Today we are going to talk about a challenging topic from a Mussar, or ethical, lens: the Middah, character attribute, of Gevurah, setting wise boundaries.[1] Though difficult, this is necessary for our lives, as if we have no boundaries we stand for nothing. Where are our personal boundaries-the lines we refuse to cross? When I consider this, I think of Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye allowed Tzeitel to marry Mottel and Perchick to marry Hodl. When it came time for Vietka and Chana however, he exclaimed, “There is no other hand!” For Tevye, that was his line. Our line might be different and that is fine; what matters is that we know our limits, our boundaries.
When I served a congregation on Long Island, I was asked at a breakfast following morning minyan, “Where is your line? Are you anything goes?” I shared my boundaries with the minyanaires and said, “This is the line I will not cross. It is very different from your line.” My boundary allowed women to be Gabbaim and lead services; this crossed their line, and it was a disagreement between us.
As a Jewish leader, I want to be a big tent and inclusive. I also recognize that we need to know our core values and principles and, like Tevye, where for us “there is no other hand.” We need to remember the story of the jester.
There was once a king who ruled his kingdom with wisdom and compassion. As he approached the end of his days, everyone in the kingdom wondered who would be the next ruler. One of his children? An advisor? A general?
To keep the contenders from fighting over the throne, the king put his instructions in a letter, which was to be opened only on the day of his death. It named the person who would succeed him on the throne.
When that day arrived, the kingdom mourned its wise and caring leader. And then all eyes turned to the king’s letter to see who would rule in his place. With great ceremony, the prime minister opened the letter and read the instruction. Whom had the king chosen? Not one of his children, nor an adviser, nor a general. The king had chosen the jester. The jester would be called king!
The jester? Everyone in the kingdom thought this must be a joke. How could a fool be king? But such were the king’s instructions. And so the jester was brought before the royal court. Royal retainers removed his jester costume and cloaked him in the robes of the king. They removed his jester hat and crowned him king. And they sat him on the royal throne.
At first, the situation was awkward-for the new king as well as his kingdom. But over time it turned out to have been a brilliant choice. The jester was every bit as wise, as compassionate, and as insightful as the old king had been. He listened to everyone with care-advisers, generals, even the commoners of the realm. He treated everyone who came before him with respect and with kindness. He used his powers to bring peace and prosperity to his kingdom. To the amazement of all in the royal court, the jester came to be a superb ruler. And everyone in the royal court-indeed, everyone in the kingdom-came to love him.
There was a mystery surrounding the jester-king, however. Every so often, he would retreat to a distant room in the palace, a room to which only he had the key. For a few hours he would lock himself in that room. And then he would return to the throne and resume his duties. Most members of the royal court assumed he went to the room to think, to meditate, or perhaps to pray. They accepted the mystery as part of their beloved king’s life.
Once an ambassador came from a far-off land. The ambassador spent many hours with the king. He grew to appreciate the king’s wisdom and his kindness. It was rare, he thought, for a king to listen as carefully as this king listened. It was unusual for a king to seek advice from everyone who appeared before him. It was remarkable for a king to care as deeply and to work as hard for the good of his subjects as this king did.
When the ambassador noticed that the king occasionally disappeared into his distant room, he wondered, “What does the king do in that locked room? Why does he go there? What is in that room that helps him rule with such wisdom and kindness?” The ambassador couldn’t let go of the mystery. So one day, when the king retreated from his room, the ambassador secretly followed behind. When the king closed the door, the ambassador crouched down and peered through the keyhole. There he took in the king’s great secret.
In the privacy of his room, the king took off his crown and his royal robes and put on the costume of a jester. Around and around the room he danced the jester’s dance, making funny faces and singing the silly songs of a jester. Then he stood before a great mirror and recited to himself: “Never forget who you are. You may look and sound and act like the king, but you are only the jester. You are only the jester pretending to be the king. Never forget who you are.”
Now the ambassador understood it all. He understood the source of the king’s deep wisdom. He understood that the king’s kindness and greatness emanated from his humility. And now he knew the secret of the king’s humility. This knowledge made the ambassador love the king even more deeply. He vowed his everlasting loyalty to the king. And he vowed to keep the king’s secret.
Over the years, the king and the ambassador grew close. One day when they were alone, the ambassador confessed what he had done and what he had seen. “I promise you on your life that I will never reveal your secret,” he declared. “But there is one thing I have never been able to figure out: Of all the people in the royal court whom the old king could have chosen to succeed him, why did he choose you? Why did he choose the jester?”
The king smiled at his friend and replied, “And who do you think he was before he became king?”[2]
The jester never forgot who he was, and a number of Jewish organizations did the same. For the first time, I was a Rabbi in Residence at a Ramah camp. It was wonderful to be there with my older daughter and to be part of a grand Israeli concert and celebration-I highly recommend Ramah. At the same time, I could not avoid thinking of the drama at another Ramah camp this past summer. At Ramah New England, the only other Ramah at which I have worked, Rabbi Ed Gelb would not let an anti-Zionist צוות/staff member return to camp after she wrote on Instagram that Jews ought to oppose the genocide in Gaza. He wrote to the Ramah community, “Camp cares deeply about our alumni and values personal connections to members of the Palmer community, who have contributed greatly over the years, and we welcome direct dialogue to find shared understanding…At the same time, we make a sacred promise to our community that we will faithfully adhere to our public educational goals, including that we are a Zionist camp (unapologetically so).”[3] This, for Rabbi Gelb and Camp Ramah of New England, was an incident for which there was no other hand.
This is not the only example of a Jewish organization setting boundaries. Earlier this year, there was uproar when a Citizens of the World-East Valley Charter School, which rents space from Congregation Adat Ari-El in Los Angeles, taught lessons on the “genocide of Palestine.”[4] Two teachers were removed from the school and the principal was placed on leave[5] and later removed. The charter school’s principal, Hye-Won Gehring, emailed Rabbi Brian Schuldenfrei about the Israeli flags on campus, asking, “I know that this is a time to hold your community close, and perhaps the flags are intended for that – but do you know how long they will be up?” Rabbi Schuldenfrei expressed that he found the email offensive, asserting, “I told the principal that inquiring when our flags were coming down was like asking someone on September 11 to take down their American flags just a few days later. It is painfully insensitive.”
Later at that school, a teacher wrote the following: “I did a lesson on the genocide in Palestine today with my first graders who give me hell 90% of every day but were really into this convo and series of activities.” The teacher, who used the class’s math period for the lesson, wrote this on Instagram in a private post that the Jewish Telegraph Agency (JTA) reviewed.
The teacher added, “I started by telling them that we weren’t gonna do math at the usual time because sometimes there are big things in the world that need our attention, and we need to interrupt our usual routines to make space to learn and talk about what’s happening. I asked them what they already knew about what’s happening (they knew a lot and had questions) and I drew a little map of the occupied territories of Palestine.” She continued, “then they organically started coming up with ideas for what could happen (my fav was a kid who was like ‘what if they just give the land back to Palestine and find somewhere else to live?’)” The teacher ended the post with a heart emoji.[6]
Yesterday I spoke about the importance of unity, and connecting with the perspectives of others. However, there needs to be a line. Look at what happened at HaMakom in Los Angeles earlier this summer. HaMakom is the merger of two congregations 1 mile apart. They had an extra building which they leased to the Islamic Society of West Valley, (with whom they had a partnership since 2017), to accommodate the mosque’s overflow crowds, with a possible, future sale. The imam had spoken at one of the synagogues, and that synagogue’s rabbi attended an interfaith iftar (which I have done as well). The first day of the lease was during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. As a gesture to make their tenants feel comfortable, HaMakom’s leadership covered up pictures of the Israeli hostages, and the imam invited a speaker from CAIR, the Community of Arab Islamic Relations, whose national organization has funded Hamas.[7] Comments the speaker made included, “Israel does not have the right to defend itself” and “for 75 years, every single day for the Palestinian people has been October 7.”[8] The lease only lasted that one evening, and the co-presidents of the synagogue resigned.
It can be painful yet necessary to determine when to set up boundaries that will keep certain people out. Yesterday, I shared with you my vision and aspirational mission statement for Mosaic Law Congregation. It is not a finished project, and I challenge each of us to think about what we want to see Mosaic Law Congregation become-where we can let people in and where we need to set limits. What values are of ultimate importance to us as a congregation and as a Jewish community? Some of us don’t like to think about these things; however we must. As Rabbi Shai Held teaches, “Whatever you push away is going to bounce back at you; it is nature’s law. Whatever you run away from becomes your shadow.”[9]
I’d like to challenge us in 5785 to not push away tension and conflict, especially as we approach elections in the United States, but rather to think about it honestly and strongly. This is our time to focus in on who we want to be as people and as a community in the coming year and where we draw our boundaries.
[1] Thank you to Rabbi Mark Margolius of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality who taught me Gevurah under this lens.
[2] Ed Feinstein, “The Jester,” in Capturing the Moon (Behrman House, Springfield, NJ, 2008), Pages 34-36
[3] Why Camp Ramah in New England drew a red line against anti-Zionism among its staff (jewishinsider.com)
[4] LA charter school housed at synagogue tells 1st-graders about ‘genocide of Palestine’ | The Times of Israel
[5] LA charter school ousts teachers who taught 1st graders about ‘genocide of Palestine’ | The Times of Israel
[6] Sick: LA Charter School Teachers Removed After Teaching 1st Graders About ‘Genocide in Palestine’ at School Housed in Synagogue | The Gateway Pundit | by Margaret Flavin
[7] Synagogue members furious with leadership’s gesture to mosque – The Forward
[8] PressReader.com – Digital Newspaper & Magazine Subscriptions
[9] Christina Feldman, Compassion: Listening to the Cries of the World (Berkeley: Rodmell, 2005), pg. 28. In Judaism is About Love, pg. 219.
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