If Only

Jews throughout the world are have been feeling immense anxiety due to the capture of three Israeli teens, Naftali Frenkel, Gilad Shaar and Eyal Yifrach.

Our friends who live in Ranaana, a suburb of Tel Aviv, described how their son, currently serving in the Israeli Army, was called back to his base on Shabbat morning, possibly in order to join his fellow paratroopers doing house-to-house searchers for the kidnapped teens in Hebron.

People of good will, Jewish and non-Jewish, are praying for the safe release of these teens.  For the first few days, the only reactions I saw were prayers on behalf of the young men and supportive words for their families.

And then, as the week wore on, people started to express their opinions regarding this situation and its larger context.

And I began to think that the way people view the tragic abduction of these three men is kind of Rorschach test for people’s overall perspectives and politics.

In this corner – Samuel Heilman, Professor at Queens College, writing that he blames the yeshiva where these boys were studying for not providing adequate armored buses to transport students from one place to another. 

And in this corner – Avraham Burg writing an article for the left-leaning Ha’aretz newspaper titled, “The Palestinians:  A kidnapped society.”  In it he argues that Israeli society by and large has become desensitized to the pain caused to an entire people through the occupation.  He writes, “All of Palestinian society is a kidnapped society.  Like many of the Israelis who performed significant service in the army, many of the readers of this column, or their children, entered the home of a Palestinian family in the middle of the night by surprise, with violence, and simply took away the father, brother or uncle, with determination and insensitivity.  That is kidnapping, and it happens every day.”  (Ha’aretz, June 18, 2014)

And he goes on to blame the Israeli government for not making genuine gestures toward reconciliation.

Still We Rise: Encouraging Resilience

A few years ago, Rabbi Adelson and I led a series of discussions in the home of members of our congregation having to do with parenting.

We had over forty people there who had children ranging in age from infancy to adulthood. 

During the first discussion, we asked the question, what qualities do you want to encourage in your children?

And we made a list.

The qualities included:  Compassion.  Honesty.  And one that I want to focus on because it sounds great, but it’s complicated.

Everyone agreed that they want to raise children who are resilient.  This morning, on the holiday in which we celebrate the centrality of the Torah in our lives and moments before we recall our loved ones who are no longer with us, I want to talk about resilience.

The popular magazine Psychology Today offers the following definition of resilience:

"Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever. Rather than letting failure overcome them and drain their resolve, they find a way to rise from the ashes. Psychologists have identified some of the factors that make someone resilient, among them a positive attitude, optimism, the ability to regulate emotions, and the ability to see failure as a form of helpful feedback. Even after a misfortune, blessed with such an outlook, resilient people are able to change course and soldier on."

I want to speak about us as individuals, I want to regard us in the context of our tradition, which exemplifies resilience, and then I want to challenge us to encourage resilience in ourselves and in those we love.

I Would Not Complain: Must Embracing Religion Require Belief in God?

The NY Times recently interviewed a woman who grew up Muslim but basically left Islam.  She claimed to be an atheist.  She said that at a certain point, the tenets of Islam didn’t make sense to her.  She found herself at odds with her parents, who couldn’t believe that did not want to remain a Muslim.

Among the things she questioned was why she couldn’t have a boyfriend?  And why she needed to observe Ramadan?

Apparently, she found some comfort with self-described atheists from other religions.

The article got me thinking further about a cluster of questions that many of us have thought about and discussed, as it pertains to us and also as it pertains to our children and grandchildren.  And that is:  What’s the connection between belief in God and adherence to religious tradition?

Do you need to believe certain things about God in order to find direction and meaning in religion?

Or, to put it more starkly, when children say, “I don’t believe in God!” does that mean that parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, need to freak out? 

I’m all for belief in God.  But I think we do everyone a disservice when we bundle everything together.  Just because a person has doubts about God, does that mean that he or she needs to abandon religious tradition and community?

Or, conversely, just because a person questions the values of their religious tradition and community, does that necessarily mean that they have issues with God?

I’m going to explore something this morning that some may find outrageous and others may find obvious.  I’m going to suggest that it’s not such a terrible idea to separate God and religion, at least in the short-term. 

The refrain of my comments will be, “I would not complain if…”