Site Loader

A few weeks ago (in December), I was a participant in the Union for Reform Judaism’s Biennial Conference. During one of the sessions, the president of the URJ, Rabbi Rick Jacobs, spoke to all the participating graduates of Hebrew Union College.

He told us that he was speaking at college campus, and during the Q&A period, a student asked him if he had ever personally experienced anti-Semitism. He thought for a bit and said, Actually, no. I haven’t personally experienced it. But let me pose the question back to all of you. How many of you have personally experienced some form of anti-Semitism? Rabbi Jacobs told us that two-thirds of the room had their hands up.

We just finished the celebration of Chanukah, the holiday that celebrates the miracle of Jewish identity. One of the Mitzvot about the Menorah is that of Pirsum HaNes, translated, it means, the publication of the miracle. One way that Jews follow this precept by placing the Menorah in front of a window for passerby to see, thereby publicizing their Jewish-ness.

I believe that most of us celebrated a Chanukah that our rabbinic sages would have been proud of. We ate latkes, we had a wonderful service and variety show. At each of our homes, we lit our Menorahs proudly with friends and family.

But for every candle that we safely lit in our homes, there was at least one anti-Semitic incident in the area of New York City. During the eight nights of Chanukah, Jews were harassed, slapped, stabbed, and shot. Simply for “publicizing” their Jewishness.

There have been a lot of opinion pieces written about the latest upward trend in anti-Semitic thoughts and acts. Donniel Hartman wrote one piece that I have found particularly meaningful. It is called: I hate talking about anti-Semitism.

He talks about the discourse that Jews have amongst one another about this new reality that we live in, and he is worried about how we address the topic:Some of it exaggerates the problem and paints contemporary Jewish life with pre-Holocaust categories, thus diminishing the remarkable success and strength of North American Jewish life.

I hate when anti-Semitism takes over all Jewish discourse. I hate to talk about anti-Semitism, because I want to talk about what Judaism can learn from and contribute to the modern world, and not merely how we can survive it.

It is not enough to combat anti-Semitism, we also have to love Judaism. Paraphrasing a favorite line from a recent Star Wars movie, We're going to combat Anti-Semitism not by fighting what we hate, but by saving what we love.

We have to continually publicize the miracle of Judaism. We must continue being a light to the nations, even if some want to extinguish the light of Judaism.

Deborah Lipstadt is a world-renowned scholar of the Holocaust and anti-Semitism, and she led a plenary program at the Biennial. This is one short part of her wonderful talk:

Recently, a student of mine – a senior, who’s been my student for four years – came into my office. Suddenly he was wearing a kippah, and there was something in me that wanted to say, “Why the new headgear?”

But I decided that wasn't appropriate, and I said nothing. We talked about his paper and his post-graduation plans, and then, as he stood to leave, he turned around and said to me, “Look. You notice?”

I said, “Oh, yeah. What's that about? You haven't worn that before.” And he said to me, “There have been so many attacks on Jews recently. I've decided every time there is an antisemitic act, I am going to wear my kippah to show the antisemites they can't frighten me.”

I smiled. After all, I admire his moxie, his chutzpah, his desire to show his identity and not be not cower in fear.

But at the same time, inside, my heart was breaking – because he had allowed the antisemites to determine when he felt Jewish.

They were controlling his Jewish identity. He had ceded to them the power over his Jewish identity. In short, he was motivated by the “oy” and not the joy of Jewish life.

That's not my Judaism, and I don't want it to be his.

Joseph teaches us this same lesson in this week’s portion. After his brothers throw him into a pit and sold him into slavery, Joseph becomes the a major leader in Egypt. In this portion, Joseph could have punished his brothers, but instead, he gives them the food they so desperately need.

Instead of fighting against the previous injustice of his brothers, Joseph simply lived according to his ideals, the ideals that still are foundational to Jewish identity.

I don’t suggest that we react naïvely to this new reality. I am glad that we have safeguards in place for our congregation. We will continue to think about how to fight against any possible anti-Semetic acts. And, we will continue to be warm and welcoming. We will have a security guard, and we will welcome the stranger. We will be careful, and we will publicize the miracle of Judaism. Both can be true. Both have to be true.

Rabbi Linder