Temple Beth El Blog

(Rabbi's note: For those who attended Yizkor and heard me deliver this sermon, they know this was a very difficult set of remarks for me to offer. It involves a personal experience of my family, and therefore hit home closer than I had imagined. I apologize if my delivery was punctuated with moments of tears; I hope that listeners were able to see through my emotions to their own resonance with this talk. Please let me know if you would like any more information.)

* * * *

I never saw my grandfather’s kittel. I heard quite a bit about it, however: a long and flowing robe that my grandfather slipped over his usual shul [synagogue] clothes on Yom Kippur: It was a pious and modest mantle, which was white (though I can imagine it probably became a dull ivory after years of use), and completely enveloping. My grandfather likely wore it on other festival days as well, but for sure he would wear it on Yom Kippur all day.

Plain and unadorned to resemble the burial shroud in which our loved ones are compassionately dressed prior to burial, the kittel is the traditional clothing for the Day of Atonement. This day of judgment, on the tenth day of Tishrei, is to be similar to the proverbial 'day of judgment' after our deaths, when the length of time we spend in purging our sins is determined.

On both occasions, we are supposed to be brutally honest about our shortcomings and pledge to do better, in this world and in the next. Such was the lot of my grandfather Avrum, or Abraham.

My father’s parents arrived into this country in or about 1905, and settled on 6th Avenue North, in Minneapolis. Escaping the dangers of Jewish existence in Latvia, they were accustomed to cold winter weather, so the climate of the Twin Cities was familiar to them. But being uneducated, especially to the ways of life in America, my grandparents established a traditional patriarchal family, with the husband becoming the breadwinner, and the wife raising the children and becoming the homemaker. They eventually bore four children, two girls, then two boys.

My grandfather was an observant Orthodox Jew; that’s why he had a kittel in the first place. But the kittel was not the sole indicator of his piety. His grandchildren have other remembrances of his religious life: a pair of sadly decaying t’fillin that need burial; a number of cloth yarmulkes that he wore; a black silk miter that is still starched and pressed, and never seems to lose its shape; and a Yiddish rendering of the Hebrew bible. A few of his prayerbooks have since deteriorated, and have been returned to the dust of the earth.

My grandfather was a simple man, so I am told, who drove a horse-drawn junk wagon, and made his livelihood buying and selling other people’s trash. Perhaps we can think of his profession as among the original recyclers. I believe there were hundreds of Jews in that original recycling business.

He possessed his necessary supply of Jewish artifacts for living a Jewish life, and that supply included this kittel that everyone knew about and recalled. There was a wine-stain on the upper left side, as he was left-handed and likely spilled some wine on it on some Passover holiday, and the collar was torn in places too hidden to be seen.

And although it was supposed to be a plain garment, it had some interesting embroidery down the front and on the sleeve cuffs, a small collar that hugged his neckline, and a matching cotton sash that held it together while being worn. The cloth was heavy enough that one could not see through it at all. It held an air of modesty; it was beautiful for its day.

There is an apocryphal story told about this kittel, and I wanted to relate it as we begin our Yizkor observance this afternoon. Again, whether and how much of this story is true is unclear. But the values of friendship, family, and loyalty are seen throughout.

In the shul where my grandfather davened [worshiped] was an older man who was fortunate enough to leave Lithuania around the time when my grandfather and many of his compatriots emigrated from Europe. His name was Samuel Katz – Shmuel K for short, so they called him Shmulik. And although he was of an age of some frailty, he was a strong worshiper whose resounding voice, often off key, could often be differentiated from among the throng of men in the minyan [the quorum of ten men required by some Jews for engaging in public worship].

Shmulik came to Minneapolis with a wife and some grown children. His wife died of pneumonia one winter, and his children moved to another section of the city when they got married, leaving Shmulik alone in his little apartment home. They were very good about visiting Shmulik weekly, as they venerated him as their widowed father.

One Yom Kippur day – it might have been the Yom Kippur that fell on September 16 of 1918, just weeks prior to the end of World War I – there was great optimism in the shul. Many of the young men who had gone off to war would soon be reunited with their families, and the young heroes who died in battle were remembered in tears and sorrow. So, it was a day to remember.

Naturally, Shmulik attended synagogue that day, along with all the worshipers. It was not a very warm day outside, likely in the mid-70s. But inside the shul it was very warm and close, and Shmulik was in his traditional corner where he prayed every day. No one usually gave him much notice, as he tended to be a loner and, despite his exhibitionistic manner of worship, he was not very outgoing. That day, however, his voice was not very loud. But he was a loyal member of the minyan, and he was davening up a storm. On this occasion, because of the impending cessation of the war, everyone was in a buoyant mood.

Although Shmulik could not afford it, he received an aliyah to the Torah that day. Such things were auctioned off – before the holiday, of course – and it was the wealthier men who received the honors. But for some reason, the recipient of one of the aliyot felt some pity on poor old Shmulik, and Shmulik was the joyful beneficiary of this person’s largesse.

In the early part of the afternoon, and all of a sudden, Shmulik fainted. Passed out. Collapsed and fell to the floor. When the other men came to check on him, he was conscious but shivering as if in deep throes of fever. No one knew what to do, except to summon a doctor and hope for the best. They did not want to move him, lest someone be liable for hurting him.

My grandfather came over to him, worried about his friend, and in the synagogue on Yom Kippur, of all days. But my grandfather saw him shivering. Not a bad sign, or so my grandfather apparently thought. But Shmulik needed help. So, my grandfather took off the kittel he was wearing, and placed it over Shmulik to help warm him from his fever chills. Someone else came over to offer some schnapps (they found some in the closet, even on Yom Kippur), and somebody else brought some water from the rain barrel outside.

Slowly, Shmulik recovered and was able to sit up and thank his friends. He eventually rose to his feet, and began his short walk home, still using my grandfather’s kittel to keep him warm and protected. The fellow worshipers watched him as he walked down the street toward his small apartment home.

That Yom Kippur afternoon was the last anyone saw of Shmulik. You see, he had gone home, prepared his meager evening meal as his break-the-fast, then gone to bed and peacefully died in his sleep. When they needed a minyan for the next afternoon’s minchah/maariv [late afternoon worship], they knocked on his door and discovered him in his bed, still wearing the kittel that my grandfather had provided for him as a warm coverlet.

My grandfather did not ask for his kittel in return – but not for the reason you may think. He suggested that his kittel become Shmulik’s tachrichin, his burial garment, and everyone – including his children – agreed that this garment which served as his protection in life would be an appropriate garment of protection to Shmulik in death as well. And so, Shmulik’s funeral was the last time that my grandfather saw his kittel, the one with the wine stain down the left side, with the embroidery on the front and on the sleeves, and probably worn, faded white to ivory colored, aged, and comfortable.

Again, this story is apocryphal, and there is no end to the versions and variations that exist among members of the families involved. But lessons of compassion, caring, dedication to friends, and acting within the value system of “derech eretz”: these matter. The values that our loved ones leave behind: They become the legacy of service and humanity that we recall when we say Kaddish for our loved ones, and to which we devote our lives into the future.

As we remember our loved ones on this day of remembrance, this day of Yom Kippur, may these memories sustain us at times of need, and may we all be comforted when we consider the deeds of those we love.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah! May your new year be one of safety and peace.

In “Fiddler on the Roof”, Tevye bemoans the announcement brought to him by the town constable – and unofficial leader of the Cossacks – that a pogrom was going to be declared on the shtetel of Anatevka. In his one-way dialogue with God, Tevye complains, “It's true that we are the chosen people. But once in a while, can't you choose someone else?”[1]

Tevye’s dry remark was intended to bring forth a sympathetic, maybe even a comedic moment, but this past year, nothing has been more exhausting than dealing with antisemitism. We American Jews hurt. We ache. We are confused. And we are frustrated and angry over the vitriol and violence perpetrated against us. Antisemitism has raised its horrifying head, and this is my chief concern on this Night of Atonement.

Normally, when we engage in strategic discussions of the Jewish virtue of tikkun olam and actions we take to struggle for human rights, we include all those suffering pain, all those whose lives are endangered by haters. Our dignity and security are wrapped up in theirs; we advocate emphatically that none is free until all are free.

However: On this night of Yom Kippur – the most sacred and important night of our religious calendar – it is about us. Tonight is a night when I invite us to think of how to confront our unique situation.

Antisemitism in America is on the rise, the evidence is real, and our freedoms – and perhaps our lives – are at stake.

According to the Anti-Defamation League, antisemitic activity in America rose 57% from 2017 to 2018. A reporter for the New York Times, notes that in New York in 2018, there were four times as many hate crimes against Jews as against blacks.[2]

We are obviously unnerved by the most egregious occurrences: violent, premeditated murders in synagogues in Pittsburgh and Poway, CA; a Racine synagogue, just a few weeks ago, where neo-Nazi slogans were painted on the walls; a shul in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, on Rosh Hashanah day last week, where there was vandalism while worshippers were still inside the building; and in recent years, blows against our own Jewish community in Madison, including threats, tagging, and antisemitic taunting of students in our high schools.

Are these increased occurrences the canaries in the coal mine, alerting us that Jewish existence in America will not be as comfortable as our parents and grandparents had hoped? Will we continue to be welcomed here?

* * * *

I am grateful for you members of Temple Beth El – and others – who have supported our security enhancements here, measures that provide our staff, and members and guests, with a greater degree of security when they’re in the building.

But it should not have to be this way today.

Shver tsu zayn a yid, as my parents of blessed memory would resignedly say: “It’s hard to be Jew”.

But that was a century ago. It should not have to be this way today.

Antisemitism lives as a virus in the bloodstream of humanity, sometimes dormant, and sometimes not, but is activated in every generation by the introduction of some new pathogen: a pathogen like white nationalism, or activists in other racial communities who adopt antisemitic tropes unknowingly or with intention. So why can’t our scientists develop an effective anti-viral treatment to save this body?

Despite years of suffering antisemitism; regardless of the toughening we have received; our body’s response to anti-Jewish attacks in America are always anguish and confusion, even though we appear to be tough.

But it should not have to be like this today.

In almost every generation, the Jewish community has learned to combat the forces of bigotry arrayed against us. We have struggled to achieve equality – both for us and for other victims of persecution – in all the places we have lived. This approach has been instilled in our Jewish DNA, and we teach it to our children, so that each generation understands its history as well as the responsibilities of the future.

But knowing these things; struggling and fighting for our very existence: It should not have to be like this today.

So perhaps, in the future, this is the “talk” that Jewish parents, teachers, and leaders have with Jewish children:

Never forget the past.

Be careful and wary and not too comfortable in the present.

Be optimistic – and cautious – about the future.

And always have a valid, up-to-date passport. (I am serious about this.)

But it should not have to be this way today.

* * * *

Antisemitism has had many manifestations over time and Jewish legendary space:

The Pharaoh, seeking an excuse to increase his labor pool, charged us with disloyalty, and chained us to slave labor.[3] The Romans assaulted and murdered Jewish scholars in the Talmudic era land of Israel, in the hopes of eradicating our connections to God. Torquemada and religious officials in 15th century Spain tortured Jews who would not renounce their religion. Bogdan Khmelnitsky massacred thousands of Jews in 16th century Poland. The Tzar of Russia instituted horrifying pogroms in 18th century Russia. Hitler and his Nazi-perpetrated Holocaust decimated six million brothers and sisters.

B’chol dor vador – “In every generation…”

But it should not have to be this way today.

* * * *

Events such as Pittsburgh and Poway in our recent memory, as well as similar attacks against other houses of worship in our generation, painfully remind us of our vulnerability as members of a unique religious tribe.

Every person’s response to hatred, or the fear of attack, is unique. Every soul, however, is precious. And therefore, we must listen to the distress in the hearts of others, as we seek resolution and comfort.

I’d like to share with you a posting my son made to Facebook about six weeks ago. Some of you might have seen it online:

“Friday night was Pride Shabbat at Temple Beth El … the synagogue where I have been a member and my father has been the rabbi for over 14 years. For those 14 years, I have felt nothing but safety, love, support, and community within Temple Beth El's walls. Pride Shabbat was no different…almost.

“It was beautiful: Jews of all kinds, young, old, straight, gay, of all genders and colors, all decked out in rainbows; the sanctuary had never been prettier, with the stain glass windows and warm wood paneling accented by the multi-colored draperies on the pews and the Jewish Pride flag hanging from music stands on the bimah … This was the first service I had attended at my synagogue since the Tree of Life shooting.

“The service opened with the song "The Rainbow Connection", a song about human curiosity … our pursuit of something just out of reach, something that may not even exist … a better world … a place where we all belong, where we all are included, where we all can find love…

“Throughout the service, songs of joy and pride rang out from all in the assembled congregation. There was such love in that room as to make one burst.

“There were also a few small children, wide eyes, toothy grins, impatient to return to the sweets in the Community Court. Their parents, try though they might, were hopeless in their attempts to corral [them]. Consequently, every so often from behind my seat, I would hear strange, disconcerting, child-not-happy noises I could not immediately identify.

“And those were not the only such noises.

“About mid-way through the service, as Cantor Jacob led us in song, I took occasion to observe my father upon the bimah; he was putting on a wireless microphone, and gathering items in a basket, preparing to leave the bimah and move out among the pews. But, all of a sudden, there was a muffled BANG followed by loud grunting, which emanated from the hallway outside. Both I and my father, from opposite sides of the room, flinched.

“The service went on. Evidently, no one else had heard the noise, or if they had, they were content enough to ignore it, to instead focus their energies where they should be: on prayer, on community, on love.

“I was not so able. My heart rate elevated, my eyes shot to the doors, searching for any hint of danger or alarm, as I began to formulate a plan. If the worst should happen, if the worst should be currently happening, what would I have to do.

“[The noise was] one of our custodians, breaking down the tables from the program before the service, I realized.

“I breathed, and relaxed back into my seat…

“Every night, when my father walks through our door, as we greet him and share stories about our days, there is always a nagging thought in the back of mind: thank God he made it; thank God this wasn't the night. This wasn't the night he didn’t come home; this wasn't the night we would rush to the hospital in hopes that he had only been injured; this wasn't the night that the work begun in the 1930's in Germany would come to my house. Thank God we're safe.

“Too few Jews can say the same.

“I don't know if I have a larger point here. I’m scared, and I’m sad, and I’m angry. And most of all I am tired; I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of men like this making me afraid to enter the ONE space I should always be safe. I am tired of being afraid to walk into my own father's place of work. I am tired of being afraid in my own skin.

“I'm just so tired.”

If my 22-year-old-son feels this way, there must be others who feel similarly: tired of the attention, exhausted from the necessary watchfulness, disappointed in humanity for foisting this set of circumstances upon us.

It shouldn’t have to be this way today.

I remember when I entered the field of Jewish communal work in 1980, “Jewish continuity” was the buzzword, the objective for creative programming and services. Today – sadly – we might use the term “Jewish continuity” in a more existential manner.

Pittsburg, Poway, Overland Park, the Bronx, Seattle, Los Angeles, Sacramento, Eugene, Washington, University City, and more: How many more bodily insults will we need to endure before we eliminate the scourge of antisemitic images, caricatures, accusations, and physical attacks that have been our lot in American life?

* * * *

And what is more, antisemitism comes at us from both the right and the left these days. It is dismaying and demoralizing to have fewer friends in each of those political arenas.

Looking to left, the relationships we should have with African Americans, for example, are sometimes strained because of the ties of some black activists with anti-Israel forces, or the likes of Louis Farrakhan. Clashes among Jewish and African American leaders of the Women’s March have led to disarray. Jewish women should be in the forefront of that movement along with all women who believe in the struggle against misogyny. But we don’t feel welcome there.

And to the right, white nationalists and hate groups have continued their traditional fomenting of antisemitism, albeit repurposed in modern-day trappings or veiled behind some disguise designed to appear less threatening. And those voices on the right echo the words and attitudes of some of the highest-ranking officials in our nation. The fact that our country elected these antisemitic voices also reveals new strains of this old disease.

And then, to add insult to injury, some white nationalists will hold their noses to temporarily dismiss their own antisemitism, and bludgeon the communities on the left with counterfeit charges of antisemitism. When this happens, we feel complicit in their attacks on the left, which is liable to distance us from our allies in many social movements. And we, if you will pardon the expression, we get caught in the crossfire.

* * * *

What gives me hope have been my meetings, over business and over meals, with supportive Christians and Muslims and others here in Madison. Never have I felt such close kinship with people who sincerely look out for us and our needs. After the Tree of Life murders a year ago, a thousand people came to support the Jewish community at the First Unitarian Society. These interfaith and inter-group alliances are significant and vital in this community.

What gives me hope is my work in organizing a multifaith coalition of faith leaders in south-central Wisconsin. At our second organizing meeting last week, we agreed on rapid response mechanisms for congregations and individuals who become the target of haters. I pray we do not need this network of helpers, but I am comforted by their existence.

What gives me hope are the emotions of my child as he expressed his anxiety about his experience here on Pride Shabbat. This gives me hope, especially when I read the sensitive and caring reactions to his post online from his peers, and I know that his generation is sweet, supportive, and – at the same time – passionate and engaged in the issue of eradicating hate.

What gives me hope is the optimism expressed by Bari Weiss, reporter and editor for the New York Times, who advocated for a positive and affirming American Judaism of the future,[4] one in which we could wear a kippah in public – or not – and one in which we stand up for ourselves along with allies of all colors and varieties. These alliances we need to form and maintain along the way, and not be reticent when seeking help.

What gives me hope is the support that you have given us, you who are members of this sacred community who support one another in this community of caring.

What gives me hope are the millions of allies across this country who will not allow prejudice to flourish, and who will not – like lemmings – follow the current blighted crop of bigoted leaders blindly into the abyss.

Sometimes our chosenness causes us to suffer assaults. And sometimes our chosenness reminds us that we have chosen to identify as Jews, and that we have decided to help others and ourselves achieve a life of dignity, despite our facing hostile forces. This, too, gives me hope.

* * * *

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette last November ran the opening lines of the Mourner’s Kaddish in Hebrew across the front page. Praying for the dead, as well as for the healing of their community, became a city-wide event, something that might have annoyed the haters, but comforted the Jewish community and its supporters.

This small action bolstered the confidence of that community. And the words of the Kaddish, too, have the potential to strengthen us as well to reconsider, each time we recite it, how we need to act in a world that sometimes acts violently toward us.

The last two stanzas of the Kaddish say, “May there be abundant peace from heaven – and life – for us and for all Israel; and we say, Amen.” And “May the one who creates peace in heaven, may God create peace for us and for all Israel” – and we add, “and all the world” – “and we say, Amen.”

I can only add, may this be the will of heaven. When we engage in this struggle, may we feel comforted and supported, and may we be successful.

L’shanah tovah!

[1] Act 1, Scene 5, Fiddler on the Roof, book by Joseph Stein, MTI, New York NY: Page 34.

[2] Bari Weiss in https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/06/opinion/sunday/anti-semitism.html?searchResultPosition=1

[3] Exodus 1:10

[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/06/opinion/sunday/anti-semitism.html?searchResultPosition=1

L’shanah tovah. May this be a good year for us all!

“Dear Amy,

“My family tries to be close, but when it comes to me (the youngest) and my oldest sibling (eight years older) — we just don’t click.

“Despite being born to the same people and raised in the same household, we have very different views, opinions and beliefs about nearly everything. I don’t recall having a good relationship as children; he was always yelling or angry at me.

“My sibling never seemed interested in being close, though we did have our moments of getting along. As adults, this feels unchanged and strained; he’s made it clear he doesn’t approve of my career, schooling, and spiritual beliefs.

“He always talks down to me, and once stated out loud that he can’t respect me as an adult. That hurt more than he’ll ever know. “He seems to believe that I don’t want to be his brother; I think he just wants me out of his life. My parents wish we’d get along, but I can’t force myself to pretend anymore.

“I will be civil, but I don’t feel we can be regular friends.

“Is this awful of me? Should I keep trying? I just don’t see the point.

“Signed, Youngest of two.”[1]

This letter appeared recently in an advice column in the local newspaper, but it just as well could have been written by the biblical character Abel referring to older brother Cain.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

As someone who works with families confronting all kinds of issues, I can tell you that problems of love – or the absence of love and familial connections – are becoming more prevalent and more tenacious.

So, I begin my series of remarks for this holiday season on matters of individual and family love: first, because they are so pressing, and second, because unless we achieve wholeness as individuals – which we achieve through addressing issues directly within our families – we won’t be able to focus on the major world issues that we also need to address.

One simple way that we develop love for family is appreciating the Jewish value of derech eretz, our ethical standard of interpersonal behavior about which I have been writing this summer.

This Hebrew expression, derech eretz, translates into English as the “way of the land”, and the connotation is “the best and kindest way to treat other people”. Using derech eretz can be challenging, because it requires us to recognize the image of God in each person around us, and give that person dignity because, indeed, they embody the Divine.

We are required to show derech eretz to strangers we encounter, the homeless on the street, those who suffer the oppressor’s hand, and – yes – even those family members we don’t get along with.

Simply put, conducting our lives with a healthy dedication to derech eretz means refraining from self-aggrandizement, and rather, treating all those around us with dignity, and sincere and genuine human kindness.

When I read that letter in the advice column, my thoughts immediately went to the story of Cain and Abel, the two children of Adam and Eve. They apparently had similar issues. But in the Torah, the result wasn’t simply Cain and Abel distancing themselves from each other; their story ends in murder.

Recall that Cain slays Abel because of Cain’s jealousy of Abel’s sacrifice being more acceptable to God than his own. After trying to hide the evidence of his crime, God puts to Cain a simple question: “Where is Abel, your brother?”, adding the phrase “your brother” as if Cain might not recognize that Abel was even related to him. After all, the concept of siblings did not exist before them.

Cain, of course, provides this well-known response. “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

The appalling second half of Cain’s answer, the rhetorical question, answers itself. Of course, we are responsible for one another, and siblings should be responsible for each other despite the sibling rivalry that is sometimes so ingrained in our family dynamic.

But the first half of Cain’s statement – lo yada’ti, “I do not know” – is more revealing.

That Hebrew phrase lo yada’ti, which has been translated as “I do not know”, actually reveals a continuing past-tense action, meaning “I have not known”, maybe even “I have never known”. Cain could have had a very long lapse of filial responsibility, if he had any to begin with.

With this broader translation of the Hebrew, the transgressions of Cain expand to include sibling neglect and a careless disregard for humanity, as well as murder.

I raise this issue tonight because I grow concerned about the families in our Temple Beth El community.

Let us think carefully: Have we, within our own families’ lives, faced disregard, violent disagreement, separation, estrangement, or abandonment? Have we neglected an email message from a family member who longs to connect to us? Have we not returned a phone message from a parent or a child, who is anxious to hear from us? Have we avoided discussions on sensitive matters because we think they’re too sensitive? And has our avoidance caused difficulties? Should there ever be legitimate reasons for any of this? How can we best repair relationships within our family constellations?

I ask us to consider carefully how best to mend our family relationships that are fractured, especially as this New Year’s Day is the moment for cheshbon hanefesh, the accounting of our soul and our behaviors in the past.

We know families have difficulties, but let us address these issues immediately when they happen, so that small mishaps or slights don’t escalate to full-blown detachments. This is the pathway of derech eretz, of elevating the other above our own needs, of taking their pain into consideration, of reaching out to someone from whom we have been distanced, and trying to set things on a different course. We need reminding that each human life is our responsibility.

* * * *

Two individuals like Cain and Abel can certainly find a way to get along. But what about our ability to be neutral and bring peace to others in conflict?

“Dear Amy,

“I am having a problem pregnancy. After years of trying to conceive, my husband and I were very lucky to finally have gotten pregnant. But I am carrying twins, and I can feel them inside, struggling, pursuing, striving with each other, almost like each is trying to win a battle. Hey, if this is the way things are going to be, what do I matter I all of this? Why did I ever bother getting pregnant?

“My husband: he has such big dreams for his kids. He believes the children represent two nations who would struggle with each other through eternity. Ha! I just wanted a family. Why is my destiny to be an incubator of strife?

“My doctor said I should eat some lentil soup and lie down, but I simply can’t get this situation out of my head. What should I do?

“Signed, still pregnant and not happy.”

That was NOT a letter in the advice columns, but rather a rendering of the feelings of Rebekah, our people’s Matriarch, as she anticipates the birth of her twin boys Esau and Jacob. As we know, they grow up in a conflict-laden interrelationship, aggravated by parents who didn’t know how to parent.

The brothers initially fight over a bowl of soup, then strive over a birthright inheritance, then pledge revenge against one another over possessions and wealth. And all through this, neither parent does anything to intervene in their fighting. In fact, the parents take sides, thereby worsening the problem.

I have seen many families in disrepair. I have heard Temple members’ testimonies of the slights and petty insults made by one family member toward another. They explode because of stubbornness and unwillingness to compromise. And there are few willing to engage these warring family members in dialogue that would lead to reconciliation.

On the other hand I often see potential for a peacemaker to emerge, someone who could remain neutral, and influence the belligerent parties to calm their emotions and work toward peace. I. So. Wish there were more situations such as these.

The sage Hillel challenges each of us to be like Aaron the High Priest, someone who was fearless in engaging in peacemaking. The midrash relates[2] that when two people would quarrel with each other, Aaron, counseling them separately, would say to the first, “My daughter, look what that other person is going through. He beats his breast and tears his clothing, and he keeps crying, ‘Woe is me! How could I possibly stand before her, the one with whom I have this disagreement? I should be ashamed, because it is I who treated her so cruelly.’” Aaron promptly would go to the other person with the exact same story about the first one. So that the next time the two people met they were tearfully hugging each other, embracing in reconciled friendship.

Having witnessed opposite sides of a quarrel within our families, who has been willing to step in and intervene? Or have we served as a peacemaker within our family? Have our families needed a peacemaker, and none was around?

The matter of love of family requires us to take this kind of risk for the sake of unity. How best to bring peace to broken families and relationships? Sometimes it is we who must intervene and bring the inspiration of peace to those around us. Derech eretz, elevating others than ourselves, means that we must actively search for a solution to enable others to find love.

* * * *

And sometimes, the good intentions of some family member are misinterpreted, and seen as insufferable. Or some family members get a reputation for being a little crazy and cannot be viewed as a legitimate member of the family. Some of our family members just don’t fit it.

“Dear Amy,

“I am not sure what to do about my muddled and disorganized son. I love him to bits – he is my second youngest, and most vulnerable, I fear – but he is, in the words of people who will live centuries after me, a “luftmensch’: You know, his body is present but his consciousness flits around and never comes to land.

“Oy, and he’s a dreamer, too, but I fear he infers reality from his imagination. He has dreams of making it big one day: He sees himself in those dreams as one mighty sheave of wheat, and the rest of his family – who are also caricatured as sheaves of wheat – he sees bowing down to him. Having dreams of exaggerated greatness is fine, but hey, Amy, he had the bad judgment to relate those dreams of superiority to his brothers and parents. That did not go well.

“I tried to placate him by getting him a really expensive, colorful coat, but that seemed to have pushed him further from reality. So much so that when his brothers accused him of trying to lord his feigned superiority over them, he remained mysteriously silent. No affect whatsoever. No denial, no warmth, no ‘Hey, I was only joking’. Just a large, enigmatic grin, as if he held onto a secret that he would never share.

“Maybe if I give him some supervisory responsibility around the farm; maybe that will allow him to focus on real life tasks.”

“Amy, tell me I am not spoiling him, and that I am not being too overprotective.

“Signed, Jake who’s not so jake.”

Joseph was the youngest son of our Patriarch Jacob, and he had no awareness of his effect on others; and he was the dutiful son who wished to please. Jacob eventually did give Joseph some tasks around the farm – I guess that went well – and one day Jacob sent him to check on his brothers while they were tending the sheep. Joseph somehow gets lost, and he encounters a stranger, who notices that Joseph is unfamiliar with his surroundings.

“What are you searching for?” the stranger asks him.

Joseph answers, “I am looking for my brothers. Could you tell me where they are tending the sheep?”[3] One aspect of Luftmensch Joseph’s state of mind is that Joseph assumes the stranger knows where his brothers are; there is no “Do you know” or “Have you heard” about them. He only wanted to know where they were.

Joseph is in need of direction, and is very trusting, and luckily the stranger does point him in the right direction. From that moment, of course, his life is never again easy, or the same. (But that is the story for another sermon.)

Joseph was a special young man with different social and emotional needs. Yet his parents did not recognize his special gifts, and they could not handle the challenges he presented. And the question asked by the stranger – “What are you searching for?” – therefore becomes more of an existential one. He found his brothers, but he was completely confused by his life, and was likely confounded by what came next.

I think we all know of young people who have needs that go far beyond those that their parents can handle. Those on the autism scale; those with Down Syndrome; those with psychological and biochemical imbalances; those who are differently abled; or those with language skills that are not as developed as others.

And today we can add to this group of young people with unaddressed needs: young Jews of color; LGBTQ Jews; women; adoptees; those who, for whatever reason, are sometimes ‘left outside the camp’, to use a Torah metaphor.

I have seen many young people who could have been left behind . . . but we can always find room for them IF we know about them, if parents are open and transparent about their needs, if their families come forward to disclose the reality of their situation. Doing that is daunting, as it causes parents to confront – yet again – the difficulties they’ve suffered. Not to mention revealing something that the child may not want revealed.

But I offer advice for all of us tonight: When we see these special children in our midst, let us not shy away from them, or let not their differences distract us from the task of Jewish and social strengthening. All will be welcome here. All needs can be attended to. The answers to their question of "What are you searching for?" will be listened to with respect and acceptance, and we will make the promise to accompany them on the journey. Those young people will find here the love they seek and deserve.

If derech eretz requires us to lift up even those who find themselves on the margins of what others may label as “normal”, then it is essential to bring these young people into the community. We, their family members, do them homage by respecting who they are, by acknowledging directly and addressing their needs, and elevating them as beings made in the image of God.

* * * *

And further:

If derech eretz allows us to lift up anyone who has fallen, haven’t we accomplished something important, something that advances the cause of humanity. Each human life is our responsibility. Each dispute has a role for a peacemaker. And each young person – especially in our day – requires all the love we can muster.

That is a lot for one Rosh Hashanah. But I think we can handle it.

* * * *

“Dear Amy,

“So, I took your advice. I approached my family at our annual Erev Rosh Hashanah family dinner with love and respect. I walked the pathway of derech eretz: I celebrated with them when they told me of their successes over the past year, and I felt no need to crow over my own. I sympathized with their hardships, without drawing attention away with recitations of my own difficulties. We reminisced about past good times, and everyone looked forward to more good times in the future. It was the best Rosh Hashanah dinner we’ve had together in a long time.

“Thank you for your good advice!

“Signed, …….” well, you fill in the blank.

L’shanah tovah!

[1] “Ask Amy” column, edited, Wisconsin State Journal, September 19, 2019

[2] Avot d’Rabbi Natan, 12:3

[3] Genesis 37:14-16

The Milwaukee Chamber Theater is now running Fires in the Mirror, a play by Anna Deavere Smith, through October 13.

Here’s a synopsis of the play:

In 1991, in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn, a Hasidic man's car jumped a curb, killing a seven-year-old black child. Shortly after, a Hasidic rabbinical student was stabbed and killed in what appeared to be an act of retaliation, sparking riots that made national headlines and exposed a growing friction in racial and cultural relations. But behind the headlines, there are people—politicians, activists, religious leaders, victims, and perpetrators alike—who each have their own story to tell. Anna Deavere Smith's landmark work of documentary theatre, presented here with two actors playing 26 roles, is a theatrical event that cannot be missed—an illuminating exploration of identities in conflict.

In partnership with Jewish Museum Milwaukee, Fires in the Mirror patrons will have the opportunity to see a traveling portion of the museum’s exhibition Allied in the Fight: Jews, Blacks and the Struggle for Civil Rights in the theater lobby.

High Holy Day help Volunteers are needed to help get out and put away the prayer books used for High Holy Days. We also need a few people to help take Tashlich materials to the park and back.

Catholic Multicultural Center  dinner Sign up 

Porchlight Men’s Shelter. Our next Porchlight meal is Wednesday, October 30. We need shoppers, cooks, cookie bakers, kitchen minders, delivery people, and servers. This is a fun way to get to know your fellow volunteers! Sign up 

Emerson tutors for reading and math

Dane Sanctuary Coalition volunteer driver project

Looking for a fun, easy opportunity to help the community and spend quality time as a team or group? Help serve the daily meal at the Catholic Multicultural Center!

The Catholic Multicultural Center provides free meals every day to south side community members and homeless people. The center buys and prepares the food, but volunteers serve the food and clean up. Participants join one another at café tables next to the center’s kitchen, and volunteers set out and serve the food. The center serves food to about an average of 70 people daily. A variety of church congregations and community groups provide volunteers to support this effort.

Temple Beth El plans to provide a volunteer group of six to eight people (age 12 and above), for two hours one day a month, on an ongoing basis beginning in October. Volunteers set out and serve the food and clean up after the meal. We have signed up for the second Monday of each month. Our first date will be Monday, October 14.

Who: 6-8 volunteers each day of service

When: 3:30–5:30 pm on the second Monday of each month (you can commit to one or more days)

Where: Catholic Multicultural Center, 1862 Beld St., Madison, WI 53713

Interested in engaging with other TBE members to meet this critical community need? Click on the sign-up link and tell us when you are available. Additional days will be added in the coming year. https://www.signupgenius.com/go/30E0B44ADAC22AB9-multicultural

TBE volunteers provided a week of evening meals for families at the Healing House, a medical respite facility for families experiencing homelessness. Cathy Rotter called into action many of the same volunteers who made our shelter program for The Road Home such a success. During this rotation, we helped provide meals for the families of three new babies!

On Rosh Hashanah every year, our congregation remembers those in our community who do not have enough to eat. We will distribute donation envelopes after all services on Rosh Hashanah and collect them filled with your generous donations (make checks payable to Temple Beth El) on Yom Kippur, or they can be returned to the Temple office. During the holiday season, through Sukkot, you can also donate online at https://www.tbemadison.org/payment.php.

Read more about our High Holy Day Food Drive and hunger-relief initiatives at https://www.tbemadison.org/blog?post_id=900598.

We are entering election season! No, not (quite yet) the US presidential election. Another important election happens in early 2020: the election for delegates to the World Zionist Congress (WZC) of the World Zionist Organization (WZO).

This election takes place every five years. You may remember seeing laptops set up in our Weinstein Community Court in 2015 and being asked to vote for the ARZA (Association of Reform Zionists of America) slate. But you may not have understood exactly what you were voting for or why this election is so important to Reform Jews in North America.

Here’s why it matters: The World Zionist Organization was established in 1897 by the Zionist movement to help bring about the founding of a Jewish state. When the state was founded in 1948, this organization continued for a new purpose: More than 50 percent of all Jews still lived outside of the state of Israel, and it gave Diaspora Jews a political voice in the state.

Today, the WZO is still a place where our voices can have direct influence and power in Israel. If you are feeling frustrated with the policies of the Israeli administration, this election is the only way that North American Jews can weigh in democratically about these issues. Don’t miss your opportunity to do that!

Why do the World Zionist Congress elections matter for our Reform movement and for us at Temple Beth El?

• Funding: Based on the elections of 2015, the Reform movement in Israel now receives over $4 million US dollars annually from the WZO. These funds are critical to support our Reform Jewish communities.
• Political power: A strong delegation to the WZO means we can appoint key professionals who share our Reform Jewish values to leadership positions within the national institutions in Israel.
• Influence: A strong showing in this election lets us influence Israeli society in matters of conversion, marriage and divorce, religious pluralism, gender rights, settlements, and combating racism.

How do these elections accomplish this?

• The United States has a total of 145 delegates to the WZO. This is by far the largest number of delegates from any country outside of Israel, so we can greatly influence the overall makeup of the Congress. Your vote determines how many of those 145 delegates represent the Reform movement.
• Today the Reform movement worldwide holds 36 percent of the seats in the WZO. This strong bloc has allowed us to have influence in critical Israeli issues. As an example, the head of the Jewish Agency, Isaac Herzog, is from this faction. But this bloc is not large enough to impact decisions as strongly as we would like. We must increase this number in the next election.

A Personal Note

In 2015, Kendra Sager and I had the privilege of attending the last World Zionist Congress in Jerusalem. We saw the passion of Reform Jews from around the world to keep Israel both a Jewish and a democratic state, one that reflects our values of inclusiveness and pluralism and acknowledges more than one way to be Jewish in Israel.

We also saw the passion of those who would like to marginalize Reform Judaism in Israel, who embrace the ultra-Orthodox hold on matters involving worship, conversion, marriage, who is considered a rabbi, and who is considered a Jew.

For the North American Reform Jewish community, this election is by far the most important tool for weighing in on matters of funding, political power, and influence in Israel.

What You Can Do

• Make a promise to yourself that you will vote for the ARZA Reform slate when the elections open on January 21, 2020.
• Share this message with your family and friends and encourage them to vote. Every Jew who is at least 18 years old is qualified to vote. You do not need to be a member of a congregation.

The Temple Beth El campaign team, headed by Kendra Sager, will let you know about opportunities between now and January 21 to learn more about the impact of this election and how you can help. Please connect with us if you have questions and ideas about this campaign and how to engage our congregation.

Please join us to spread the word about the WZC election and make Reform Jewish voices heard in Israel.  

“Mentoring is so much fun—I look forward to it each week.”
“Math mentoring is my best volunteer experience ever!”
“Emerson School is full of positive energy from the kids.”

If you can spare an hour each week during the school day, you can make a positive difference in a child’s education.

Seven years ago, Jewish Congregations for Social Justice “adopted” Emerson School on Madison’s east side, and we have been supporting their academics and family programming ever since.

We would love to have you join us for the 2019–20 school year. We are currently recruiting for adults who want to work with elementary-age children on reading and math skills:

• Reading mentors work with beginning readers. Your job is to help children build skills and discover the joy of reading.
• Math mentors work with children on basic math concepts and lessons. You don’t have to be a math whiz—many kids need support with very basic math facts and strategies that most adults are comfortable with.

For both kinds of mentors, the teachers will provide instructions and materials, and the school will provide training.

Pairing will begin in October. You need to be able to commit to an hour each week, usually at the same day and time, at the school (2421 E. Johnson St.). You suggest some available times, and the school will try to find a match that will work for you.

Emerson is a great community school with a dynamic principal and devoted staff. The student body is diverse in race, income, and English language ability. The school has shown better-than-average growth in the students’ literacy and math skills over the last few years, and we like to think that our mentors have played some small part!

Jewish Congregations for Social Justice is lucky to participate in this special program, and we would love to have you join us. If you want to learn more, please contact Marcia Vandercook at marcia.vandercook@gmail.com.

Tributes, memorial plaques, and  simcha plaques are wonderful ways to honor or remember someone while supporting Temple life. Donations to a TBE fund can be made via our website, by personal check, or even through a donor-advised fund or an IRA.

With a minimum donation of $18 per tribute, an acknowledgment card will be sent, letting the individual or family know about your thoughtful gift. Your gift is also recognized for the rest of the TBE community.

To order a memorial or simcha plaque, go to tbemadison.org/life-cycle or call the Temple office at 608-238-3123.

Thank you for upholding our values through your kind contributions.

Welcome to the first edition of the Giving Spotlight, dedicated to philanthropy at Temple Beth El. As we approach the beginning of 5780 and the start of Temple Beth El’s 80th anniversary year, this newsletter offers a wonderful opportunity to share information about the financial health of TBE and our plans for remaining strong and vibrant for generations to come.

You are a vital partner in sustaining the foundation that we build upon to make our Temple a cherished place. The Development Committee is eager to educate Temple members about topics such as our operating expenses, the cost of educating our students, and the revenue that offsets the expenses of staffing and running TBE. We hope that this information will allow you to better understand the many budget decisions we make with great care. This knowledge will strengthen our partnership, leading to a healthy financial position for years to come.

But beyond the nuts and bolts, this newsletter will offer stories about all of you: the TBE members who are the reason we do our work, the experiences and talents that make us a rich and vibrant congregation, and the ways we touch the lives of others. There are countless ways to have an impact as we find and share meaning as part of the TBE community. Being certain that we can continue to tell these stories is at the heart of our philanthropic goals.

Thank you for reading this inaugural edition. Please share your thoughts or ideas with executive director Stefanie Kushner.

• Porchlight Men’s Shelter needs cooks, bakers, and servers October 30: Our next Porchlight meal is Wednesday, October 30. We need shoppers, cooks, cookie bakers, kitchen minders, delivery people, and servers. This is a fun way to get to know your fellow volunteers! Sign up here.
• Help with the social justice bulletin board: Any time, at your convenience: Scrapbookers wanted! Are you good with design and decoration? Able to post the occasional poster or photo? The Social Action Committee bulletin board by the office is sadly neglected and needs some love. Contact Marcia Vandercook at marcia.vandercook@gmail.com—you will be surprised at the level of heartfelt appreciation you receive!
• Dane Sanctuary Coalition needs drivers to take immigrants to ICE appointments and court hearings: The Dane Sanctuary Coalition provides volunteer drivers to transport immigrants to important events like court hearings in Chicago and U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services appointments in Milwaukee. The project gives volunteers a hands-on opportunity to get involved in immigration work as they provide a needed service. This is a very practical, immediate thing that people can do to help. According to Rabbi Bonnie Margulis of Wisconsin Faith Voices for Justice, “our drivers don’t just drop people off. They provide community support and friendship so the person in need does not feel so alone.” Training is provided, and volunteers can request reimbursement for gas, tolls, and parking. For more information, see here. If you are interested in providing this important service, please contact Rabbi Margulis at rabbibonnie@charter.net.
• Emerson Elementary School needs reading and math tutors for the school year: If you can spare an hour each week during the school year, you can make a positive difference in a child’s education. We have two kinds of volunteer opportunities during the school day and another type of activity in the early evening. All activities occur at the school on East Johnson Street.
  • Reading and math mentors: We’re looking for adults who want to work with elementary-age children on reading and math skills. You don’t have to be a math whiz—many kids need support with very basic math facts and strategies. The teachers will provide instructions and materials each day, and the school will provide training.
  • Family programs: We also help with special events at the school on two Tuesday evenings during the year. We help with pumpkin carving on harvest night (October 29) and serving food for the international dinner in May. These events are fun and a great opportunity for teenagers looking for volunteer hours.

If you are interested, please contact Marcia Vandercook at marcia.vandercook@gmail.com.

Do you have questions or concerns about racial disparities in the criminal justice system and how they play out in our courts and prisons? This fall is a great time for you to learn more!

Several upcoming programs will be of special interest to those who have participated in our forums on racial disparities in the criminal justice system, our Urgency of Now action team, and the court observer program, but all are welcome to attend.

These events are being offered at Fountain of Life Church on Madison’s south side. Fountain of Life and the Nehemiah Center for Urban Leadership are community leaders on this topic, and many TBE members have taken advantage of their illuminating programs.

Lessons from the Court Observer Program So Far
Tuesday, September 17, 6:30–8:00 pm at Fountain of Life, 633 W. Badger Rd.
Leaders will present and discuss aggregate information from the almost 350 submitted observations in the court observer program. What have we learned? Where do we go from here? Please respond to laura.jane.berger@gmail.com if you plan to attend.

Race, Politics, and Punitiveness: Trends in the Racial Patterns of Mass Incarceration
Sunday, September 29, 2:00–3:00 pm, Pyle Center Auditorium, UW Campus
This is a free lecture by Pam Oliver, UW professor emeritus of sociology and a well-known researcher in this area. No registration needed.

Racial Disparities in the Criminal Justice System
Tuesdays, October 8, 15, and 22, 6:000–8:00 pm at Fountain of Life, 633 W. Badger Rd.
These three 2-hour workshops, led by Dr. Karen Reece of the Nehemiah Center for Urban Leadership, are designed to educate the general public on mass incarceration and the criminal justice system in general.

With over 2 million prisoners, the United States incarcerates more people than any other country in the world. The U.S. prison population has quintupled since 1980. Although African Americans are about 12 percent of the U.S. population, they make up approximately 40 percent of the prison population. Wisconsin is widely known for incarcerating more African Americans per capita than any other state.

Still, maybe you ask yourself: Is this something I should worry about? These people did the crime, they are doing the time—what's the problem? How does this affect my community? Join us for one or all of these sessions as we address these questions.

• Mass Incarceration Defined: What's the Problem? We will provide an overview of incarceration in the United States and what it means for our communities.
• The Prison System: Purpose & Programming. We will describe the Wisconsin prison system, its purpose, and what an inmate might experience.
• Community Corrections: Life after Prison. We will explain the ins and outs of Wisconsin's community corrections system, which encompasses probation, parole, and extended supervision.

Podcast on the Court Observer Program
If podcasts are more your style, you’ll be interested in the Reverend Alex Gee’s interviews with three members of the court observer program’s steering committee. Listen to this recent episode of his podcast Black Like Me at
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/s3-ep-62-from-informed-to-transformed-how-3-white-women/id1356781014?i=1000446782776.

Marta and Glenn Karlov moved to Madison from Appleton, where they had lived for 12 years and raised a family. As a relatively new member of TBE, Marta spoke with Betsy Abramson about the immigrant action team the congregation had recently formed.

Marta thought it would be a perfect match for her experience. She is an immigrant herself, having come to the United States from Colombia, where, in 1984, she met and married her American husband, Glenn. At the time, it was much easier to immigrate, and she received a green card the day her plane landed. She had no difficulty in becoming a citizen, a process that took her no more than six months.

While Marta understood that many immigrants in this country had stories that were not as straightforward and fortunate as hers, she had not previously become an activist on their behalf. Joining the immigrant action team transformed the trajectory of her interest and passion. Knowing that people seek to be in the United States to improve their circumstances and provide for their families, she wanted to become more involved in helping others negotiate and navigate the tremendous web of obstacles facing them and their children.

More than many of us, Marta realizes what families are facing in countries in Central America. Living in Ecuador and Colombia for many years, she saw firsthand the difficulties people faced in making a living and caring for their children. Sometimes the violence and other unmanageable situations confronting them are truly horrendous.

She became co-chair of the immigrant action team with Erica Serlin and Lynn Silverman, and through them became aware of what organizations like Madison’s Community Immigration Law Center (CILC) are doing. Because of this involvement, she was asked to help Spanish speakers with intake interviews before meeting with attorneys to help them to prepare their cases for asylum.

Marta works for American Family Insurance and is unable to make daytime commitments, but she learned from a non-Spanish-speaking attorney on the board of CILC that a family from Honduras here in Madison needed her assistance. Another Boston-based organization, Together and Free, was trying to help families separated at the border, including this one, with a 15-year-old separated from her father at the border. This young woman had just been released from detention and came here to live with her uncle. Another of her father’s sisters is also here, with her four-year-old.

Marta learned that the grandfather had been killed in Honduras, and then the same gang went after the father and his daughter, because he was a policeman. ICE separated them, deporting the father and placing the daughter in detention.

The social worker in Boston wanted Marta to help this extended family deal with language barriers and other needs. Not long after Marta became involved, the father finally was released from detention after crossing the border again with his pregnant partner, and made his way here with the help of a third organization. Another 17-year-old brother was also detained and deported. The entire family is seeking asylum.

With the help of many volunteers, the father and his partner, the baby born in May, and the 15-year-old were able to get an apartment near their uncle.

Marta also learned that the family member who was deported back to Honduras was sent on a plane with feet and hands bound, traveling all day without food, water, or bathroom privileges: “three hundred people on the plane, all tied like animals.” As Marta aptly expressed the situation: “It just breaks your heart.” Where is the humanity? Where is the justice?

Marta has been helping the family in a variety of ways: making attorney visits with the sister to help her apply for asylum, bringing donations of goods that the family needs, spending time with the 15-year-old to monitor her adjustment. Although some family members have also been helped by Catholic charities, when they called upon Centro Hispano to try to get the daughter psychological help, they were not so fortunate, since the center seems to be overwhelmed with requests for help.

Still, interventions by volunteers within dedicated community organizations have helped the family get much-needed services. Members of TBE have also been very generous with necessities, gift cards, and cash donations.

As for the undocumented brave uncle of this family, whose sister was denied asylum, he has put himself at great risk by helping other family members, because of his own precarious status. Each depressing encounter, such as his brother’s deportation, only deepens his anxiety.

Yet every small act of kindness makes a difference. Marta especially enjoys the way the children light up when she visits with small gifts, such as craft supplies that give them a way to express themselves.

What can others at TBE do to help this family get established? For options to get involved, you can contact Marta, Lynn, or Erica to find how to advocate for immigration reform or to volunteer to assist if and when an undocumented individual or family requests sanctuary.

Through Fabiola Hamdan, immigration affairs specialist at the Dane County Department of Human Services, who works closely with Rabbi Bonnie Margulis, we have since learned that there are at least 12 other families seeking asylum here in Madison.

When we realize how many hoops just one family has to jump through to try to gain asylum, and we multiply that by the needs of many thousands of others, the work can feel overwhelming, but every action we take can make a difference.

Please join us in the long fight for a more just immigration policy and procedure.