One Year Later, Taking Ownership of Sandy (Jewish Week)

One Year Later, Taking Ownership of Sandy

Tue, 10/15/2013

Joshua Hammerman

 
 

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

As we prepare to mark the first anniversary of Hurricane Sandy, there is a near unanimous consensus among scientists that the world is getting hotter at an alarming pace and that human beings have had something to do with it. A just-released report by a select United Nations panel leaves little to speculation, stating, “It is extremely likely that human influence has been the dominant cause of the observed warming since the mid-20th century.”

Judaism would go one step further. Not only have human beings influenced the current careening of an over-amped environment; we are directly responsible the unprecedented ferocity of recent meteorological calamities. 

A Midrash states that when Adam and Eve saw the setting of the sun for the first time they were was so terrified that they sat up all night fasting and weeping, fearing that they had somehow caused irreparable harm to Creation. Only when dawn broke did they realize that this would be the usual course of things. Then God led them around the Garden of Eden, saying, “Look at My works. See how beautiful they are! See to it that you do not spoil My world — for if you do, there will be no one to repair it after you.”

The rainbow following the Great Flood codified God’s promise never again to bring about such a calamity of nature. The implied message: If we can’t make things work on this beautiful planet, we’ll have only ourselves to blame. If we break it, we own it.

We need to take ownership of Sandy. We broke the planet. Now we own it. And we have to fix it.

God did not flood out the New York subways. God did not submerge the roller coaster on the Jersey shore. Run-of-the-mill hurricanes that follow the natural order of things, those are acts of God. Megastorms that defy all historical precedent: those are on us.

If Adam couldn’t sleep a wink thinking he had messed it all up just because it got dark, how should we feel right now?
Not good. But still, little is being done.

Hurricane Katrina should have been enough. The tsunamis in south Asia and Japan should have been the last straw. When Japanese soccer balls are washing up in Washington State, that’s got to make us stop and think. The ever-increasing ferocity and frequency of crippling blizzards and cataclysmic tornadoes, the devastating wildfires, extreme droughts, biblical floods, ferocious winds and routine power outages: all these should have prompted us to action.

But if they weren’t enough, surely Sandy should have been.

There’s a Facebook page, “Hurricane Sandy’s Lost Treasures,” where you’ll find the debris from shattered lives, page after page of framed photos, diplomas, trinkets. The pictures look washed out, tattered and yellowed, almost as if they had been uncovered from the wreckage of the Titanic. There’s a potholder dated 2002 that says, “Happy Father’s Day. Love you, Casey. Age 5.” There’s a Tiffany silver spoon, dug out from where the dunes used to be. A wedding program found near Ortley Beach. A plaque from a pleasure boat whose name, ironically, was “Stress Management.”

Welcome to the New Normal — as if it’s normal and acceptable that on post-Sandy maps New Jersey’s coastline looks like it has gone on a diet. 

I was in Oceania this summer, where the New Normal carries different but no less devastating associations. Australian school children look so sweet with their little hats — but by law they have to wear them whenever they are outside. Because of ozone depletion, Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world, two or three times the rate found here. 

I visited the Great Barrier Reef. Recent studies show that the alarming sea temperature rise has already had a devastating impact on the reef. This breathtakingly beautiful place is dying.

There was an earthquake when I was in New Zealand.  Studies show that even earthquakes are exacerbated by climate change. In Christchurch, which still has not recovered from the devastating quake of 2011, people are living in homes where the front door doesn't close. Their lives have literally become unhinged. 

That is the New Normal. 

This is not a normal that we can accept, even as we are being told via our gridlocked Congress that we have no choice but to accept it. But there is a choice. We can turn the tide, in a very literal sense.

This past summer, my synagogue installed 845 solar panels on our roof, a new system expected to produce 236,000 kilowatt hours per year and satisfy 70 percent of the synagogue’s energy needs. We flipped the switch on erev Rosh Hashanah, and the next day our eternal light was being fueled by the sun, the one energy resource that we do not have the wherewithal to ruin.

You can read about the project at our website, liketheroof.com, where an online solar monitor indicates that we’ve already spared the atmosphere over 17 tons of CO2. All of that, and we are saving our congregation $31,000 annually in energy costs and decreasing America’s dependence on foreign energy resources.

On Rosh HaShanah, Connecticut Sen. Richard Blumenthal praised this project from my synagogue’s pulpit, calling it “a great example of what individuals can do when they come together to save the planet.” 

In addition to going solar, my congregation has a bountiful mitzvah garden that supplies fresh vegetables for local food banks and flowers for nursing homes. Plus, we are collaborating with Hazon and a local farmer to form the first Jewish CSA in southwestern Connecticut. Community Supported Agriculture is a great way to unite soul and soil, supporting local farmers, the environment and our own bodies. 

Every congregation should be doing this, if for no other reason than to remind everyone that sustainability is a prime Jewish value.  At a time when surveys are pointing to the decreasing relevance of synagogue affiliation for American Jews, there is no more compelling calling than saving the earth.

After Sandy, it’s time to take ownership of what we broke.

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman is spiritual leader of Temple Beth El in Stamford, Conn.

TBE Bar/Bat Mitzvah Commentary: Zachary Feinstein on Emor

My portion of Emor talks a lot about leadership qualities – especially those that were held by the priests – the Cohanim.    The list here focuses on appearance but most of Jewish tradition places the focus on other qualities too.  That broader list would include not losing your cool, keeping calm and taking responsibility.  For me, two qualities of leadership are by far the most important:  decisiveness and compassion. Both of these qualities have helped me especially in my chosen position on the baseball diamond: catcher.

I love catching for a number of reasons.  The catcher is at the center of all the action; the ball always comes to me.  I’m in every play.  I have to make instant decisions about what pitch to call, about what base to cover,  who fields the grounder or catches the pop up, and also what base to throw to; I always have to have my eyes on the game and my focus on the entire field.

 As a catcher, I also have to care about my teammates, to show them compassion.  For example, when my pitcher throws a home run ball it’s my job  to go to the mound and tell him, it’s ok, you’ll get it next time, and tell him that was a great pitch.  Most of the time it’s a lousy pitch, but I keep that to myself.

As a catcher, I have to be a coach on the field, giving lots of advice even when people aren’t asking for it.

Aside from baseball, there are other aspects of life that require the same leadership qualities of decisiveness and compassion. Which brings me to my mitzvah project.

Last fall when Hurricane Sandy hit our region those leadership qualities came into play.  We lost heat for a week, but even so, we realized that things were much worse for people living on the coast.  So we knew we had to do something.

Rather than waiting for someone else to take action, we decided to take matters into our own hands, by collecting items such as food, clothes, cleaning supplies, and toiletries.  We loading up a U-Haul and brought it down to the Rockaways.

We didn’t just do it once.  In all, I made three trips, and my mom made two additional trips.

The experience was unforgettable.  As we were driving there, for example, just looking out the car window was devastating because of all the destruction that Sandy brought to these innocent people, houses, and lives.

We drove from house to house to offer people these supplies.  People were so happy and thankful about what we were providing them with. And they weren’t taking items that they didn’t need.  They were taking the items that they really needed to help themselves.

We dropped off the rest of the supplies at a community hall located in a church.  When adults walked in, I would ask if they had any kids, and if they did I would ask what they might need for them.  And then I would walk around to the tables for clothes, shoes, diapers, toys, and food, etc. and bring the items over to them.

I did this three times.  I hope I’ll never have to do it again.  But if there is a need, I’ll be there.  I’ve learned not to wait at times like those, because the need so great. 

Compassion and decisiveness were necessary then, and they were also qualities that were held by my Aunt Liz, of blessed memory. I’m proud to be named for her.

As I become a Bar Mitzvah today, I hope that I’ll be able to take these leadership qualities that are found in Jewish tradition, and apply them to my life.

Shabbat-O-Gram: Sandy and Shabbat

 The Shabbat-O-Gram is sponsored by Dora and David Salm in honor of Nathan's becoming Bar Mitzvah this Shabbat morning.

Shabbat Shalom (and happy Balfour Day- see a strong case for celebrating Lord Balfour's famous 1917 declaration here)

It's hard to think of a Shabbat that was ever more necessary than this one.  I hope you can join us this evening at 7:30 as we gather strength together as a community and pray for the welfare of all those impacted by the storm. Our Kabbalat Shabbat services fill us with spiritual strength while at the same time lowering the blood pressure.  Simultaneously, relaxing and invigorating - you have to experience it to understand what I am talking about.  But understanding is really not the point.  Our services are not meant to be understood intellectually.  They are meant to felt experientially.  And they are.  Join us tonight to see why.  Plus, we have heat. 

And if you have a tot, come at 5:30 for our tot service and dinner.

It's hard to recall a week - at least since 9/11 - when community has been more important and where so many have come through for so many.  We played our small part.  Upwards of 50 people have made use of our facilities each day in the aftermath of Sandy.  We served up coffee, lunch and warm Steve Lander cookies, and we've provided ample work space with wi-fi access, plus our state of the art computer room.  All that - and we also had full minyans for the past three mornings and ran Hebrew School and Shorashim nursery school.  We're open once again today and will be again on Sunday morning for those still without power. 

TBE's hurricane relief activities were the subject of a report on NPR's Morning Edition. You can hear it here. We've gotten positive reaction to that story form people around the country. Also see my new Jewish Week column, "The God Particle in All of Us," based in part on my Rosh Hashanah remarks about the Mayan Apocalypse and adapted to a post Sandy reality.

As the heartbreaking tragedy of this storm continues to unfold before us, our hearts go out to all those who have suffered so much in our neighboring states, and our own. Monetary donations can be made to the Red Cross or the Jewish Federations' Hurricane Sandy Relief Fund.

For more on the storm from a Jewish angle, see Tree Felled By Sandy Kills Jewish Teacher, College Student In Brooklyn and Jewish Organizations Scrambled To Help Needy During Hurricane Sandy from the Jewish Week and Lessons of Sandy, an editorial from the Forward - and I am very pleased that the public conversation has at long last placed climate change high up on the national agenda.

Mazal tov to Nathan Salm, who becomes Bar Mitzvah at tomorrow morning's service.  At the service I'll be discussing a mitzvah whose origin traces itself back to this week's portion of Vayera, that of bikur cholim, visiting the sick.  It could not be more relevant, on a week when so many in our area are in need of a human touch, a caring hand.

Finally, not to be lost in all of this is the fact that Tuesday is Election Day.  Despite the tragedy, how refreshing it was to take a break from partisan campaigning, if only for a brief few days this week.  The politicians set just the right tone, working across party lines to get things done for the victims.  Now we need to do our part - and vote. 

It's a mitzvah, you know!

Finding the Calm Within the Storm: Spiritual Storm Resources

Given the dire forecasts and our recent local history of power outages, I'm sending this out to our community before the worst of the storm hits.

If, once it is safe to travel, we have power at the temple, I will send out another email notifying congregants that the building will be open and available to you.  We'll heat up some coffee and crank up the wi-fi, and feel free to stay as long as you wish.  If we lose power, alas, we have no emergency generator, so there will be no email from me to let you know that.

Meanwhile, my prayer for all of you is that everyone remains safe and cautious. 

I am looking out my window now and the trees are swaying relentlessly, bending to the wind's increasing power, but not yet breaking.  As the gusts increase through the afternoon, it only seems a matter of time.

I know that for many in our community, there is an even greater threat, as the sea itself prepares to make landfall in a manner that, they tell us, we've never seen before. 

In the primeval narrative of Genesis, the wind brought about a separation of waters, and then a separation of water from dry land.  We're seeing before our eyes an undoing of this primal act of order.  Sandy is a return to primordial chaos. Instinctively we recognize it - or at least my dogs do.  We only need to pull ourselves from our electronic devices and look out the window.

The Hebrew word for wind is ruach, which also means "spirit."  In Judaism. the meteorological and spiritual are deeply intertwined.  The experience of a storm is a profoundly spiritual one, even in our day.  Perhaps especially in our day, since, even when we can pinpoint well in advance what will happen, we are completely powerless to stop it.  The weather is one of the few things left that reduces us to mush in the face of its power.  It makes us realize how insignificant we really are.

Insignificant - and interdependent.

All we have is one another right now.  And our hope in the God whom the ancients envisioned riding on this spirit-wind, and whom we imagine giving us the strength to overcome its impact.

I've collected some inspirational readings to help give you the strength that we all seek at a time like this, so that you can find your own place of calm within the storm.

See this collection of Jewish prayers of healing and hope during a time of natural disaster, collected by the URJ.  

Also see this prayer for safety during a hurricane.  And Naomi Levy's Psalm for victims of a hurricane or flood.

No one should be traveling now, but for those who are, there is the traditional Tefillat Haderech, the Wayfarer's Prayer.

My own poem, "The Storm Before the Calm" is a commentary on Psalm 29, the storm psalm, in light of modern Jerusalem and the peace process (it was written a few years ago, when there was one).

With my fervent hope that everyone finds a safe place - and that we can all come together to give thanks when the worst is over