Let My People Go ... To The Western Wall

Let My People Go … To The Western Wall

By Rabbi Charlie Savenor

In just a few days we will celebrate Passover, commemorating the Exodus from Egypt and the birth of our people. The process of freedom begins with Moses urging Pharaoh to “Let my people go!” This mantra called for the Jewish people to have the freedom to praise God in our own way.

On March 12^th I had the unique privilege of davening (praying) with over 350 people at “Wake Up for Religious Tolerance” in support of Women of the Wall. Every Rosh Chodesh (the beginning of the Hebrew month) these dedicated, brave women advocate for freedom of Jewish religious expression at the Kotel, assembling in the women’s section to pray, connect and celebrate their Judaism together.

The inspiring service at Town and Village Synagogue included Jews of all ages, from all movements. The mission was similar to our people's original call for religious freedom, “Let my people go!” However, this time the struggle is a private, existential one, located in our spiritual homeland.

To pray to God in our own way.

 

In just a few days, we will gather around the Seder table. The centerpiece of this experience, besides the Seder plate, is questioning, beginning with the well-known refrain, “Mah nishtanah?” How is this night different from all other nights?
 

As we approach Passover this year, four new questions have emerged for the Kotel, the State of Israel and Jewish community worldwide.

1) On all other days, we “break bread”as a sign of coming together, but today, why does the unity of the Jewish people feels like it’s crumbling like matzah?

The Kotel, considered by many to be Judaism’s holiest site, has become off limits to liberal Jews, especially women who want to wear a tallit, read Torah and even recite the Shema out loud. With every passing month, more and more women, like my friend Rabbi Robyn Fryer Bodzin, have been arrested for this act of prayer.

It feels heretical to state but sometimes, the Kotel feels like a sacred wall between the liberal Jews and the State of Israel.
 

2) During Passover we remember the leadership, courage and song of Miriam, sister of Moses. Tonight, why can’t we hear the voice of the myriad modern day Miriams at the Kotel?
 

After the Six Day War, we cried tears of joy when we heard the words: "The Kotel is in our hands!" With religious pluralism in Israel in question, is this still true?

Who is included in the word “Our?”
 

The tragic truth is that just a few decades later, the Kotel, an eternal symbol of Israel and Jewish life, has been rezoned as an orthodox synagogue. This new incarnation of the Kotel excludes the millions of liberal Jews who visit the Western Wall and want to daven in their own, authentic way.

Judaism is a heritage that honors its matriarchs. Miriam led the women in song at the Red Sea. Hannah created the paradigm for prayer. Esther inspired a community to action through fasting and introspection.

Today female voices have been silenced at the Western Wall. As a result, the Kotel has become a no-man's land - or a no woman zone to be more accurate - for most of Am Yisrael.

3) Visiting the Kotel can be a moment of tremendous joy, so why for many has this experience become a bitter one?

 

What’s happening in Israel is not just about the Kotel and the Women of the Wall. It is a symptom of a larger phenomenon of limited religious tolerance in Israel in general.

Twenty years I led a USY group on a tour of Poland and Israel. After a week of visiting death camps, we landed in Israel and our first stop was the Western Wall. As we started to pray in the back of the plaza, a handful of haredi (ultra orthodox) men gathered around us, calling us names like “goyim” and“Nazis”. They loudly demanded that we disband. One even spat in our direction.

As our staff made a circle around our group, thankfully, at this very instant, a handful of Kotel security guards approached our group. I was certain that the guards would tell the haredim to leave us alone.
 

Instead, with a tired shrug, they directed us to disband. Their frustrated expression exposed that they have done this before.

We came not to provoke, but rather to invoke God’s presence at a sacred site. What had been tears of joy after Poland were now sobs of sorrow and confusion in Israel.
 

4) On all other days we can sit or recline, so why must we stand up today?

For years the Israeli government has either been silent or given lip-service about the growing fundamentalist threat within its own borders and the need for religious pluralism. It was the same message I received from the shrugging Kotel guard nearly 20 years ago: it is just easier to go along, so no one gets hurt.

However, by remaining silent for too long, our homeland has sacrificed its inner peace. Even worse, the silence has been mistaken for permission to curse at, spit upon, arrest and detain those who do not conform to certain religious standards.

We can be silent no longer. We must stand up for religious equality in Israel.

For years we have stood with Israel. Now we need Israel to stand with us.

By some cruel twist of fate, non-haredi Jews have largely become spiritual refugees in their own land. What gives me hope is that Natan Sharansky, the most famous Soviet refusenik, now head of the Jewish Agency  understands what is at stake when Jews are barred from their homeland and its holy sites.

Passover is a time of hope in new beginnings. In the spirit of this great epic tale – the story of the birth of the Jewish People -- let us raise our voices as one and proclaim, “Let my people go!” … to the Kotel.

 

Rabbi Charlie Savenor is the International Director of Kehilla (Congregational) Enrichment for United Synagogue. He is currently writing a book on parenting. He can be reached at savenor@uscj.org. 

Looking for the Right Person

Looking for the Right Person

Shemot 2013/ 5773

Rabbi Charlie Savenor

When companies have a high-level position to fill, they frequently employ head hunters to locate the
right person for the job. If we were given the task of finding the right person to serve as the leader
of the Children of Israel during the Exodus, what type of qualities would we look for?

The job description for this executive position might read as follows: “This person must be
confident, charismatic, wise, vibrant, patient, creative and intelligent. It is preferred that s/he has
experience in public relations and wilderness economics. Public speaking is a must.”

While these characteristics are what we might expect of a leader, in this week’s Parsha God makes a
surprising selection. His candidate of choice is Moses, a man who is temperamental, easily
discouraged, and somewhat impatient.
 
If this wasn’t bad enough, Moses makes it clear on several occasions that he doesn’t even want the
position. When approached by God to lead the Children of Israel out of slavery, Moses raises
several reasons why God should choose someone else. He says, “Please, Lord, I am not a man of
words, either in the past or now when you have spoken to me. I am slow of speech and slow of
tongue.” (Exodus 4:10)
 
In essence, Moses confides that his problem lies not with the message, but with the messenger.
Traditional and modern scholars have been fascinated by Moses’ self-depiction as khevad peh v’kaved lashon: slow of speech and slow of tongue. This is usually interpreted as stuttering. Rashi and several other traditional commentators embrace a literal interpretation of the text. According to their view, Moses had a speech impediment. In fact, some go so far as to try and pinpoint which sounds represented the greatest challenge to Moses.

Some modern commentators suggest that Moses declines the invitation to lead because he is neither
skilled in the arena of political debate, nor is he what we might consider a charismatic speaker. In
Moses and Monotheism, Sigmund Freud asserts that Moses’ objection, and the need for Aaron as an
interpreter, allude to the fact that “Moses was an Egyptian.”(Pg.38) According to Freud, Moses does not utilize Aaron as an interpreter with Pharaoh, but rather as a tool for connecting with the Children of Israel.
 
As described above, when Moses speaks of his slow speech, one of the Hebrew words used to
describe it is khaved peh. In the coming Torah portions when “Pharaoh hardens his heart,” the Torah
employs the expression “vehakhbaed et lebo.” (Exodus 8:11)

One simple word, kaved, which means heavy or encumbered, lays out the political tension and real
communication problem between Moses and Pharaoh. A man with difficulty in speaking attempts to
get through to a man who will not listen and is indifferent to human suffering.

We might assume that God wants an eloquent speaker and someone who feels ready and eager to
assume a leadership role. But instead, Moses – hesitant, scared and almost the epitome of a broken
vessel – is chosen. In addition to his humility and wisdom, God chooses Moses because of his
imperfections. The irony of the story is that God accepts Moses as he is. It is Moses who needs to
learn to accept himself. Ultimately, Moses was able to be a leader in spite of his limitations.
 
Our world today continues to be challenged by pharaohs with hardened hearts and modern-day
“plagues,” both natural and manmade. The amount of tikkun – healing – that our society and our
global community demands is daunting. Like Moses, we can easily feel dwarfed by the mission
ahead.
 
It is precisely when the task seems so large that we need to remember that Moses’ inadequacies and
hesitations did not hold him back from being a leader. In fact, when exposed firsthand to injustice
and cruelty, he takes immediate action without stopping to consider the personal ramifications. (Exodus 2:11-12)

From this week’s parsha, we learn that the type of leadership needed to transform the world cannot
easily be captured in a job description. We are all like Moses in that each of us has our own faults
and shortcomings. Similarly, each of us has a unique contribution to make – to our communities, to
society, to the world – if only we learn to accept ourselves as we are.


This Dvar Torah originally appeared in 2006 in The American Jewish World Service parsha series.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

One of the special rituals of Sukkot is "Ushpizin", which means "guests" in Aramaic, when we welcome the spirit of our ancestors to the Sukkah. We invite Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron and David to join us, along with, in my opinion, their spouses and families. 

One interpretation for this ritual is that by ritually inviting our spiritual heroes to the Sukkah, we will be more motivated to invite flesh and blood guests to celebrate with us. The ritual creates momentum in our lives.

This year United Synagogue invited 100 "Lone Soldiers" to the Sukkah at the Fuchsberg Center in Jerusalem. Unlike Israeli-born soldiers, Lone Soldiers, most of whom have made aliyah, have no family in Israel to visit or rely on during their military service.

Thanks to the generosity of Jack and Ana Berger of Chicago, over 100 of Israel's Lone Soldiers enjoyed delicious Sukkot meals together. Two weeks earlier, over 100 Lone Soldiers shared Rosh Hashanah meals that were generously sponsored by Scott and Andrea Bernstein of Syosset, NY. 

I want to share this description of the Rosh Hashanah meals by Meira Weinstein Flaster and Josh Flaster of TheCenter for Lone Soldiers in Memory of Michael Levin z"l:

The group was fun, dynamic and diverse - 3 religious Brazilian Lone Soldiers from Rio de Janeiro - (one in Givati, one in Golani, one in Tzanchanim), 2 brothers from Raleigh N. Carolina (in intelligence and computer-related roles), 3 Russians in combat and combat support roles, about a half dozen Brits serving in combat units, 1 Australian in the IDF's Hebrew course at Mikve Alon, a few Israeli lone soldiers, who were once part of the Haredi world (and are serving in the army...so there families have left them) and a large group of US and Canadian-born lone soldiers.

The tables were arranged first in rows, and then moved into two large squares at the soldiers' request - to allow them to see and interact best with one another. Hebrew, English, Russian and Portuguese-speaking soldiers co-existed quite nicely - with army slang and the experiences and advice and insider's tricks for adjusting to life inside and outside of the army being the main themes of conversation.

All of the soldiers were greatly appreciative, and stuck around the Fuchsberg lobby for an additional hour after the 3 hour long meal ended.

Many of the lone soldiers who came to these meals had no options or invites for the holiday. They greatly appreciated the meals, and inquired about staying on Shabbatot at Fuchsberg as well.

What I find deeply moving is that the Fuchsberg Center and our larger community took care of these brave souls, who take care of the Jewish people 365 days a year. In addition, thanks to the generosity of the Bernstein's and Berger's, these Lone Soldiers were neither alone nor lonely for the haggim.  

Since 2009, the Fuchsberg Center and USCJ's Israel Committee have collaborated with the Lone Soldier Center in Memory of Michael Levin. Michael was a Philadelphia native who came to Israel with USY, Camp Ramah and Nativ before making aliyah. He was killed in the Second Lebanon War in 2006 at the age of 21. 

During the year Nefesh B'Nefesh also runs excellent programs and offers much needed services to Lone Soldiers. Equally important, they are building an infrastructure of support for young adults who make Aliya and who will serving in the IDF.

I want to recognize the efforts of Rabbi Paul and Nina Freedman who serve as United Synagogue's official liaison for these initiatives. Their sons, Chashi, Benny and Giddy, were all Lone Soldiers before their parents made Aliya, so the Freedman's know first-hand how much this support means to the soldiers and their families. They are tireless champions of Israel and the Lone Soldiers.

This year "Ushpizin" had more meaning than ever because these soldiers did not need to guess where they would have a festive holiday meal. I imagine that at the Fuchsberg Center's Sukkah our ancestors were watching joyfully as they watched these Lone Soldiers celebrate. 

What a way to enter the new year!

Engaging the Next Generation Via Rock Talk

Changing patterns in volunteer and affiliation patterns have amounted to a gigantic wake-up call for the established Jewish community. What has emerged is a dynamic discussion within kehillot (congregations) and many non-profits about how to engage the next generation.

Facebook, Twitter and Web 2.0 have been hailed as the magic pill. Yet we have found that social networking alone merely constitutes tactics for building community, rather than a comprehensive strategy to meet this goal. Furthermore, while many organizations and kehillot have established online platforms, few have mastered how to maximize their impact as part of an integrated engagement initiative.

I recently wrote about Wilfred Drath's theories about "relational dialogue" as the ideal model for leadership in our times. Relational dialogue is akin to community organizing, as it generates ongoing opportunities for meaning-making in communities of practice.

As the book of Numbers winds down, we are sadly reminded that Moses will not lead the people across the Jordan River. Drath's ideas about leadership models, I believe, can help us understand why Moses is punished for not speaking to the rock. His ideas actually complement  those of Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, "The Netziv", who was the last Rosh Yeshiva of Volozhin in the late 1800's.

As you may recall, as soon as the Israelites leeave Egypt they need water. In the first year of their journey, Moses is told to hit the rock and water comes forth. 

The second time the issue of water arises, God commands Moses to speak to the rock. This new directive, 39 years after the first one, is somewhat perplexing. First and foremost, the thought of speaking to a rock seems strange. Even in 2012 it feels funny talking to Siri on our iPhones, let alone a rock without voice recognition software. More to the point, if hitting the rock worked before, then why does God change course now? 

To understand the new directive, we have to grasp the mindset of those who would witness the miracle. The generation that left Egypt were accustomed to strong leaders (in Drath's "Personal Dominance" model), such as Pharaoh and Moses, who used force as a mechanism to maintain order. Hitting the rock is an act of force to which the recently freed slaves could appreciate.

Thirty nine years later the next generation, born into freedom, God realizes, needs a different experience. God tells Moses to speak to the rock to symbolically indicate that these people are ready for a new leadership and communal paradigm. The next generation are prepared to take part in the conversation about constructing a new society in the Promised Land. Their thirst would be quenched by deciding their own destiny.

Moses' error in judgment is not realizing that the "rock talk" is about showcasing a new model of leadership. Simply put, he doesn't realize that the medium is the message.

We face similar challenges today. There are new ways of reaching the next generation. When we sit face to face either online or in person, it is vital that we make room for the young - and young at heart - to contribute to a communal dialogue about our shared future. By convening our own "rock talk", we invite all stakeholders to play a role in actualizing a vision we create together.

The Power of Constructive Disruption

In the limelight for just a fleeting moment, Korah disrupts the Biblical status quo.  One of the most complicated characters in the Torah, Korah's legacy is equally complex. 

Remembered mainly as the power–hungry rebel swallowed by the earth for challenging Moses and Aaron's authority, Korah is also depicted by the Midrash as a wealthy and successful former minister in Pharaoh's court and the patriarch of his Levitical family clan.

Korah is not an "outsider" in the Israelite camp; rather he has "elite access". According to the Midrash, Korah is a member of the Kohatite–Levite family, who are entrusted with the special responsibility of carrying the ark of the covenant whenever the Israelite camp moved.

We know from earlier in the book of Numbers that the Torah recognizes that this responsibility comes with certain caveats. With careful stipulations, the Levites are instructed not to look at the holy vessels they carry. Some commentators hold that this rule was enacted out of fear that the vessels may lose their sanctity in the eyes of their be-holders. The Torah also understands that it is human nature; those who handle holy vessels — or anything valuable for that matter — may be tempted to misuse them for their own purposes. It reminds me of Dorothy peeking behind the curtain.

This week's Torah portion affirms that the eponymous character may have gotten too close to the spiritual seat of power. From his proximity to the symbol of God's brit, covenant, with the Jewish people, Korah develops illusions of grandeur.

At the beginning of this week's portion, Korah confronts Moses: "You have gone too far! For all of the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why did you raise yourself above the Lord's congregation?" (Numbers 16:3) Korah gives the impression of promoting an egalitarian platform for the Jewish people. There is a consensus among traditional and modern commentators that Korah's true motivations lie in removing Moses and Aaron from power and ruling the Israelite community as he sees fit without the yoke of God's Torah.

One may try to simplify this episode to Moses feeling threatened by others undertaking positions of power and leadership in the Israelite camp. But this interpretation contrasts Moses' attempts to share leadership whenever possible. Moses appoints many judges, empowers the tribal leadership during the reconnaissance of Canaan, and establishes the council of the seventy elders. Moreover, Moses is delighted when Eldad and Medad, two random Israelites, begin prophesizing on their own. In Moses' eyes, Eldad and Medad are examples to be raised up, not silenced. Eldad, Medad, Joshua and Elazar the priest are all part of Moses' leadership succession plan, albeit without a timeline. 

After the rebellion has been contained, God instructs Moses to have Korah's fire pans melted into a covering for the altar. These metal coverings would serve "le'ot leev'nay yisrael," "as a warning for the people of Israel" (Exodus 17:3). The word "ot" literally means "a sign," and from the context it is easy to see this altar covering as a symbol of caution for future rebels.

The placement of this warning, however, strikes me as bizarre. One might expect that such a warning would be outside of the Tabernacle and away from the altar, not connected to it.

We find a subtle clue as to the reason for the interconnected placement of this warning and its multifaceted meaning in the commentary of Ibn Ezra, a twelfth–century Spanish sage. Explaining the word "ot," he oddly offers two explanations; the warning is "a memorial and a sign."

The ambivalence about his character is expressed in the "memorial and sign" created to remember the rebellion. As a memorial, the hammered sheets warn the people and their spiritual leaders — the Levites, the priests and Moses — that when serving God their intentions need to be transparent and sincere. As a sign, the covering on the altar itself subtly encourages all Jews not to follow their leaders blindly if they seem to have strayed from the path. When questions are guileless and "leshem shamayim," for the sake of heaven, public debate can become a sacred enterprise, unite a community, and raise us to new spiritual heights. 

Korah's legacy cannot just be reduced to a cautionary tale. This memorial elevates the conversation that just took place, almost honoring it. While Korah was misguided in his talking points and disrespectful in his approach, his disruption fostered a vital communal conversation about vision and purpose within the Israelite camp.

In the midst of his own rebellion, Korah does not grasp the very essence of what makes the Jewish people an "am kodesh," a holy nation. As the "chosen people," we are not bequeathed a sense of entitlement; rather we are obligated to create opportunities for God's presence to be felt and experienced in this world. Not only are we encouraged to question authority in certain situations, but we are expected to listen to those voices that are different from our own.

The Korah memorial reminds us about not only the danger of self–interested defiance of divine authority, but also our eternal obligation to challenge our leaders if they stray from our community's and society's best interests. The ultimate irony is that Korah's complex legacy inspires us to be rebels with a cause of constructive disruption.