Didn’t We Do the Same Thing Last Year?

Do any of you have a similar reaction to the Seder?

As “Ma nishtana” is recited, I find myself wondering, “Didn’t we ask that last year?”

It’s true. Don’t we do a lot the same way we did it last year? Last generation? Last century?

Judaism encourages repetition.

The Talmud (Chagigah 9b) states: “Hillel taught: one who reviews one’s study 100 times is not comparable to one who reviews one’s study 101 times.” In Talmud study, we place a premium on chazarah, review of what one studies. It’s often easier to move forward, but one only masters the material by chazzering it.

We know from experience that repetition need not be tedious or without benefit. People watch the same shows and movies all the time. Nowadays, there’s a classic sports channel on which people watch old games when they already know who won. Of course, one can rewatch Seinfeld episodes countless times…

Cristel Antonia Russell and Sidney Levy, professors of business and marketing, researched repetition and published, “The Temporal and Focal Dynamics of Volitional Reconsumption: A Phenomenological Investigation of Repeated Hedonic Experiences.” They found four reasons people like reruns or repetitive experiences.

1. The simple reason. Whether it be a movie or an experience, people just enjoy the repetition.

2. The nostalgic reason. Some people feel good remembering the past.

3. The therapeutic reason. Sometimes, people want to watch it or do it again to get it right.

4. The existential reason. Repetition builds on the initial experience, making it more impactful.

We see these four rationales at the Seder. We enjoy the family traditions and the memories from Seders past. We tell the same jokes – that still get a laugh. We keep trying to get the matzah balls cooked just right. We are creating new memories as well as ensuring the next generation is steeped in tradition. We say, “Afilu kulanu chachamim, even if we are all wise.” There is always more to learn, experience, internalize, and grow from the familiar rhythm of the Seder.

Elliott Holt, an author, describes a practice he learned from a friend in which he reads the same poem each day for a month. He writes: “Repetition led to revelation…When you reread the same poem over and over again, you stop scrolling along the surface and dive deep beneath it.” Repetition is about more than quantity. Repetition helps elevate the quality.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says something similar about the Haggadah and the Seder experience.

“When I take part in a Seder service on Passover, telling the story of the book of Exodus, I am not engaged in a cultural act like watching a film or reading a book about it. I am enacting it, making it part of me. On Passover, the Exodus ceases to be mere history and becomes memory: not something that happened somewhere else to someone else long ago, but something that is happening to me, here, now. It defines me as part of that story, linking me to a community of others in different places and times. It changes me, for I now know what it feels and tastes like to be oppressed, and I can no longer walk by when others are oppressed. People who have lived the seder service are different for having done so, and the world is different because of them.” (The Great Partnership, p. 172)

This may be why, no matter how many innovations we may think to introduce to the Seder and Haggadah, you can’t beat the real thing.

In 1973, after the Yom Kippur War, Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir was invited to be the guest of honor at a dinner in New York hosted by the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations. Rabbi Shlomo Riskin was there and witnessed the following exchange. During the dinner, the Prime Minister already looked bored as an unplanned presentation was added to the program. She was given a new copy of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan’s interpretation of the Haggadah. In this new version, the Egyptian slavery was replaced by the Holocaust, and the State of Israel was center stage as the Israelites travel in the Sinai desert. Mrs. Meir skimmed quickly through the Haggadah and returned it, saying “Thank you very much, but I’m not really interested.”

The American leaders making the presentation were shocked. “But you are not Orthodox, and this new rendition makes the story more relevant for a generation that experienced the horrors of the Holocaust followed by the creation of the State of Israel!”

Golda’s response was priceless: “No, I am not Orthodox, and I never will be. Nevertheless, I do host a Pesach Seder each year, especially for my grandchildren. What is most important to me is that my granddaughter at the Seder uses the same words that my grandmother said at her Seder.”

“How is THIS Pesach different from all other Pesachs?”

This year, it’s a question with a very definitive answer. We feel a heaviness and sadness after the events of October 7, the war against Hamas, tens of thousands of Israelis displaced from the north and south, so many soldiers and civilians killed, the hostages, and, most recently, the attack by Iran. Pesach is not the same for so many that it must be different for all of us. While partaking of the familiar rituals, we will inject them with contemporary insights and feelings. Israeli President Isaac Herzog called on all Jews to have an empty chair at the table to recall the emptiness so many will experience - whether it be physically or emotionally - this year.

Infusing the familiar and repetitive with contemporary spirit is how we ensure Jewish continuity and relevance. Each time we do things the same way but a little differently, we fortify the foundation of our tradition to make sure it lasts forever.

Combatting Lashon Hara: From the Chafetz Chaim to Omer Adam

I don’t repeat lashon hara (evil speech)…
So listen carefully the first time…

The Torah never mentions the words lashon hara nor directly specifies the punishment for speaking it will be the skin affliction called tzara’at, often translated inaccurately as leprosy. It is implied in the story of Miriam speaking ill about Moshe's wife and then being afflicted with tzara'at. Tradition puts one and one together, and tzara'at and lashon ha-ra are forever linked at the hip.

The Talmud and Jewish law briefly describe the details of lashon hara. There are two types – gossip and slander. There are certain exceptions when information needs to be shared. Essentially, the best way to sum up the rules of lashon hara is, essentially, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Lashon hara got a big boost of its profile in the writings of Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan of Radin (1838-1933), who is better known as the Chafetz Chaim, the title of the book he wrote devoted to the subject of lashon hara. The words mean “one who desires life” and are from Psalm 34: 

מִי־הָאִישׁ הֶחָפֵץ חַיִּים אֹהֵב יָמִים לִרְאוֹת טוֹב׃ נְצֹר לְשׁוֹנְךָ מֵרָע וּשְׂפָתֶיךָ מִדַּבֵּר מִרְמָה׃

“Who is the one who desires life, who desires years of good fortune? Guard your tongue from evil, your lips from deceitful speech.”

Want to live a long life? Watch your tongue.

The Chafetz Chaim’s focus on lashon hara transformed the subject from a mitzvah among many into an ethical focus which has spawned further books, campaigns, and initiatives. It was an important effort as gossip, slander, and all forms of negative speech are so easily spoken. By expounding on the subject within the context of Jewish law – like other aspects of Jewish behavior, the Chafetz Chaim tried to get us to treat lashon hara as seriously as the rest of our Judaism.

Over the past 100 years, the problem has only gotten worse. The rapid expansion of media and now social media has created a reality in which we encounter all types of lashon hara – negative speech and communication that extend far beyond “just” gossip and slander.

The lines between lashon, communication and speech, and lashon hara, negative speech, have become blurry. Besides how this impacts the object of the speech, speaking or hearing lashon hara has a negative impact on us. We become desensitized to the power of words to hurt; we become far less discriminating in how we speak with others; and we become less discerning and more dismissive of views that differ from our own.

In a world of short attention spans suffused with lashon hara, a new effort was needed to combat all the negativity. About 12 years ago, Israeli David Halperin started using the slogan “Lashon Hara Lo Medaber Eilay,” which means lashon hara doesn’t speak to me, as a simple tool to combat all the negative speech out there. The idea is that we are better than the crude, hurtful, and disparaging language that is so prevalent today. He started a campaign based on the slogan complete with ads and stickers that can be seen all over Israel and beyond. The expression speaks to all kinds of audiences from secular to Haredi and has numerous celebrity endorsements.

Omer Adam is an Israeli singer whose music fuses elements of eastern Mizrahi music and Western Pop instrumentation. He has a 2020 song entitled “Lashon Hara Lo Medaber Eilay.” While the lyrics may not be a comprehensive presentation of the laws of lashon hara, the song notes all the noise out there and a desire to focus on the truth and things which matter. We can and must be better.

“Let your eyes look forward, your gaze be straight ahead.” (Mishlei 4:25)

Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, explained this verse teaches us that if you look at someone and first notice a fault, turn your eye inward and look at yourself instead.

Even though it sometimes seems that speaking lashon hara can be satisfying and enjoyable, the truth is that it is exactly the opposite. Speaking lashon hara corrodes our viewpoint, corrodes our relationships, and ultimately corrodes our soul. Avoiding lashon hara creates space for us to appreciate the blessings that we have. Avoiding lashon hara will make us happier people, allowing us to develop our positive dispositions and to strengthen our relationship with God and with others.

Maybe some of the negativity out there is a reflection of ourselves and how we look at things.

The Torah commands us against speaking evil. The Rabbis codified the rules. One hundred years ago, the Chafetz Chaim recognized the need for a crusade. Today, Omer Adam has become the spokesperson (or song-person) to carry the message to the masses that lashon hara must not speak to us. Instead, we must look inwards at the best of our nature so as to see the best in others.

 

Total Eclipse of the Sun

Reservations made? Gas tank filled? Glasses ready?

I mean eclipse glasses of course.

Everyone is getting ready for the total eclipse of the sun taking place on Monday, April 8. (Anyone else have Bonnie Tyler’s song playing in your head now?)

As explained by NASA: A total solar eclipse happens when the Moon passes between the Sun and Earth, completely blocking the face of the Sun. People located in the center of the Moon’s shadow when it hits Earth will experience a total eclipse. The sky will darken, as if it were dawn or dusk. Weather permitting, people in the path of a total solar eclipse can see the Sun’s corona, the outer atmosphere, which is otherwise usually obscured by the bright face of the Sun.

There is a lot of excitement since the zone of “totality,” where it will get completely dark, will be experienced by millions of people across a large swath of the US heading northeast from Texas up through Illinois, Ohio, Upstate New York, Vermont, and Maine. Plenty of people are hitting the road to experience this rare event. (The next one will take place in 2044 and won’t be as accessible.)

All week long, people have been asking how does Judaism view an eclipse? An eclipse actually has deep Jewish historical and theological significance. (See HERE for my recent class on the subject.)

There are a number of Biblical references to eclipses in the Prophets. One notable verse is: And in that day - declares the Sovereign God - I will make the sun set at noon, I will darken the earth on a sunny day. (Amos 8:9) Scholars have suggested that the prophets experienced eclipses and have even identified some historical synchronicity between known eclipses and Biblica accounts.

The Talmud (Sukkah 29a) generally views eclipses in a negative light: “The Sages taught: When the sun is eclipsed it is a bad omen for the entire world.” This may be a function of the terror people felt when it got dark suddenly in the middle of the day. Nowadays, we better understand the science of eclipses and know when they will occur. While some rabbinical authorities maintain the eclipse should prompt prayer and penitence, others say we have nothing to fear from these events as they are part of the natural order.

Is a beracha, blessing, recited when witnessing an eclipse?

While there are blessings recited over natural phenomena such as seeing lightning, hearing thunder, and encountering the wonders of creation, there is no beracha specified for an eclipse. This leads many rabbis to conclude that no beracha should be recited when seeing an eclipse. There is a minority view that blessings over natural phenomena don’t require a precedent or specific instruction. The most common beracha recited over nature is “Oseh ma’aseh bereishit – God Who made the wonders of creation.” If one is inspired when witnessing the eclipse and wants to acknowledge God, then this beracha may be recited. (Ask your local Rabbi!)

Blessing or no blessing, a total eclipse of the sun brings us face to face with the beauty, glory, and complexity of creation. It should excite us! We may not all decide to pack up the car, drive for hours, and make overpriced motel reservations to experience the zone of totality, but we should, at least, mark the occasion through a religious prism.

On June 29, 1927, there was a total solar eclipse visible in Eastern Europe. An account was published of how Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan of Radin, better known as the Chafetz Chaim, reacted to the event:

“And the Chafetz Chaim taps again with his right hand on the table with an expression of victory, and smiling he adds, “They should come to see. It is a mitzvah to see the sun eclipsed, to actually see that a creation was actually formed by the Creator…And he taps lightly again with his right hand, a quiet smile... [they] had already prepared for the Chafetz Chaim, a special triply thick, darkened pair of glasses which properly fit the good and trustworthy eyes of the holy and vaunted elder. The righteous one does this [looking at the eclipse] with holy trepidation, exactly as he would silently gaze at his chanukiah, from it he does not remove his eyes so long as there are sparkling remnants of oil…And behold the darkness has eclipsed the entire sphere, as if a large well of ink has spilled and filled the space … a strange darkness, not that of the twilight nor even like the thick darkness of night…Behold, a black curtain has been stretched on the face of the Sun; there remains not even one red streak. And behold the Wonder. Behold, behold, once again, born is the new sun — like the six days of creation…”

Rabbi Benjamin Blech views an eclipse as a religious message while also noting the similarity between how we watch an eclipse and a well-known Jewish ritual:

“An eclipse may be an omen but it is not a verdict or a final judgment. It is a moment in time which serves as a reminder of God’s awesome power and goodness…The awesome message of an eclipse and its meaning for us has a remarkable parallel to a universal Jewish custom. It is extremely important, NASA and other experts tell us, that we cover our eyes and not look directly at the sun when it happens. Failure to heed this counsel could lead to blindness. I cannot help but think of the very same admonition to cover our eyes when we recite the Shema. At the moment when we contemplate God’s uniqueness and greatness we indicate that His splendor is beyond the capacity of our vision; to think we truly see His essence with the limited perspective of our eyes is to be blind to the reality of His infinite magnificence.”

An eclipse, like the Chanukah lights, is holy. In times of chaos, it provides us with a few moments to close our eyes and reorient ourselves towards the Godly and good of the world around us and inspire us to do our share to live up to that potential.

Average Joe and Ultimate Modern Orthodox Jew

I’m proud to have had a connection with Joe Lieberman, who passed away this week at the age of 82.

We were not on a first-name basis, but each time we met we would reminisce about shared friends and experiences as neighbors in the close-knit Jewish community of New Haven, CT. There are so many who fondly and proudly recount their “Joe and Hadassah” experiences or run in the same circles as their children.

Joe Lieberman served as one of the greatest exemplars of Modern Judaism. Observant Jew, Senator, almost Vice President, approachable, pious, knowledgeable, down to earth, principled, Zionist, bipartisan, centrist, a mensch. These are just some of the words being used in numerous tributes to a great American.

Joe Lieberman personified both the “average Joe” and the Ultimate Modern Orthodox Jew.

“He was a senator, but at the same time, he sat in seats like everybody else, he enjoyed the kiddush like everybody else,” noted my friend Rabbi Daniel Cohen of Agudath Sholom in Stamford, CT. He recalled Lieberman’s fondness for cholent and whiskey. “When he walked home from shul, he got soaked on rainy days. He was one of us. People visiting Stamford would be like, ‘He’s davening mincha like me?'"

So many people have average Joe stories – of davening with him, with being in shul when Joe led services and said Kaddish, with encountering him and Hadassah at a shiva home. There are myriad stories of congressmen or staffers having a Shabbat meal with or joining him as he walked to or from the Capitol on Shabbat for a critical vote.

At the same time, Joe Lieberman lived a celebrated life of public service and accomplishment as a proud, Modern Orthodox Jew. I remember the excitement of the 2000 presidential election. We were so close to an Orthodox Jew in the White House! Whatever one’s politics, Joe Lieberman embodied the best of Modern Orthodoxy and shone a light on faith, in general, and Judaism, in particular, that will impact the American Jewish community long into the future.

It is not easy to define Modern Orthodoxy. I believe it means to take Jewish observance and the teachings of Judaism and integrate them into and elevate the modern world. Some Jews focus exclusively on the Orthodoxy, while others leave behind the tradition and embrace only the Modernity. True Modern Orthodoxy is able to bridge the gap and span the spectrum to positively impact all Jews and humanity.

Joe Lieberman did this. In both Judaism and politics, he built bridges and was a passionate centrist. After his passing, Jewish organizations across the religious and political spectrums offered tributes. I can’t think of many other Orthodox Jews who could garner such praise.

Agudath Israel of America’s Rabbi Abba Cohen said, “I regularly was asked by Jewish students if I knew ‘Senator Lieberman, the Sabbath observant Jew.’ It was clear that he was a source of pride and inspiration to young people. He was an exemplar of Orthodox Judaism to the world. The senator and his Torah observance made an impression on people and intrigued them. People were influenced by, and attracted to, him and his values.”

From a different part of the community, the National Council of Jewish Women noted, “He championed abortion access, LGBTQ+ equality and gun safety. Our communities are safer because of his leadership. May his memory be for a blessing.”

Joe Lieberman made a broad, deep, and meaningful Modern Orthodox impact. Throughout his career, many compared him to the Biblical Joseph, a Jew who remained faithful to his roots even as he rose to prominence in a foreign land and literally saved Egypt. The comparisons grew even stronger when Joe Lieberman ran for Vice President and nearly achieved the equivalent of Joseph’s Viceroy role.

Last night, I reread Lieberman’s book about Shabbat, The Gift of Rest. It is a deeply personal journey of how the Senator observed Shabbat, insights into Judaism and faith, and quite a number of entertaining stories. The book is a wonderful guide for how to celebrate Shabbat and a testament to the relevance of faith in the modern world. It also provides insight into Joe Lieberman’s religious philosophy and inspiration.

While in college and law school, Lieberman writes, his religious observance lapsed somewhat. (There’s a humorous story about Lobster Newburgh.) His grandmother’s passing in 1967, though, sparked a return to more serious observance. Why?

“Uppermost in my mind was the worry that Baba was my link with the Judaism of my ancestors. If I let go of the link in the chain, it would be broken and lost to me and my children after me. And so I slowly began my return to regular synagogue attendance and Sabbath religious observance.” (p.17)

Joe Lieberman lived his life to ensure that the past would link to the future. He knew that the future would be brighter only if it allowed the past to live on.

Rabbi Menachem Genack, CEO of OU Kosher and longtime friend of Joe Lieberman, includes a Dvar Torah he heard from Joe Liberman in his book on Chumash. Why in Judaism does the day begin at night? It’s dark at night. One can truly only recognize a new day with the light of the day. It would make more sense for the Jewish day to begin in the morning!

Joe Lieberman answered that daytime is bright and warm, a time for growth and hope. Nighttime, on the other hand, is a time of darkness, despair, and fear. Judaism teaches that the day “begins” at a time of need since our purpose is to fill that need. We can only appreciate the need for light when we encounter darkness. The Jewish day begins at night as a constant message for us to fill the void and add light to the darkness.

Joe Lieberman, the average Joe and Ultimate Modern Orthodox Jew, lived a life of bringing light to the darkness, of bringing Torah Judaism to bear on a world sorely in need of its warmth and illumination. It’s a light and the kind of life we all must strive for to brighten up the darkness today.

May his memory always be a blessing and an inspiration. 

Be the Hero!

The first Purim costume I remember was dressing up as “Super Mordechai.” I was five years old and went all out – all in blue, red cape, red rain boots, a big Mem for Mordechai on my chest, black hat (since that’s what Super Jews wear of course), and blue tights. (I remember being teased for wearing tights!) It seemed only normal that the characters in the Megillah were superheroes.

Why do we love superheroes? They represent how a single person has the capacity to make the world a better place if they put their powers to good use. We are drawn to the heroic – whether in the comics or in reality - since, deep down, we each want to make that kind of difference.

It’s natural to feel this way.

A 2017 study from Kyoto University in Japan found humans are drawn to heroes from early stages of development. In a series of experiments, infants as young as six months were shown short animations in which one figure chased and bumped into a second. Meanwhile, a third figure watched from afar. In one version, the third figure steps in and prevents the collision, and in the other, it runs away without intervening. After watching the clips, the infants were presented with replicas of the intervening and non-intervening third figures, and they consistently preferred the one who saved the day.

These findings suggest that our sense of justice - and likewise, adoration for heroes - is innate and explains why kids and adults alike have a love affair with superhero stories in popular culture. 

We admire heroes. At the same time, we should see ourselves as heroes.

Ben Rogers, a behavioral economist, wanted to know what would happen if ordinary people told their life stories in the arc of the hero’s journey. In a series of 14 studies, he and his colleagues found that the more people thought of their own life as a hero’s journey, the more meaning they experienced in life.

Each of us is a superhero character in our own story. We’re not just individuals living ordinary lives. What we do has an impact way beyond our immediate environment. We may not always know exactly how, but small decisions and actions can be heroic.

I know many of us are thinking about Israelis and their strength and resilience. They’re all heroes. At the same time, they think Americans who visit them or who send them support are heroes. There are plenty of ordinary heroes we can look towards as models of what It means to live an ordinary heroic life.

Ron Hassner is a Political Science professor at the University of California, Berkely. The campus has been a hotbed of rising anti-Israel and antisemitic activity since October 7. He has never been an activist or one who attends protests. (He attended his first one ever a few weeks ago at a San Francisco march against antisemitism.) But Ron had seen too much hatred and violence directed against Jewish students and decided to act. He staged a “sleep in” and would remain in his office. He would sleep on the mattress on the floor and teach his 100-person “War in the Middle East” class over Zoom. (In case you’re wondering, he would use the bathroom down the hall, and his family brings him food.) Ron wanted to make sure his students – and all Jewish students – know there’s a light on for them and a safe place to gather, and he would stay until his requests were met.

“My first request…find a permanent way to keep Sather Gate open. My second request to the university is that if a speaker is shouted out, and has to leave campus without giving their talk, no matter if they’re Palestinian or Israeli, no matter if they are right wing or left wing, that they receive an apology from the university and that they be invited back. And my third request…the university provide Islamophobia and antisemitism training to staff. These are my requests, and they strike me as reasonable.”

Yesterday, after two weeks, Ron left his office after receiving assurances his requests were met. Ron Hassner is a hero. He stood up for his students, and he succeeded. It’s not always the loudest protests which are effective.

Michael Tuchin is the President of AIPAC. After October 7, anti-Israel protestors gathered at his home and vandalized his property. Their activities went viral and social media, and someone posted, “Give us the address and we’ll finish the job.” Here is a lay leader. He is a very active pro-Israel supporter, but he’s not a professional or a soldier on the front lines. And he is being legitimately threatened. Michael’s response is to "stand taller, fight stronger and do more."

Michael Tuchin’s resolve in the face of threats is admirable. He demonstrates how ordinary people – each of us – can be a hero by remaining steadfast in our beliefs and love for Israel.

Purim is the holiday for ordinary heroes. Mordechai and Esther were just characters in a terrible drama unfolding against the Jews of Persia. What was their superpower? Believing that redemption was possible. They didn’t sit back and let events unfold. They acted. Mordechai encouraged Esther to take a risk and appear before the King and realize that this could actually make a difference. Esther requested that Jews everywhere fast and pray in solidarity with her, to also put spiritual skin in the game and stand up as Jews. Add a few parties with only Haman invited to raise suspicions and people standing at the right place at the right time, and voila, the tables turn. Even the offhand comment by Charvona to hang Haman is credited as significant enough to “remember him for good.”

Be a hero! What kind of hero? Each of us is the superhero of our story. The decisions we make and actions we take will make a difference. We need to feel empowered. We should see ourselves as the one upon whom it is incumbent to get things done and not rely on others to do so.

We love heroes – comic book, spiritual, and real.  Most importantly, let’s become heroes.  Let’s take on the roles – large and small – that only we can accomplish.

Don’t look up in the sky.  Look in the mirror.  It’s a superhero.

You've Got to Have Friends!

This week, I was in Washington, D.C. attending the AIPAC Congressional Summit along with over 1,500 political activists. On Monday evening, many members of Congress attended the event, and, on Tuesday, we all went to Capitol Hill to lobby. It is clear that October 7 has shifted the discourse about Israel in Washington. Many friends of Israel are even more passionate about the justness of strong US support for Israel. There are other, thankfully fewer, voices that just don’t get that Hamas is responsible for everything they criticize Israel for.

On my way to visit Congressman Dan Goldman, I passed the offices of other representatives. The walls in front of many offices were plastered signs and notes. Some were expressions of district or state pride, and others mentioned issues important to them. I noticed an “I Stand with Israel” sign outside the office Congressman Robert Aderholt of Alabama. Since representatives also have a sign that says, “Please come in,” that’s what I did. I walked inside. The congressman was busy, but his chief of staff welcomed me and asked what I wanted. I explained that I am a Rabbi from New York. I saw the sign supporting Israel and wanted to say thank you. He replied, “Of course. It’s the right thing to do.”

There aren’t many Jews in Alabama, but Congressman Aderholt feels the issue is important enough to make the visible statement. There are plenty more such signs – and plenty of other friends without signs.

We have friends. We need to keep and cultivate these friends.

Someone asked whether my visit to Washington left me feeling optimistic or pessimistic. This was part of a conversation discussing the recent pro-Palestinian protests outside synagogues hosting Israel real estate fairs. He figured I’d be pessimistic, but I am feeling optimistic. It’s aggravating and dispiriting when the protests are so loud. It is discouraging when friends turn against us. At the same time, we have plenty of friends. We shouldn’t focus on our opponents; we’re not going to change their minds. Instead, we should focus on those who support us and those whose view can be shaped. And there are many of them.

New data from the Harvard-Harris’ February poll show that a majority of Americans across the political spectrum continue to support Israel and its war against Hamas. Here are six notable findings: 

-          63% of Americans support Israel continuing its ground campaign in southern Gaza to root out Hamas.

-          67% of Americans support a ceasefire only after all hostages are released and Hamas is removed from power.

-          82% of Americans stand firmly with Israel and support our ally over Hamas.

-          66% of Americans recognize Israel’s significant efforts to avoid civilian casualties in Gaza.

-          55% of Americans support the president’s $14.3 billion emergency aid package for Israel.

-          78% of Americans oppose continued Hamas rule of Gaza.

Naama just returned from a JNF Volunteer for Israel Mission. In addition to all of the meaningful experiences, she was blown away by the diversity of participants, some of whom had never been to Israel before.

We have friends. We have support out there. We need to concentrate on our friends and pay less attention to those who wish us ill. Don’t let critical headlines and noisy detractors spoil the solid support we do enjoy.

We’re just over a week from Purim. It is a holiday that brings people together. We come together to hear Megillah and recount the story of salvation. We gather around the table together for a festive meal. We extend our hands to those in need, and we send gifts of food to each other, mishloach manot.

The source of the mitzvah of mishloach manot is Esther 9:19:

וּמִשְׁלוֹחַ מָנוֹת אִישׁ לְרֵעֵהוּ

Send portions of food from one friend to another.

The rabbis debate whether focus should be on the food or the friends. What difference does it make? It can make quite a bit.

If the mishloach manot is all about the food, then the recipient must actually eat the food that is delivered from the sender to fulfill the mitzvah. If it’s about friendship, maybe a gift card or nice note will suffice.  Which is more important?

I like a nice Purim treat as much as the next person, but, today, we need much more focus on friends. This is true in a Shul or a neighborhood, and it’s true when it comes to Israel. We must stand up for Israel and the hostages and push back against our enemies. At the same time, we should encourage those who are allied with our cause to bring them even closer. In these complicated times, we should remain focused and united. Hamas is evil and can end this way very simply by surrendering and freeing the hostages. All the rest is commentary and headlines and noise.

We need more mishloach manot, more friends, and more friendship. This will, please God, lead to the outcome described in Megillat Esther (8:16) “La’Yehudim hayta orah v’simcha v’sasone vi’kar – For the Jews, there will be light, joy, celebration, and honor.”  

Kein tihyeh lanu – So may it be for us!

More Zionism of the Heart

I present to you Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Kalischer and Asher Zvi Hirsch Ginsberg.

Rabbi Kalischer (1795-1874) was an Orthodox German rabbi who expressed views, from a religious perspective, in favor of the Jewish re-settlement of the Land of Israel. His views were a forerunner for what developed into Religious Zionism which sees positive religious significance to the State of Israel. Ginsberg (1856-1927) is better known by his pen name Ahad Ha’am. A journalist and essayist, he was one of the foremost pre-state Zionist thinkers. He is known as the founder of Cultural or Spiritual Zionism which believed in the establishment of a national spiritual center that would radiate to all Diaspora communities. Ahad Ha'am described this as "a Jewish state and not merely a state of Jews."

Zionism is complicated. There are so many figures and strains of Zionism to explore. What we have today is a pastiche of ideologies which can sometimes be inconsistent or even contradictory. Historian Gil Troy, in The Zionist Ideas: Visions for the Jewish Homeland — Then, Now, Tomorrow, presents six schools of Zionist thought: Political, Labor, Revisionist, Religious, Cultural and Diaspora Zionism.

I think it’s time to replace Zionism with “Loving Israel.”

Let me explain.

This week, I participated in a conference entitled “Zionism: A New Conversation.” It was a gathering of 110 rabbis from across the country convened by The Lisa and Michael Leffell Foundation, Maimonides Fund, and Paul E. Singer Foundation. The gathering had been in the works since January 2023. With proposed judicial reforms in Israel ripping apart the country, conversations in the US were growing more divisive as well. As Michael Lefell noted, “We heard about some rabbis who declined to say the prayer for the State of Israel or for the government of Israel…People were losing sight of the centrality of Israel to the Jewish people.”

It was a busy couple of days of lectures and conversations featuring presenters and guests from across the political, religious, and ideological spectrum. Topics included reengaging youth when discussing Israel, creating allies, understanding social media, answering the hard questions and reclaiming Zionism. The organizers deserve a lot of credit for creating a forum to educate and encourage leaders to restore Israel to the Jewish communal discussion.

In many ways, I feel blessed. My community – like most of the Orthodox community – does not have “an Israel problem.” As complicated as Israel is and as many views about Israel as there may be, love and support for Israel are strong. I do not feel that complexity endangers love for Israel as it does among many parts of the less affiliated Jewish world. At the same time, knowledge is power, and we all benefit from the efforts and insights of the “experts in the field” to best explain Zionism – especially to the younger generation.

As much as better understanding Zionism is critical today, I feel we need more Rabbi Kalischer and Ahad Ha’am. We need more Zionism of the Heart.

As powerful as words and theories are to the battle against Israel’s detractors, the greatest weapons we have as a community are the loyalty and love of those who support Israel regardless of the history or the ideology. I was sitting in a session with Ken Stein, a historian and founder of the Center for Israel Education, presenting amazing historical documents and arguments for how the Jews were able to establish a state while the Arabs refused. I thought to myself, “This is great! Young people need to learn this stuff.” At the same time, I was thinking that the facts aren’t enough. We need to engage hearts.

I had epiphany during a session given by Dr. Rachel Fish, Co-Founder and President of Boundless Israel which works to revitalize Israel education. She explained that she prefers to use the term “Jew Hatred” rather than antisemitism. Antisemitism has a lot of “baggage;” Jew Hatred is more straightforward. It makes sense. I suggest we focus less on “Zionism” and more on “Loving Israel” or “Supporting Israel.” We can spend our whole lives studying Zionism and never finish. Loving Israel can be inculcated through visiting Israel and bringing Israel into our Judaism, through Zionism of the Heart.

Bret Stephens is a strong friend of Israel and some people’s only reason to still read the New York Times. Bret writes extensively on Zionism, and, at the conference, he made the case that Zionism is a key foundation of Judaism and one can’t be a serious Jew without understanding our relationship to the land of Israel. He noted that he’s pretty far from being religious, but he feels religion when visiting the Kotel. That’s Zionism of the Heart.

Rep. Ritchie Torres (D-NY) closed the conference. He is an amazing supporter of Israel while being a proud progressive. In fact, he says it’s his progressive values that inform his Zionism. He bemoans the zeitgeist on college campuses today which attacks Zionism and leads to antisemitism. He likes to joke that the reason he can progressive and pro-Israel is that he dropped out of college and wasn’t negatively influenced there. That’s Zionism of the Heart.

We need to better understand the complexities of Zionism. At the same time, we need more love, pride and passion when it comes to Israel and Judaism. Without a deeply felt emotional connection, Judaism can lose out to American, Western, or progressive values. 

Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald, a pioneer of Jewish outreach, once spoke about the need to be passionately Jewish.  He said: “If you want moderate children, be passionate.  If you take a moderate approach to Judaism, your kids will be causal.  If you are casual about Judaism, your grandchildren will be Episcopalian.”

Just like casual Jews are not living the kind of Jewish life that will likely inspire the next generation of passionate Jews, an intellectual Zionism, as important as it is, will not inspire the next generation of passionate Lovers of Israel. Let’s add more Rabbi Kalischer and Ahad Ha’am. Let’s have more Zionism of the Heart.