Conservative or Radical? A Drash for Saturday, 29 March 2014

It is said that people are basically conservative, and that this shows up nowhere more than in religious life.

          Before I continue, I should define ‘conservative’ because the word has come to have so many meanings.  For example, I consider myself to be politically ‘conservative.’  I therefore identify, back home in the USA, with the Republican Party, which is understood to be the one of the two major parties that leans ‘conservative.’ If I were an Australian voter I would most likely identify with the Liberal party, which sounds strange to my ears because I know ‘liberal’ as the polar opposite of ‘conservative.’  But never mind…

          We also know that there is a branch of Judaism that is called ‘Conservative Judaism.’ In this part of the world it is called, ‘Masorti Judaism.’  This type of Judaism generally advocates and practices a ritual life resembling that of traditional Judaism more than our Progressive ritual, which we allow to change and evolve far more over time.  On the other hand, back in Colorado Springs where Clara and I lived before we came here, there was a Conservative shule.  Its rabbi, my local Conservative colleague was far further than the ‘traditional’ philosophical underpinnings of traditional Jewish belief than I am.

          So ‘conservative’ can be a somewhat confusing term.  But for purposes of the statement I made a moment ago, it means favouring the preservation of established customs, values, etc., and opposing innovation.  In this sense, most of us are ‘conservative.’  It doesn’t mean that we don’t like change at all.  It means that we get comfortable with familiar patterns and practices.  When people ask us to change, we have to have a good reason to go along with it.  In this way, we are all conservative to one degree or another.

          Jonathan Saks, the recently-retired Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, published a book about Judaism a few years back.  It was entitled Radical Then, Radical Now.  His thesis was that the law and philosophy of Judaism presented nothing less than a radical departure from what the near eastern man had known up to that point.  And that ‘authentic’ Judaism even today should represent a radical parting of the ways from other legal and philosophical mindsets that are at work in our midst.  Judaism, to Rabbi Saks, was never about, and should never be about, accommodation.

          Not one to take issue with such a learned and distinguished rabbi as Jonathan Saks, I nevertheless would frame the thesis a bit differently.  You’ve heard me opine before that Judaism was, from its very outset, ‘conservative’ in nature.  As evidence of this, the Torah does not outlaw slavery.  But it ameliorates it.  It imposes restraints and limitations upon one who would ‘own’ other human beings.  It requires that slaves be treated humanely and enjoy Sabbath rest just as their Jewish owner does.  It requires they be manumitted in the Seventh Year, unless they choose to continue serving their master.  Most of us today believe that the Torah’s meta-message on the subject is that slavery is wrong and needs to cease as a practice.  But the Torah’s specific instruction allows it to continue under certain restraints.  A close reading of the Torah reveals a similar ‘attitude’ towards other then-common practices.

          I believe that the Torah takes this ‘conservative’ path for a very specific reason.  God wanted His people to break from the conventional behaviours and ethics of the age.  But He didn’t want to process to be onerous.  Recognising the inherent conservatism in the human beast, He legislated in a way that was calculated to move His people away from the worst practices but in a way they could tolerate.  I know it’s hard for us to see God as being pragmatic, but I believe that Torah offers a glimpse into a God who is somewhat pragmatic.

If this makes sense to you, and if you think that I’m on to something, then that raises a question.  If Judaism was intended to be Conservative Then, Conservative Now, then why does it seem that traditional Jewish values and practices are so radically out of synch with the developing societal ethic today?  This, as asserted by Rabbi Saks.  My answer to this question is actually quite simple.  It is because the developing societal ethic is, itself, quite radical.  So much so that Judaism, a ‘conservative’ legal and ethical system, seems radically out of synch with prevailing and developing sensibilities.

 The explanation to this is in another thesis you’ve heard from me before which concerns my generation, the Baby Boomers, born between 1946 and 1964.  We came of age in the Vietnam years.  We were the first generation to achieve a lot of things.  Chiefly we made the overturning of established norms and values into a virtue.  The specific acts of my generation – for example refusing en masse to serve in an unpopular war, and overturning existing sexual mores when technology made it easier to avoid unwanted pregnancies – paved the way for a popular mindset that sees radical change as a virtue.

That being the case, I do not see the disconnect between traditional Judaism and popular culture as indicating a radical streak within Judaism.  Rather, I see Judaism as counselling a ‘wait-and-see’ attitude towards change.  A mindset that says that change may be good, but it carries the burden of proof.  A mindset that advocates the retention of existing values and practices unless and until the ‘new, improved’ version is proven to be better.  An essentially conservative mindset.

So this leads to the question:  Why does it matter whether Judaism is, by definition, Radical or Conservative?  I think it matters because, if we recognise the truism that we are essentially ‘conservative’ people, particularly in the area of religion, then it follows that a ‘radical’ religion would not resonate with much of humanity.  But I can tell you that Judaism does, indeed resonate with humanity far-and-wide.  Come on Tuesday night to my class and see the excitement of my students, many of whom are taking the big step of converting to Judaism from some other faith or from no faith at all.  Spend a few hours with me in the office and listen as I take call after call from those who find Judaism attractive on some level and are thinking about conversion.  Take a trip with one of members who has worked with Christian groups in Papua New Guinea, who are moving away from Christianity and towards Judaism. 

Many of you fret about your grown children and grandchildren, who show little or no interest in Jewish life.  I fret along with you.  But I think this is, as much as anything else, the syndrome of the truly blessed not recognising the extent of their blessings.  I addressed it last night with regards to Australian nationalism, to Australians not recognising the value of what they have.  It’s just as true of Jews who were born into the Covenant of Abraham.  But at the same time, there is a great ferment of interest in Judaism by others.  If we had more trained rabbis and outreach teachers, and the resources to employ them, we could be experiencing growth far in excess to what we have now.

  Conservative of Radical?  It’s easy to see this as a rhetorical exercise.  But I think that it matters.  If we agree that Jewish faith matches human nature, then that changes how we see, and internalise that faith.  Does it not?  Let’s therefore draw comfort from our Tradition, and let it resonate deeply in our souls.  And draw comfort from sharing it with those souls, for whom it also resonates.  Shabbat shalom.e didn’t want this change to be onerousHYehhhhheheheheheheheheh   

Value What You Have and Don’t Give it Away: A Drash for Friday, 28 March 2014

One year during the northern hemisphere spring I was in Qatar.  I spent four months there, supporting the Allied Expeditionary Forces engaged in Operation Enduring Freedom, and Operation Iraqi Freedom.  On our chaplain staff, we had an Australian RAAF chaplain, an Anglican priest named Steve Holmes from the Melbourne hinterland.  When the 24^th of April came around, Steve invited us, his American colleagues, to a sunrise ceremony at the base flagpole the next morning.  It was ANZAC Day.

          I knew something about the origins of ANZAC Day.  While Gallipoli was not an American experience, I had read about the heroism of the ANZAC troops there.  I also saw the highly-acclaimed 1981 film, Gallipoli, directed by Peter Weir and starring our ‘friend’ Mel Gibson. 

As you may know, there was a Palestinian Jewish presence in Gallipoli as well.  The Zion Mule Corps had been formed out of the desire of the Jews of the Yishuv, the community in Palestine, to contribute to the war effort on the Allied side.  The British, not wanting to give Palestinian Jews training in soldiering skills, recruited them into the Mule Corps, which provided battlefield logistics in Gallipoli and other battles of the Great War.  That unit and its exploits have been written about extensively.

          I know it may sound funny to hear me speaking about the origins of ANZAC Day right now.  After all, it is just the end of March, and ANZAC Day is exactly four weeks away.  But since we are coming up on Rosh Chodesh Nissan and the First of April, it is probably not too early to mention it.

          An e-mail has been making the rounds lately, and maybe you’ve seen it.  Several of you have brought it to my attention.  It’s an essay entitled Value What You Have and Don’t Give it Away, and it’s ascribed to an American academic named David Mason who has recently spent some time in Australia.  The essay’s premise is that certain things are superior in Australia, to the USA.

          A couple of you had forwarded it to me; not being especially impressed by the writer’s views I didn’t give it further thought.  But this week, one of our members sent it to me and actually asked what I thought of it, challenging me to re-read it carefully and formulate my reactions into coherent comments.

          I still disagree with most of the essay, where Mason asserts that Australia compares favourably with America in various ways.  But I agree with the author’s overall sentiments.  The author asserts: “There’s a lot to admire about Australia.” He goes on to report that, when he enthuses about this country to his Australian friends, they often respond by telling him: “We need outsiders like you to remind us what we have.”  How true that is!  In America, we like to say that we need immigrants to remind the native born of how positively our country and its way of life compares to other places in the world.  Same general idea.  If you have been drinking from a fountain of blessing all your life, it is important to be reminded of the hardships of life elsewhere.  Both Americans and Australians need to remember how much they have been blessed.

After listing his reasons why he thinks Australia outshines the USA, Mason asserts:  “No need to wave flags like Americans and add to the world’s windiness.” Now I agree that Americans are more likely to wave – or display – their national flag than Australians.  But frankly, I think both countries would benefit with an increase of flag-waving.  For some reason, the sight of the native born waving the flag makes some onlookers cry ‘racism.’  But this doesn’t make much sense to me.  After all, your Department of Immigration and Citizenship website prominently displays photographs of immigrants of all colours proudly waving the flag.  Flag-waving is nothing more than expressing pride in your country and what it stands for.  And whilst our countries’ constitutions are vastly different, the values that are understood to underpin citizenship in both countries are quite similar. 

According to the website of your Department of Immigration and Citizenship, Australian values are as follows:  freedom and dignity of the individual; freedom of religion; commitment to the rule of law; Parliamentary democracy; equality of opportunity to all regardless of gender, race, religion or ethnic background; mutual respect, tolerance, fair play and compassion for those in need; pursuit of the public good.

This American finds nothing to disagree with in this values statement – except perhaps parliamentary democracy since I’m committed to my representative republic, but that’s a minor point.  So when you wave the flag you are showing your affirmation for the values that underpin your nation.  And that’s a good thing.  More Australians, and more Americans, should wave their respective flags and stand up for the values that underpin our great countries.

By now you’ve surely intuited that my disagreements with David Mason, as expressed in his essay circulating by e-mail, are quite deep.  Whilst it’s true that they are, I agree 100 percent with his bottom line.  He counsels his Australian friends: “Value what you have, pray for it, work hard for it, and don’t give it away.”  Amen to that!  Never forget what your country represents. 

So back in 2006, I stood at the flagpole in the predawn chill of a spring morning in Qatar, and observed the service for ANZAC Day with the Australian contingent on the base and many of my American colleagues as well.  It was simple and moving.  Afterwards, we all walked to the mess hall and enjoyed one another’s fellowship over breakfast.

Four weeks from now, let’s get up early in the morning to march with the local returned servicemen, stand in reverence at the flagpole, be moved by the simple service, and then join them for breakfast at the local RSL.  Come on, you can give up an hour or so of sleep, and you can always make it up later in the day!  In an age where patriotic gestures have become passé, let’s make a patriotic gesture.  How about it?  Shabbat shalom.   

The Best…and the Worst: A Drash for Saturday, 22 March 2014

You’ve heard me say of religion, it brings out the best, and the worst in people.  This certainly can be said of our religion.  How much bad behaviour is unleashed in the running of shules, and other Jewish institutions, and really just about everywhere you go?  How many scandals have there been regarding child molestation in our Jewish schools?  Regarding the selling of gets, of divorce papers?  How many Jews do you know, who have dropped out of Jewish life because of the general sometimes-nasty edge to it?

          But the phenomenon is not limited to us Jews, not by a long shot!  Roman Catholics have had a difficult couple of decades as their church, worldwide, has been wracked with scandal.  Priests abusing children.  Priests in supervisory positions covering it up.  Back when the worldwide scandal first began coming to light, I was a military chaplain, working closely with Catholic priests whom I considered my friends and colleagues.  How much anguish they felt as their vocation was sullied by revelation after revelation of terrible behaviour by their brother priests!

          And the Protestant Christian world is not immune either.  They have also had their share of scandals:  sexual, financial, power.  And yes, Islam and the Eastern Traditions; we don’t hear so much about them, because their worlds are relatively opaque to the outsider.  But really, there is more than enough shame to go around.

          So we have here a paradox.  Something that is supposed to bring goodness into the world, religion, unfortunately is often an agent for sin and suffering.  And as you know, I’ve talked about this paradox before.

Religion brings out the best in people because of its message of hope and redemption.  One thing I struggled with during my first years in the rabbinate, was the role of Symbolic Exemplar.  Because of what I represent due to my calling, I found myself sometimes put on a pedestal, a place where I did not feel comfortable.  A colleague named Jack Bloom, a Reform Rabbi who is a clinical psychologist, wrote a book about it:  The Rabbi as Symbolic Exemplar.  When I read it, it really hit home.

Sometimes the Symbolic Exemplar thing takes on humorous tones.  When people find out I’m a rabbi, they will automatically change the way they talk, and the things about which they talk, around me.  Early on, I would take to not ‘outing’ myself in order to have normal conversations with people!  And then, when the subject came up and it was either ‘out’ myself or lie, and I would reveal my vocation, they would change instantly!

I’ve come to accept the phenomenon of the Symbolic Exemplar, and even understand why it happens.  And it really comes down to what I was talking about a moment ago, that religion does bring out the best in people.  But if so, why does it also seem to bring out the worst?  I’ve offered an explanation in the past, but whilst reading in preparation for this Shabbat, I came across another rabbi’s very lucid explanation.

As you may know, this Shabbat is Shabbat Parah – the Sabbath of the Heifer, as in the Red Heifer.  The traditional Maftir reading for this Shabbat is found in the 25^th chapter of the Book of Numbers.  It instructs the Israelites to take a completely red cow without blemish, a cow which has never been yoked for work as a draft animal, slaughter it and have the priests burn it completely on the altar.  Then its ashes would be mixed with water and sprinkled on anybody or thing needing purification.  But the paradox of the Heifer is that the priest’s duties in this case make him unclean.  How can the same ritual make the clean unclean and the unclean, clean?

In looking for answers, I came upon a brief answer offered by J.H. Hertz in the Soncino Chumash, which is often referred to as the ‘Hertz Chumash.’  Dr Hertz writes the following:

A word must be said on the paradox of the (Red Heifer), …[with regard to] the simultaneous possession of sanctification and defilement.  There have been great institutions and movements, in both Jewish and general history, that have sanctified others, and yet at the same time tended to defile those that created or directed those institutions and movements.  The very men who helped others to self-sacrifice and holiness, not infrequently themselves became hard and self-centred, hating and hateful:  elevating others, and themselves sinking into inhumanity, impurity, and unholiness.  It is a real, if disturbing, fact in the spiritual life of man.

Now I could have said similar words in my own voice, but how much more powerful coming from the late Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom!  What I hear Dr Hertz saying, is that through religion and other endeavours, people work hard to uplift others with something positive and good.  Unfortunately, it is human nature that when one is doing righteous things, one can easily fall into the trap of ‘self-righteousness.’  This is a mindset, where one thinks that, because they’re doing good for people, they are beyond reproach and, ultimately, restraint.  We know the term, and the syndrome, and we are quick to condemn it in others.  But the truth is that we’re all subject to the tendency.  And when we’re in a position of doing good, we must constantly be aware of the tendency and be ready to fight it when we see evidence that we’re falling into it.

There are elements of our great tradition that are easily grasped.  When we read the Torah, it often sings out to us in a lovely song of goodness and righteousness.  In the ancient world, the ethics emanating from the Torah were singularly superior to any other system known to man.  That’s why, in antiquity, there was great interest and great movement among pagans to embrace Judaism.  Really, that’s why even today, in the wake of centuries of persecution of Jews, the Jewish message resonates so strongly.  

And yet, there are passages in the Torah that defy explanation.  That even today, centuries later, still baffle the greatest minds.  And maybe they’re supposed to baffle us, but more about that tomorrow morning.

Do good works, religious or otherwise.  But be careful of the tendency to fall into the paradox.  Let it bring out the best in you.  But when you have any inkling that it’s bringing out the worst in you, it is time to stop.  Take a deep breath.  Stand back.  And question your motives.  Just because religion does bring out the best and the worst, doesn’t mean it’s supposed to!  If we are letting it bring forth the latter, then we’ve missed the boat.  Then we have, in the words of the late novelist Tom Clancy, perhaps mastered the forms of religion, while allowing its essence to elude us.  But if the essence is missing, then there’s no value at all in the forms.  Minus the essence, the forms can only serve to try to control people.  And that is unfortunate.  Shabbat shalom.

The 'Paradox' of the Heifer: A Drash for Friday, 21 March 2014

This Shabbat is known as Shabbat Parah, or the Sabbath of the Heifer.  The reference is to the traditional Maftir reading for tomorrow which is from Numbers chapter 10 – quite some distance from the regular cyclical Torah reading which is from the Book of Leviticus.  The Maftir reading is the commandment of the Red Heifer.

          In brief, the passage instructs that the Israelites are to take a Red Heifer without blemish, upon whom a yoke has never been laid, and burn it as a burnt offering.  And the Priest, Eleazer the son of Aaron is to take the ashes, mix them with water, and sprinkle them on those who are impure for whatever reason, and it shall purify them.

The reading begins:  Zot hukkat Hatorah asher tziva Adonai.  This is the statute of the Torah which Adonai commanded.  The Hebrew word hukkat, translated as ‘statute,’ means a law for which no rationale is given or implied.  So if we read this passage and are completely mystified, it seems that we’re supposed to be so.

Of course, this very idea will repel some hearing, or reading this.  They fancy themselves as rationalists.  They rebel against the idea that anything cannot be apprehended, and understood, in whole by scientific enquiry.  And if it cannot, then they place it in the category of ‘fairy tale.’  So to some, the very notion that religion sometimes requires that we suspend rationality even for a time, makes them see it as something not worthy of our serious consideration.  They may find it interesting on some level, in the same way that we find mythology or a well-crafted novel interesting.  But it certainly does not qualify as a source, from which to derive one’s worldview.

The above would have well described me some years back.  But different experiences informed me that not everything in life is rationally apprehendable.  And that we should not fear that, which is not.  We can, instead, enjoy the mysteries of life.  And yes, that includes the mystery of religious faith.  If I’m thus freed from worrying about whether I understand everything, then I have far more emotional energy to invest in enjoying life.  I’ll give you an example.

One time many years ago I was complaining to a friend – it happened that he was a rabbi – about the incomprehensibility of women.  I was thinking about a particular woman at that moment, but I realised that the mystery of women is not unique to any one woman, but to women as a species.  That is, if you happen to be of the male persuasion…

“Women are not to understand, Don,” my friend told me. “They’re to accept…and to enjoy!”

I can’t tell you how liberating my friend’s words were!  How many people struggle all of their lives to understand the opposite sex and never succeed!  The point is:  you’re not supposed to succeed!  You’re supposed to accept that she or he is beyond your comprehension, and accept…and enjoy!  Vive le difference!

Religious faith is another one of those things in life where an acceptance of some degree of incomprehensibility is necessary.  If there are lessons to be had in Torah that elude me, perhaps they will become clear as I grow and wizen.  Perhaps Torah is an unfolding banquet, where instead of being given everything from the get-go, you’re given things along the way to savour and make the way sweet.

But the truth is that this goes so much against the grain!  Did you ever start a new venture – a job or profession, a course of learning or a new sport – and purchase, or receive a huge kit of the stuff you would need for it?  I did.  When I received my first orders to the war zone of Iraq and the Persian Gulf, I had to go down to supply and pick of an incredible kit.  Coming back home, I spread out all the gear and clothing I’d been issued.  Look, it was just military gear…but it felt like Chanukah!  We love it when we’re given all the tools we’re going to need, even if we can’t see at that moment how we’ll use one or another of the tools in the bag.

Imagine how I would have felt if I hadn’t been given everything I would need in advance of my trip to Iraq.  I’m sure I would have felt some unease.  If, for example, I would not have been given my gas mask and chemical warfare suit.  What if the Supply Sergeant had told me:  Oh, that’s okay, Chaplain; there are plenty of masks and suits downrange; they’ll fit you when you arrive.  I can tell you how I would have felt.  Not good.  It was much more comforting to me having the mask and suit in my possession, being able to touch them and practice putting them on.

 So that’s the apparent paradox.  Not knowing everything from the start, and accepting that that’s okay, can be liberating.  But there is a certain comfort in being able to figure things out.

If you try to really use logic, then you’ll realise that it’s really not a paradox at all.  It’s simply normal.  I mean, Torah is anything but ‘normal’; it is unique!  But the way we encounter and appreciate Torah, is in reality like just about everything else in life.  We try to gather up as complete a ‘kit’ of knowledge and understanding as possible from the start.  But at the same time we understand – and accept – that there will be things beyond our comprehension that will get filled in along the way…if they get filled in.  Some things, like the mystery of the opposite sex, may never get filled in.  Perhaps, as my rabbi friend told me, we’re not supposed to understand the opposite sex at all.  If so, then our ultimate happiness depends on our accepting the wonder of something beyond our comprehension.  If so, then how much more so can we enjoy our Jewish journeys without comprehending the mystery of the Red Heifer?  We can.  Shabbat shalom.

Remember Amalek – and Avoid False Sightings in Our Day: A Drash for Saturday, 15 March 2014

This Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor, or Remember!  It is the Shabbat that precedes the festival of Purim.  In the case of this year, as you are probably aware, Purim begins immediately at the conclusion of Shabbat, this evening.  We hope that you will come tonight at six, to celebrate this joyous festival.

          Last night, I spoke about the meaning of the designation, Zachor, or ‘remember’ in the imperative.  It comes from the opening phrase of the traditional Maftir reading for today.  The entire Maftir, from the 25^th chapter of Deuteronomy, reads in translation as follows:

Remember what Amalek did to you on your way out of Egypt.  When they encountered you on the way, and you were tired and exhausted, they cut off those lagging to the rear, as they did not fear God.  Therefore, when God gives you peace from all the enemies around you in the land that God is giving you to occupy as a heritage, you must obliterate the memory of Amalek from under the heavens.  You must not forget.

          As I told the folks in attendance last night, we read this on the Shabbat before Purim because the Rabbis saw Amalek not only as an actual people, as players in one particular drama chronicled in the Torah.  Amalek, to our Sages, also serves as the embodiment of the worst kind of evil that humans unleash against humans.  And specifically, for the enemies of the Jewish people.  For the ones that hated and oppressed us for no reason other than that we were the Jewish people.  Haman the Aggagite, the villain of the Book of Esther which we read in part this morning and will read more of tonight, is seen as the essence of Amalek.  As are Joseph Stalin, Adolph Hitler, and Saddam Hussein.  To name just a few of the more recent examples.

          What made Amalek, and his later heirs, so evil was not that they were the enemies of the People Israel.  Rather, that they were enemies who were cowards.  They struck the people Israel from the rear when they were exhausted, killing women, children, and the aged who were lagging behind the main body of combatants.  They did this as they did not fear God.  With no fear of God, they felt free to commit the worst atrocities.

          Each religious tradition since Judaism has struggled with the concept known as ‘the Laws of War.’  These include setting out when it is lawful to go to war, and what are the limits of cruelty in war.  To some, this is an absurd concept.  The great Prussian strategist and philosopher on war, Carl von Clausewitz, thought so.  But the Jewish religious tradition was always held otherwise.  As have our daughter faiths.  That the standards are not always met, does not bring them into question.  It just means that those trying to live within them are imperfect.

          So Amalek represents, among other things, a cowardly enemy.  And we overcame him as well as all the other Amaleks that followed.  Not without injury.  For example, in the Shoah about half of the Jews of Europe perished.  And so many survived only to live haunted lives, unable to find peace in the shadow of their suffering.  And really, how could one expect otherwise?  But with each Amalek, we had no choice but to try to overcome, and so we did.

          As a result of our history, we have developed a ‘sixth sense’ for sniffing out our enemies.  We listen carefully to what others say about us.  And we’re quick to express our concerns when those words convey disdain or hatred.  Sometimes others pooh-pooh our concerns.  It’s just rhetoric, they tell us when our Arab cousins say they want to wipe Israel off the map.  But we know that it isn’t just rhetoric.  We know that the worst persecutions begin with just rhetoric.  So when we hear hurtful rhetoric, we tend not to minimise it or dismiss it as unimportant.

          And yet…in every service we recite the Amidah, the central prayer.  And at the end of that prayer there is a reflection.  I always leave time for it, before we come back together to sing the anthem, Oseh Shalom Bimromav.  Maybe you’ve noticed this reflection, found on page 260 in this morning’s service:

My God, guard my speech from evil and my lips from deception.  Help me to be ever modest, holding my tongue even when people slander me.  Open my heart to Your Torah, that I may pursue Your Mitzvot.  As for all who think evil of me, cancel their designs and frustrate their schemes.  Act for your own sake, for the sake of Your Power, for the sake of Your Holiness, for the sake of Your Torah, so that Your loved ones may be rescued.  Save with Your power, and answer me.  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to You, O God, my Rock and my Redeemer. 

          This reflection is not an innovation from the Progressive Movement.  It is carried over word-for-word from the traditional prayer book.  It expresses the sentiment that the Rabbis have counselled since at least the Middle Ages.  It expresses a sentiment that should be universal.  Having just offered our far-ranging prayer to God, we now ask that God would help us to develop a new spirit that is less combative, less confrontational, less defensive.  We ask that we learn to hold our tongues, even when we believe we are right.  We ask that we allow God to frustrate the designs of those who would do us evil, rather than giving us the wherewithal to defend ourselves verbally.

          This is an important concept, and it does not really contradict the imperative to blot out Amalek and his heirs.  But perhaps it comes to tell us something about the nature of Amalek.  Amalek is not every enemy of the Jewish people.  Yes, there have been many incarnations of Amalek that we’ve had to face as our history has unfolded.  But not every enemy is Amalek.

          The warrior understands this.  There are enemies, and there are enemies.  From the end of the Second World War until the second half of the 1980’s, the East and West were locked in a Cold War.  It made generations of the world’s citizens live in a tense world of two competing systems.  When General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Mikhail Gorbachev unleashed his policy of Perestroika or re-structuring, he effectively ended the Cold War.  In the next years, members of the US and Soviet military services – from the highest levels to the rank-and-file – met one another and found it easy to form a comradeship with our former enemies.  We found that we had more in common than not.  In particular, for those of us who spoke Russian, it was an incredibly heady time.  Those who had been our feared enemy were transformed overnight into something approaching colleagues.  We recognised that the Soviet warrior had been our enemy because he represented a competing system, not because he was evil.  They were clearly not Amalek.

          Rabbi Shelomo Goren, the first Chief Rabbi of the Israel Defence Forces, likewise counselled against seeing every enemy of Israel as Amalek or the Seven Canaanite Nations.  We must defend ourselves against all our enemies.  But we shouldn’t see each one as an incarnation of Amalek.  Amalek was a specific kind of enemy.  If we dismiss each one of our enemies as Amalek, then we have a tendency to de-humanise them.  And it is important to recognise the humanity of others – even of our enemies.  If not, then we effectively cannot make peace with them.  Peace isn’t necessarily possible with each and every enemy.  But if we see each one as Amalek, then we won’t make peace with any of them.

          Today we remember Amalek.  And we reflect on the many Amaleks we have encountered through the ages.  Enemies who were cowardly.  And who would have destroyed us solely because we are Jews.  But we must not exaggerate when we apply the label Amalek.  It does no good to apply the label Amalek too broadly.  If we do, we will always be at war with an absolutely intractable foe.  And each fight will be a fight to the utter destruction of one side or the other.  And sooner or later we may be that side that is utterly destroyed.  Think about it.  Shabbat shalom.  

Remember Amalek – and Avoid Sin’at Hinam: A Drash for Friday, 14 March 2014

This Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor, or Remember!  It is the Shabbat that precedes the festival of Purim.  In the case of this year, as you are probably aware, Purim begins immediately at the conclusion of Shabbat, on Saturday night.  We hope that you will come tomorrow night at six, to celebrate this joyous festival.

The designation, Zachor, or ‘remember’ in the imperative comes from the opening phrase of the traditional Maftir reading for the day.  The entire Maftir, from the 25^th chapter of Deuteronomy, reads in translation as follows:

Remember what Amalek did to you on your way out of Egypt.  When they encountered you on the way, and you were tired and exhausted, they cut off those lagging to the rear, as they did not fear God.  Therefore, when God gives you peace from all the enemies around you in the land that God is giving you to occupy as a heritage, you must obliterate the memory of Amalek from under the heavens.  You must not forget.

          We read this on the Shabbat before Purim for an important reason.  The Rabbis saw Amalek, not only as an actual people, as players in one particular drama chronicled in the Torah.  They also saw Amalek as a leitmotiv for the evil that, throughout history, humans have unleashed against humans.  And specifically, for those who have been enemies of the Jewish people, for no reason other than that we were the Jewish people.  Haman the Aggagite, the villain of the Book of Esther which we’ll read tomorrow, is seen as the essence of Amalek.  As are Joseph Stalin, Adolph Hitler, and Saddam Hussein.  To name just a few of the more recent examples.

          What made Amalek, and his later heirs, evil was not that they were the enemies of the People Israel.  Rather, that they were enemies who were cowards.  They struck Israel from the rear when they were exhausted, killing women, children and the aged who were lagging behind the main body of combatants.  The text says they did this as they did not fear God.  That is, this vicious behaviour is taken as evidence that they did not fear God.  If they had, they wouldn’t so brazenly have broken God’s law of decency in war.

          I know that for some of you listening to me, the phrase decency in war is dissonant.  To bring decency, to something which is so indecent?  But that is the genius of God whose will is expressed through the Torah.  Since man is not going to stop making war, the Torah spells out the limits of cause for, and of behaviour in war.  The swords into ploughshares thing, is a vision of the Messianic Age.  It is not an imperative for unilateral disarmament in our age.

          So Amalek represents a cowardly enemy.  We overcame him as well as all the other Amaleks that followed.  Often at great price.  In the Shoah, the Nazi Holocaust, about half the Jews of Europe perished.  And of those who survived, many – most – have lived haunted lives in the shadow of their suffering.  And how could one expect otherwise?  But each time, with each Amalek, we had no choice but to try to overcome, and so we did.

          Our real weakness as a people is that, whilst we are often quick to recognise enemies from without, we tend to be blind to the enemy within.  And the enemy that lurks within is that which our Rabbis called, sin’at hinam, or baseless hatred.

          It was sin’at hinam that divided the Jewish people and encouraged the Babylonians under Nebuchadnezzer to destroy the Temple and exile the leaders of the People Israel.  And encouraged the Assyrians under Anctiochus Epifanes to outlaw the Jewish religion and profane the rebuilt Temple.  And encouraged the Romans to destroy it again after them.  It is sin’at hinam that creates internal strife in Jewish communities today.  Even as, in the shadow of the Shoah, we struggle to create a meaningful Judaism for future generations.

          It is sin’at hinam, baseless hatred that paralyses Jewish communities with the putting-down of one ‘kind’ of Jews by another.  You know what I mean.  When the Orthodox put us down, and tell us that our form of Judaism is not authentic.  But the truth is that among our Progressive Jews, here and elsewhere, I’ve heard equally derogatory, hurtful sentiments toward the Orthodox.

It’s one thing to advocate for your own form of Judaism.  To believe, and tell others, why you think it best embodies Jewish values and the Jewish spirit.  That’s not a bad thing at all.  It’s self-evident that many of us would consider our own form of Judaism the ‘superior’ form.  Just as many of us would consider Judaism as a whole to be ‘superior’ to other religious paths.  Other-wise, why would we have chosen our specific path?  Isn’t it a given that, if your values are your guide, you would choose the path that best expresses those values?  And then, advocate for it on that basis? 

But to express the kind of disdain that I sometimes hear of the Orthodox for the Progressive, and vice versa, that comes from a different spirit altogether.  It comes from sin’at hinam, and it must be answered loudly and clearly:  That’s not helpful; that does not express our values.  We must respond to it without ambiguity.  When we hear it aimed at us.  And when we hear it aimed at others.  It’s always wrong.

          And what about the way that we Jews relate to one another, as individuals, within our own segment of the community?  Even within our own congregation we see sin’at himan at work sometimes.  We should work to see the best in each person.  We should work to understand that we each bring a different viewpoint, different talents and gifts to the table.  Instead, some of us work hard to delegitimise others whenever there’s a disagreement.  This too is sin’at hinam, baseless hatred, and it is corrosive to the social and moral fabric of our community.  When we partake in the evil fruit of sin’at hinam, we negate all that matters in Jewish life.  Look, sometimes we can’t help but fall short.  We’re sometimes going to fail to live up to the lofty values expressed so eloquently in our Torah and in our prayer book.  But if we’re not constantly working to live according to them, and helping others to do so as well, what does that say about us?

          Ever try to maintain a steel-hulled ship?  Steel corrodes – forms rust – upon contact with moisture.  So the crew of a steel-hulled ship have to constantly paint, scrape, and re-paint to prevent rust from overcoming the ship’s structure.  But rust also forms inside the ship, because the air inside tends to be moisture-laden.  That rust is much harder to detect, yet just as dangerous to the structural integrity of the hull. 

          So too sin’at hinam.  We’re good at recognising our enemies from without.  We have finely-tuned antennae that often detect an external enemy upon the vaguest sighting.  Perhaps that’s not a bad thing.  Look, there are more than enough malefactors out there.  And our experience is that nobody else is going defend us from them.  But we need to be equally sensitive to the ‘enemy’ within.  Sin’at hinam is that enemy.  Rust inside a steel ship is harder to see than rust on the outside.  In the same way, sin’at hinam can easily sneak into the room and afflict us before we know it.  So we must be sensitive to it.  Whether we are its targets.  Or its perpetrators.  Shabbat shalom.

The World According to Yisrael; A Drash for Saturday, 8 March 2014

The other day, I read an interesting article that I would entitle The World According to Yisrael.  Yisrael who?  Yisrael Kristal.  He’s 110 years old, a retired confectioner, living in Haifa, Israel.  You’ve probably never heard of him.

You probably have heard of Alice Herz-Sommer, who was also 110, a pianist living in London.  She died on 23 February.  When she did she was unofficially the ‘Oldest Living Holocaust Survivor.’  She was incarcerated in Theresienstadt Concentration Camp during the 1940’s.

Well, with the death of Herz-Sommer, Yisrael Kristal takes her place.  He spent time in the Lodz Ghetto before begin transported to Auschwitz Camp.  He was liberated by the advancing Red Army and returned to Lodz.  In 1950, he left Poland to live in Israel.

Of course, all of these deaths, and reports as to who’s still living, are of particular interest at this time.  After all, we’re approaching the 59^th anniversary of the end of the contemporaneous events of the Second World War and the Nazi Holocaust.  Not all the survivors of the Holocaust who remain alive are 110 years old, but we are painfully aware that even the youngest survivors are getting up there in years.  As you remember, I buried a 92-year-old survivor last week.  Her son, at 73, must be one of the youngest survivors still alive.  He accompanied his parents to Westerbork Camp as a toddler. 

We’re losing them every day.  And that is a matter of concern.  After all, when there are no eyewitnesses left, how much stronger will be the position of those who, despite the extensive archival evidence, continue to assert that these events did not happen?  At least today, we still have survivors who are able and willing to tell their stories.  And that makes a big difference.

So it’s important to keep track of the remaining survivors.  And to read and repeat their stories, as much as we reasonably can.  There is a sameness to the stories, and yet each one is different, unique.  The stories of Herz-Sommer and Kristal are two good examples of this.

Both survivors used their vocational skills to help re-create their lives after the Holocaust.  The sign Arbeit Macht Frei on the gates of Auschwitz can be taken for the absurdity that it is in that context.  But there is really truth in the principle that labour liberates.  Productive work does give meaning to our lives.  Think of those who are idle, and how empty their lives can to be.  Those who have productive and meaningful work, can stand up to and overcome a lot.  This, whether that work is making sweets or playing piano concerts.  Both are worthwhile and both Herz-Sommer and Kristal used their work to help them overcome their suffering under the Nazi madness.

Also, both survivors went to live in the State of Israel within a few years of liberation.  This, out of a conviction that the Jewish state was the future of the Jewish people.  Israel was and is the antithesis to the European continent which, in the 1950’s, still lay in ruins.  Even today, after Europe has arisen from the ashes, it feels soulless.  One gets a sense of living in the shadow of a lost world.  Israel, despite all its challenges, feels alive and ripe with promise not yet realised.  It is the embodiment of the Jewish spirit, which was obliterated in Europe.  Herz-Sommer eventually left Israel for London, to be near her son, who was a concert cellist there.  But before she passed away, she told an interviewer that her almost 40 years in Jerusalem, were her happiest years.

 Each of our two survivors, perhaps inevitably, has something to say about the relative ease of our material standard of living today.  Each one, in their own way, chides today’s younger generations for being ‘spoilt’ and taking for granted the incredible comfort in which we live.  Each one observes that this comfort, and our taking it for granted, creates an essential weakness of will.  That it makes us far too vulnerable to feelings of deprivation and despair should some circumstance force us into a lower standard of living.

Finally, each of the two gave advice that I, being in the middle of a weight-loss plan, can appreciate.  Asked the secret to their longevity, each said more-or-less the same thing.  They counselled moderation in all things, including eating.  Herz-Sommer said:  “My recommendation is not to eat a lot, but also not to go hungry.  Fish or chicken and plenty of vegetables.”  Kristal offered:  “It isn’t good to eat too much.  A little less is better than a little more.  It’s not good to have a full stomach.”  Of course, the moderation they were counselling extended into other areas, not just food.  And most of us accept the principle even though we can find it difficult to live up to all the time.  If we wish to see the age of 110, perhaps it would be good to try harder.

I’d like to make one more point.  There’s an expression, for which Herz-Sommer was a walking advertisement, and which Kristal still embodies.  That which doesn’t kill you, can make you stronger.  The Nazi hate machine tried very hard to kill the Jewish people and others.  But about half the Jews survived.  Of those who did, those who were never able to transcend their experience lived, and continue to live, haunted lives.  I spoke about this phenomenon last Friday night.  But those who have found within themselves the strength to move past their suffering, to allow their experiences to strengthen them, went on to live happy and meaningful lives,  And long lives as well.  May we all have the constitutions to take in whatever sufferings life deals out to us, and overcome. And live long healthy lives.  Shabbat shalom.   

NCJW: The Importance of Empowering Jewish Women; A Drash for Friday, 7 March 2014

The other day I was perusing the Australian Jewish News website, looking for an article as fodder for my weekly issues discussion on Wednesday at our Senior Schmoozers group.  A report on a United Israel Appeal event in Sydney caught my eye, because I had attended the UIA event in Brisbane on Sunday.  One of the two speakers in Sydney was Dr Ronen Bergman, who was our speaker in Brisbane.  But two speakers!  Obviously the Sydney event was a larger event, as one would expect since there are far more Jews in Sydney than in Southern Queensland.

          The second speaker in Sydney was Orit Adato, who was identified as being “the first female three-star general in the Israel Defence Forces and the first female commissioner of the Israeli Prison Service.”

          I have to tell you that, as someone of the ‘male persuasion’ I tire of reading about the “first female” this, or that.  Sometime I think to myself:  Enough already!  We get it that women can do just about anything occupationally.  Actually, I would say ‘anything.’ But even though I enjoyed the film GI Jane and thought that Demi Moore really rocked the role of Lieutenant Jordan O’Neill, I really can’t picture women in the US Navy SEALS.  Sorry.  Call me a dinosaur.

          As I said, “as someone of the male ‘persuasion.’”  But after thinking about it for a moment, I think I get it why women don’t tire of hearing about the “first female” this or that.  Certainly women in general, and in particular Jewish women.

          To be a wife and mother is probably the most honourable ‘occupation’ at which one can work.  I don’t think that the President of the United States is as important as any mother of children.  Although he does get more generous travel expense allowances.  And a private jet.  But everything that he does and accomplishes is fleeting compared to the efforts of a dedicated mother who brings a child or children into the world, nurtures them, and prepares them to take their place as good people in society.

          That said, motherhood is not for everybody.  And not every woman gets the chance to do it.  And even when they do, it isn’t usually a full-time occupation for life!  So why should a woman be de facto pressed into only supporting and limited roles in society in the expectation that her major career will be the raising of a family?  It makes no sense.  When it was the reality, it served as a major frustration to many women.  And it effectively robbed the world of their talents.  Many people, men and women both, decry that the result of the sexual revolution is that women often feel obligated to give up their femininity, their essential character that is different from that of a man.  But it’s hard to decry the other side of the sexual revolution:  that women are empowered to enter, and given the opportunity to excel in, just about any endeavour possible.

          And that’s why the National Council of Jewish Women is so important.  Because even after years and decades of the “first female” this and that, women need a special place where they can encourage one another.  A place where women can develop and exercise their leadership potential.  A place where Jewish women can join together and effect their own measure of Tikkun Olam as a group of caring, sharing women.

That’s why Fanny Reading, a Jewish immigrant from Russia, started the NCJW in 1923.  The organisation’s founding pillars were:  Service, Education, and Philanthropy.  ‘Philanthropy,’ of course, means ‘love of humanity’ and usually refers to the raising of funds for Good Works.  As often happens, over time this generalisation has been further refined in the NCJW.  Today, NCJW focuses its philanthropic efforts into six specific ‘Portfolios.’ 

The first Portfolio is Anti-Semitism.  NCJW, as a Jewish organisation, recognises that Anti-Semitism continues to be a force in our country and in the world.  Although Jews are not by definition a ‘race,’ Anti-Semitism is a form of racism that, like other forms of racism, clouds some peoples’ thinking and causes them to do bad things.  It serves at the very least to hamper Jews’ ability to feel completely at home in the lands of our habitation.  It closes doors in our faces, for no reason other than that we are Jews.  And it leads to violence against Jews and Jewish institutions.

The second Portfolio is Community services.  Even in the modern Welfare State, there are always human needs that the government cannot address effectively.  It is therefore incumbent upon organisations such as the NCJW, to step in and fill these shortfalls.

The third Portfolio is Integration.  Acceptance of migrants and refugees is right now a politically-charged issue in Australia.  But helping them, once allowed to enter, to make a new home in a strange land should not be.  The NCJW nationwide runs programs to help migrants to integrate into Australia society successfully.

The fourth Portfolio is Interfaith and Intercultural.  Given the diverse ethnic and religious tapestry that is contemporary Australia, it is important that we all work hard to get to know and respect our neighbours.  The NCJW does yeoman’s work in this area, carrying the standard of the Jewish community in participation, not to mention the initiating of programs.

The fifth Portfolio is Israel.  Israel, despite having celebrated her 65^th birthday last year, is a young country facing many challenges.  She needs the help of all Jews in addressing her challenges, and she needs the help of all Jews in making the case for her legitimacy which still is not settled in many minds.  The NCJW is unabashedly a Zionist organisation, helping and advocating for Israel.

The sixth and final Portfolio is the Status of women.  Despite having made great strides, particularly in the Western World, women still face unique threats such as sexual violence, human trafficking which targets women disproportionately, unwanted marriages and births, and more.  The NCJW being specifically a women’s organisation endeavours to address these issues robustly.

It’s a big and diverse job for a small organisation.  But the NCJW’s various chapters join together in sisterhood to address all the above issues.  Its presence in Queensland is nothing new:  the Brisbane chapter opened in 1927 and the Gold Coast Chapter in 1969.  Our chapter celebrates its 45^th birthday this year.  It is a small, but active chapter whose work is felt not only in the Jewish community but outside it as well.  We celebrate the Gold Coast NCJW’s 45 years of excellent service with this service tonight, and with a dinner dance on Saturday night, 22 March.  Wouldn’t it be great if you joined in the celebration on the 22^nd?  Wouldn’t it be even greater if our chapter could celebrate its 46^th birthday with you as a member?  The growth and continued success of the NCJW is my prayer for this, the NCJW Shabbat.  Even though I’m of the male ‘persuasion.’  It’s a prayer all of us should offer, whatever our ‘persuasion’!  Shabbat shalom.