What makes a person a mensch? It is more than being a good person. It requires being there for the other in his/her time of need, even dropping everything you are doing to be fully present for the other. This is extremely difficult with the myriad tasks we must do in any given day. It can be challenging to always be present and one is more likely to sin (“miss the mark”) by having a quick reply to a situation that requires further discussion or listening. Alternatively, one is likely to convey judgment in body language as well as tuning others out precisely when they need a listening ear. In such cases teshuva (repentance) is needed through an apology. As we know, apologizing is not always as easy as meets the eye.

In her piece in the NY Times,[1] Jane Brody writes “Most people say ‘I’m sorry’ many times a day for a host of trivial affronts – accidentally bumping into someone or failing to hold open a door. These apologies are easy and usually readily accepted, often with a response like, ‘No problem.’

However, when ‘I’m sorry’ are the words needed to right truly hurtful words, acts, or inaction, they can be the hardest ones to utter. And even when an apology is offered with the best of intentions, it can be seriously undermined by the way in which it is worded-especially if it laden with defensiveness or excuses. Instead of eradicating the emotional pain the affront caused, a poorly worded apology can result in lasting anger and antagonism and undermine an important relationship.”

I want to add to Brody’s comments that there are also times when sorry does not cut it, when it is something that easily rolls off our tongues without any effort or heartache. The art of the apology involves also knowing when something more is needed than an apology or when an email apology is insufficient and one needs to pick up the phone or (harder in an age of COVID-19) get together for coffee to look the other in the eyes.

Brody continues, “I admit to a lifetime of challenges when it comes to apologizing, especially when I thought I was right or misunderstood or that the offended party was being overly sensitive. But I recently discovered that the need for an apology is less about me than the person who, for whatever reason, is offended by something I said or did or failed to do, regardless of my intentions. I also learned that a sincere apology can be powerful medicine with surprising value for the giver as well as the recipient.”

If you would like to read more of Brody’s article it is from the New York Times on January 30, 2017. However, I would like to take a moment to discuss the implications of this for where we are at in the Jewish calendar. We just had the entire month of Elul leading up to Rosh Hashanah where we were commanded to do Heshbon HaNefesh (soul searching), delving deep into our souls and seeing where we fell short and the unfinished business which remains. Turning inward and admitting one’s faults is most difficult work. After today, we have 1 week of repentance to apologize to those we have wronged and ask for forgiveness-not in a trite, generic way but for specific things we have done wrong through our own ‘soul searching.’ In an age of COVID-19 I believe this is harder to do because we do not physically see one another. It is true that we can meet via FaceTime or Zoom but that is not the same as a face-to-face conversation. This year we must be especially mindful of the need not only to apologize but also to find the best medium, as face-to-face is not available for many of us.

How do we find the best words-especially when loose lips might have gotten us into trouble? Only through thoughtful introspection can we hope to do so. We also need to hope that those whom we offended are gracious enough to ‘hit the reset button,’ to acknowledge that what was done, though hurtful, is in the past and that we both need to move on to create a new beginning together. I have come to learn that things are often not as bad as we make them out to be, that very few times are the bridges between ourselves and others actually burnt to the ground.

          As we continue to embrace New Year 5781 in these 10 days of repentance, I hope that we will keep this in mind when we look at what we wish we could have done better in our pasts and look forward to how we can strive to improve. Let us not forget to live in the present, to be mindful of where we are at now. We cannot change our pasts nor is our future set to occur in exactly the way we anticipate. I hope that when we apologize, we will genuinely mean it rather than giving a habitual reaction of “lip service”-in such cases it might be better to say nothing at all. Ken Yhi Ratzon, may it be our will to strive to improve in our responses to these challenging situations. Let us enter into the new year with an open heart rather than a closed off spirit, believing that we can make the differences we need to in interpersonal relationships with others, and in so doing may we need to apologize far less in the year 5781.

---

[1] Jane Brody, “The Right Way to Say I’m Sorry,” NY Times, January 30, 2017.

https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?v=680359209238821&ref=watch_permalink

       I don’t like uncertainty. My natural orientation is to prefer that things be clear-cut, black-and-white. We know that our world is one of shades of gray. We do not know why G-d brought COVID-19 to us, when there will be a vaccine, why so many are dying. We could go crazy trying to answer every permutation that these questions raise.

          I have learned a lot from working with Rabbi Mitch Chefitz as my Hevruta. He taught me early on in our studies that the goal is transformation rather than information. I have been blessed with an excellent memory and the ability to quickly learn and process information, yet he raised the question of how well that serves me/how useful is it? He has been teaching me through mystical literature how to become transformed by a text in a life-changing way. In one of our conversations he shared something that will stick with me forever: anxiety is the opposite of faith. In my words, if one is so worried about possible outcomes or catastrophizes worst-case scenarios, s/he will not have the faith necessary to sustain him/herself through the most difficult of times.

          When our world is turned upside down, as it was with the onset of COVID-19 becoming a pandemic in March, many of us were like deer in the headlights. In a matter of days our entire calendar for months was erased, every event cancelled. Some of us did not know when or how to close-up shop, or we did it (like me) thinking we would be back in business as normal by Pesach. Without knowing if/when there will be a successful vaccine/vaccination, we have learned to live in an age of COVID-19, taking precautions such as limiting our travels, not frequenting public places, and wearing face masks. Some of us have not hugged grandchildren who were recently born or seen family members or friends in months, and we recognize that it could last for a year or two.  We are frightened and vulnerable, not knowing what the future has in store for us.

          One prayer that can help us access our feelings of uncertainty is Unetaneh Tokef. In the beautiful rendition that Cantor Levy will recite, we learn the following: מי יחיה ומי ימות, מי בקצו ומי לא בקצו, “Who shall live and who shall die: who in his/her proper time and who not in his/her proper time.” These words should cause us to quake in our boots (appropriate feelings for TODAY, the Day of Judgment) as many of us know people taken well before their time from COVID-19. I just buried someone taken by COVID-19. How do we respond to this time of darkness, a time which can easily give way to depression, to throwing up our hands and feeling ‘Why does it matter: there’s nothing we can do?’

          Rabbi Fred Klein taught in his class “Pandemics: Practical, Emotional and Spiritual Responses from the Jewish Tradition” that the Jewish response comes from a Talmudic phrase later inserted into the end of Unetaneh Tokef: ותשובה, ותפילה, וצדקה מעבירין את רע הגזרה, repentance, prayer and justice can alter the severity of the decree. Repentance/return, the idea that we can control ourselves and our responses to any given situation, is huge. Prayer, the concept that we can connect with a force greater than ourselves in a full relationship, whether having gratitude for our bounty or lashing out in anger, is also ours to do. Justice, how we treat others in the proper way, is also a form of purposeful action for us to take. While we do not know our fate, all these actions are in our control. Similarly taking heed to the sound of the Shofar, which we will do tomorrow afternoon, that’s in our power. Does the Shofar arouse us to action or is it just a nice musical touch that comes and fades? Our response in these avenues is completely in our hands.

          Let us pray on this Rosh Hashanah each of us will strive to live a life filled with meaning and growth. I hope we will appreciate how despite not being able to congregate in person, we have new ways of connecting with one another in this virtual age. As Rabbi Chefitz said at my installation, we are now in 5G Judaism, and it is still in the process of formation. Our Judaism is no longer centered on a building, on gathering in person in a community or even on a Rabbi or Cantor. With our ability to see livestreamed services in Brazil, Uganda, Israel or Los Angeles, to have our souls transformed by a cantor in Wichita or to take a class from a rabbi in Salem or to watch either 3 days later on YouTube, our Judaism metamorphosizes from what we knew before into something in formation. While we will never know how the world works and will have to live with uncertainty, one thing which is guaranteed to be in our control is how we respond to any given situation. Let us consider all the options and strive to always make a wise, thoughtful, well-formulated response rather than one which is impulsive or erratic. In so doing, may we gain strength to help ourselves through this time of plague and darkness and to give ourselves the resolve to continue, one step at a time.

In just a short while, we will be reciting Unetaneh Tokef, prescribed to Rabbi Amnon of Mainz. As Rabbi Fred Klein taught me, Amnon means faith, Emunah. Amnon, who might not have written Unetaneh Tokef but who certainly lived its message, was the epitome of faith, looking at a world of antisemitism and spitting in its face, saying “I will continue on!” We need to do the same, to ensure that no matter what befalls us in 5781, and how unfair it might be, we will continue on with devotion and with faith in a better future for ourselves and for our community. We CANNOT, MUST NOT throw in the towel and give up. Faith is dependent on being at peace with whatever comes our way, striving to feel גם זה לטובה, this is also for the good, perhaps only to learn from it and to strive to do better next time. כן יהי רצון, may it be our will to strive to engage in this endeavor to the best of our abilities.

          My, what a year it has been. Who would have thought last September we would be at over 200,000 Americans dead from COVID? Who would have thought we would be in a recession with millions of people out of work? Who would have thought we would have an election whose legitimacy is already being questioned over a month before it occurs? Who would have thought that Israel would be shut down a second time, just before the Hagim?

          We cannot change these realities and we ignore them at our peril. However, we can acknowledge the heroes who shape our world. We are always in awe of our Health Care First Responders, who daily put their lives at risk to care for the most vulnerably ill. Thank you. We also need to be in awe of parents of young children who in addition to working, now serve as their children’s teachers, tech gurus and all-around helpers 24/7 without in person school. We need to be grateful for older siblings who have even more responsibility in taking care of their younger brothers and sisters. We need to be mindful of people in the sandwich generation who while taking care of their teenage children are also the caretakers for their aging parents who increasingly have needs that must be met. We need to be thankful for grocery workers who put their lives at work for very little (if any) hazard pay. The mail men and women who deliver with far less funding and resources to do so. The retail shop owners or restaurant workers who work just as hard-if not harder-for fewer customers and who struggle every day to stay in business. The sanitary engineers who have a growing amount of trash that they need to collect. These people are heroes too. If anyone feels left out, let me reassure you that each of us is a hero during this unprecedented, crazy time.

          What should we as heroes do to enter 5781 in the best way possible? First, we should recognize all the extra things we have taken on to adapt to COVID-19. As human beings, each of us has a limited bandwidth-we cannot exceed it, or we risk burnout. While we might feel we are “not doing enough,” many of us are working as hard as we ever have, and we must maintain balance and stability. Second if we feel overwhelmed or at risk of burnout, we need to slow down so that we can be there for those we care about most: our loved ones and our family members. A congregant told me last week that he plays “multi-dimensional chess” and can juggle all the balls in the air. That is great; I cannot do that. When I try to respond to an insurmountable amount of emails in record time, someone gets hurt. Either it is my daughter who I am supposed to be watching during that time or it is a congregant whose email I rushed through without a second thought, moving on to the next. Each of us needs to be aware of our limits and with Gevurah (wise boundaries) we need to know when to slow down and take a step back. Third and most importantly, we need to find time to be “human beings” rather than “human doings.” Many of us (myself included) have an abundant Zerizut, energetic response, or “urge to get things done.” That is great but when our urge to accomplish greatly supersedes our ability to be present with whatever is going on, it is problematic. We need Hodayah, gratitude for what is our reality currently is in the world, even if we wish it were otherwise. Without acceptance for what is and recognition of what is not in our control, we cannot succeed with what we must do on a given day.

          How does this connect to our heroes? Our heroes, who I am gracious for every day, have limits as to what they can do. They had to adapt to homeschooling their children, talking to elderly parents on the phone rather than through daily or weekly visits, making ends meet on far less income, working from Zoom with all its wonder and all its technical difficulties, being called in to an emergency response at a moment’s notice much more frequently than they were in the past. Our heroes, each and every one of us, did this with serenity and grace. Each of us has been there for one another at this time when the thing we value most, coming together as a community and a congregational family, has been taken away from us. We need to appreciate one another, how our lives have been drastically transformed in these 6 plus months, and how while we are struggling, we have not thrown in the towel and given up.

          What we should learn as we begin New Year 5781 is that we should never take the people around us for granted. We need to be mindful and grateful for who they are and all that they do for us. Let us understand that no matter what we do, we need to recognize its importance. Those things we take for granted, as “our responsibility” but are extra strains on ourselves and our families are things for which we need to give ourselves a pat on the back. I hope that everyone listening in recognizes how complicated our lives have become but also understand all that we have done to adapt to a COVID-filled world. Let us not be hard on ourselves for the times we have fallen short but instead recognize that we are heroes to our families and to our communities. Ken Yhi Ratzon, may it be our will to do so. Shabbat Shalom v’Shana Tova.

drive.google.com/file/d/1iXFlh5Vbov3xT8jlHPmOZuDdjElAld87/view

         I will never forget September 11, 2001. I was leaving first period at  Nicolet High School, my senior year, when I saw televisions in the hallway of B-wing. “That’s odd,” I thought. I turned to watch along with many others as the second plane hit the World Trade Center. I froze-I had never been to New York at that stage of my life but I knew something terrible had occurred.

         Since that time I lived in New York for 10 years out of a 13 year period, 5 on the Upper West Side and 5 in Jericho, Long Island. I’ve often considered myself a good luck charm: barely missing the devastating effects of Superstorm Sandy, and devastating Tropical Storm Isaias in New York; the shooting of Gabi Giffords in Tucson; Hurricane Irma and the Marjorie Stoneman Douglas school shooting in Miami and Parkland. However, one’s luck eventually runs out-what does not run out is people being there for one another. No matter what natural or man-made disasters come our way, we stand together, tall and strong. Jericho lost Glenn Winuck, who went into work on September 11, 2001. He was one of the 2,977 who were murdered on that day. I know so many who were “near misses,” coming in late that day, and have heard of others who were in the “wrong place at the wrong time.”

         My first year in Jericho I asked that Craig Taubman’s “Holy Ground” be played for Friday Night Live, our musical Shabbat service, and we ran out of time. We have enough time this evening for this powerful piece. Just as Moses was on holy ground at the site of the burning bush, so too is each one of us on holy ground here at Bet Shira Congregation. So many of you lived through Hurricane Andrew, whose 28^th anniversary was just over 2 weeks ago. You remember what happened those High Holy Days and with the Bat Mitzvah and wedding scheduled that weekend. Yet you didn’t give up and get out of dodge; you stayed and rebuilt this holy congregation. As we approach High Holy Days 5781, let us remember that each of us stands on holy ground and that each of us is holy-a force of good with the power to make a difference in our congregational family, our community and the world.

While I have not posted in a month, I have been attuned to the issues facing our beloved country, one in which I am proud to be a citizen. When I first learned of Kenosha man Jacob Blake being shot several times in the back in front of his children and being paralyzed from the waist down, I got chills down my shoulders and back. Kenosha was 45 minutes from where I grew up and I remember going to a Bar Mitzvah there during my elementary school years. While Kenosha is a whole different world from the Glendale, Wisconsin of my childhood, hearing about the shooting hit me hard, just as George Floyd’s murder did three months before and just Ahmad Arbury and Breanna Taylor’s murders did before that. It is telling about a wrong in our country which we need to find a way to make right-the systemic racism that we are facing.

While I have background in Community Organizing, I have not used it to its fullest potential in my rabbinical career up to this point. The closest I have come is serving on the board of Humane Borders in Tucson, Arizona and going on water runs in the desert to ensure migrants had full water stations during their trek through the hot Sonoran Desert. Since becoming a solo rabbi I have not gotten involved in the same way, for organizing constituents to have large-scale Actions is a political act, and I am a people pleaser by nature. I can no longer stay silent. Rabbi Shai Held reminded me last week at our Miami Board of Rabbis High Holy Day Sermon Seminar that there is no such thing as an innocent bystander in Judaism; silence by its very nature indicates consent with the status quo.

I was very proud of my Milwaukee Bucks, who I have been watching in the NBA playoffs, being the first team to officially boycott a game in protest of the treatment of Jacob Blake and of police brutality primarily towards African Americans. It is time that we demand change, and I am proud to be working with Steve Gutow and Miami Rabbis on ways to organize around police reform as well as a related issue of fighting gun violence.

Please note that while this has become a political issue, I view it as a human rights issue. I have congregants who admirably serve as police officers, putting their lives at risk each and every day. They kneeled along with the Miami police in solidarity with peaceful protestors against the murder of George Floyd, a courageous act that we should laud and which I will remind my congregation about on Yom Kippur. Just as I viewed defending migrants as a human rights issue on minimizing deaths, so too do I view defending the most vulnerable citizens, who are too often judged by the color of their skin, as a human rights issue on minimizing deaths. Kohelet teaches t(3:1) “to everything there is a season,” and this is the time to take action and stand in solidarity.

I know some will not see eye-to-eye with my views, but as they come from the heart and pen went to paper (or pixels were typed :)) in a steady flowing way, I know that I am saying what is true for me. As we continue in Elul and approach the High Holy Days, I hope that each of us will take action in ways that are meaningful for us and that we will work with every fiber in our beings to make this world a better place. May it be our will to do so.

Upon going to Rome during my year in Israel, my dad said “You have to go see arco tito.” Little did i know that arco tito, the Arch of Titus, was located just outside one of the 7 wonders of the world, the Roman Colosseum. Engraved on the arch, one sees Roman soldiers carrying off booty from the Temple, including the Menorah, and Jews being driven into exile. Upon visiting, I thought ‘Why is one of the most humiliating moments of our people’s history located in such a prominent place in Rome? Why instead can’t we celebrate the continuation of the Jewish people and remember the downfall of the Roman Empire?’

On Thursday we began 3 weeks of mourning, starting with the Roman breach of Jerusalem and ending with Tisha B’Av, when the Second Temple was destroyed. During the summer, when many people are celebrating at the beach or on vacation, we are supposed to enter a period of mourning, not cutting one’s hair or shaving, going to concerts, weddings, and as we enter the final 9 days not eating meat or drinking wine. Some do not even take a warm shower or do laundry. While some are inevitably easier to do this year during the plague that is coronavirus, as a people we communally warm the destruction of our holiest site and our exile from Judea. It is a very difficult time for our people, which makes it all the more insensitive that an arch to celebrate our defeat is prominently on display in Rome.

I use this as a jumping off point for the Confederate statues that many want to take down. These statutes, made to celebrate those who seceded from our Union and to honor those who fought for slavery, have no place on the streets of our country. I wouldn’t melt them down-they can have a place in our museums-but they don’t belong in town squares any more than the Arch of Titus belongs in the center of Rome. Progress is being made to be more sensitive to those things that cause offense-such as the Washington Redskins changing their name-but we still have a long way to go. Moving the Confederate statues is a small but important step in serving the goal of being more understanding of our country’s troubling history and taking steps to make amends for it.

While I believe those statues must go, I feel differently about Mount Rushmore and some other “hotspots of debate.” Past presidents had ideas and policies that we find abhorrent today. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson owned hundreds of slaves with Jefferson having and affair with one, Andrew Jackson led tens of thousands of Native Americans on the Trail of Tears, and Theodore Roosevelt dishonorably discharged an entire regiment of African American soldiers. While we can take issue with their beliefs and the actions they led to (not to mention Woodrow Wilson) that does not negate that they served as President of our country. Similarly current leaders, as politically correct as some might be, might have policies that future generations will find abhorrent based on new knowledge and developments. That does not negate the good that current leaders can do and the place in history that they will occupy.

There’s no question that it is difficult to draw a line. The line I draw is what was someone’s intention: was it to divide and break away from our great country or was it to lead us as best as they could, recognizing that their views and actions, like all of ours, are imperfect. I believe there is a way to withdraw those things which are most offensive without fully engaging in a cancel culture, pretending that our Founding Fathers’ owning slaves “never existed” or eradicating them because they made indefensible choices. Let us be honest with our past and keep it alive for future generations while concurrently eliminating those elements which are most offensive.

Is zealotry good or bad? Is it good to be so passionate and so ardent that you put your career, your reputation, your life on the line for a cause? Pinhas did that-his jumping in to kill Zimri and Cozbi when they were doing cultic worship at G-d’s altar put an end to the plague afflicting Israel. Sir Rabbi Jonathan Saks said, as I learned at Parshat HaShavua, that because Pinhas acted in the moment and during the sexual act he was validated; had he responded too soon or too late he would have been vilified. 

         We know that hesitation is a hideous demon and that we cannot always hold back or analyze all the possible outcomes ad nauseum. At times we need to be zealous, to fight for what we believe in. Yet if we are zealous about everything we do not have a grounded perspective and like one who is overly hesitant, we lose credibility. We become known as one who is “my way or the highway.” The goal is to be in the middle, to carefully and strategically pick and choose our battles. 

         As we look at the world “through freedom’s eyes”, with the freedom to choose whatever we want, let us remember this lesson of zealotry. May we remember the zealotry of Pinhas, that at sometimes we need to act in the moment rather than “wait for it” even if it means putting ourselves on the line. At other times we need to carefully analyze and choose wisely, or we end up like the Sicarii zealots who began the Great Revolt against Rome, leading to the destruction of the Second Temple and ultimately our exile from Judea. As we are in the 3 weeks between the Roman breach of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple, let us remember the example of the Sicarii zealots as a time when we jumped in over our head while concurrently recognizing that at times we need to be like Pinhas, acting in the moment rather than waiting for a consensus. May we choose wisely. 

What a historic week capped off by Juneteenth, the emancipation of slavery in Texas in 1865. We also have a holiday celebrating freedom from slavery-Passover. In college at UW-Madison I took a course on Black-Jewish Relations that centered on the community of Brownsville, Brooklyn. It was fascinating to learn about how Black-Jewish relations have changed over time. I also learned firsthand from Jews of Color, being mentored by Rabbi Capers Funnye in Chicago (first time I ever gave a D’var Torah and people shouted “Amen Brother!”) and in working with Jews for Racial and Economic Justice.

June is also Pride Month, and we saw the Supreme Court’s legislation protecting people from discrimination regardless of sexual orientation. We also saw the Supreme Court protect Dreamers, those who came to the United States as children and many of whom have now grown up in our country. As a mentioned in our portion, “There shall be one law for you and for the resident stranger; it shall be a law for all time throughout the ages. You and the stranger shall be alike before the LORD.”[1]

We need to remember that each of us is made in the image of G-d and to love everyone for who they are, rather than who we want them to be. I thank Kim Foster for creating Bet Shira Facebook ads for Equality and for Pride which hopefully will be posted next week.

Let us also remember the quote from Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”[2] Now is the time to fight against injustice, for “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”[3] Let us now lift every voice and sing (from the comfort of our homes so as not to spread COVID-19) for who we are and for what we hope to achieve as a congregation.

[1] Numbers 15:15

[2] Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a Dream,” August 28, 1963.

[3] Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “Letter from the Birmingham Jail, April 16, 1963.

We learn from this week’s portion about the spies sent out and their report. We begin the journey with excitement-looking forward to hearing a wonderful report of the Land of Milk and Honey. We end with tragedy-people quickly turning an about-face toward Egypt and punished by spending an additional 38 years wandering in the desert so one generation can die and a generation that did not know slavery can emerge.

Why were the spies punished? Most say not for their report which was accurate but for the fear that they instilled in others. They did not believe in themselves or have faith that G-d was able to lead them past any obstacle that they faced. Fear ruled the day rather than hope.

When my parents moved to Arizona, gave me books from my childhood to take back with me to Miami. One of those books was As Good As Anybody: Martin Luther King Jr. and Abraham Joshua Heschel’s Amazing March Towards Freedom, which I will read some of at next week’s Drive In Shabbat Jammies and Jeans. It is about how Rabbi Dr. Abraham Joshua Heschel took a stand and marched with Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma. Heschel took a risk in going to Selma yet he never had a doubt that it was the right thing to “pray with his feet” and march with Dr. King.

We need to pray with our feet also and speak up against the injustices that are occurring in our country. When I moved to Jericho in 2014, it was Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice and Freddie Gray. Six years later in Miami it is Breanna Taylor, Ahmad Arbury, George Floyd and Rayshard Brooks. The words “I can’t breathe” filled the streets in 2014 just like they do in 2020. We are angry and upset at the lack of change. We want justice and equality for all people under the law.

At the same time we find glimmers of hope. We see the Supreme Court’s decision that discrimination not be allowed on the basis of sexual orientation. We see the police, in places like Miami, kneeling to be in solidarity with protestors. We changes that are being made to make safer encounters between civilians and police. We cannot let fear and disillusionment rule the day. We cannot let the fear of the spies win out and incite us to freeze, throwing our hands up and being uncertain of what to do. We cannot flee from topics just because they are controversial. Rather we must fight for what we believe in, just as Rabbi Heschel fought with his feet.

I want to share with you some words from Rabbi Micah Caplan z”l, our synagogue’s rabbi from 2005-10, after the death of George Floyd as well as a poem I wrote after the shooting at Pulse Nightclub in hopes that they inspire us towards action to make our world a better place:

My friends,

Last week in Minneapolis, like too many times before, we witnessed painful injustice of our brothers and sisters in the black community. We are one and when they hurt, we hurt.

No one should lose their life for going for a jog, breaking up a fight, sitting in their home watching TV, driving home from dinner, buying candy at a convenience store, or having their car break down. And no one should lose their life over $20, especially at the hand of those who should keep us safe.

As Jews, we know all too well what oppression looks like based on our history. Some of the biggest lessons learned from our past are to never forget and not be silent.

The Talmud highlights that silence equals agreement. And the Torah teaches us to not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor.

Elie Weisel reminds us, “The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.” And his sentiment is echoed by so many others that have faced oppression. South Africa’s Desmond Tutu says, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

This is no time to be silent. As Jews, we are taught to stand up for ourselves and others and use our voice for good. As Hillel says, ”If I am not for myself who will be for me. But if I am only for myself who am I. If not now, when.” Our fellow Americans need our help.

I urge you to find a way to express your solidarity peacefully. Consider calling your member of Congress, supporting a human rights organization, or being a good samaritan and neighbor if you see something that isn’t right.

As a people, let us be a light unto our nation.

With hope for healing,

Rabbi Micah Caplan[1]

Now I will read my poem for  after Ariela’s birth “Two World,” in the book Not by Might edited by Rabbi Menachem Creditor. Rabbi Creditor just edited another book about clergy response to COVID-19.

In which world will my daughter grow up?

The world in which people are loved from who they are

Or the world in which people are hated for being different?

 

In which world will my daughter grow up?

The world of open-mindedness and compassion

Or the world of prejudice and racism?

 

In which world will my daughter grow up?

The world in which we work together

Or the world in which we grow apart?

 

In which world will my daughter grow up?

The world of self-fulfillment and happiness

Or the world of frustration and anger?

 

In which world would be daughter grow up?

The world where guns are melted down to make building tools

Or the world where guns are used for wanton acts of violence?

I will do my part to ensure

That my daughter grows up in the world of embracing others

Loving all people regardless of race, religion or sexual orientation

And pray that the world in which she will live

Will no longer know the horror of these shootings.[2]

 

Ken Yhi Ratzon, may it be our will to make it so.

[1] Rabbi Micah Caplan, Message to Congregation Or Tzion in Response to Shooting of George Floyd on May 25, 2020.

[2] “Two Worlds.” Edited by Rabbi Menachem Creditor. Rabbis Against Gun Violence. 2016. pg 225.