The destination

My drash - Torah sermon - at Temple Beth El-Mekor Chayim, this Shabbat. 
The Parasha (Portion) is "Masei," Numbers 33:1-36:13

TBEMC Dvar 7/26/14 Parashat Masei

Numbers 33:1 - 36:13

Shabbat shalom

I have been clearing out my office and packing up my things.

As some of you may know, I am leaving my job at "the Joint", the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee. Next week is my last week.

Leaving the Joint was a very difficult decision. I’m proud to be the next CEO of our Jewish Federation. Proud and honored. We do amazing things, with amazing professionals and volunteers.

But leaving the Joint was a very difficult decision.

And one of the things I've been doing these past few weeks is clearing out my office.

Some things I’m going to keep, some things I haven’t quite decided yet what to do with them. Some things - like a particularly strong bottle of horseradish vodka - are here today for our kiddush.

And some things went pretty quickly into the trash. For example, I don’t know why, I had a huge collection of itineraries and boarding passes from Continental Airlines.

Long-forgotten journeys from a long-forgotten airline. Although to be honest, I do miss Continental.

I’m not entirely sure why I kept all these boarding passes and itineraries. Maybe it was to reassure myself that I’d been somewhere.

Believe me, I've been to lots of places these past few years. More than most people would ever want to go anywhere. And I have no complaints. None whatsoever.

I've seen amazing things, met with incredible leaders, and have felt at every step of the way that I was serving the Jewish people and doing something good.

But … at the end … here I am.

Right back where I started.

Normally, on itineraries and boarding passes, you’d see that the journey is marked by the destination. Not the point of origin. Normally, when we talk about our journeys, we talk about where we’re going. Not where we’re coming from.

So it says, at the beginning of this week’s parasha, that these are the journeys of the Children of Israel who went to the Land of Israel,” right?

Nope. It says “these are the journeys of the Children of Israel who went out of the Land of Egypt.”

This isn't your usual kind of masa, your usual journey. This is a journey defined by the point of origin. Not the destination.

I was thinking a lot about this concept of journeys this last few weeks.

Now, for all intents and purposes, I am an American Jew. True, an American-Israeli-British Jew with an accent that isn't precisely ‘New Jersey.’ 

But I’m here, and this is my home. I love New Jersey. 

Fortunately, I love diners and I don’t see the need to pump my own gas. So that’s worked out quite nicely for me.

And like a quarter of Jews alive in the world today, I now live in a country other than the one in which I was born. My journey was – and is – defined by my origins.

Not by my destination.

My identity is mixed, and complicated, and somewhat messy. Which is why this concept of the origins of journeys in the parasha means so much to me.

There was a PBS show on recently about American-Jewish identity and the journeys we make. And in the episode that I watched was a fascinating quote by Rabbi Harold Schulweis of Los Angeles.

His grandfather, he said, came to synagogue because he was Jewish. His grandchildren go to synagogue because they want to become Jewish.

We've become about the journey. About becoming.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing. When I traveled around the world for the Joint I would frequently meet young people who were just now discovering their Jewish identity. Just now discovering what it means to be Jewish.

Once, in a far-off post-Soviet country, I was watching a young woman participate in an educational shabbat service. It was a teaching seminar, and there were hundreds of 'new' Jews. All halachic. All "Jewish" by any definition. But they didn't know what it meant to be Jewish and they wanted to learn. They wanted to 'become’ Jewish.

So … on the stage there were several educators from the local community. And one was doing the kiddush, one was doing the motzi. And this young woman was lighting the candles and explaining what she knew about them. And she was wearing a crucifix. The whole crucifix - not just the cross itself.

I was sitting in the front row looking at the big gleaming crucifix. And I leaned over to my colleague who was the netzig, the JDC Country Representative. "Nu?" I said.

"Give her time," he said. "She doesn't yet fully understand what it means to be Jewish."

He was right. It's a journey. We're all on this journey.

We’re all on a journey, like the masa of this week’s parasha, that’s defined by the starting-point.

We're all becoming Jewish.

Shabbat shalom.

Food packages (but not the ones you usually see)

Getting ready for Pesach the other day, sixty-one of my awesome colleagues in JDC-Israel had two volunteer days ... they put 1751 nutritionist-approved food packages together for the needy, which were then distributed to some 24 different communities around Israel.

I love this video because it shows you the mechanics of preparing food packages. Doesn't matter where in the world we have to do it or with whom we partner. The mechanics and logistics are a constant.

Plus you can play the "JDC Employee Drinking Game" (take a shot each time you recognize someone you saw on a mission).

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The first free Pesach

Bakery workers in Berlin worked two shifts a day from February on to produce some 25 tons of Passover matza in 1946, the first to be baked in that city in 10 years. Together with other kosher for Passover items shipped by JDC, it made “this first free Passover a real Passover.” Germany, 1946

There's a beautiful and incredibly moving story about Pesach in Germany in 1946 here.

Chag sameach - a peaceful, happy and healthy Passover to all those celebrating.

Food packages

When I came to the Joint almost ten years ago, the big issue was the transition from food packages to smart cards. Food packages were critical in the first years when the Joint came back to the former Soviet countries. And tens of thousands of elderly Jews were receiving them.

But there was a problem.

In the food packages, the maximum number of items we could give you was 18. And it was really basic stuff, for the most part: oil, pasta, kasha, that kind of thing. Not luxuries. 

So the smart card system came into being ... in Argentina.

We were facing a situation in the winter of 2001-2002 in which tens of thousands of Argentinian Jews were suddenly thrust into poverty and dependent on the Joint for food. Many of these were the 'new poor' – men and women, many in nice middle-class suits and dresses, lining up for food packages at Jewish institutions. 36,000 clients receiving food from the Joint. Because of our Jewish federations and donors.

My colleagues told me that we were receiving reports of anti-Semitic attacks, of Jews being beaten up and attacked for their packages. None of it was true. It turned out that these reports weren't true. But they taught us something very interesting. That the food packages carry a price - and not just a logistic price; a price for overhead and our shipping and handling. They taught us that there's a price for dignity and self-respect.

These "new Poor" Jews didn't like that price. To line up and ask for food can be demeaning. It can take away your self-respect. Which is why rumors – false rumors – were spread about anti-Semitic attacks, because so many people there hated the food package system.

So the food card system - the 'coto' card - began. And as it spread, we noticed some fascinating side effects .... people had more choice, more dignity. It wasn't just about food. It was about hope.

Which is why the last few weeks in Kiev and Crimea have been so interesting. Because, in the name of security for our clients and keeping homebound and less-mobile clients secure, we've had to increase the food package system because so many of the older clients are too scared, or unable, to go shopping with the cards. In other words, we're going back to our history for a slightly less efficient - but more caring - method of taking care of food needs.

So, the other day, I was looking through some archival notes and I came across this photo ...

It's a photo of JDC staff in Munich, Germany, loading matza and food packages for transportation to DP (Displaced Persons) Camps in Europe, 1949. 

Because some things haven't changed: a global commitment to providing food for those in need, backed by our federations and donors.


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Shifting sands and quagmires - the deaths of Nadav and Avihu

My drash this Shabbat at Temple Beth-El Mekor Chaim in Cranford, NJ ...

Shabbat shalom.

It was so nice, last week, looking at the Purim story.

The Jews are saved from destruction. Grief and mourning are turned into happiness and celebration.

And now …. here we are, just one week later in Parashat Shmini, looking at happiness and celebration turn into grief and mourning.

Nadav and Avihu, the oldest and second sons of Aaron, killed for what seems to be a minor transgression.

 וַיִּקְחוּ בְנֵי-אַהֲרֹן נָדָב וַאֲבִיהוּא אִישׁ מַחְתָּתוֹ, וַיִּתְּנוּ בָהֵן אֵשׁ, וַיָּשִׂימוּ עָלֶיהָ, קְטֹרֶת; וַיַּקְרִיבוּ לִפְנֵי יְהוָה, אֵשׁ זָרָה--אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה, אֹתָם

And Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, took each of them his firepan, and put fire therein, and laid incense thereon, and offered strange fire before God, which He had not commanded them.  

. וַתֵּצֵא אֵשׁ מִלִּפְנֵי יְהוָה, וַתֹּאכַל אוֹתָם; וַיָּמֻתוּ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה

And there came forth fire from before God, and devoured them, and they died before God.

We don’t even really know why they die.

The only real clue we get in the parasha is the command given to Aaron immediately afterwards.

Moses tells Aaron not to enter the Temple intoxicated.

So maybe Nadav and Avihu died because they approached God in the wrong state of mind?

The Talmud says that they were punished for innovation and because they ignored the authority of Moses.

There’s a good explanation by the Ba’al HaTurim, who says that אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה (they were not commanded) actually means אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה - לֹא (they were commanded not to). In other words, that they deliberately ignored what they were told not to do.

The deaths of Nadav and Avihu always fascinated me.

It always seemed to me that there was some kind of double standard here.

It’s as if God is holding them up to a different rule than everyone else is expected to follow.

Even if they were guilty of being drunk, or of hubris - were they killed because they didn’t follow the rules?

Because they decided to innovate rather than follow the community?

We don’t usually punish people for these kind of things.

But we do apparently punish leaders for these kind of things.

And what you see here is a clear and precise punishment for leaders because of the positions that they held and their failure to uphold them.

We’re accustomed to this double standard in Jewish life.

Precisely because we’re Jews, we say that we have a greater obligation, a greater commitment. We’re not chosen because we’re better; we’re chosen because we have a special relationship with God.

It’s not an easy standard - because it’s frequently misunderstood.

It means that we have an obligation to repair, to serve and to behave better.

It’s not a license to exploit, or serve ourselves, or get rich at the expense of others. It’s a license to see how the world works and to partner with others where we can, to make things better.

It is the essence of our work at the Joint.

Sixty eight years ago, this month, Winston Churchill stood in Fulton, Missouri and gave his famous “Iron Curtain” speech. “From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic an iron curtain has descended across the Continent,” he said.

It’s the classic text about the beginning of the Cold War; maybe one of the most important speeches of the twentieth century. Every student of politics has to read and study it. And if you get the chance to read it, you’ll see why the imagery and language resonate even today.

But the Fulton speech also introduced into common language a phrase that Churchill had started to adopt: the “special relationship.”

The “special relationship” was the exceptionally close political, diplomatic, cultural, economic, military and historical relations between the United Kingdom and the United States.

It was a unique bond that defined everything between the two sides and guided their leaders.

I was no fan, as a child growing up in England, of Margaret Thatcher.

But her dedication to that relationship guided how she saw her role as a leader.

When Thatcher met with (Soviet leader) Mikhail Gorbachev for the first time, he tried to drive a wedge between her and the US.

But “I am an ally of the United States,” she said. “We believe the same things, we believe passionately in the same battle of ideas, we will defend them to the hilt. Never,” she said to Gorbachev, “try to separate me from them.”

Thatcher’s legacy and achievements may be topics of legitimate debate.

But there’s no question about her leadership abilities and her commitment to this belief: that the special relationship was based on shared ideals and values that were worth defending by its leaders.

And more importantly, that the relationship was bigger than the two sides alone. It “stood” for something. It meant something.

And it was the job of the leaders to uphold that relationship and its values.

Special relationships are special because they are held to a different, higher standard.

Leaders uphold them because they symbolize a commitment, not an excuse.

They represent an ideal to strive toward, not a territory to conquer.

They represent an expectation of service, not a demand for privilege.

Churchill and Roosevelt, like those who came after them, built their achievements through decades of trust and dedication. Through service. Through a commitment to greater ideals. What was the point of their Special Relationship? Churchill said in his Fulton speech that the ideal of the British-American understanding was to uphold the idea of Peace and the United Nations.

There are other Special Relationships that we read about every day. In the news, in business, in our daily dealings. Relationships based on power, on greed, or personal gain.

At their core is the very essence of what struck down Nadav and Avihu. Nadav and Avihu had been appointed to serve the People. Their role was to serve a greater good with the public flame but they ignored that ideal. They betrayed the public trust. They failed the test of leadership.

These double standards are important because they are at the heart of what we learn in this week’s Parasha.

Just because you strive for values and ideals in your work doesn’t mean that your stance is morally superior. It means that you need to work harder.

Leadership doesn’t convey more privileges, more rights. It requires more duties, and more humility.

We need to hold our leaders – and ourselves – to a different kind of double standard: upholding the benefit of our people, and working for higher ideals.

All these are, at their core, lessons in leadership.

And these lessons are just as critical to us today – - perhaps even more so  - than during the time of Nadav and Avihu. They are just as focused on issues of life and death, and leadership, and responsibility.

Standing at Fulton, Churchill saw what Nadav and Avihu did not see. He even used the concept of the Temple to explain his vision:

“We must make sure that [the common goal of global responsibility]…  is fruitful, that it is a reality and not a sham, that it is a force for action, and not merely a frothing of words, that it is a true temple of peace in which the shields of many nations can someday be hung up, and not merely a cockpit in a Tower of Babel.

Before we cast away the solid assurances of national armaments for self-preservation we must be certain that our temple is built, not upon shifting sands or quagmires, but upon a rock.

Anyone can see with his eyes open that our path will be difficult and also long, but if we persevere together … I cannot doubt that we shall achieve our common purpose in the end.”

Shabbat shalom

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Why don't they leave?

I’ve been doing a lot of presentations recently about life after the Soviet Union. For a lot of American Jewish audiences, there’s one recurring question, which is usually phrased along the lines of, “why don’t the Jews leave?”

 

So … it’s a good point. Surely life is better in Israel, or in the States? Or anywhere?

 

But it’s not as simple as that. For one thing, “better” is a really difficult term to quantify. I think life is “better” in Israel – but does that mean that all American Jews should move there? (Don’t send me your angry responses on that one). How do you force people living in some countries to move if “we” decide they’d be “better” off somewhere else?  And how do we compare living conditions from one place to another.

 

Into this mix, there was a terrific article the other day in the Moscow Times, outlining “Ten Good Things About Putin’s Russia.” Some of them made me laugh. Some of them are so blindingly obvious that you forget about them until someone points them out. Well-worth reading …

 

 

 

10 Good Things About Putin's Russia

By Richard Lourie

The news out of Russia has mostly been bad — and deservedly so. Things have been going steadily downhill since the great protest march on the eve of President Vladimir Putin's third inauguration in May 2012.

But some perspective has been lost in the process. There are good things about Putin's Russia as well. Here is the top 10:

1. You can leave. Andrei Sakharov, leader of the Human Rights movement in the Soviet Union, insisted that the No. 1 human right was the right to leave your country, otherwise you are living in a prison house. It is unfortunate that some people still have to flee Russia, but it is fortunate that they can. Customer service has improved, there is less anti-Semitism and Russians are free to pray and leave the country if they want.

2. You can pray. In my experience, it is a lot easier to find believers who are intelligent and fun in Russia than it is in the U.S. A Russian can be a member of the intellectual class and still follow the Orthodox Church's complex schedule of fasts. For all the cozy hypocrisy in the relations of church and state that the Pussy Riot punk rock group mocked in its prank at Moscow's main cathedral, it must be still counted as progress that believers can openly worship now without fearing social or economic loss as in Soviet times. That also raises the question of how long today's Russia should be compared to a Soviet yesterday.

3. You can open a business. What once were capital crimes are now career choices. The streets of  some Russian cities now are now displaying more individual capitalism, the little stores with personality that lend color and variety to street-level life. Shopping is no longer an expedition. All sense of adventure has been lost. If you want something, you buy it — including on the Internet. E-commerce is a booming business in Russia. All you need is money, the new tyrant.

4. The Internet is free. My rule is that a country without a free Internet can never be called free, whereas a country with a free Internet can never be called entirely unfree. The perverse irony here is that modern authoritarian regimes may actually prefer free Internet and social media because it makes it easier to track and monitor dissidents. Case in point: Protesters on the barricades in Kiev received the following text message: "Dear subscriber, you are registered as a participant in an unsanctioned rally."

5. You can eat. When I used to travel to the Soviet hinterland, I always carried a salami, bread and a knife. It was perfectly possible to end up in a town where there was no restaurant open and no food in the stores. Recently I had a few nice meals in Murmansk in the Arctic Circle. Everywhere you look there are sushi restaurants, which somehow has become the emblem of modern dining sophistication — much like being pro-gay rights has become the emblem of the modern, civilized mindset. We'll know that Russia has arrived when we start seeing gay sushi restaurants popping up not only in Moscow, but in the conservative hinterlands as well.

6. There is less anti-Semitism. Or maybe it has simply been exported to western Ukraine and Europe. In reality, of course, Russia's xenophobia and bile has been refocused on Central Asian guest workers and natives of the Caucasus. From time to time, you can see Orthodox Jews in black coats and hats, long beards and payis walking down city streets unself-consciously, lost in their own conversation and oblivious to the fact that they are in the country that gave the world the words "pogrom" and "Pale of Settlement."

I was amazed and gladdened when there was no detectable outbreak of anti-Semitism over the fact that so many of the oligarchs were Jewish. Of course, there is still some anti-Semitism in Russia, but perhaps only just enough to prove the old bitter maxim that anti-Semitism is hating Jews more than you should.

7. Weak commies. In a country once totally dominated by Communists, it is a pleasure to see them now as a mostly toothless opposition — often literally — whose existence helps keep up the appearances of tolerance and democracy. It also gives Westerners who remember the Cold War the opportunity to look at real Russian Communists who still sincerely believe all of that ideological claptrap. Their spectacular historical failure has now sent some Communists back to their original function: helping society's poor and forgotten.

8. Smiles and good service. In the bad old days, smiles were rare in general and service was often called "unobtrusive" — meaning that the waiter or salesperson was nowhere to be found, having simply disappeared probably to stand in line for chicken or toilet paper. Service with a smile was outright inconceivable. Now Russians smile more often and more easily, and service is definitely speedier, probably because chicken and toilet paper are readily available in stores.

Nonetheless, you can still get the old-fashioned service with a scowl. On the bullet train between Moscow and St. Petersburg, the stewardesses are quick to bring you a surprisingly tasty lunch, but they slap it down on your tray and disappear to deal with things more important than customers like gossip and makeup. The Soviet Union dies hard.

9. Alexei Navalny. It's wonderful that today's Russia could have a wise-cracking corruption-fighting whistle-blower like Navalny. He is a person of intelligence, integrity and sufficient stature to worry Putin, especially after Navalny won an impressive 27 percent of the vote in September's mayoral election in Moscow. There have already been efforts to cripple him with phony criminal charges resulting in a conviction that may disbar him from any future political runs for office. There may even be efforts to crush him even more completely than that. At least he can leave the country — as of this writing anyway.

10. Everything that always made Russia wonderful no matter who rules from the Kremlin. The list includes vodka, jokes, excellent conversation, passionate friendship, vodka, heroic hospitality, banyas, a love of art and music, a sense of vastness reaching from steppe to space, vodka.