Friday, November 26, 2021

FEATURED POST How a menorah may bring about a ‘Christian nation’ (Times of Israel)

FEATURED POST

How a menorah may bring about a ‘Christian nation’

The cardinal American principle of separating religion and state was sacrificed on the altar of a good photo-op, and no one cared
Lighting the menorah with the mayor at Stamford, Connecticut's Government Center. (courtesy)
Lighting the menorah with the mayor at Stamford, Connecticut's Government Center. (courtesy)

In America, Jews have long championed the separation of religion and state, and for good reason. That proverbial Wall of Separation has protected us from the very realistic fear that, if unchecked, zealots would impose a narrow, xenophobic vision of Christianity on America. Now, as we prepare to welcome Hanukkah, the menorah, ancient symbol of religious freedom, lurks as a reminder of how vulnerable we are to losing the constitutional right that has helped to preserve that freedom.

In the latter years of the 20th century, an internal battle among Jews was fought over whether a Hanukkah menorah could be placed on public ground. The Lubavitch movement staked its future on the powerful symbolism of an ancient practice: the public proclamation of the Hanukah miracle. The public-space menorah became their signature issue, and a clarion call for Jews who, in their estimation, had long been too timid to demonstrate public pride in their faith — that despite the fact that the Soviet Jewry movement had been bringing Jews proudly into the public square en masse for years. The Jewish establishment, including an alliance of secular non-profit leaders and liberal rabbis, fought hard to defeat Chabad and maintain that rigid Wall, which they claimed protected Jews from Christian encroachment on a whole variety of public issues.

The Lubavitchers struck a nerve, mirroring the chutzpah of the Maccabees in defying the entrenched powers, and they won a clear victory that was enshrined in law. In the 1989 case County of Allegheny v. American Civil Liberties Unionthe Supreme Court declared that a menorah displayed on public property was allowed, while a creche was not. The irony here is that the menorah, the most ubiquitous and primal religious symbol in Judaism (older than a Torah scroll, more prominent than a mezuzah, less binding than matzah), whose religious power the Hasidim harnessed, was considered by the Supreme Court to be a secular symbol, basically on par with a dreidel. And with that, Chabad won.  

Once that ruling came down, immediately we saw menorah lightings everywhere, in every government-run space imaginable: in the White House, in courthouses, schools and city halls across the country. While this no doubt awakened Jewish pride and possibly spurred deeper commitment to Jewish practice — and donations to Chabad — one wonders at what cost.

In fact, menorahs already could be displayed in public. Before Chabad’s push, they were ubiquitous at department stores and malls, mom and pop establishments, synagogue lobbies and Jewish-owned homes — and some non-Jewish ones too, like in Billings, Montana, where an anti-Semitic attack prompted pastors to call on the Christian parishioners to place menorahs in their windows.

The issue that challenged the Establishment Clause was whether menorahs could be displayed on government-owned property. It would have been easy for Chabad to light menorahs in very public places that aren’t government controlled. But they wanted a menorah in the White House, and they got it, and in doing so, they succeeded in shaming their opponents into silence, in the name of “Jewish pride.” Coming at a time of near panic over rising rates of intermarriage and assimilation, when “continuity” was the community buzzword, secular and liberal rabbinic leaders capitulated with barely a whimper. Those public lightings were glitzy and warm, after all, and you could always get politicians and celebrities to attend, and hey, SCOTUS says it’s Kosher! If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

I plead guilty. A few years after Allegheny, my synagogue began doing an annual lighting at Stamford, Connecticut’s Government Center, with the requisite photo ops for the local paper, and we’ve been doing it ever since. We always give the mayor a dozen jelly doughnuts as a quid pro quo. It feels good to have my little menorah lit right next to the mayor’s humungous tree.

Religion-state separation was sacrificed at the altar of a good photo-op, and no one cared.

So now, do we have a right to be surprised when Michael Flynn called for America to embrace “one religion” at a recent conclave that included a who’s who of the religious right? Should we be surprised at the serious erosion of that separation that has been taking place in recent Supreme Court rulings, on everything from public funding of religious education to pandemic relief? Should we be shocked that a Christian group in Boston seeks to fly a religious flag in front of City Hall, which seems a logical next step following the menorah precedent? And should we be surprised that abortion looks to be the next and biggest brick to fall from the Wall, as a distinctly anti-Judaic view of when human life begins may shortly become the law of the land.

America has hardly been perfect in its treatment of minority groups, particularly those of color, but it has been exemplary in its treatment of minority religions. With all the hate Jews have experienced here, it’s never been state-sponsored religious persecution. Now, if Roe is overturned, rabbis who in good conscience advise their congregants to get abortions will be in the crosshairs, legal and perhaps otherwise.

But I got to play dreidel with the mayor.

It all started with a menorah in Pittsburgh, when everyone saw how quickly Jews could be cowed into giving up our birthright, the Establishment Clause, for a plate of latkes. And now, those latkes are coming home to roost.

The signs are clear that, if the current trends continue, we are about to enter a new era of religious intolerance that will not be good for all Jews, whether secular, religiously progressive or Orthodox. Maybe that will be okay with those Jews on the far right, like Chabad, whose allies, like John Hagee, filled the hall where Michael Flynn spoke. Maybe that’s what they wanted all along.

But for others this Hanukkah, that menorah on government property is a glowing reminder of the dangers facing the abortion clinic next door, and how we let our guard down in our craving for public pride.

In This Moment: Nov. 25: Thanksgivukk-abbat-O-Gram: How a Menorah May Bring About a Christian Nation

 


In This Moment

Stamford Jewish Community Celebrates Hanukkah "Freedom Celebration"
Thirty years ago, on Dec. 6, 1991, the Stamford Jewish community celebrated Hanukkah outside the JCC. Watch this vintage video from Shalom TV and you'll see some familiar faces.


Shabbat Shalom, and happy post-Thanks, pre-Han and just about Shabbat.

Squeeing this in before sunset, a reminder to join us this evening at 7 (Leo Mahler joins me) and tomorrow at 10 (Dvar by Rabbi Ginsburg). We'll have online menorah lightings for much of the week and live via Zoom a lighting with our new mayor at Government Center on Thursday at 4. Join us!



Similar to the story of the Maccabean revolt, Thanksgiving for Native Americans represents resistance against cultural assimilation. But one is a holiday celebrating cultural survival and the other – especially for the Wampanoag, whose first contacts with the colonists Thanksgiving mythologizes – a day of mourning. Jews “are no strangers to the hardships and displacement of colonialism,” writes Mahrinah Shije, a Sephardic Jew and member of the Tewa tribe. “Having felt the pain of cultural, religious, and language loss, we know how intolerable that is for anyone.



In America, Jews have long championed the separation of religion and state, and for good reason. That proverbial Wall of Separation has protected us from the very realistic fear that, if unchecked, zealots would impose a narrow, xenophobic vision of Christianity on America. Now, as we prepare to welcome Hanukkah, the menorah, ancient symbol of religious freedom, lurks as a reminder of how vulnerable we are to losing the constitutional right that has helped to preserve that freedom.

In the latter years of the 20th century, an internal battle among Jews was fought over whether a Hanukkah menorah could be placed on public ground. The Lubavitch movement staked its future on the powerful symbolism of an ancient practice: the public proclamation of the Hanukah miracle. The public-space menorah became their signature issue, and a clarion call for Jews who, in their estimation, had long been too timid to demonstrate public pride in their faith — that despite the fact that the Soviet Jewry movement had been bringing Jews proudly into the public square en masse for years. The Jewish establishment, including an alliance of secular non-profit leaders and liberal rabbis, fought hard to defeat Chabad and maintain that rigid Wall, which they claimed protected Jews from Christian encroachment on a whole variety of public issues.

The Lubavitchers struck a nerve, mirroring the chutzpah of the Maccabees in defying the entrenched powers, and they won a clear victory that was enshrined in law. In the 1989 case County of Allegheny v. American Civil Liberties Unionthe Supreme Court declared that a menorah displayed on public property was allowed, while a creche was not. The irony here is that the menorah, the most ubiquitous and primal religious symbol in Judaism (older than a Torah scroll, more prominent than a mezuzah, less binding than matzah), whose religious power the Hasidim harnessed, was considered by the Supreme Court to be a secular symbol, basically on par with a dreidel. And with that, Chabad won.

Once that ruling came down, immediately we saw menorah lightings everywhere, in every government-run space imaginable: in the White House, in courthouses, schools and city halls across the country. While this no doubt awakened Jewish pride and possibly spurred deeper commitment to Jewish practice — and donations to Chabad — one wonders at what cost.

In fact, menorahs already could be displayed in public. Before Chabad’s push, they were ubiquitous at department stores and malls, mom and pop establishments, synagogue lobbies and Jewish-owned homes — and some non-Jewish ones too, like in Billings, Montana, where an anti-Semitic attack prompted pastors to call on the Christian parishioners to place menorahs in their windows.

The issue that challenged the Establishment Clause was whether menorahs could be displayed on government-owned property. It would have been easy for Chabad to light menorahs in very public places that aren’t government controlled. But they wanted a menorah in the White House, and they got it, and in doing so, they succeeded in shaming their opponents into silence, in the name of “Jewish pride.” Coming at a time of near panic over rising rates of intermarriage and assimilation, when “continuity” was the community buzzword, secular and liberal rabbinic leaders capitulated with barely a whimper. Those public lightings were glitzy and warm, after all, and you could always get politicians and celebrities to attend, and hey, SCOTUS says it’s Kosher! If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

I plead guilty. A few years after Allegheny, my synagogue began doing an annual lighting at Stamford, Connecticut’s Government Center, with the requisite photo ops for the local paper, and we’ve been doing it ever since. We always give the mayor a dozen jelly doughnuts as a quid pro quo. It feels good to have my little menorah lit right next to the mayor’s humungous tree.

Religion-state separation was sacrificed at the altar of a good photo-op, and no one cared.

So now, do we have a right to be surprised when Michael Flynn called for America to embrace “one religion” at a recent conclave that included a who’s who of the religious right? Should we be surprised at the serious erosion of that separation that has been taking place in recent Supreme Court rulings, on everything from public funding of religious education to pandemic relief? Should we be shocked that a Christian group in Boston seeks to fly a religious flag in front of City Hall, which seems a logical next step following the menorah precedent? And should we be surprised that abortion looks to be the next and biggest brick to fall from the Wall, as a distinctly anti-Judaic view of when human life begins may shortly become the law of the land?

America has hardly been perfect in its treatment of minority groups, particularly those of color, but it has been exemplary in its treatment of minority religions. With all the hate Jews have experienced here, it’s never been state-sponsored religious persecution. Now, if Roe is overturned, rabbis who in good conscience advise their congregants to get abortions will be in the crosshairs, legal and perhaps otherwise.

But I got to play dreidel with the mayor.

It all started with a menorah in Pittsburgh, when everyone saw how quickly Jews could be cowed into giving up our birthright, the Establishment Clause, for a plate of latkes. And now, those latkes are coming home to roost.

The signs are clear that, if the current trends continue, we are about to enter a new era of religious intolerance that will not be good for all Jews, whether secular, religiously progressive or Orthodox. Maybe that will be okay with those Jews on the far right, like Chabad, whose allies, like John Hagee, filled the hall where Michael Flynn spoke.

Maybe that’s what they wanted all along.

But for others this Hanukkah, that menorah on government property is a glowing reminder of the dangers facing the abortion clinic next door, and how we let our guard down in our craving for public pride.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

Hanukkah in Stamford, 1991

 


Thursday, November 18, 2021

In This Moment: Nov. 18

 


In This Moment

TBE Adult B'nai Mitzvah, Nov. 13, 2021
Watch the video of last weekend's B'nai Mitzvah


Shabbat Shalom!

Last weekend's adult B'nai Mitzvah was a real highlight for the year, and well worth the three year wait. You can see some photos, screen grabs and congrats from the chat by clicking here. And see my charge to the class here. Since we always stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, here are the booklets from prior adult b'nai mitzvah classes from the past three decades. They were all very special (if booklets exist for prior ones, please send them to me).







This evening at 7:30, we'll be honored to host (on Zoom), Israel's new Consul General to New England, Ambassador Meron Reuben. Join us at 7:30 and send me any questions you might want asked. Click here to register and get Zoom access.

Now some recommended reading - with commentary...


  • Call For Philip Morris....to go smokeless. In this article in the Stamford Advocatethe tobacco company pledges to turn over a new leaf, so to speak. So here's what I've been asking myself. What is it about Stamford that draws such edgy (or worse) businesses, from Purdue Pharma (whose settlement seems quite shady) to WWE (I know, it's entertainment) to Jerry Springer? I was once accused of being inhospitable to Springer for questioning whether I would give him an aliyah. Okay, most Stamford-based companies are just fine (I'm looking at you, NBC Sports), but you've got to admit to getting that queasy feeling when reading this company's full page NYT ad, where Marian Salzman, their VP of Global Communications has the chutzpah to compare skepticism directed toward Philip Morris to hate speech:

PMI is giving us all a little feel of PMS. The company's record is hardly spotless and certainly not above criticism. Still, even companies can do teshuvah, and I'm not ruling out an aliyah for Marian Salzman just yet. I'd welcome her into a dialogue, as long as she promises not to bring up the hate speech thing again. I think what's bothering me even more is that we get so taken in by a Chamber of Commerce mentality when the rich and famous come a-calling that we lose our objectivity. Instead of blurting out, "They like us! They really like us!" let's hold companies to high moral standards, especially if they are responsible for, allegedly, seven million deaths a year. I kvetched about Stew Leonard back in the '90s, and they were just cheating on taxes, not killing millions and covering it up. Stew Junior responded by sending over a bushel of cornstalks for our sukkah. Okay, that was a little shady too, but we met and talked things through. Is Phil Morris going to respond to this by accusing a rabbi of hate speech - because, according to their definition, hate speech is anything critical of them.

So, while I'm happy that we've got lots of nice companies here too, still, what is it about Stamford???


  • Larry David spilled coffee on a Klansman's robe. We asked rabbis if he has to pay for the dry cleaning. (Forward) The fact that Judaism has its own vast corpus of legal arguments is of little interest to Larry David — he’s a law unto himself. But every so often his actions give way to a question of Talmudic precedent. When, for instance, Larry accidentally spilled coffee on a Klansman’s robe on Sunday’s episode and then promised to have it laundered in time for two upcoming “hate rallies” in Tucson and Santa Fe, he stumbled onto an area well-trod by commentators and scholars: property law. Throughout the episode, Larry explains how he feels obligated to pay for this white supremacist’s dry cleaning, even convincing a Jewish dry cleaner to do it, telling him, a la Jesus, that he’s deciding to “turn the other cheek.”

  • Taylor Swift and a Time Honored Jewish Tradition (Forward) The brouhaha surrounding the Swift-Gyllenhaal saga got us thinking of the great tradition of “kiss-off” songs — particularly those written and performed by Jewish songwriters. If Bob Dylan did not invent the genre, he certainly set the bar high with such early songs as “Positively 4th Street” (“You got a lotta nerve to say you are my friend”), “Most Likely You Go Your Way (and I’ll Go Mine)” (“You say you love me and you’re thinkin’ of me but you know you could be wrong”), “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” (“You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last”), “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” (“You just kinda wasted my precious time”), and perhaps the greatest kiss-off song of all time, “Idiot Wind” (“You’re an idiot, babe / It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe”). Ouch!

  • What Would Maimonides Say About Dennis Prager? (R.N.S). Once upon a time, Dennis Prager was one of my favorite authors. His book co-authored with Joseph Telushkin, "Nine Questions People Ask About Judaism," influenced me greatly during my formative years. I once brought him to Stamford to speak. Yes, Rabbi Hammerman brought Dennis Prager to Stamford. He spoke to teens about Jewish pride, but his first words, "Kids stink," didn't exactly endear him to his audience. Over the years, he's drifted far to the right, but it is has his stance on vaccinations that Doctor Maimonides would have found so offensive, according to this opinion piece.

  • Top European court says Hungary's 'stop Soros' migrant law violated EU law (Jerusalem Post) I've been fortunate to experience very little anti-Semitism first hand in my life, but one such time was when our 2017 Europe group crossed the bridge from Slovakia to Hungary and what greeted us was this sign. it did not say, "Welcome to Hungary, Jews." We had literally just come from Auschwitz and before our wheels even set down on Hungarian soil, we see a sign stating, "We can't let Soros get the last laugh." Well, we all need to dedicate our lives to getting the last laugh against those who traffic in anti-Semitic tropes and strike fear in the hearts of Jews and "others."

  • Last year I wrote this op-ed / d'var Torah, with the focus on this week's portion of Vayishlach and how at times the best way to keep a family together is to divide it up, as Jacob does when confronting his brother Esau for the first time in two decades. Though things are much better now, with vaccines and better, medically approved treatments, much of last year's message still resonates. I'm so happy to say that this year, both of my kids will be in town and we will be spending Thanksgiving together. But what I wrote last year still has resonance. As Jacob prepares for the worst, he prays:
The fear of Jacob is reflected in our own. The patriarch realizes how unworthy - in the Hebrew, how "small" - he is (katonti), how ill-equipped to defeat this foe. Ramban finds a prophetic quote to back up this feeling of futility: “How will Jacob survive, as he is so small” (Amos 7:2).

The greatest danger to us as we face this overwhelming third wave of Covid is a sense that we fool ourselves into thinking that we really understand this disease, that we’ve been here before. But we have not. While March and April were bad in the NY area, Americans have never seen the entire country afflicted with such overwhelming force at the same time.

Complacency and Covid fatigue are dangerous, but the gravest danger of all is a false sense of control. Masks and outdoor ventilation are helpful, we now know, but they are not foolproof. Today, in order to protect ourselves, many families will voluntarily stay apart. In the Torah, Jacob shows us that such a decision requires a selfless humility that can help us to confront enemies seen and unseen. Covid may be microscopic and microbial, but we are the ones who are small.


There will not be a full Shabbat-O-Gram next week (though I reserve the right to send you something), so my best wishes for a happy Thanksgivukkah for you and yours (from me and mine)! I close with some quotations on gratitude for your Thanksgiving table - or Zoom table, as the case may be. The word Jew actually means to give thanks. Today we proudly display our Jewish and American identities together by offering our appreciation to God for all of our bounty and blessing

Happy Chanksgivukah!

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman
Temple Beth El
350 Roxbury Road
Stamford, Connecticut 06902
203-322-6901 | www.tbe.org
  
A Conservative, Inclusive, Spiritual Community

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Philip Morris NYT Ad


 


Prager Visit to Stamford

 


Charge for Adult B'nai Mitzvah, November 13, 2021

Adult B’nai Mitzvah 2021

 

         Maimonides said – “Much wisdom have I learned from my teachers, more from my colleagues, from my pupils most of all.”

 

I have learned so much from the nine of you – some might call you our baseball team, or perhaps our Supreme Court, or maybe our minyan-minus-one.  But that begs the question…. Because yes, you are a team, a group – and in a sense that has been thrust upon you – you didn’t all know one another when this thing began, but now you will share this moment forever.  And I want to add a shout out to the 11 who left us along the way.  You also have been part of this experience. And I’m not sure I could have stuck with this for so long, through several dates and four torah portions.  It was getting to the point where we were beginning to wonder if perhaps we might cover the entire torah before this was done.  So all 20 are very much a part of this family.

 

Still, this nine is very special.  And while you share this experience, you are also nine individuals.  Your journeys to this point have been vastly different – your backgrounds ranging from far flung places like Poland and West Virginia, and even more exotic places…like Long Island, to even more exotic places beyond the boundaries of our faith.  Each of you had to make the individual decision to take on this commitment.  And it wasn’t easy.  You had to learn the varying styles of several teachers.  But you were always here, in sickness and in health, and births, deaths and bar mitzvahs in the family.  So from each of you, I’ve learned the value of commitment, of stick-to-it-iveness – and of having the faith to embark on the journey even when you didn’t really know where it was going to lead.  Like Abraham and Sarah, and Jacob in our portion, you heard the call – but we never really told you where you would end up – you found that out for yourselves.

 

We never really told your families either – and they are the other side of this epic story of commitment and faith.  I know what sacrifices they have had to make – and I know that each of them understood that in some way, you were doing this for them as well as for yourselves.  So we’ve learned from you, each of you individually, the importance of family.

 

Your four portions actually, when put together, form a sentence.  Vayetze – Behar – Bechuikotai Hukkat.  And you journeyed to the mountain, where you found in the mitzvot of Judaism, laws to guide your life.  


It’s a loose translation.

 

You have climbed the mountain.  And at the same time, you have been a shining reminder to me of what it’s like to plumb the depths of Jewish experience, as if for the first time. Covid denied us the chance to do everything I would have wished. But you did a lot.   

 

And the stakes are high.  


In 1948, Ben Gurion sent Golda Meir on an emergency trip to America, where she needed to raise $6 million from American Jewry in just a few weeks, or the fledgling Jewish state, as yet unborn, would not be able to withstand the onslaught of five Arab armies.  She spoke to a gathering of Jewish leaders in Chicago and told them.  “You have two choices, we have only one. We will fight; that decision is taken.  You can decide only one thing – whether we will live.” 


Six weeks later, she returned from America, having raised $50 million dollars.

 

One might think the stakes aren’t so high now, or the situation so dire – and they may not be.  But the choices are still the same.  By making the choice you have, by becoming more committed, more knowledgeable, and more comfortable Jews – by embracing your heritage as the gift that it is, but rather than putting it on the shelf, you’ve taken it to your hearts, and worn it for frontlets between your eyes, placing it in your minds, you have made the choice of Jewish survival.  Not just survival, but renewal.  And the message you’ve sent is a powerful one, for your families and for our community, and for the Jewish people everywhere.  And it is a message I cannot send.  Your message is that ANYONE can do this.  And your message is that EVERYONE MUST.  Everyone, in some way, must show this extraordinary commitment to the Jewish future – for there to be a Jewish future.  You’ve shown that Jewish renewal is synonymous with personal and spiritual renewal.  You could have gone to an ashram – you chose the bima.  You chose the Torah.  As Jews, you chose LIFE.

 

So this is what I couldn’t teach you in class.  I couldn’t tell you how we would all feel today, and how much we were depending on you.  I didn’t want to burden you with that.  But now you know.  Generations move through you – you span them – and you today have ensured that Jews will continue to wrestle with Torah for generations to come…and that we will continue to choose life. 

 

Please stand as I bless you with the words of the Talmud:

 


May you live to see your world fulfilled,

May your destiny be for worlds still to come,

And may you trust in generations past and yet

   to be.

May your heart be filled with intuition

and your words be filled with insight.

May songs of praise ever be upon your tongue

and your vision be on a straight path before you.

May your eyes shine with the light of holy words

and your face reflect the brightness of the heavens.

May your lips speak wisdom

and your fulfillment be in righteousness

even as you ever yearn to hear the words

of the Holy Ancient One of Old.

 

Mazal tov to all of you – may you go from strength to strength, from generation to generation.