Kol Nidrei 5777

Included below is my sermon from this year's Kol Nidrei sermon. I will also be posting my Yom Kippur morning sermon here on the blog. Please feel free to share reactions or thoughts in the comments' section. Thanks so much!

Kol Nidrei 5777, D’var Torah

Shanah Tovah!
I don’t talk about Israel from the bimah. It’s not that I’ve never done it, and it CERTAINLY isn’t because I have nothing to say on the subject, or that I have no opinions on the matter, but in general, when I am thinking clearly and making good decisions, I DON’T talk about Israel from the bimah. Tonight, I would like to talk to you about Israel.
Let me first tell you a little more about why I primarily avoid it, and I will do so by citing a few of my rabbinic colleagues to help me illustrate this point. On a wonderful website (that is really a terrific resource) myjewishlearning.com, Rabbi Pamela Jay Gottfried wrote an article entitled, “Why This Rabbi Does Not Talk About Israel.” In it, she writes, “Israel is a topic that gets people’s blood pumping and, when emotions run high, impulsivity tends to override thoughtful and rational conversation. We sometimes allow ourselves to say things we later regret.” (I’m sure no one here can imagine ANY topic making us feel this way…) I agree with Rabbi Gottfried, and I imagine that the moment I first said “Israel” in this sermon, a fair number of you in this room started to feel YOUR blood pumping, and you braced yourselves for what might come next. THAT is what this topic does to us.
Another rabbinic colleague, and actually a friend and a mentor of mine, Rebecca Sirbu, also wrote an article on that same website, hers entitled “Why Rabbis Should Talk About Israel.” Rabbi Sirbu acknowledges the many pitfalls and minefields which dot the landscape of Israel conversation, noting: “Even words will get you in trouble since they signal your political leanings. Do you call the land east of Jerusalem ‘The West Bank,’ ‘The Settlements,’ ‘Judah and Samaria?’ Are the Israeli settlers reclaiming their own land or occupiers stealing the land? Any single word could lead to trouble.” Even now, in this very moment, I am more nervous about this sermon than I have been about speaking in front of you in a long time. My goal is NOT to make political statements or declare allegiances, and I certainly don’t mean to offend ANYONE… and yet I know I am likely to betray my own biases and opinions, perhaps just a little, and someone will be upset. I pray that in the spirit of the holiday, and with a genuine sense of forgiveness and compassion, that you will all understand that I want to engage in dialogue. I am not telling you what is “right” and what is “wrong,” or trying to tell you what to believe. Let’s talk. Let’s opine. We will get through these stormy waters together.
Let me tell you what else terrifies me. First of all, that you will hear me saying something I don’t mean to say. But then, you might share my sermon with others, and THEY will misunderstand, infer, assume, and worst of all, judge.
I need to share with you, what I consider, a horror story, in this regard. And it revolves around yet another rabbinic colleague, and someone with whom I studied briefly at JTS in New York. Rabbi Neil Blumofe is the rabbi of Agudas Achim in Austin, TX. A few months ago, Rabbi Blumofe was planning to lead a trip to Israel with a group called Interfaith Action of Central Texas. Before the trip was set to take place, a TENTATIVE itinerary was sent around to members of the congregation. It included a pretty provocative, albeit brief, stop at the grave of PLO founder Yassir Arafat in Ramallah. Now, let me say this, I am NOT voicing an opinion here about the PLO, Arafat, or the idea of visiting his grave. I don’t know that I would go there myself, but that is NOT the point of this story. It was controversial, but it also wasn’t definitively on the agenda. They were considering going.
Soon after congregants saw this proposed plan, a long-time supporter of Rabbi Blumofe’s within the community immediately called for his resignation. No conversation WITH the rabbi, no attempts to understand the reasoning for going to Ramallah, no invitation to community dialogue, just “RESIGNATION.” In his letter to the rabbi, this congregant wrote: “… paying homage [to the PLO founder responsible for the deaths of many Jews is] beyond the pale … like paying your respects to Hitler’s tomb, if one existed. Somehow your priorities have become completely perverted… You have revealed yourself to be a man of poor judgment and little common sense. Sadly, your moral compass is completely broken. It’s time for you to resign.”
Obviously, I don’t agree with how this person handled the situation. It was rash and judgmental. But sadly, things only devolved further from there. His letter was shared outside the community and went viral online. It appeared on at least one right-wing Israeli blog, and was distributed by a group called “JCC Watch” that has labeled the JCC in Manhattan and the UJA-Federation “anti-Israel.” I read about this shocking story in The Jewish Week, a prominent newspaper for the New York Jewish community. Gary Rosenblatt, the newspaper’s Editor and Publisher, wrote a piece entitled “Anatomy of a Takedown.” In that article, he highlighted one particularly heinous open letter sent to Rabbi Blumofe, where someone wrote:
“your actions have opened up an entirely new page in the history of treachery… helping to promote modern blood liables [sic] against Israel and world Jewry… [you are] glorifying the founder of contemporary terrorism … as if he were one of the great humanitarians in history, mak[ing] you lower than any kapo during World War II.”
I honestly could not believe that last line: “lower than any kapo during World War II”?!? This was a potential stop on an interfaith trip to Israel, and again, I’m not endorsing the choice to visit Arafat’s grave. But I find it unfathomable that ANY action today could make anyone lower than the kapos,
the Jewish guards who carried out some of the worst of the Nazi atrocities inside the death camps of the Holocaust. It is hard to believe that someone could even say such a thing, no matter how enraged he was. When I tell you that I am afraid, as a rabbi, to speak from the pulpit about Israel; this is what I’m talking about!! And yet… we must.
In her article, Rabbi Sirbu wrote: “As Jews we are connected to Israel whether we like it or not. Our sacred texts, liturgy, and history all speak of Israel. Instead of trying to disassociate ourselves, we should strive to better understand each other’s complex relationship and feelings about Israel.” Yes! We ARE connected to Israel. We cannot get away from it, nor do we want to. I may not speak often about Israel from the bimah, but many of you know that I lived there TWICE, once when I was a child for a year, and then again in rabbinical school when Rebecca and I spent a year in Jerusalem together. I’ve visited over 15 times, and brought TWO fabulous groups of congregants from Ohev to the Holy Land, when I believe this congregation had previously only taken ONE official trip in the last forty years. And more trips are being planned as we speak! We go there, we sing about it, we pray about Eretz Yisrael, and we dance the hora together on Simchat Torah; so why can’t we TALK about it?!?
How do we open a conversation on a subject so divisive that it gets our blood pumping, and sometimes even boiling?
Can we HONOR one another’s positions, and honor one another’s struggles, and somehow see past all the noise and the vitriol, to see that we all love this place and we all TRY to find our own ways to relate to it? It’s often so much easier to call someone anti-Israel or a self-hating Jew – or a kapo – than to sit down, talk to them, learn their opinions, wrestle with one another, and accept the genuine differences we may indeed have.
Hopefully, you know by now that our theme for this year’s High Holidays is indeed “honor,” or “Kavod” in Hebrew. In some ways, my sermon tonight is about “Kevod Ha-Aretz,” respecting and honoring the Land of Israel. But that’s only part of the focus. Tonight is also about “Kevodcha,” a single word that means “Your honor.” Is there room for “Kevodcha or “Kevodech,” giving honor to one another, in our lives? Whether we’re dealing with hawks and doves on Israel policy, left-wing or right-wing, regarding Israel or our own American political powder keg;
it often seems that we do NOT have room for respecting The Other. As Rabbi Blumofe’s congregant stated, unequivocally, those who do not think, speak, or act the way we do, are simply “beyond the pale.” I don’t have any answers to this question. Arguably, with the Israel climate the way it currently is, and three weeks before our own crucial election, some might say this is THE question right now: Is there room for honoring and respecting The Other in our lives and in our world right now? Let me mention two people who offer us some insight.
They don’t solve our problems, but perhaps they can offer some clarity… and maybe that will be Good Enough.
First, I want to bring our matriarch, Rachel, into this conversation. As I explained on Rosh Hashanah, in addition to speaking about “Kavod” this year, I am also using Jacob’s four wives, Leah, Rachel, Bilhah, and Zilpah, as a metaphor to illustrate various aspects of Kavod. Tonight, let’s focus on Rachel. Like Jacob’s other wives, her story is mainly not a happy one. It wasn’t easy living in Biblical times, that’s for sure. Though Jacob loved her deeply, Rachel was unable to have children. While three other women around her produced eleven kids among them, Rachel was alone. Finally, finally, God heard her plea, and she gave birth to Joseph. Just when it looked like things were turning around, and she was again pregnant with Benjamin, tragedy struck, and she died in childbirth. The Book of Genesis tells us, “Rachel died, and was buried on the road to Efrat, now Bethlehem” (35:19).
It is a peculiar moment, because the family had a burial plot, the Cave of Machpelah. Eventually, all other patriarchs and matriarchs would be buried there, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah… but not Rachel. The Torah doesn’t tell us why Jacob buried her by the side of the road, rather than with their family ancestors. But that is what he did… and I mention all this because you can still visit Rachel to this very day, at a site called Kever Rachel, Rachel’s Tomb. Now, if you think about it for a moment, we Jews do not have a lot of holy sites. Last week, I quoted Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel in a different context. Well, Heschel also writes about how we Jews have “sacred time,” not “sacred space.” Every week, we make our pilgrimage to Shabbat, to sacred TIME, not a particular space or place. Every year, we bring ourselves back to the High Holiday experience; our physical location is less important. And yet, there is “sacred space” as well; there ARE a few holy Jewish sites. The Western Wall is certainly the most famous. Well, according to many religious Jews, the second holiest site is that cave I mentioned, the Cave of Machpelah, where the matriarchs and patriarchs are buried, and right after that is… Rachel’s Tomb.
So, this is, arguably, our third holiest site as Jews, and yet it is located in contested land, near Bethlehem, and the Israeli authorities fight with the local Arab population over it all the time. Groups of religious Jews defiantly demand to go there, and Palestinians attack them for trying. It is awful. Muslims say the site is also the Bilal bin Rabah mosque, a holy place for them as well. Neither side respects the history or claims of the other, and fighting persists. As a result of the hatred, the site itself has been desecrated and vandalized numerous times. Many experts on the Middle East look at the treatment of this site, and other holy places, as a microcosm of the conflict. It is entirely devoid of honor, respect, or glory for the Divinity we all claim to be praising.
Rachel began her life alone, bickering with her sister, and now surrounded by concrete barricades and violent fighting, she is once again the very symbol of solitude and division.
It is SO tempting to say “Yes, but their acts are WORSE!” or “Why don’t THEY see OUR side of the story??” I tell you now; we must resist that urge. Not for the sake of The Other, not because THEY deserve better, but because WE deserve better! That is the real secret of Kavod. “Kevodcha/Kevodech,” giving honor and respect to someone else, it makes YOU better; it is ultimately a way to give true glory to your own soul and your moral integrity. Strive to give Kavod to The Other, and it will nurture and heal your neshama, your spirit. The person I want to honor before I conclude my sermon, he knew this very, very well. Two weeks ago, the world lost Shimon Peres. He was considered the last of the generation of Israel’s founding patriarchs and matriarchs. In his career, he served almost every position of leadership, including prime minister and president, and in 1994 he won a Nobel Peace Prize together with Yitzchak Rabin, and yes, with Yassir Arafat.
Shimon Peres is quoted as saying, “You don’t make peace with friends. You make it with very unsavory enemies.” He understood BOTH that peace was unquestionably Israel’s goal, and always should be, but also that you NEED to have open conversations with people on the other side.
Even, and perhaps especially, when the topics on the table make your blood pump and often boil. In a beautiful eulogy to Peres, President Obama said, “Even in the face of terrorist attacks, even after repeated disappointments at the negotiation table, he insisted that as human beings, Palestinians must be seen as equal in dignity to Jews, and must therefore be equal in self-determination.”
I want to leave you with one more sound bite from Shimon Peres. He said: “There are two things that cannot be achieved in life unless you close your eyes a little bit. And that’s love and peace. If you want perfection you won’t obtain either of them.” How fitting for our theme this year. Last week, we spoke about Good Enough, and how honor, respect, Kavod are about acknowledging that we are not perfect, but we are good. We are not flawless, we are not free of sin. We are certainly not Nazis or kapos. Even when we fundamentally CANNOT understand people on the other side of the divide, we must remember that they too seek love and peace, if not for everyone, then at least for their families, their communities, for their history, and their matriarchs and patriarchs. We simply cannot wait for them to come to us first. It may never happen. But still we must seek love and peace, even if it means squinting, or closing our eyes a little. We cannot afford to wait and wait and wait… it is killing our very souls.

We need to talk about Israel, and we need to acknowledge that it makes our blood pump and our defenses go up. But we also need to figure out how to keep “Kevodech” and “Kevodcha,” the honor and respect for our fellow human beings, at the forefront of our conversations; without vilifying, without wild accusations, and without walking away from the table. It is hard to talk about Israel, and fifteen minutes later, I still feel nervous about this sermon. But for the dignity of my rabbinic colleagues, like Neil Blumofe, for the importance of SHARED holy sites like Rachel’s Tomb, the Bilal bin Rabah mosque, and for the enduring memory of Shimon Peres, we NEED to have this crucial conversation. So… let’s talk.
Shanah Tovah!