Rabbi Jon's Website and Blog

Inauguration Day Thoughts

I did a lot of my thinking about today even before Election Day, so attached is what I said in our synagogue on Yom Kippur. The theme was "repairers of the breach", after the words of the prophet Isaiah. I was pretty sure then that the division that we felt then and feel today would continue to be true whoever became president. 

The tension between truth and community, the search to have the best of each without giving up the best of each, is what I imagine I'll be preaching and teaching and facilitating about more than once in the Shabbatot and weeks to come. #lovetruthandpeace #thinkinparagraphs

This beautiful piece was posted this morning by Rabbi Josh Feigelson of Ask Big Questions:

Turning to One Another
by Margaret J. Wheatley

There is no greater power than a community discovering
what it cares about.

Ask “What is possible?” not “What’s wrong?” Keep asking.

Notice what you care about.
Assume that many others share your dreams.

Be brave enough to start a conversation that matters.
Talk to people you know.
Talk to people you don’t know.
Talk to people you never talk to.

Be intrigued by the differences you hear.
Expect to be surprised.
Treasure curiosity more than certainty.

Invite in everybody who cares to work on what’s possible.
Acknowledge that everyone is an expert about something.
Know that creative solutions come from new connections.

Remember, you don’t fear people whose story you know.
Real listening always brings people closer together.

Trust that meaningful conversations can change your world.

Rely on human goodness. Stay together.

 

 

MLK Day 2017 -- Dr King Teaches Us What Religion Ought to Be

While we all know 'I Have a Dream,' it is MLK's 1963 letter in response to clergy from jail in Birmingham that speaks most powerfully and timelessly about the meaning of religion. He wrote about churches, but I know the same words apply to synagogues as well.

"On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South's beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have found myself asking: 'What kind of people worship here? Who is their God?....'

"There was a time when the church was very powerful--in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society...

"But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century."

Any of us who call ourselves religious should reread the whole letter, year after year. It is still addressed to us.

Torah Reflection on Truth and Peace as of Right after Thanksgiving

I just wanted to get on record some reflections on what it's like as a rabbi and leader right now, a snapshot in time.

I have spoken previously about the prophetic verse Ha-emet v'ha-shalom ehavu -- "Love truth and peace." In the Talmud, the verse is quoted in the course of an exploration of a debate between the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai. They had some major, nontheoretical and nontrivial disagreements about the laws of marriage. And yet they allowed their children to marry each other. After trying without success to imagine scenarios when the disagreements didn't matter, the Talmud says that both schools of thoughts were loving both truth and peace. Yet they remain in tension, or at least in some cases truth seems to take a backseat.

I have certainly been living this tension for the past month. I am spending time, deliberately, with people who voted both for President-Elect Trump and Secretary Clinton. (The Talmud says that the School of Hillel is followed because they mention their opponents' arguments and positions before their own. That's why I am making it a habit to refer to the president-elect first.) I am trying, without straying from the truth about bigotries and sexism, to be a bridge of peace. It is not easy, but I am committed to it.

In the Torah this week, Rivka experiences twins fighting in her belly. She says, "If so, why is this that I am?" and goes to explore the issue with God. God tells her, "two peoples are in your belly, and two nations from your innards will separate." I read Rivka's question to be -- what is the meaning of "I", the unity of myself, my integrity, in a situation where two opposing forces are jousting, and they are both so connected to me that I feel the struggle in my body?

I have felt most days since Election Day this tension in my body. I seek not to lose my integrity, my I-ness, even as I listen carefully to the two or more perspectives that are vying with great energy.

I am grateful to the many congregants who have talked to me individually, in my office and on the phone and in coffee shops, and to the groups who have gathered with me too and let me structure some conversations. More to come. I will shortly post on a separate page a number of resources and ideas, to work against hate and division.

Three Things I Did As Soon As I Got To The Office

I made three phone calls this morning, in an attempt to do something to head off the hate crimes and discriminatory actions suggested by people connected to the incoming Trump administration, to call for the un-appointment of Stephen Bannon, and to show some solidarity with the local Muslim community.

I called and left messages for:

• the Islamic Society of Greater Nashua -- (603) 786-7586
• Rabbi Haskel Lookstein of Kehillath Jeshurun in Manhattan, who is Ivanka Trump's rabbi -- (212) 774-5650
• the Republican Jewish Coalition -- (202) 638-6688

The more such calls the better. Phone calls are better than e-mails if you can. You'll find the words.

An Open Letter to Speaker Paul Ryan

This is a letter that I am mailing and publishing, prompted by the appointment of Stephen Bannon as chief strategist for President-Elect Trump. It reflects my personal political perspective and my own read on what Mr. Bannon represents, which overlap but are not the same as many of my friends and readers. I will also be sending a version of this to other officials, Ms. Ivanka Trump, and Mr. Jared Kushner.

An Open Letter to Speaker of the House Paul Ryan

Dear Speaker Ryan:

I write you as an independent voter from New Hampshire, a religious person, a Jew, and a rabbi.

First of all, congratulations on your re-election to Congress, and your selection once again as Speaker of the House. Thank you for your service to this country. My hopes are with you, your colleagues on Capitol Hill, and President-Elect Trump, that you will all conduct the business of government in a way that addresses our overarching needs, restores the most vulnerable to the center of our community, and brings us honor in our own eyes and in eyes of the world.

This letter is prompted by the appointment of Stephen Bannon as chief strategist in President-Elect Trump's White House. I am asking you, as the respected leader of your party in Congress, to call on the President-Elect to rescind this appointment.

I can't know whether all the views often expressed through Breitbart News are Mr. Bannon's own or not, or those of the President-Elect or not. It's enough to know that Mr. Bannon has proudly taken on the role of giving a megaphone to hate groups, and his prominence has emboldened such groups to attack and harm other people with impunity. People I know and care about are afraid in ways I have never seen before. Mr. Bannon's appointment is a disgrace to our country and the office of the President. I hope you will do everything you can to reverse it.

I am writing you more broadly as someone who has had hopes about the direction of the Republican Party that you, Speaker Ryan, have been sketching out over the past few years. As a religious person and a Jew, I have committed myself to make Torah the measure of my political allegiance, and not vice versa. I know that you, like me, have been engaged by the social teachings of your religious tradition. I am in other words one of your potential followers.

One reason I am not a registered Democrat is that I believe our social welfare policies often settle for approaches that separate and stigmatize people in need, and do not build enduring relationships of partnership and dignity – true equality. Whenever I vote for Democrats, I do so to try to make sure that there is funding so that people are not punished for being poor, do not starve or go without basic medical care. But I have been hoping that you in particular would flesh out and explain a more robust version of your own health care and anti-poverty plans.

Many of us are looking to you as the national leader who can present a new option for us to consider -- combining a vision of an inclusive American community, conservative economic principles, and strategies that address the specific obstacles that the most vulnerable among us face. Real plans backed by sufficient resources, designed to lift up individuals and make possible a true community that spans socioeconomic class.

In this past election year I was open during the New Hampshire primary to any candidate in either party who had such a vision of justice through community. I took every last moment to decide which party's primary to vote in and which candidate to support.

What I am telling you is that if your party follows through with an alliance with or a tolerance of hate at the highest levels, then you will forfeit your claim on my attention or the attention of people like me. It will be harder, and sometimes impossible, for you to ask me to take a careful look at your proposals, as against those of the Democrats which, despite their flaws, fund a certain level of services and care. You won't be able to ask me to trust your compassion overall, if you institutionalize voices and forces of bigotry and abuse at the highest levels of your party's power.

Now is the time for you to present your case. But you will have to make clear who you are, Speaker Ryan, and who you want your party to be and what you want this country to be.

There's nothing you can do to prevent people like Stephen Bannon and his alt-right followers from hanging on with your party. I don't hold you to that standard. But you can certainly avoid installing them in positions of power. And you can do more than react to statements of bigotry, which you have often done during this past year to your great credit. You can get out front and proclaim a vision of conservatism that begins with: We are all of us Americans. You can, with each new proposal you make, make a point of explaining to us how it will bring us all together. There is no easier start than to make clear that Stephen Bannon has a right to free speech and freedom of the press, but he does not belong in the Republican White House.

Our own community of Nashua, New Hampshire, has many people trying to model the country as it should be. In September, in the middle of the contentious national election, our Board of Aldermen debated and approved a proposal to make Nashua an official “welcoming city”, in support of the work that is being done here by a wide coalition to welcome and integrate immigrants and people of different backgrounds.

Just watching the parade of speakers and supporters was an incredible cause for hope, on our small scale. The Democratic mayor and the Republican head of the Chamber of Commerce. The Chief of Police, who talked about work being done with communities of different colors – and a black man who told of nearly being beaten when he tried to register to vote down south in the 1950s. Two refugees, speaking in their brand-new, incomplete English. Ministers, social workers, educators, community organizers.

As a local leader, I am committed to that kind of work and coalition building. I am attaching for you a sermon about faith and politics, liberalism and conservatism, that I gave a year ago on Yom Kippur. I think it will speak to your mind and your heart.

Thank you for your time and consideration. May you find guidance and strength through the One Whose life-giving energy and wisdom flows through all.

 

L'shalom – Toward Peace and Wholeness,

Rabbi Jonathan Spira-Savett

Nashua, New Hampshire

 

Making an Impact on the Election Conversation Through Big Questions

It feels good to know that a thoughtful question during a presidential election makes a difference. When I had the chance to ask a question on a televised town hall to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in February, I went for what my colleague Rabbi Josh Feigelson calls a "Big Question."

Josh differentiates between "Hard Questions" and "Big Questions." A Big Question is something that matters to everyone and that everyone can answer. Big Questions elicit conversation and personal stories, and the conversations build connections. Hard Questions, which are important, depend more on expertise. Paradoxically, they also lead to debate and often to division.

Anyway, I asked a Big Question to Sec. Clinton about ego, humility, and leadership. She gave her response then, but what is amazing is that eight months later people are still bringing it up. See for instance these articles from the Washington Post a week and a half ago, the New York Times and Los Angeles Times and Politico just the past couple of days. The New York Times reporter called me to see if I had anything else to say about it. What I said, essentially, is that the continued resonance of that exchange points to the fact that there have been so few Big Question moments in the campaign, and people wish there were more.

My Nashua clergy colleagues and I invited candidates from both parties to Big Question forums before the New Hampshire primary. No one chose to come.

But as citizens, we shouldn't stop. We should try to get our Big Questions heard, and we should keep talking about them among ourselves. Rabbi Feigelson suggests some, such as: Who are we responsible for? We think it's obvious what a Democrat or a Republican would say. But how recently have we taken the time to say it out loud, especially to someone from another political background?

Rabbi Feigelson suggests a different version of the question about race, immigration, or bias: Who do you choose to ignore? Check out his post on "How to Build a Better Debate."

I am mulling over how to advance this perspective on Yom Kippur morning in my words. And in the meantime, I hope on Sunday evening more than one of the voters at the town-hall-style second debate will ask a Big Question.

 

How To Be Judgmental

This was my D'var Torah in services on Sept. 10, 2016, Parashat Shoftim.

On my first Rosh Hashanah here, I recounted a small vignette that happened to me, that happened in me, when we were living in an apartment in Queens more than ten years ago. I was walking out the basement exit, near the laundry room, and I bumped into a friend. Not a close friend, but part of a couple I really found interesting. The two of them were creative people, a playwright/director and a dancer. I officiated at their wedding, and we had had many many long and deep conversations about life.

Anyway, I bumped into the playwright outside the building, and he was smoking a cigarette. It was a good place to smoke for an apartment dweller. I didn't realize he ever smoked – and I was kind of flustered, and said hi quickly, and walked along fast. And as soon as I was out of sight, these thoughts went running through my head: I can't believe this; he has a new baby and doesn't he know it's not good for the baby and he should really take care of himself; I thought I knew him and he was a smart guy; and he's younger than me and maybe not as mature and wise as I thought he was....

And then I stopped myself and thought: Wow, am I judgmental!

Today we read from the Torah Parashat Shoftim – shoftim means judges. And these are the weeks leading us to Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year that is also known as Yom Hadin, the Day of Judgment. So I want to help us get oriented to this theme of judgment.

There is a dominating image from the liturgy of the High Holy Days about the Day of Judgment. God is depicted sitting like a judge on a high seat, reading a book that contains all of our actions from the whole year – written in our own handwriting and witnessed by the Divine, God's-self. And on the basis of that record our fate for the coming year is decided – “who shall live and who shall die, who shall be tranquil and who shall be tormented.”

Now first of all, for the record I want to say that I don't believe that's how God works or how our destiny is worked out. I don't believe we are judged that way, and I don't believe in a God like that (which is a whole other topic).

But I do very much want to hold onto some of the imagery. The prayer itself is called Unetaneh Tokef, which means “we acknowledge the power” – the power of the day of judging. I love the idea that all our actions, good and bad, no matter how big or small, are significant. I believe that the decisions we make can affect life and death – whether it's how we drive or how we vote. And I believe our actions affect how we and others experience life – whether someone is more tranquil or more troubled because of me, because of us. I love the idea that we need to get focused on all this – that we need times of judgment.

Now, “judgmental” is a bad word. We often say that we're supposed to be nonjudgmental and accepting, so we don't drive people in our lives away. We shouldn't impose our own outlook on someone else. Look at the example of myself that I described: the torrent of negative judgments, just pouring out, almost out of my control. And there are a lot of places where judging goes wrong. It's really hard to do a good workplace performance assessment, or to get grades that really describe what kind of student you've been in a class. It's almost like we are programmed for negative judgments, and for inaccurate judgments. So we should just stop being so judgmental, no?

But we have this Yom Hadin, this Day of Judgment, and I don't want to let go of the possibility of judging – even judging each other and inviting judgment toward ourselves. The first line of the Torah reading today points us toward a couple of guidelines, when it says that we are to appoint judges lishvatecha – “for our tribes”, v'shaftu et ha-am mishpat tzedek -- “they should judge the people with just judgment.”

Judging is the most stinging when it's in our tribes – in our families, in our small social groups. That's the stuff that really eats at us. And it's also where it feels the best when we're judged to be good, from people who are close enough to see. We forget that we need that. When someone describes some way we are good, worth praising, it's easy to shrug it off, but it means something when it comes from inside our tribe. From the same people who are also critical and judgmental.

The second point is in the last words of the verse – “just judgment.” There is bad judging and good judging, and we want to get just the good judging.

The natural thing is that it's all mixed up together; careful judgment and being judgmental in a bad way. Thinking about myself outside the laundry room that day, there was this cascade of negative judgments about my friend the secret smoker. And, all of that was battling against my very good and positive judgments of this person, built up over a period of time. And there was a real issue in there and some concern for him and his family – I was thinking about a possibly unhealthy behavior in someone I cared about. So, bad judgmental and good judgmental, all in a bundle.

Can we get ourselves to extract from this kind of mixture the good judgmental, the mishpat tzedek?

We need a practice for this, to start working on for this time of year. The Baal Shem Tov suggests one: that every time we are judging another person, we should stop and imagine that we are judging ourselves. We should look to find the same flaw or the same habit in ourselves. If we can understand it, we will have more compassion for the other person. If we deny it, or we can't understand it – well, then we'll also have more compassion for the other person, who maybe can't understand it or is in denial. If it's something we can fix it in ourselves, we can figure out if it's something we can help the other person fix. Or maybe it was so hard for me to fix that I realize I can't really help the other person, and it's time to stop being so judgmental and upset.

Well, I have never been a smoker. But I can tell you that during the time when I discovered my friend outside smoking, I with my own small children was having an extra ice cream soda late at night while I was washing the dishes. It took me a long time to work on that.

And the Baal Shem Tov says that God never declares a judgment against us until we have made the judgment first. There is really no harsher judge than ourselves. We shouldn't be worrying about God's judgment, and we don't have to worry even about the judging eyes of others. They only matter when we realize we are judging ourselves.

The Baal Shem Tov is really reminding us that judging is dynamic. It's looking at good things and bad, it's looking at other people and ourselves. It's overshooting and then noticing that. It's thinking about our standards and what in our makeup and habits contribute to our better and our worse. For some small number of people in our lives, we can be really good judges. We should want those kinds of judges to judge us.

And when I'm the synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, this is how I plan to use the image of God judging us on Yom Hadin. For each thing written down in the book of a person's life that's not great, I will think of God asking – why did he do this, is this within her power to learn, what can I as God do to teach her or teach him. How might this one help another one be more alive next year, more tranquil and less troubled. And what should I, God, be less judgmental about in human beings... because even God hasn't figured out how to get everything right in the world.

 

The Art of Apology: Lena Dunham

Over the weekend in the world of celebrity, actor and writer Lena Dunham generated a stir over an interview in which she commented on being seated at an event next to athlete Odell Beckham Jr.  Ms. Dunham noticed Mr. Beckham on his cellphone, and she said that she imagined he was avoiding her because of her looks and body type. (See the full interview here.)

After much reaction, Ms. Dunham quickly issued the following apology through social media:

I owe Odell Beckham Jr an apology. Despite my moments of bravado, I struggle at industry events (and in life) with the sense that I don't rep a certain standard of beauty and so when I show up to the Met Ball surrounded by models and swan-like actresses it's hard not to feel like a sack of flaming garbage. This felt especially intense with a handsome athlete as my dinner companion and a bunch of women I was sure he'd rather be seated with. But I went ahead and projected these insecurities and made totally narcissistic assumptions about what he was thinking, then presented those assumptions as facts. I feel terrible about it. Because after listening to lots of valid criticism, I see how unfair it is to ascribe misogynistic thoughts to someone I don't know AT ALL. Like, we have never met, I have no idea the kind of day he's having or what his truth is. But most importantly, I would never intentionally contribute to a long and often violent history of the over-sexualization of black male bodies- as well as false accusations by white women towards black men. I'm so sorry, particularly to OBJ, who has every right to be on his cell phone. The fact is I don't know about his state of mind (I don't know a lot of things) and I shouldn't have acted like I did. Much love and thanks, Lena

What do you like about this as an apology? Feel free to post a comment.

 

 

Israel's War -- Rockets and Gaza

As a way to help people understand and make sense of Israel's war, I've started to pick out articles to recommend.  I've been tracking things that are generally not simply opinion.  More probing analysis, thoughtful moral reflection too.  I'm gathering them via a Twitter feed, @tbarav, which you can follow via Twitter.  Or you can find it on any of these pages on rabbijon.net all the time, the feed is in the lower right if you scroll down.  For other background, I have things I've written or gathered previously here too.

It is imperative to be well-informed -- bookmark Israeli papers such as Haaretz, Jerusalem Post, or Yediot Acharonot.  Reach out by phone or any form of note to Israelis you know and let them know that you and our whole community is thinking about them.  Come and be together here for an evening minyan or on Shabbat as we pray for Israel and for the lives of everyone involved in the conflict.

Shabbat Shalom -- May peace be more than a symbol or a hope,
Rabbi Jon

E-Maggid: How to Argue

Any dispute for the sake of Heaven has enduring value, and any dispute that is not for the Sake of Heaven has no enduring value.  What is an example of a dispute for the sake of Heaven?  The ongoing dispute between the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai.  What is an example of a dispute that is not for the sake of Heaven?  The dispute of Korach and his associates.  (Pirkei Avot 5:20)

Parashat Korach begins with an argument.  It's presented by Korach, a Levite, along with other prominent Israelites, who question why there has been one leader for forty years.  All of the people, every one of them is holy, and God is among them -- why are you elevated over the community of Adonai? (Numbers 16:3)

 

The rabbis compare this to another dispute.  The School of Shammai and the School of Hillel were groups among the early rabbis.  They used to argue about the details of ritual -- At the end of Shabbat, what's the proper sequence for the wine, candle, and spices?  They used to argue about ethics -- Is it ever permissible to lie?  They used to argue about social policy -- Should rabbis take time to train students who are not yet spiritual and morally developed?  They used to argue about philosophy -- Would the universe have been better off if human beings had not been created?

 

What makes the arguments of the School of Shammai and the School of Hillel "for the sake of Heaven"?  According to the Talmud, it's not the substance.  It's not because they are rabbis, arguing about all the kinds of things other rabbis value.  Instead, the Talmud tells us two things.  First, the School of Shammai continued to let their children marry children of rabbis from the School of Hillel, despite their reservations about the others' practices and philosophies.

 

Second, there was one particular dispute that went on for three years, and it took a voice from Heaven to resolve it.  God's representative declared that both sides had "the words of the Living God."  But the School of Hillel should be followed -- because they pressed their arguments more calmly, they studied the other side's opinions, and they used to present the other's sides arguments before their own.

 

Isn't there something valuable about Korach's dispute?  He too has some substance, in standing up for the idea that all the Jews are equally holy.  But we can easily detect jealousy mixed in.  Some of it is family jealousy too, since Korach and Moshe are cousins.  Korach couldn't separate his personal stake from the bigger picture.  His emotions racheted up the conflict.  As a result, his dispute couldn't have enduring value.

 

Arguing and conflict are everywhere in Torah, and they are facts of life.  The substance of arguments can have enduring value, worth studying.  Sometimes, it's how we act during an argument that has the most lasting effect, and can teach us the most.