This month’s “President Column” is a “re-print of the message” I delivered for our High Holiday address. It follows here in the event you did not hear it or wish to read it.
It has been a long-standing tradition for the congregation’s president to wish a good year and speak to whatever is topical. For this task it became apparent I needed to prepare and research the topic. After all, it’s not every day one gets to deliver a speech to a congregation of peers. I went to my sacred scriptures, such as Harvard Business Review, various podcasts, and a book, “21 Lessons…”, I highly recommend by an Israeli historian and author, Yuval Harari.
It could sound a bit odd that on the very day we are not to work, I turn to a business book for inspiration. But I am a businessperson after all, I cannot deny the history, education, and experience of my life. It may appear as a contradiction that I should be the president of a synagogue as I don’t have a particular affinity to practicing religion.
I view being Jewish or one’s Jewishness consists of a spectrum made of at least these three elements. (1) There are those that see one Jewishness through that of upbringing, being born into it, feeling you share the same blood (maybe even more DNA with your brethren) to this piece of the spectrum, this hue, I call peoplehood. (2) There are others that get more connection through culture and community, maybe comedians or actors you identify with as Jewish humor, the foods we eat at different holidays; a particular connection you have to fellow members, even one’s values that you attribute to your Jewish ethics – to this range I call culture. (3) And the third characteristic I assign to religion, the practices, rituals, study of Torah, attending services.
So, within this three-legged stool that I’m calling one’s Jewishness or rather think of it as your “Jewish identity”, I would self-rate my religious leg as fairly short, I view my cultural identification to be stronger than my connection to the peoplehood aspect; but that is for me. What about you?
Can you see that with all these qualities it’s not a zero or one, but rather a spectrum? Each has an importance or not so much to you. Think about yourself, your Jewish peoplehood you felt or feel now, the culture you enjoy including foods, humor, even this community of Temple Judah and Eben Israel is part of your Jewish culture. And your religiosity, that third aspect. This holiday invites us to think about the nature of your religion, as it is a part of your identity as well. At least it is for me, how is it for you?
In fact I’m willing to bet that these qualities of one’s Jewishness changes over the years. I feel it change within me suddenly – at critical life junctions (death, marriage, a brit). I find some Jewish ritual comforting.
There are so many in this temple that give so much of themselves that allow us to maintain the quality and human connection we have. Each give in their own way: board, committees, ritual, choir, teaching, cooking, watching the books, the internet communications, the wonderful photos, cleaning, fixing, painting and Tikkun Olam outreach activities. Thank you to all that contribute to this community.
I hold no judgement to another’s different view and practices; we can all be Jewish in our own way. I challenge us all to not judge the other.
As I have been given this opportunity to help lead our temple, I have concentrated my goals to helping this temple preserve and upgrade our infrastructure so that we may keep the lights on here another hundred years. By infrastructure I do not mean merely the bricks and mortar or more to recent events, tree cleanup, landscaping, and roof repairs. No, rather to preserve the assets will take a collective effort to create sustainability beyond the physical or virtual … to preserve a Jewish presence and identity here.
That’s my desire, but what do you want for this community’s Jewish future?
This season of Rosh Hashanah, are the days to reflect, therefore let’s leave the business of running a temple aside for now.
The new leadership paradigm I witness emerging through business and around the world is based on authenticity. Where the leader of a company or a temple for that matter, can openly admit they don’t have all the answers. Where one does not take on a persona to fit in or fake it; to not be yourself so to accepted in some artificial view of community. I ask you to think about those whom you have enjoyed working with, those that have best influenced your journey through life, maybe a special teacher; these servant leaders – were they arrogant or confident, pretentious, or authentic?
If I am to be authentic, honest, I can admit to you that I am not particularly religious. In fact, I don’t attend services much, I don’t know all the prayers nor the words to many of the songs. My Hebrew is better at speaking to cab drivers in Israel then is my skill to read the Hebrew of our prayers, albeit, that my Bar Mitzvah education started when I was twelve. And as for G-d, well that topic resonates within me as a relationship to nature and our cosmos – rather of that through Torah. So that’s me, what about you?
As I am honest of my lack of devotion, I also strongly believe there is no right or wrong or too little religion, there is only the amount and style that fits you. In Israel today many secular Jews, those that have never stepped in a synagogue and the very religious, haredi (the black coated Jews that have never held a paying job) view the other with equal distain. Judging the other I guess just comes naturally. It’s not difficult to see their pathway to such intolerance from those who serve in the army, work the fields and in the high-tech offices, who pay their taxes may naturally come to resent a large section of the religious society that must receive annual stipend from those same taxpayers so they can feed their families with an average of seven children. But here’s the point, I’m truly void of judgement for how you and others view and practice their religiosity. But that’s me, what about you?
As Harari illustrates eloquently in his recent book, there is no true Jewish religion or practices, over the history the notions of what is true halakha (Jewish law) has changed. As an interesting example, you may know that women and men are separated completely in orthodox synagogues. It goes beyond that, to the very orthodox any view or photograph of a woman is considered a sin; nor can they study Torah together. To argue flexibility to them is pointless. But take note, recent Temple excavations in Israel in the time period of the Mishnah’s codification show a very different role that women held in that religious society. They studied together and there are even engraved images of scantily dressed women adorning the synagogue’s walls. What are we to make of those that may think that me or you without the long black coat, without the tzitzit, my cut payot, your hair exposed without a sheitel – therefore, you and I are not true Jews?
So what are we? What is a Jew? To the author, his answer is simple we are whatever we choose to be at any given time. And that’s okay. It’s better than okay – its reality and it follows this same pattern throughout history for all religions. Anyone that argues they know their “true, authentic” practices of their faith are kidding themselves or worse just ignorant. The kalifate in Iran has no better authority to say what a true Muslim is. Islam is what and how it’s practiced today in all its variations.
So, who are we as a community of Temple Judah. We are what we make of it. A mosaic of individuals each with their own color, likened to a Chagall-stained glass – we can only glimpse the coherence when we stand back. Zooming in and judging each one’s beliefs and practices only shatters the delegate nature of religion.
There’s an old concept of “the Shabbat Goy”. This was a person, presumably a non-Jew, that could assist the strict pious Jew to do the task, as they were forbidden to work on the sabbath. Such may be more of a caricature than a historical reality. While one could argue that if the commandment is that you are not to work, your animals are to rest, and your laborers are also to have a day off; the concept of asking another to lift a finger for you could be disingenuous. But, even here, what we are is what we decide to practice.
When I’m in Israel hardly a Friday evening goes by that we are not around the table with extended and blended families. I love it. In these modern secular Israeli homes, they think of it as the Shabbat meal, but in truth, there was no Hamotzi said over the bread, no Kiddush before the wine. Sadly, not even candles were lit in the homes I was at. But then, do I light candles in my home? Are they lit in yours?
On one particular Shabbat, Diane and I walked the streets of northern Tel Aviv. I love the feeling, its quiet, you hear through the open windows families gathered. This was a warm evening and walking after a long meal and lots of food with friends and family was nourishing; we can stroll the safe streets at most any late hour.
Suddenly a young man and woman rush us in the street. Explaining they need our help. Given they know no English the conversation takes place in what I request (Evret klaah bevachasah) “simple Hebrew if you please”; I understand that something is wrong with their electricity, in their home, and it happens to be us they find on this rather deserted street to help. We follow them back to their rather sparse dwelling, its dark, except for some candles. I can see they are religious, so lit candles are not a surprise. I ask how I can help. They explain their fuse has tripped and it’s this reason they are sitting in the dark. I explain that I’m an engineer [ani may’han’des] and can probably fix it, I just need to know where the circuit breaker is. They knew what was required, but they needed me to do the work. Apparently, I told Diane as I left their lit home, I was their Shabbat Goy.
You and I are Jewish in our own way. There is nothing to judge and no style or people we should compare ourselves to. Maybe it’s obvious that there are those who are the more religious practicing, those that know all the songs, can recite the Hebrew prayers, maybe you have memorized the Kaddish (which is written mostly in Aramaic, not Hebrew), to those of you I thank you for preserving a part of our Jewishness. But in truth, on this night of reflection, I tell you the truth – is that religion is not my strong suit; me, I’m here to keep the lights on.
This year, I hope you find your days richer through reflection – as to how we each connect with our Jewishness in our own way.
Robert Becker
President