Rosh Hashanah Day 2 –
Combatting Our Worst Fear: Antisemitism
2019-5780
Gathering together today for Rosh
Hashanah is one of the most sacred tasks we can perform. Hundreds of us are
here today along with several million of our fellow Jews around the world as we
dedicate ourselves to the task of repentance and renewal. It’s a deeply
spiritual undertaking one in which we devote hours of time today and throughout
these 10 days of repentance. By listening to the haunting and ancient melodies,
by reading the moving and provocative prayers, and simply by sitting in our
seats with our eyes closed, we can reflect upon who we are and where we want to
be. That process is a meditative one that requires concentration and mental
energy so that we can remain focused and not be distracted.
But if you’ve ever tried to
meditate, as I have, you know how difficult it can be to clear our minds of
distracting thoughts and be totally centered on one and only one thing.
Invariably other thoughts enter my head and I find myself following another
train of thought rather than the spiritual one. But even more than my own
personal distractions, I sometimes find that events in my life and in the world
around me intervene and prevent me from engaging in this spiritual work.
Such is the case this year and at this
moment. Of course, we are grateful that we are alive and healthy enough to be
in this sanctuary once again but the anxious among us may be concerned for our
safety and security. Fortunately, we have the eyes of Montgomery County Police officers
outside our building but who would have dreamt that we would ever need their protection?
This is America, the “goldene medina” that our ancestors dreamt about and who
struggled with their last penny and through arduous journeys to reach these
very shores. Escaping pogroms in Russia or the shoah our ancestors knew they
had no other choice but to get here, where they hoped they would be free.
Though our ancestors encountered
antisemitic comments after they arrived, they were able to build synagogues,
they were able to make a living and buy a house, and to send their children to
the best schools – nothing was denied them like it was in Europe. Since Jews
started arriving here in 1654, we have built the largest and most diverse
Jewish community outside of Israel. Nowhere else in our 4,000-year history have
we been able to build institutions of higher learning; nowhere else have we
created a broad and extensive philanthropic network; nowhere else has Judaism
been able to evolve and develop from the ultra-Orthodox to Jewish Renewal. We
have also made an impact in every aspect of American culture and society. We
are involved in entertainment, politics, sports, media and academia. Though we
comprise only 2-3% of the American population, we have made a significant
impact.
Our contributions to American
society and the laws that guarantee freedom of religion have created a sense of
comfort among us. We have taken for granted all these years that finally,
outside of Israel, there is a country where we can be free to be Jewish. I can
feel comfortable wearing my kippah in public. I can feel comfortable walking to
shul on shabbat. We can feel proud to be Jewish.
Until last October 27. That
shabbat, when 11 Jews were gunned down in synagogue, served as a horrific
wake-up call to the American Jewish community. We now realize that antisemitic
acts of violence and other antisemitic hate crimes have been on the rise. As
the ADL – the Anti-Defamation League – reported,
there were 1,879 antisemitic incidents in America in 2018. The Pittsburgh
synagogue attack was one of 39 cases of physical assault reported which was a
105% increase over 2017. 249 of those over 1800 incidents were attributed to
extremist groups or individuals influenced by extremist ideology. That number
marks the highest level of such incidents since 2004.
But these statistics shouldn’t
surprise us. We have seen this rise first hand in our greater Washington
community. Swastikas and other antisemitic graffiti has been found in several
public schools in the area. Antisemitic graffiti was spray painted several
months ago on the JCC building in Northern VA. And our own building in White
Oak was spray painted over 35 years ago. We’ve all experienced this rise in
antisemitism and some of us have witnessed it first-hand. Yet we’ve somehow
been able to ignore it or at least to push it to the back of our minds because
no one was hurt. We could just say that these were individual acts of hatred, that
they certainly don’t represent the sentiment of the majority of Americans.
And yet - Julie Zauzmer, in an article
in the Washington Post back in August, highlighted a disturbing feature of
this rising tide of White Nationalism and antisemitism in America. In that
article she detailed a trend among evangelical Christians of getting their news
only from Christian websites. She quoted several people who watch YouTube
channels of prominent Christian pastors. Zauzmer highlighted TruNews, for
example, which is a “nightly newscast with more than 18 million views on
YouTube. It bills its purpose ‘to offer Christians a positive alternative to
the anti-Christian bigotry of the mainstream media.’ Jews and Israel are a
constant target for Rick Wiles, the Florida pastor who runs the show.” Zauzmer
goes on in her article to quote Wanda and Doug Meyer who are a retired teacher
and retired insurance specialist who say, “It’s right there on YouTube. You
don’t hear it on mainstream media. We know Kenneth Copeland. We know Paula
White. We know David Barton. Different ministers, that’s where we get our news.
People who know what’s really going on.”
Antisemitism has always had
religious undertones. We’re hated because of the belief, as written in the Christian
Bible, that we killed Jesus. That evolved into other antisemitic tropes and led
to laws that, in some places in Europe, either severely limited our ability to
work and live or expelled us completely from the country – as our ancestors
were from England for 600 years. Antisemitism clearly isn’t just another hate
tool used by extremist groups to blame others for problems. It isn’t just a way
of saying “it’s their fault that we’re in this mess today.” People of different
colors and different nationalities have always been a target of hatred and
frustration. But when that hatred is based on a religious tenet then it makes
it that much more difficult to combat.
Clearly antisemitic incitement and
acts of violence are on the rise. And the question is, as it has been
throughout our history, how do we respond? What is the best way to respond to
such acts of hatred? What can we do to protect ourselves and what can we do to
put an end to such racism and overcome the religious basis for it?
In a recent article,
based on her newly published book,
Bari Weiss, the New York Times Op-Ed staff writer and editor, summarized our
age-old dilemma. Bari Weiss is Jewish and grew up in Pittsburgh and therefore
the attack on the Tree of Life synagogue, which she and her family attended,
was deeply personal for her. Essentially, she argues, there have been two
responses to ongoing and consistent antisemitism – either Jews have hidden, or
they have become resolved to be even more Jewish. Or as Weiss put it, “does
safety come from contorting ourselves to look more like everyone else? Or does
it come from drilling down into the wellspring of what made us special to begin
with?”
Three hundred years ago Moses ben Mendel was
born in Dessau, Germany. Destined for a rabbinic career he instead studied
German philosophy and thought. His writings influenced the foundation of what
became known as the Haskalah – the Jewish enlightenment movement. He changed
his last name to Mendelssohn (ben Mendel means Mendel’s son) and advocated for
Jews to learn German and integrate into German society. He translated the Bible
into German in order to facilitate the Jews’ ability to learn German. Though he
himself was quite learned in Jewish texts, he argued that Jews should be
learned in both Jewish subjects and German culture. That would be the only way
to become accepted into German society.
Two generations later, while the
Jews in Germany and elsewhere continued to fight for equality, Mendelsohn’s
grandson Felix,
the famous composer, converted to Christianity. He like so many others felt
that the only way to advance in society and be treated equally was to convert.
He wasn’t the only one. Over one hundred years ago another famous composer – Gustav Mahler –
converted to Christianity in order to be appointed the music director of the
Vienna Court Opera. Though he had other positions in Europe, that one was the
most prestigious and could only be held by a Catholic.
When Jews tried to achieve success
on their own, they at times were thoroughly rebuffed. The classic case in point
was Alfred Dreyfus.
Dreyfus was a captain in the French army over 100 years ago and he was accused
of passing information to the German enemy. After a show trial, Dreyfus was
convicted and was sent to prison. Ten years later after lengthy appeals he was
finally exonerated.
Journalists from around the world
converged on Paris during the trial in 1894 including one from Vienna, Theodor
Herzl. As a result of the rabid anti-Semitism on display and the clear
miscarriage of justice simply because Dreyfus was Jewish, Herzl realized that
there was no longer any place in Europe for the Jews. The Jews needed to
respond to anti-Semitism not by becoming German or French (as Mendelssohn,
Mahler and Dreyfus had) but to establish their own state in the land of Israel.
Zionism was the antidote to antisemitism because becoming Christian to seek
acceptance was clearly not the answer. The only way for the Jew to be
absolutely free to be Jewish, Herzl felt, was to have a state of our own.
Zionism was the only way for Judaism to survive and for the Jewish people to
survive.
Though many of us may have learned
about these people and events before, we may have said to ourselves, “thank God
this doesn’t apply to our lives today.” As a student of history, I read about
these and many other stories of our people. No matter what period of time we
read about, Jewish history is mainly defined by how the country in which the
Jews lived treated the Jews. If Jews lived in a tolerant society – like Muslim
Spain in the early middle ages – then Jewish culture and the people thrived. If
they lived in an intolerant society, like Russia in the 1600’s, then Jews
suffered and were massacred. It’s a terrible way to understand our history - essentially
a history of abuse and persecution. But nonetheless while learning this history
as I was in college and rabbinical school, I was grateful to be living in
America. I was grateful that Jews here didn’t have to face the harsh choices
that our ancestors did. I was grateful that I and my fellow Jews could thrive
and flourish in a country that accepted us for who we were and allowed us and
encouraged us to achieve our potential.
As Bari Weiss points out in her
article, we as a Jewish community are beginning to see signs that the rise of
antisemitism today is similar in scope to how it was for Jews in Europe a
century ago and frankly how it continues to be in some places in Europe today.
We now are beginning to realize that we face the same choices that our
ancestors did. How are we going to confront this rising tide of hatred? How are
we going to respond to the growing threats on our safety and well-being? How
are we going to ensure our freedom to express our Jewish identity openly and
with pride?
In Weiss’ words she says, “In
these trying times, our best strategy is to build, without shame, a Judaism and
a Jewish people and a Jewish state that are not only safe and resilient but
generative, humane, joyful and life-affirming. A Judaism capable of lighting a
fire in every Jewish soul – and in the souls of everyone who throws in their
lot with ours.”
Weiss is absolutely correct. It is
our responsibility, both as Jews and as synagogues, to ensure that amidst this
onslaught of hatred that we remain committed to our identity and to
strengthening it. We know that our heritage is rich and meaningful. We know
that our religion is based on love and compassion. We have to commit ourselves
to seek opportunities to strengthen and to be strengthened. We as a synagogue
need to ensure that we provide the spiritual resources you need to lead a rich
and meaningful life. And you need us as a source of community and education and
programming that will add to the richness of your life. Together we can
confront the hatred around us with love and compassion.
And Weiss continues, “But the
Jewish community…cannot go at this problem alone. We have to insist that the
societies of which we are a part take a stand against anti-Semitism, because
any society in which [antisemitism] flourishes, is one that is dead or dying.” As
Americans and as Jews we have a dual responsibility to save American society
from itself. We need to find ways to interact with our neighbors and advocate
not just against antisemitism but against all forms of hatred.
I am grateful that I have had the
opportunity to interact with my interfaith clergy colleagues here in Olney. For
nearly 10 years we have gathered together regularly to study and to find ways
in which our greater faith community can learn from and interact with each
other. We have led panel discussions, interfaith Thanksgiving services and
in-service days that have brought together many people of diverse backgrounds.
It has been wonderful to see people of diverse backgrounds gathered together to
learn, pray and socialize.
Our social action committee has
also been instrumental in this effort as well. We have had speakers last year
like Darryl Davis who spoke about racism and methods that they have found to
combat that hatred successfully. Our committee will continue to work this year
with programs focusing on welcoming the stranger and how we can ensure that all
who seek a better life can find sanctuary and opportunity here.
It is these efforts, by building
and strengthening relationships, that we can be most effective. Thanks to my
interfaith clergy group I have learned a lot about Islam and Christianity, and
I hope they have learned about Judaism from me. I can appreciate the positive
lessons other religions have to offer mainly because I have had a positive
relationship with the individual clergy. One relationship at a time we too can
make a difference.
On Rosh Hashanah, after each set
of shofar blasts in the musaf service, we recite a prayer that begins “Ha yom
harat olam – today the world was conceived.” Rosh Hashanah traditionally is
seen to be the anniversary of the creation of the world. Today we celebrate the
earth’s birthday and recognize that today is an opportunity to start over. We
can start fresh. We can look back at where we’ve been, and we can look forward
with promise into the future. But how will we face the year ahead? How will we
confront the forces that surround us that hate us?
As Weiss says, “the long arc of
Jewish history makes it clear that the only way to fight is by waging an
affirmative battle for who we are. By entering the fray for our values, for our
ideas, for our ancestors, for our families, and for the generations that will
come after us.” This then is what we should meditate on today and the rest of
the High Holidays. Instead of being distracted by the outside forces and the
multitude of issues facing us, let us focus on that affirmative battle.
We can focus on that battle by
being inspired by our past. When our building was defaced over 35 years ago
with antisemitic graffiti, Rabbi Martin Halpern (may he rest in peace) and our
shul leadership did two very important things. First, they left the graffiti on
the building until the neighboring community was informed and could be
organized to clean the building. Instead of hiring a power-washing company,
members of all races and creeds from the White Oak community gathered together
to clean the building and make it sacred once again. In the face of hatred, the
community came together in love and peace to literally wash away any signs of
hatred.
The other thing our shul
leadership did was bring this crime – the defacing of our building – to trial.
The case made its way up the ladder through the local, state and federal court system
until it reached the Supreme Court.
Remarkably the Supreme Court ruled in our favor and decided that antisemitic
vandalism is a hate crime and we, as Jews, are protected like any other race in
America. By fighting this case in court our congregation boldly asserted that
we will not walk away from injustice, that we would not shy away from conflict.
Instead we said that we would stand up for our rights, we would fight against
hatred and bigotry.
Let our shul’s history be a lesson
for us today. We cannot cower in the face of this rising tide of antisemitism.
We need to continue to find partners, to build relationships, in the struggle
for justice. We need to build on the models we already have and find more
opportunities to bring people of different backgrounds together.
And we must also continue to
publicly fight against this hatred. Just like our shul leadership did, we need
to have the confidence that we can stand up against this bullying and remind
people through our efforts that we are on the side of justice and peace. That
we know that we have the right to live free as Americans and Jews and that we
will continue to stand up strong and proud in the face of this racism. May we
be so emboldened to be a force for good. May we spread love and peace. May each
one of us, one by one, be able to change the world one person at a time. Amen.
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