Dear TBZ Community:
Over the years, my practice has been to take a few days off after all the Tishrei holidays have ended, to rest after such an intense and busy time. I learned this practice from my father, z”l; I am incredibly grateful for his wisdom as I take time to care for myself, slowing down and reenergizing for what’s next. Earlier this week I spent a few days in New Hampshire doing just that.
I started my rest with a walk in the woods and, though I worried about bears, the only animals I saw were the many, many deers. Another time during my stay, I sat in front of the lake, the stillness of the water was mesmerizing and the colors of the trees reflecting on the water were like a painting from heaven. As I closed my eyes, I had this incredible feeling of protection, of feeling safe, of being surrounded by beauty, by blessing, by God’s presence, and I wondered about this sense of safety. And though I have experienced times in my life when I have not felt safe, I realized how blessed I am to be and feel safe right now, in this moment of my life.
The truth is that we live in a world where being safe and feeling safe are not a given. So many people, so many communities are not safe. Especially minority communities.
In this week’s parasha (Torah portion), we read the story of Noah and the flood. Noah is about to experience danger, as the flood and the destruction of the world has been announced to him. But God commands him to build an ark, to save him, to save his family, and to save the animals. There are so many ways that God could have saved Noah, why an ark? Rashi, the medieval commentator, answers that question by quoting the Talmud: that God commanded Noah to build an ark, so people would see him work, would ask him why his is building an ark, and Noah would have the opportunity to respond that God is about to bring upon the world a flood. The ark then becomes the safe place, the safe place that saves Noah, saves his family, saves humanity, and saves the world. But it is not magical. It is built by the same human beings that need to be saved. There are so many details in the description of the building of the ark, which perhaps speaks to the difficulty of building spaces that are safe, spaces where we are held when the waters are shaky.
Of course, we don’t have to look far to experience waters that are shaky. Writing this today, October 27, when we commemorate the fourth anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh, where eleven people were killed while praying on Shabbat, reminds us of the growing anti-semitism in our country and the many ways that some are not safe and the many things we have to do to feel more safe, to be more safe (like enhancing security at TBZ). This week, it feels especially hard following the statements of one of the most prominent cultural icons in America. And so I am sharing with you a statement written by my friend and colleague, Rabbi Sharon Brous, that expresses much of what is on my mind these days; I encourage you to read the full statement below.
And, writing this at the end of October, Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I think of people who are not safe in their own homes, in the places where we are supposed to feel the most embraced and loved. Domestic abuse happens at roughly the same rate in the Jewish community as in the general population. It crosses demographic lines – geographic, denominational, and cultural. Journey to Safety is the JF&CS response to domestic abuse. You can learn more about their services here.
And I can go on and on about communities and individuals who are not safe, including LGBTQ people and people of color. But I go back to the teaching of this week’s parasha: we have to build the ark, day by day, and not give up. Build with love, with patience, with kindness. That is what we do: we don’t stop building arks of safety and love, building communities that are intentional that are there to embrace us. It is when we are able to build those arks for ourselves and for others that we can, perhaps, more often, go for walks in the woods feeling safe, or look at the still waters of the lake and feel God’s protection and love.
I lift up the memory of the eleven people who were killed at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh on October 27, 2018:
Joyce Fienberg, 75
Richard Gottfried, 65
Rose Mallinger, 97
Jerry Rabinowitz, 66
Cecil, 59 & David Rosenthal, 54
Bernice, 84 & Sylvan Simon, 86
Daniel Stein, 71
Melvin Wax, 88
Irving Younger, 69
Zichronam Livracha, may their memories be a blessing.
May this Shabbat bring renewal and blessings to all of you and your loved ones.
May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing. And may we have a joyful, sweet, and peaceful Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia
Statement by Rabbi Sharon Brous on the alarming recent incidents of antisemitism roiling the Jewish Community:
Just before the Unite the Right March in Charlottesville in 2017, the Jewish community was wrestling with how to respond to the white nationalists they knew were heading to town, intent on inciting violence. Dahlia Lithwick was there, and her son, 12 years old at the time, summed up their predicament: if we engage with the Nazis, we’ll lose, and if we ignore them, we’ll also lose.
I know that many of us feel the same way these days, as we try to navigate recent broadsides against our Jewish community. Two weeks ago, the former President threatened American Jews if we don’t get on board with his right-wing Israel agenda (newsflash: we’re not getting on board).
Then one of the most prominent cultural icons in America threatened to go DEATHCON 3 on the Jewish people (whatever that means), whom he has accused of controlling industry and finance. This, from the same person who wore a White Lives Matter t-shirt, declared that slavery was a choice and spread pernicious lies about the murder of George Floyd. As Charles Blow has pointed out: you’re hardly a free-thinker if all you’re doing is regurgitating white supremacist talking points.
This one-two punch seems to have opened an antisemitic Pandora’s box, and Los Angeles is, for now, the epicenter, leaving many of us truly concerned. Neo-Nazis hung a banner on the 405 and saluted Heil Hitler, distributed flyers with names of prominent Jews and accused Jews of being puppet masters and running Hollywood. They’re blaming COVID on a Jewish agenda and warning people that the Jews are trying to turn our children queer.
At the same time, overzealous measures to punish “Zionists” led by student groups at schools like UVM, Berkeley and Wellesley target those who fail to preemptively denounce the state of Israel. No, not all criticism of Israel is antisemitism—a dangerous and foolish accusation our community too often levels against any critic of Israel’s Occupation of Palestinian territories. But when student organizations, with often scant understanding of the conflict, map and target Jewish-owned businesses, when they require Jewish students and scholars to pass a litmus test on Israel before they can fully participate in campus life, it surely doesn’t pass the sniff test, not by a long shot.
These threats, of course, are not all created equal. There is nothing more dangerous than antisemitism condoned and ultimately promulgated by the most powerful people in our nation. And even still, it’s patently clear that any manifestation of antisemitism, regardless of its ideological underpinnings, is a toxin that threatens to poison the whole system. And all of them, taken together, contribute to an even deeper sense of vulnerability in our community.
Are we overreacting? No, friends, we’re not. James Carroll once described antisemitism as “the bug in the software of the West,” an insidious, ever-present glitch in the system that excludes Jews from moral concern and too often paves the way for terrible violence. The conspiracy theory of Jewish power is a dangerous lie, one that has fueled pogroms, expulsions and ultimately genocide.
Antisemitism is a bellwether for the health of a society. When antisemitism thrives, racism thrives. When antisemitic language proliferates, no one is safe. When violence against Jews is normalized, there is an increase in violence generally, and especially against other minority communities. The antisemitic lie endangers not only Jews, it endangers our very democracy.
Many Jews feel alone right now. But we must know that we are not alone. Elected officials and advocates, multifaith and multiracial partners and friends are standing with our community, and I’m grateful for every one of them.
What are we to do now? The only way the discourse changes is if we change it. We must remember that antisemitism, as Eric Ward teaches, is integral to the architecture of American racism. There is no way to eradicate anti-Black racism while giving a quiet pass to antisemitism, and vice versa. Essential to white supremacy is a wedge between Black and Jewish communities. So while I’m relieved that Kanye is finally facing repercussions for his foul antisemitic remarks, I wish people were as aggrieved by his anti-Black racism. And I wish that his antisemitic white comrades would be similarly de-platformed. I wish that we could all remember that marginalized populations turning against each other serves only to bolster those already in power. And it is only in partnership and friendship that we can overcome the scourge of antisemitism and racism.
This week, on the fourth anniversary of the Tree of Life massacre, I hope we’ll hold our Jewish hearts with tenderness and our Jewish identities with pride. I hope that with every gesture of cruelty, every lie and manipulation, we’ll step deeper into coalition with other targeted communities, remembering that our safety come only through solidarity. And I hope we’ll remember, today and every day, that the beloved community will only be built together.
I hold you all with great love and care,
Rabbi Sharon Brous