Last year I was in Washington with a group of rabbis under the auspices of AJWS (American Jewish World Service), urging our elected officials to advocate for human rights in a variety of areas. One of our meetings included a conversation with Senator Kirsten Gillibrand.
We discussed a variety of things with her and asked her if she would be prepared to support them. When we were done with that part of the conversation, one of us asked if there’s anything she wanted us to do that would help her. And she said, "reclaim scripture." That was a bit terse so we asked what she meant, and she said, so many religious leaders quote the Bible in order to judge and constrain; as I get to know you and what you stand for, I am asking you to invoke the Bible in order to embrace and empower.
If, like many people, you sometimes wonder if religion is making the world better or worse, this past month provided grim reminders of religion’s negative potential. In mid-March we learned of the murder of 50 Muslims in New Zealand by a Christian white supremacist terrorist who, among other things, yearns for the Christian reconquest of the Istanbul. Just this past week we saw the murder of 100s of Christians in Sri Lanka by Muslim ISIS operatives avenging the murders of Muslims on, as they put it, “the infidel holiday.”
Also quite damaging are the numerous statements and policies that discriminate based on gender and sexuality and ethnicity and race in the name of religion.
Not just because Senator Gillibrand mentioned it, but because I think it’s one of the most essential issues we can wrestle with as Jews in this point in time, I turn to us and ask, pointedly, Which side are we on?
Are we on the side of religion as a force of triumphalism and discrimination, with all of the pain and violence that brings, or are we on the side of religion as a force of unity and affirmation, with all of the positive transformation that brings?
In case you think we can sit this out and not make waves, I must remind us that neutrality is not an acceptable option. Elie Wiesel famously wrote, “Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.” Or, if you like, the talented duo known as “The Indigo Girls” put it as follows. “Darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear.”
To advocate for religion as a source of light - not self-righteous light that consumes but thoughtful light that illuminates and warms - we can’t be neutral.
There’s always been a choice.
In the Torah, the Five Books of Moses, you have, broadly speaking, two divergent responses to the reality of the Israelites having been slaves in Egypt. One response is that because we were vulnerable in Egypt, we must seek to protect ourselves - our physical and spiritual integrity - at all costs. This response seeks purity, provides clear definitions of who is in and who is out, and offers a template for how to destroy those who do not conform to a strict definition of who is an Israelite.
The other response is that because we were vulnerable in Egypt, we understand the soul of the vulnerable and must be responsive to those who are vulnerable, not in a neutral way, but actively. ואהבתם את הגר כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים Va’ahavtem et hager kee gerim heyitem b’eretz mitzrayim - you must love the stranger because you were strangers in the land of Egypt - is not calling for neutrality, it is calling for embrace.
Of course there are times when we have to protect ourselves, as I and other community leaders indicated at the anti-semitism rally that took place several weeks before Passover.
But an approach which ignores opportunities for creative, courageous engagement with others because it regards virtually everyone and everything as an existential threat is not the approach that we should take.
Sometimes religion is used to justify discriminating against other religions.
My colleague, Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz, a major proponent of bringing more openness to Orthodoxy, responded recently to a critical comment he received online. The author of the comment didn’t like that fact that Rabbi Yanklowitz expressed condolences for the hundreds of Christians who were killed on Easter in Sri Lanka and wrote, you shouldn’t be mourning these people since they are idolators who are “worshiping a dude and not the real God.”
In his response to the critic, Rabbi Yanklowitz, or Rav Shmuley as he goes by, marshaled rabbinic sources that have considered Christianity in a more positive light than the approach referenced by his critic. Moreover, he called for a humane embrace of other faiths, of people’s right to worship as they choose, and of the Jewish, human imperative to offer support and condolences when called for.
Sometimes religion is used to justify tormenting people who are already vulnerable and marginalized.
There is a teenage student in Israel by the name of Osher Band, a transgender girl living in Ashkelon who has not gone to school for more than six months because of actual violence and threats to her life by other students.
56 Israeli Orthodox rabbis published a letter of a support for her and sent it to the education Ministry director general and the principal of the school in which she is enrolled and they wrote the following:
“We, Orthodox rabbis and rabbis’ wives, are shocked and pained to hear of the violence against you because of your identity as a transgender girl. This is not the way of the Jewish people. The Torah teaches us ‘love thy neighbor as thyself,’ and the ancient Jewish sages teach us that the Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred. We are commanded to respect every person, and moreover we are commanded to care for the ‘stranger, the orphan and the widow’ – that is, every man, woman, girl or boy who lives among us and is in a fragile social state, such as transgender people,” the letter said.”
The letter went on to call for soul-searching that will lead schools and other institutions to create safe environments for these students.
Rabbi Yanklowitz, and the rabbis who signed this letter, have made choices. They have chosen not to invoke those aspects of our tradition that demean and discriminate, but rather to invoke those aspects that elevate and embrace.
I am sure that they will receive a great deal of pushback. Why are you destroying the tradition? Why are you spending so much time defending such a small minority of people - I mean, how many people does this involve?
When such comments are made by Jews, I am flabbergasted. We, a tiny minority, should know better than anyone that the number of people involved should have no bearing on the basic ethical issues involved. Right is right and wrong is wrong, no matter how many or few people are affected.
As Shimon Peres said to a whole group of rabbis I was part of in his home back in 2013, the measure of a democracy is how well we uphold the rights of the most vulnerable among us. When, as President of the Jewish State, he said those words to a group of rabbis, I got chills.
Sometimes religion is used to try to defend despicable behavior.
Every Monday morning, Rabbi Charry has been sharing the insights from the commentary known as Me’am Lo’ez, begun in the 1730 by Rabbi Yaakov Cull who lived in Constantinople, Turkey.
In the passage dealing with the story of David and Batsheva, where King David has relations with Batsheva and then orders his general to arrange to have Batsheva’s husband die in the battle, the Me’am Lo’ez says the following:
It may be that Batsheva’s husband gave her a retroactive get (bill of divorce) before he went into battle so that if he died in battle, she would have been considered divorced the whole time he was away. That, after all, is the explanation many of the ancient rabbis gave to prove that King David was not guilty of adultery.
However, concludes the commentator, מכל מקום מגונה הדבר Mikol makom megunah hadavar. In any case, the matter is revolting.
In other words, we are not going to take refuge in some convoluted legal reasoning when we know something is wrong. We are going to use common sense ethical standards to evaluate what went on.
Sometimes religion is used to put down people who don’t observe the way we do.
My mother told me a story about her father, my grandfather, who died before I was born. He embraced religious observance as an adult and became fairly strict in his practice.
Once he was invited to someone’s home for a meal and he wasn’t sure about the family's observance of kashrut. Instead of asking them questions about it, he said that his stomach had been bothering him and asked if he could he please just have a cup of tea.
At every stage we have a choice.
To invoke the Exodus of fear and judgment or the Exodus of vulnerability and embrace.
To take refuge in legal loopholes that seek to exonerate deplorable behavior or to call out such behavior for what it is.
To use our tradition to alienate, embarrass and destroy or to use it elevate, dignify and create.
We may not remain neutral, for neutrality favors the oppressor, the fundamentalist and the extremist.
Here at Temple Israel we will continue to apply our tradition in ways that elevate and embrace, treating others the way that we ourselves want to be treated.
I urge us, as individuals, as a synagogue, as a community, to make the choices that help bring everyone משעבוד לגאולה mishi’abud lig’ulah - from slavery to redemption ומאפלה לאורה ume’afela l’ora, and from darkness to light.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on the Eighth Day of Passover, April 27, 2019, six months after the Tree of Life shootings in Pittsburgh and moments before the shootings at the Chabad of Poway near San Diego.
We discussed a variety of things with her and asked her if she would be prepared to support them. When we were done with that part of the conversation, one of us asked if there’s anything she wanted us to do that would help her. And she said, "reclaim scripture." That was a bit terse so we asked what she meant, and she said, so many religious leaders quote the Bible in order to judge and constrain; as I get to know you and what you stand for, I am asking you to invoke the Bible in order to embrace and empower.
If, like many people, you sometimes wonder if religion is making the world better or worse, this past month provided grim reminders of religion’s negative potential. In mid-March we learned of the murder of 50 Muslims in New Zealand by a Christian white supremacist terrorist who, among other things, yearns for the Christian reconquest of the Istanbul. Just this past week we saw the murder of 100s of Christians in Sri Lanka by Muslim ISIS operatives avenging the murders of Muslims on, as they put it, “the infidel holiday.”
Also quite damaging are the numerous statements and policies that discriminate based on gender and sexuality and ethnicity and race in the name of religion.
Not just because Senator Gillibrand mentioned it, but because I think it’s one of the most essential issues we can wrestle with as Jews in this point in time, I turn to us and ask, pointedly, Which side are we on?
Are we on the side of religion as a force of triumphalism and discrimination, with all of the pain and violence that brings, or are we on the side of religion as a force of unity and affirmation, with all of the positive transformation that brings?
In case you think we can sit this out and not make waves, I must remind us that neutrality is not an acceptable option. Elie Wiesel famously wrote, “Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.” Or, if you like, the talented duo known as “The Indigo Girls” put it as follows. “Darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear.”
To advocate for religion as a source of light - not self-righteous light that consumes but thoughtful light that illuminates and warms - we can’t be neutral.
There’s always been a choice.
In the Torah, the Five Books of Moses, you have, broadly speaking, two divergent responses to the reality of the Israelites having been slaves in Egypt. One response is that because we were vulnerable in Egypt, we must seek to protect ourselves - our physical and spiritual integrity - at all costs. This response seeks purity, provides clear definitions of who is in and who is out, and offers a template for how to destroy those who do not conform to a strict definition of who is an Israelite.
The other response is that because we were vulnerable in Egypt, we understand the soul of the vulnerable and must be responsive to those who are vulnerable, not in a neutral way, but actively. ואהבתם את הגר כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים Va’ahavtem et hager kee gerim heyitem b’eretz mitzrayim - you must love the stranger because you were strangers in the land of Egypt - is not calling for neutrality, it is calling for embrace.
Of course there are times when we have to protect ourselves, as I and other community leaders indicated at the anti-semitism rally that took place several weeks before Passover.
But an approach which ignores opportunities for creative, courageous engagement with others because it regards virtually everyone and everything as an existential threat is not the approach that we should take.
Sometimes religion is used to justify discriminating against other religions.
My colleague, Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz, a major proponent of bringing more openness to Orthodoxy, responded recently to a critical comment he received online. The author of the comment didn’t like that fact that Rabbi Yanklowitz expressed condolences for the hundreds of Christians who were killed on Easter in Sri Lanka and wrote, you shouldn’t be mourning these people since they are idolators who are “worshiping a dude and not the real God.”
In his response to the critic, Rabbi Yanklowitz, or Rav Shmuley as he goes by, marshaled rabbinic sources that have considered Christianity in a more positive light than the approach referenced by his critic. Moreover, he called for a humane embrace of other faiths, of people’s right to worship as they choose, and of the Jewish, human imperative to offer support and condolences when called for.
Sometimes religion is used to justify tormenting people who are already vulnerable and marginalized.
There is a teenage student in Israel by the name of Osher Band, a transgender girl living in Ashkelon who has not gone to school for more than six months because of actual violence and threats to her life by other students.
56 Israeli Orthodox rabbis published a letter of a support for her and sent it to the education Ministry director general and the principal of the school in which she is enrolled and they wrote the following:
“We, Orthodox rabbis and rabbis’ wives, are shocked and pained to hear of the violence against you because of your identity as a transgender girl. This is not the way of the Jewish people. The Torah teaches us ‘love thy neighbor as thyself,’ and the ancient Jewish sages teach us that the Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred. We are commanded to respect every person, and moreover we are commanded to care for the ‘stranger, the orphan and the widow’ – that is, every man, woman, girl or boy who lives among us and is in a fragile social state, such as transgender people,” the letter said.”
The letter went on to call for soul-searching that will lead schools and other institutions to create safe environments for these students.
Rabbi Yanklowitz, and the rabbis who signed this letter, have made choices. They have chosen not to invoke those aspects of our tradition that demean and discriminate, but rather to invoke those aspects that elevate and embrace.
I am sure that they will receive a great deal of pushback. Why are you destroying the tradition? Why are you spending so much time defending such a small minority of people - I mean, how many people does this involve?
When such comments are made by Jews, I am flabbergasted. We, a tiny minority, should know better than anyone that the number of people involved should have no bearing on the basic ethical issues involved. Right is right and wrong is wrong, no matter how many or few people are affected.
As Shimon Peres said to a whole group of rabbis I was part of in his home back in 2013, the measure of a democracy is how well we uphold the rights of the most vulnerable among us. When, as President of the Jewish State, he said those words to a group of rabbis, I got chills.
Sometimes religion is used to try to defend despicable behavior.
Every Monday morning, Rabbi Charry has been sharing the insights from the commentary known as Me’am Lo’ez, begun in the 1730 by Rabbi Yaakov Cull who lived in Constantinople, Turkey.
In the passage dealing with the story of David and Batsheva, where King David has relations with Batsheva and then orders his general to arrange to have Batsheva’s husband die in the battle, the Me’am Lo’ez says the following:
It may be that Batsheva’s husband gave her a retroactive get (bill of divorce) before he went into battle so that if he died in battle, she would have been considered divorced the whole time he was away. That, after all, is the explanation many of the ancient rabbis gave to prove that King David was not guilty of adultery.
However, concludes the commentator, מכל מקום מגונה הדבר Mikol makom megunah hadavar. In any case, the matter is revolting.
In other words, we are not going to take refuge in some convoluted legal reasoning when we know something is wrong. We are going to use common sense ethical standards to evaluate what went on.
Sometimes religion is used to put down people who don’t observe the way we do.
My mother told me a story about her father, my grandfather, who died before I was born. He embraced religious observance as an adult and became fairly strict in his practice.
Once he was invited to someone’s home for a meal and he wasn’t sure about the family's observance of kashrut. Instead of asking them questions about it, he said that his stomach had been bothering him and asked if he could he please just have a cup of tea.
At every stage we have a choice.
To invoke the Exodus of fear and judgment or the Exodus of vulnerability and embrace.
To take refuge in legal loopholes that seek to exonerate deplorable behavior or to call out such behavior for what it is.
To use our tradition to alienate, embarrass and destroy or to use it elevate, dignify and create.
We may not remain neutral, for neutrality favors the oppressor, the fundamentalist and the extremist.
Here at Temple Israel we will continue to apply our tradition in ways that elevate and embrace, treating others the way that we ourselves want to be treated.
I urge us, as individuals, as a synagogue, as a community, to make the choices that help bring everyone משעבוד לגאולה mishi’abud lig’ulah - from slavery to redemption ומאפלה לאורה ume’afela l’ora, and from darkness to light.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on the Eighth Day of Passover, April 27, 2019, six months after the Tree of Life shootings in Pittsburgh and moments before the shootings at the Chabad of Poway near San Diego.
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