Yom Kippur – 2016
Entebbe and Wiesel:
Why Be Jewish?
July 4, 1976
was a wondrous day. Having grown up in the Philadelphia area I took many school
trips to Independence Hall, where the Declaration of independence was ratified,
to the Liberty Bell and many other historic sites. I was proud that I lived in
the birthplace of our nation. I remember watching the Bicentennial celebrations
on TV – the parade of tall ships in NY harbor and the fireworks that night. I
was 14 years old and I remember thinking how glad I was that I could witness
and experience that historical day for our country.
But there
was another historical event that occurred that day about which I was even more
proud. A week before - on June 27, 1976 - an Air France flight left Tel Aviv
bound for Paris. The plane was hijacked, diverted to Athens where it took on
more passengers and more terrorists, and then flew to Entebbe, Uganda. Jews
were separated from non-Jews and the non-Jews were almost immediately set free.
The 106 Jewish passengers and Air France crew, who had volunteered to stay with
them, were left behind. For days we didn’t know what would happen and then on
July 4 I remember waking to the news of the daring Israeli military operation that
managed to free 103 of the passengers. Three were killed in the crossfire and
one Israeli soldier, Lt. Col. Yonatan Netanyahu, was killed by Ugandan Army sniper
fire. With little or no intelligence about the airport, the number of
terrorists or any other information, Yitzchak Rabin – Israel’s prime minister,
and Shimon Peres, Israel’s Defense Minister – authorized the mission. As Yitzchak
Rabin was quoted as saying to his wife on July 3, “tomorrow I will either be
King of Israel or I will be hung from the town square.”
At the time,
I was a Jewish Day School student who had lived in Israel just 3 years before
and was about to travel to Israel with my parents again. I was a teenager who
grew up with a love for Israel and a powerful commitment to Zionism. July 4,
1976, in my house, was centered more that day on the miraculous mission of
Israel’s army than it was on America’s bicentennial. It was a day that we could
be proud to support Israel and feel good about our Jewish identity. Nearly 3
years after the Yom Kippur War when Israel and Jews around the world felt
threatened and felt that Israel faced near-destruction, Operation Entebbe made
us feel dramatically better. It made us feel that no matter what and no matter
where we are in the world, if we were in trouble Israel would come and save the
day.
Nearly 40
years to the day after the daring Israeli raid on Entebbe, Elie Weisel died.
This past July 2, after he passed, President Obama said, “After we walked together among the barbed
wire and guard towers of Buchenwald where he was held as a teenager and where
his father perished, Elie spoke words I’ve never forgotten — ‘Memory has become
a sacred duty of all people of goodwill.’ ” I’m sure all of us read Wiesel’s book
Night. We were moved to tears as he described the horrors of the death camps,
witnessing his father’s death and exploring his religious identity. That book,
and many others he wrote, helped generations of people begin to understand what
it means to be a survivor. Wiesel was “the” spokesman for all Holocaust survivors.
His eloquence spoke for them and for the six million. He represented them on
the global stage and never refrained from telling world leaders – including
President Reagan – what they needed to do to honor the memory of the Holocaust.
Wiesel won the Nobel Peace Prize 30 years ago in recognition of his moral
authority and his work in keeping the memories of the six million alive.
Though much can be said about the
impact Operation Entebbe had on Israel and Elie Wiesel’s life had on us, the
Jewish people, I think there is a broader Jewish lesson to be learned. The
juxtaposition of the 40th anniversary of the raid on Entebbe and the
death of Elie Wiesel highlights in a sense what it means to be Jewish. As we
spend the day today in serious prayer and reflection, one phrase which repeats
in every service is: “mah anu, meh chayeinu, meh chasdeinu…mah nomar lefanecha
– what are we, what is the meaning of our lives, what acts of compassion have
we performed…what can we say to You, [O God]?” This phrase not only reflects
how humble we must feel in the presence of God, but it should prompt us to ask
the deep and profound question of who we really are. What are our values? Where
do we find meaning in life? What do we think about our Jewish identity and our
relationship with God?
Some may find meaning in our
relationship to Israel. After the 1967 Six Day War many American Jews felt
pride and joy in being Jewish. They were ecstatic about the little country in
the Middle East that overwhelmed the mighty armies of its neighboring Arab
countries. So many American Jews came out of the woodwork and proudly
proclaimed their Jewishness. Just six years later when Israel’s very existence
was threatened during the Yom Kippur War those same Jews bought millions of
dollars worth of Israel Bonds to enable Israel to purchase what it needed to
survive. Events like those wars, and Operation Entebbe in 1976, made it easy to
be Jewish.
But is being proud of Israel enough on
which to base our Jewish identity? Is it enough to say that I’m Jewish because
I love the State of Israel? What happens when we don’t love Israel? What
happens if you count yourselves among those Jews who feel disenfranchised by
Israel either because of its treatment of non-Orthodox Jews or because of its
lack of peace with its Palestinian neighbors? If our connection to Israel is
the main thing that defines our Judaism and that connection is threatened by
Israeli government policies then how does that affect our Jewish identity? How
do we answer, “what are we, what is the meaning of our lives”?
There are others in the community,
especially survivors and children of survivors of the Holocaust, who define
their Judaism as “never again”. Some people claim they are Jewish so that
Hitler won’t have a posthumous victory. Their Jewish identity is defined by an
event – the worst evil perpetrated by Man against humanity. They are Jewish
because they have to ensure that Judaism will survive another generation. They
are Jewish because the memory of the six million hovers over their heads. They
are Jewish because Hitler forced them to be Jewish. Though the Holocaust ended
71 years ago these Jews are still Jewish in order to prove Hitler wrong.
But is defining our Jewish identity
based on the Holocaust enough? Does it provide the positive fulfillment we need
in our religious life? Does it adequately answer the question of “what we are
and what is the meaning of lives”? Or does it only answer the question of what
we are not? Is a negative purpose – “never again” – enough to provide positive meaning
in our lives today?
The juxtaposition of the 40th
anniversary of Entebbe and the death of Elie Wiesel highlight this foundational
question we ask today. Yom Kippur provides us the opportunity to do real soul
searching. 364 days a year we carry on with our lives; earning a living, taking
care of our family, doing our day-to-day chores and activities. Today we stop and ask ourselves what are we
really doing with our lives? What is the meaning of all the things we do and is
it really worth it in the end? Are we gaining fulfillment from our activities
and is the reason behind the values we hold dear and our religious identity
really as positive and strong as it should be? Yom Kippur forces us to ask
“what kind of Jew are we and what is the meaning of our Jewish lives?
I am thankful that I was raised with
a love for Judaism. I was privileged to attend Jewish Day Schools from
kindergarten through 12th grade and I was thrilled to have been able
to travel to Israel many times with my family while growing up. My home was a
very Jewish home. We kept kosher, we went to shul every Shabbat and we celebrated
all the Jewish holidays. We were Jewish 24/7. I loved being Jewish and learning
about Judaism so much that I attended a Jewish studies college – Gratz College
- in the evening while attending Temple University during the day. I spent my junior
year of college at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Judaism was so much a
part of who I was and how I defined myself that I knew that I had to share that
love and passion in the profession I would choose. I knew that being a rabbi
would afford me many possibilities through teaching, leading services and daily
one-on-one contacts, to engage many people in the “Jewish conversation”.
Now I know that my Jewish
perspective and background isn’t typical of most of us here today. I know that
having a rabbi as a father and growing up basically as a Jewish nerd is not the
same experience that you’ve had in your own lives. Perhaps my passion and my
background make me too different and perhaps you may not feel connected in the
same way I do.
Nonetheless, I am convinced that my Jewish
passion stems from my own reflection and evaluation of that phrase we repeat
today, “what am I.” In order to get into rabbinical school I had to write
several essays about aspects of Jewish life and my own personal theology. There
were many other rabbi kids and day school graduates who may have taken their
Jewish lives for granted and who may have thought that being a rabbi would be
an easy job; a job that would only highlight all the Jewish knowledge they had
already. Those rabbinical school essay questions made me come to terms with my
Jewishness and enabled me to articulate why I am Jewish.
I am Jewish not just because I was
born Jewish. I am Jewish not just because I am a Zionist. I am Jewish not just because
of “never again.” I am Jewish for all those reasons and many more. I am Jewish
because I know that the morals, ethics and religious principles of Judaism
provide the foundation to navigate life in the world today. I am Jewish because
Judaism provides me a life of meaning and purpose.
The world outside these doors is a
dangerous place. It is filled with fear and anxiety. Though there are 7 billion
people in it, the world can be a lonely place too. How do we begin to find our
place in the world? How do we confront the fear and anxiety and reduce the
level of tension and stress in our lives?
The answer is right around you. The
first thing we need is community. When we ask those questions over and over
today – “what are we, what is the meaning of our lives” – we do so in the presence
of this community. Yom Kippur is the only sacred occasion that is observed in
its entirety in the synagogue. That isn’t an accident. It’s meant to teach us
that when we ask the most basic and profound questions that touch our soul –
questions that might be best asked in private – we instead ask them with hundreds
of people around us. The answer to “what are we, what is the meaning of our
lives” then is community.
Research-studies[1]
have consistently shown that Jewish people today most of all seek meaningful
relationships. Finding community isn’t just about finding a group of friends to
watch a ball game with or to have dinner with. It’s about finding people who
have the same values; the same people who ask the same questions about life and
about religious identity. It’s about finding a community where we feel
comfortable sharing our concerns and growing in knowledge and life experiences.
That’s what Judaism can provide for
us. We have a religious system that treats the basic questions of life in a
serious and fulfilling way. We have a religious system based on 3,000 years of
sacred text and tradition that encourages us to question and study. We’re not
meant to just read these words in the machzor on our lap. We’re meant to
reflect upon them and think about how we relate to them today. That’s what our
tradition teaches us and that’s what makes it meaningful and relevant to our
lives.
We are about to recite the yizkor –
memorial service – prayers. At this time especially as we remember the lives of
our loved ones we also reflect on the meaning of life. Life is too short as we
remember our parents, grandparents, siblings, spouses or children. We had too
little time with them yet the impact they had on us was tremendous. What values
did they teach us? How did they make their lives meaningful? How did their
Jewish lives define who we are as Jews today? How do we live on in their memory
and carry on their legacy?
“Mah anu, meh chayeinu – what are
we, how are our lives meaningful”? Do we just remember Entebbe and yearn for
the day when we can be proud of our relationship with Israel? Do we just
remember Elie Wiesel and cry out against the Nazi atrocities? Or do we go
deeper and confront our desire to be part of the greater enterprise that is our
Jewish identity? Can we sincerely commit to seeking a meaningful and profoundly
enriching life and can we find it here in our shul and in our tradition? Can we
help each other build such a community that will support each of us on this
religious journey?
May
the rest of this Yom Kippur and this coming year be one of finding meaningful
answers to those questions. Amen.
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