: Twenty-Five Lessons from the History of a Dangerous Idea, author Mark Kurlansky, opens the first chapter with these words: “The first clue, lesson number one from human history on the subject of nonviolence, is that there is no word for it. The concept has been praised by every major religion…Yet, while every major language has a word for violence, there is no word to express the idea of nonviolence except that it not another idea, it is not violence.” He goes on to say something quite provocative: “The only possible explanation for the absence of a proactive word to express nonviolence is that not only the political establishment but the cultural and intellectual establishments of all societies have viewed nonviolence as a marginal point of view, a fanciful rejection of one of societyʼs key components, a repudiation of something important but not a serious force in itself.” In thinking about this statement, I wonder, “Why is this?” Why are we so afraid of not fighting, of not engaging in violent response to our problems, of pursuing ends through alternative means? One answer might be that it is much harder to make peace than to make war; I have heard numerous military officials say that. Also, nonviolence requires extensive creativity and more challenging, restraining the very human nature that the teens alluded to: our first response to anger, pain or fear has always been violent, for that is primal, a part of our very nature. We are animals at the core, wired to defend ourselves when threatened. Yet, we know that we are human animals, which is wholly different, as we are also wired with higher intelligence, capacity to reason and the ability to overcome our basest desires. Pirke Avot teaches wisely, “Who is mighty? One who can overcome the evil impulse.” This teaching brings as its prooftext a verse from Proverbs 16:32: “One who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, one who rules over his/her spirit than one who conquers a city.” As with many proverbs, they sound good on paper, and we laud them as core values, but do we actually follow them? Do we do enough to build societies and cultures that adhere to these very principles? There was a recent cartoon I saw in which a huge, devilish looking monster labeled ʻwarʼ came to the 50th birthday party of the peace symbol bearing a skull with one candle in it. The caption read, “Sorry I didnʼt have time to bake a cake, but I havenʼt had a break from work since 3,000 B.C.E!” That pretty much sums it up!

What Dr. King was trying to accomplish was the promotion of equality, justice and equity for his people but through the unconventional means of nonviolence. His study of Gandhi and Thoreau before him, led King to understand, at the core of his being, that violent attempts to achieve a desired goal, while common and basic to humanity, were not the most effective. This is what scared society most, one could argue, about his message. It was bad enough that he was trying to win equal rights for people whom society had considered not fully human (remember the 3/5s rule), but he was doing so without taking up arms, without resorting to violence. When one doesn’t fight back, they are seen as weak. Yet, nonviolence is not pacifism. It is an active response to oppression or violence which doesn’t involve returning violence. And all of our texts seem to indicate the famous aphorism, “violence begets violence” but we have had a hard time living out these words. Hence, “Assassinʼs Creed” is one of the most popular video games. We find violence exciting, daring, exhilarating, even as we deplore it and condemn it. And in wondering how we might understand the human nature side of this violent strand in our make-up, I stumbled upon an amazing sermon given by a rabbi in 1906 on Shabbat Hagadol, the Shabbat immediately preceding Pesah.

Rabbi Aaron Samuel Tamaret was born in 1869 in a village near Maltsh, Grodno, to poor and pious parents. His father, an inn-keeper, was a grandson of the Maltsher Rabbi, Reb Arele. While still very young Tamaret showed a marked enthusiasm for religious studies as well as for the natural surroundings of his small village. Encouraged by his father, he was soon renowned as the “Maltsher ilui (prodigy).” Completing his studies in Maltsh, he later studied at Kovno and then spent two years in the Volozhin Yeshivah, where he again excelled. Married at the age of seventeen to the daughter of the Mileitchitzer Rabbi, he assumed his father-in-law’s post upon the latter’s death in 1893. Rabbi Tamaret was a well-known thinker of his time on such issues as “means-end relation, intellectual versus natural evil, freedom, self-defense and nonviolence, economic justice, modern nationalism, and the focus of them all - modern war. His various writings are eloquent and impassioned treatments of these central issues, and his anticipations of Gandhian theory from a purely Jewish point of view are especially noteworthy.” What I found fascinating about this sermon, titled “Liberty” was his ability to speak about the pain and suffering of our people in the context of teaching about nonviolence. And, he makes the case that national violence, namely war, is a false reality that we accept based on false premises of the mind. He teaches that there are acts of violence which are of the body, like that of Cain and Abel, which occur in a moment of passion, a moment of anger, jealousy or rage, but not with the mind. These are acts that we might not be able to fully control. However, acts of greater violence that are justified and accepted by whole nations, which interestingly he said started in Egypt with the Pharaoh, take formation in the mind, with the intellect that is tricked into believing that this is acceptable. Listen to his words:

THESE TWO KINDS OF EVIL are not to be confused, for they differ basically. The plain acts of violence stemming from the body alone, without intellectual justifications, are deeply planted in the nature of man; for man does, after all, covet that which is not his, and he does become angry with those who refuse to perform his will. But those acts of violence abetted by the intelligence, that is, by deception and deceit, do not have their roots in the nature of man. For by nature the spirit of man aspires toward truth and honesty, and falsehood and deception are artificial and unnatural creations. In the words of Ecclesiastes (7:29): “Behold, this only have I found, that God made man upright; but they have sought out many contrivances.”

How incredible that a rabbi in the early 20th century was talking in this language! What is he saying? I believe he is teaching that personal actions of violence, which stem from inner anger or other attributes that we lose control over, are within our makeup as humans, visceral behaviors that we must try to keep in check. However, actions of violence that stem from the intellectual side of ourselves, namely our mind, are only justified through lying and deceiving ourselves, and others, that we are supposed to be acting this way for a greater good. Rabbi Tamaret is very concerned that the Torah, like other wonderful creations, will be corrupted for usage in justifying violence and oppression. Rabbi Tamaret witnessed the evil pogroms of the late 19th century, and surely knew about the religious persecutions that had taken place under the rubric of “doing Godʼs holy work,” such as the Inquisition and the Crusades. Yet, he argues that these are misrepresentations of the texts by conniving minds, by human beings interested in their own greed and power. Rabbi Tamaret says it best when he teaches:

“In a word, this fraudulent evil, this evil justified by the mind — political evil — has become the greatest destroyer on the face of the earth. It is the source of the worst catastrophes which have befallen men since the beginning of the “improvement” of the intellect. For what have we seen? A steady diminution of private, natural crimes of individual violence, but an enormous increase in fraudulent murders: for hypocrisy has united whole nations and entire societies in the pursuit of weaker ones.”

So, how are we to fight against the falsehoods of the mind, the falsehoods that say violence and destruction are the way to power, the way to achievement, the way to peace? Simply put, Rabbi Tamaret, with premonitions of Gandhi and King, says, in reference to the Israelites in Egypt “Constantly seeing the violence and cruelty of their Egyptian masters, they themselves began to esteem the power of the fist and to grant it the right and privilege of persecuting and crushing their own oppressed.” By becoming enamored with the fist, the Israelites gave the Egyptians power over them. By believing that violence was the only way, their oppression only increased. The Tosafot on Bava Kamma 23a offers a powerful corrective in dealing with violence in our world when it teaches, “One should concern themselves more that they not injure others than that they not be injured.” Rabbi Tamaret understands this to mean, “For when a person tries to keep watch that his fist not injure others, by that very act he enthrones in the world the God of truth and righteousness and adds power to the kingdom of justice; and it is precisely this power which will defend him against injury by others.” That is the essence of nonviolence, plain and simple. When we become more concerned with not injuring others, we will heal the world of violence. We are too afraid to believe this deep truth, but it is the heart of what is missing in our world. Fear forces us to react with violence, anger forces us to react with violence, and pain forces us to react with violence. Yet, these, according to this great rabbi, and the great teachers of peace in our history, are false teachings of the mind, tricking us into believing that they are justified. We glorify violence and then we believe it is the only way to respond. We all have both sides in us, violent and peaceful, hateful and loving. This Pesah, as we celebrate our freedom, let us rather glorify nonviolence, compassion, love and justice — maybe after 3,000 years of doing this, we will see a different way of being in the world and the most popular game will be the “Loverʼs Creed” rather than the “Assassinʼs Creed.” Is it possible? Dr. King believed it was, and so did Rabbi Tamaret. Could we?

Shabbat shalom!

Who Decides Who is a Jew?

Fri, 7 Mar 2008 20:00:39 -0800

The Talmud, in tractate Eruvin 13b, discusses the famous disagreements of the schools of Hillel and Shammai. The rival schools were in such disagreement that the Torah was on the verge being divided into two Torahs. The Talmud relates that a certain dispute ended when a heavenly voice was heard saying “These and these are the words of the living God, but the halacha is according to Hillel.” Now if both points of view are acceptable, why then did God declare the law to be like Hillel? The Talmud answers that when Hillel presented his position in the house of learning, he would always mention Shammaiʼs position first. He was so ʻconsiderate and modestʼ that when addressing students, he would begin by discussing the alternative position to his own, and only after showing its plausibility would he defend his own opinion. He never taught Torah under the pretense of possessing the sole truth; he was aware that two opposing opinions might both be plausible and meaningful. (Rabbi David Hartman, A Heart of Many Rooms, pg. 149)

I have heard the story of Hillel and Shammai before many times, but I had never heard this reasoning as to why the law was according to Hillel. Did you follow what the Talmud said? It was not because Hillel was deemed right by God, but rather it was because Hillel valued his rivalʼs position, and when arguing a point of law, argued his opponentʼs first, not to discredit it, but rather to prove its plausibility, even if he was going to disagree with it. Hillel was a modest and humble lawmaker, a human being who understood that there was no way to determine ultimate truth, so even in disagreements over serious matters, one must always consider and understand the views of oneʼs opponent. In todayʼs world, how we long for more lawmakers, thinkers and religious leaders like the great Hillel.

This past Sundayʼs New York Times magazine included an article by Gershon Gorenberg, a former editor of the Jerusalem Report and author of books about current affairs in Israel, where he explored the nature of the Israeli Orthodox Rabbinate and their control over all matters of religious affairs for the State of Israel. The article chronicled a few different stories of people needing to try and prove their Jewishness to the government sanctioned rabbinical court in order to have a Jewish wedding ceremony. These situations stem from the historical nature of the religious parties being given government power in the establishment of the state in 1948. This odd marriage between religion and government had begun decades earlier when Theodore Hertzl, the founder of modern Zionism, “drew the religious Mizrachi movement into the Zionist cause by promising autonomy to Orthodox rabbis in a Jewish state.” (Jew vs. Jew, Samuel Freedman, pg. 75) And sure enough, when Ben-Gurion established independence, he granted rabbinical courts sole jurisdiction over marriage and burial, provided state support for religious schools and permitted military exemptions for yeshiva students. As Samuel Freedman argues in his book, Jew vs. Jew, “In part, Ben-Gurion was practicing smart coalition politics; in part, he was acting on the belief that Orthodoxy would soon wither away.” Obviously, that didnʼt happen! And so, when the Knesset unanimously adopted the Law of Return in 1950, which guaranteed all Jews the right to immigrate to Israel and receive immediate citizenship, it deliberately avoided defining Jewish identity by any religious measure. This, of course, would become a major source of tension and division, one whoʼs consequences we are still dealing with today.

A later amendment to the Law of Return caused more problems when it added issues of conversion. Whose conversions would the rabbinate accept? In 1987, in attempt to keep his coalition together, which often entails catering the religious parties of the ultra-Orthodox, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir attempted to introduce an amendment to the Law of Return that put final approval for all conversions under the authority of Chief Rabbinate. It failed two votes in the Knesset and eventually was dropped. Later prime ministers have attempted similar bills, but none have passed. To date, the rabbinate has to accept all conversions done outside of Israel as valid. Inside Israel is another story. However, the stories in the New York Times article didnʼt involve converts, but rather born Jews who were still forced to “prove” that they were Jewish. And these were Israelis.

One of the key issues here is that there is no such thing as civil marriage in Israel. One can only be married in a religious ceremony and everyone must register with the rabbinate, which is controlled by the Orthodox, and in recent years, increasing ultra-Orthodox, rabbis. One of many striking quotes from the article states, “in recent years, the stateʼs Chief Rabbinate and its branches in each Israeli city have adopted an institutional attitude of skepticism toward the Jewish identity of those who enter its doors. And the type of proof that the rabbinate prefers is peculiarly unsuited to Jewish life in the United States. The Israeli government seeks the political and financial support of American Jewry. It welcomes American Jewish immigrants. Yet the rabbinate, one arm of the state, increasingly treats American Jews as doubtful cases: not Jewish until proved so.” This is a far cry from the original Law of Return, which allowed anyone born of one Jewish grandparent to be allowed to immigrate to Israel. What is at stake here, and in other places around the world, including a current incident in London where a well-known Jewish school has denied enrollment to a student whose mother was converted by a Conservative rabbi, is that the fate of deciding “who is a Jew” has been co-opted by the ultra-Orthodox who, in some cases, are not even accepting Orthodox conversions. The memory of Hillel. and his wisdom of seeing the plausibility in all sides of an argument, has been buried in the grave of ultimate truth, a virtue that the Talmud didnʼt accept.

What we are dealing with is trust, or lack of trust. According to Rabbi Seth Farber, an American-born Orthodox rabbi working in Israel to help Jews identity their past genealogical connections so they can overcome the hurdles to be accepted as Jews for marriage or burial, the burden of proof for the rabbinate is so high, “eighty percent of American Federation leaders probably wouldnʼt be able to reach the bar.” And these are Jews born of a Jewish mother, some even practicing, religiously observant members of the community. We have to ask ourselves, “what is going on here?” Israelis, who are Jewish enough to be citizens, serve in the army and die for their country, are not Jewish enough to get married? How can we allow one small segment of the Jewish world to determine the fate of the majority of the Jewish world? This is causing rifts within the Israeli society, and even more troublesome for us, it is causing serious pain and anger between Israel and the Diaspora Jewish community. Since the majority of Jews living in the Diaspora, and certainly here in America, are non- Orthodox or secular Jews, we are becoming more and more alienated from the very homeland that we love and cherish. Kol yisrael aravim zeh laʼzeh, the great Talmudic ideal that “all Jews are responsible for one another,” has morphed into “only Jews who meet a certain standard are responsible for one another.” As Prof. Menachem Friedman of Bar-Ilan University put it in the article, in reference to the attitude of most ultra-Orthodox rabbis “if you donʼt keep the Torah and commandments, okay, so I excluded you. You werenʼt [really] a complete Jew.” If this continues, and it seems like it will because of the underlying principle that these ultra-Orthodox rabbis are members of political parties that occupy needed seats in the Knesset to form a coalition government, we are headed for a real train wreck within the Jewish community. Thirty years ago, according to Gorenberg, the religious parties had five of the 120 seats in the government; now it is up to 18 seats and growing. The more power they wield, the more extreme the decisions are becoming.

So, you might be asking, “how does this affect us? We donʼt live in Israel.” While that might be true, the entire Zionist enterprise was meant to offer us a safe haven against those who thought any small aspect of our Jewishness was enough to persecute us. Now, if getting into Israel is so difficult, what is the point? This was seen with the influx of the Russian immigrants, which is where much of the distrust began emerging because of the lack of documentation of these fellow Jews, our brothers and sisters fleeing some of the worst tyranny of the 20th century. And, we also must think of our children and grandchildren, some of whom might wish to make aliyah in the future. Will they be Jewish enough? Surely intermarriage and patrilineal descent play into this, and we must wrestle with these realities, but shutting Jews out should never be the answer. Last weekend, during our wonderful scholar-in-residence Shabbat with Rabbi Richard Levy, we got into a discussion of Jewish identity and the differences between Reform and Conservative Jews. While there were real differences, and while we need to make serious and informed choices as to how we identify ourselves, the underlying fact is that we are all still Jews, we are all still part of our large, extended family. That fact is becoming less evident in our relationship to Israel, and this is a serious and painful reality. How do we rectify it? One way is to be supporting the Conservative and Reform movements in Israel who are fighting daily on our behalf for recognition and acceptance as rabbis and Jews in their own country. It is an uphill battle, to be sure, but they are on the front lines and we can help them with our support, visiting them when in Israel and encouraging their efforts. To that end, we are once again looking to partner with a Masorti congregation, coming together as sister communities in dialogue and support. Be on the look out for that. As we celebrate Israelʼs 60th birthday and all of the amazing advancements and achievements we can be so proud of, we will continue to work for a more balanced, respectful, inclusive and loving religious leadership. One way that this might come about is to take the religious life of Israel out of the government structure so that it can thrive without the pressures of politics. Israel, like other countries attempting to live with a religious overlay, will have to find a way to fight against the extremism on the one hand, and the move toward secularism on the other. We donʼt want to be Saudi Arabia and we donʼt want to be France either. Turkey was a good model until recently when the delicate balance between democracy and religious values has been upended. The struggle will continue.

And so, I return to the Talmud I began with. The legacy of Hillel is one that strives to see even those with whom we disagree as human beings with valid, plausible and respected points of view. That trust, that respect, that desire to understand is what is lacking in our modern discourse, including our personal Jewish discourse, not to mention the greater world struggle at large. I call on and ask my Orthodox and ultra- Orthodox brothers and sisters, whom I value as human beings created in the image of God, to see me, you and all members of the Jewish family with the eyes of the Torah: we are all created bʼtzelem elohim, in the image of God. Return to the table of civil discourse, sit with us and share your views, donʼt shut us out and hide behind the wall of extremism and fear. We love Judaism, identify as Jews and strongly support the State of Israel. We might disagree on matters of halacha, interpretation of Jewish law, but we shouldnʼt disagree on matters of human dignity and respect. In this, the halacha, the law, follows Hillel.

Shabbat shalom!

Making a Sanctuary for God in Our Lives

Fri, 8 Feb 2008 20:00:37 -0800

How many of us here find God’s presence here in this sanctuary? How many of us find God’s presence more in other places? In searching for holiness, we seek God in many places, many venues, many moments. Some places are easier than others to discover and commune with the Divine. Listen to the words of the Torah this week: “V’asu li mikdash, v’shachanti b’tocham. Make for me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them.” (Ex. 25:8) The striking point of this verse is that it does not say, “make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell in it.” Rather, the sanctuary was a fountain of holiness so that God’s presence could dwell among the people. In order for God to find a place among us, we need to create sanctuaries of kedushah, of holiness; through our commitment to God’s law and love, we find the proper motivation to create societies based on the very holiness we experience. Our world should be modeled on the sanctuary, a place where compassion, justice, peace and love are the centerpieces of the foundation. Our world should be about building bridges, not tearing them down. It should be about creating links to one another, not setting up barriers between us. Our lives should be dedicated to the idea of building social sanctuaries, dwelling places for all people and God.

Now, more than ever, we are reminded that the global world is not only interconnected, but interdependent. If we are to create a truly global and just community, the social sanctuary of the world must operate with a premise of shared benefits, responsibilities, and values. I recognize that it is hard to maintain this view in light of the fact that certain parts of the world don’t maintain the same values. The Kotzer Rebbe understood this challenge when he said, in commenting on this verse, “It says ‘asu’ meaning to work/make, because God’s presence cannot dwell among us without our hard work. It is not an easy task, but rather takes great and sustained effort.” (Iturei Torah) In my mind, all people deserve the chance to experience life from the most positive and equal playing field as possible, and this requires effort on all our parts. The children of Sderot, Darfur, Venezuela, Kenya, Gaza, New Orleans and Pasadena deserve a present and future without fear, death, oppression and hopelessness. The children of our world are at the mercy of the adults who control their destiny; we owe our children, all children, a brighter future. As Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states…Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” We challenge ourselves to be leaders and find leaders who can build what we desire.

“Make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.” A social sanctuary that functions on shared benefits, shared values and shared responsibilities must have room for opinions, beliefs, but most importantly, for people with whom we disagree but still respect. In order to do that most effectively, we need to be willing to listen to others, argue civilly and not attack the person but the issue. We can never know what is possible if don’t communicate. This is precisely what we will be doing on Monday night when we meet with Rev. Ed Bacon of All-Saints Church to share our concerns about an upcoming conference his church is hosting, a conference many of us fear will be more destructive to Israel than helpful towards making peace and reconciliation. I cherish my friendship with Rev. Bacon and am glad that we are building a bridge to greater understanding and mutual concern together. Bridges must be created to allow for the power of love to supplant the power of human dissension and discrimination. We hear a message that love and compassion can change the world for the better. This is the essence of Leviticus 19, the Holiness Code, with its quintessential verse, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Hillel thought that this was the essence of the Torah, the whole Torah in one half verse. This is a message that is the foundation of the social sanctuary I believe we are meant to create. For God to dwell among us, we need to manifest love and affection between us. Our bridges to a holier and more peaceful world cannot allow hatred to derail our process.

Any social sanctuary that we create will be for naught if our earth is being destroyed. While some might be guilty of destruction, we are all responsible for caring for and protecting the planet. “Make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.” Join our greening efforts here at PJTC and in your own homes; together we must make the Earth a sanctuary of renewable and sustainable energy. We are called to shomrei adamah, protecting and guarding the Earth in the very opening of Genesis, when God gives us the responsibility for this task in the Garden of Eden.

And finally, let us prevent economic barriers from eroding the common values that have guided our society for hundreds of years. All people deserve the right to earn an honest wage, to have access to affordable and decent healthcare, to have the opportunity to save for their retirement, to work in a clean and safe environment.

“Make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them,” teaches me that God stands up for the oppressed and destitute; that God stands with the poor and needy; that God calls to justice those who advance themselves at the expense of others. “Make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.” In this important and critical year in our country, let us all try and develop a world-view that sees people as interrelated, not just interconnected; that sees all people as created in the image of God, with hopes, dreams and needs just like all of us; that sees all people and all moments as opportunities for building bridges to unite not divide, to embody, not dismember, and to love, not hate. The great Rebbe Nachman of Bratzlov talked about bridges when he said, “The whole world is a very narrow bridge; and the main message is not to fear.” Let this week serve as a springboard for creating a more peaceful, open-minded and compassionate world. Whether it is in this sanctuary, in your home, on the mountain, in the valleys, in the supermarket, on the freeway or in your heart, let God’s presence dwell among us by making an opening for God to enter. Our tradition teaches that if we open our hearts just enough for the head of pin, God can drive a chariot of love right on in. Let this week serve as a new beginning, one that creates a social sanctuary with room for all.

Shabbat shalom!