In this Moment: A Blessing for Foliage? Survey of American Jews. Are Holocaust Analogies Ever Appropriate?

 In This Moment

 Shabbat-O-Gram, Oct 23, 2020

TBE Hebrew School in 2020: The New Normal

See our complete fall album (and we've been amazingly busy!)

Mazal tov to Camryn Laichtman, who becomes Bat Mitzvah this Shabbat morning

Shabbat Shalom!

As we fight off the next wave of the virus - and Stamford is now classified as a  "yellow" zone - a shout-out to all those who are fighting off virus fatigue, which is natural to feel after all these months. If we remain vigilant, we will save lives.

Meanwhile, undaunted, we forge ahead.  Mazal tov to Camryn Laichtman, whose bat mitzvah takes place this Shabbat.  Sydney Kassel, last week's week's bat mitzvah, did us proud (as they all do!). You can see some photos, video and the text of her d'var Torah here.  Below are some screen grabs from the service.  Notice how we magically transported to her home her kiddush cup and Tanakh through the space-time continuum - without benefit of a DeLorean!

 

Some required reading:

The Covid-19 pandemic will be outlasted by the grief pandemic - and no one is preparing for it - an important article co-written by TBE's own Gabi Birkner (of "Modern Loss" fame)

An Urgent Call to Action - Sign the Petition Here

A Blessing for Fall Foliage

In this week's portion of Noah we read of the sign of the rainbow, which was given by God as a promise never to destroy the earth again.

 

The Bible believes that all natural events are invested with divine portent. The rainbow isn't the only natural phenomenon that is given some sacred meaning. Think of thunder, earthquakes, eclipses and, in this portion, floods. All of these are controlled by God and serve some historical or morally instructive purpose. They are signs of God's rulership over the natural order. The ancients gave the rainbow its name - in Hebrew it is simply a bow - because they considered it to be God's bow of war, but the Torah transformed it into a symbol of peace.

While we may no longer directly connect it to God, the sense of peace that we feel when we see a rainbow is analogous to how our ancestors must have felt. The storm is over, the threat is gone, and there will be no more great floods. How beautiful it must have appeared - and how beautiful it remains.

 

What prompted all of this contemplation on my part were a couple of drives that I made recently to enjoy the foliage of fall in New England.  So much has been taken from us this year, but I wouldn't let Covid take autumn away too.  So, with the Jewish holidays mercifully over by Columbus (Indigenous Peoples) Day this year, I spent a couple of free days driving around New England. I spent a full day in Litchfield County, checking out places like the old bridge at Lovers Leap Park, with its heartbreaking story of star-crossed lovers, a morality tale for our times. 

 

And as I checked out the spectacular, changing trees, New England's gift to the world, I wondered, Is there a blessing for foliage? As we learn from "Fiddler on the Roof," there is a blessing for everything - except this.  There's a blessing when witnessing flowering fruit trees in the spring. There's a blessing upon smelling fragrant shrubs, herbs and fruit.  There is a blessing upon seeing things of striking beauty. But there is no specific blessing for fall foliage.

 

The great columnist Russell Baker called October the one month "where man and nature are most nearly in harmony."  But Judaism knows nothing from October, And the Hebrew month we are now in is noted for Its lack of holidays.  It's called Marheshvan, "bitter Heshvan" for precisely that reason. 

 

The reason why there is no blessing for fall foliage is quite simple: our ancestors never witnessed it. Israel gets some color in the spring when the desert flowers bloom, but Israel's spring is noted more for its wonderful fresh smells than its appearance. And they don't have anything approaching what we call fall. I would assume that Babylonia's autumns are nothing to write home about either, which is why the Talmud is silent about the type of miracles nature has blessed us with this month.

 

If we were to compose a new blessing for fall foliage, it would need to emphasize how all of God's creations are unique and capable of producing exquisite beauty.  For months upon months the trees are barely distinguishable, each producing leaves of similar color and texture. Then suddenly, like Cinderella at the ball, each tree explodes in color, producing a collage that no other can duplicate, and then each bears its branches and goes to sleep for the winter at its own pace, not feeling any particular need to keep pace with the others.

 

People are like trees. We all possess the capacity for spectacular beauty. Rarely are we inclined to let these possibilities float to the surface we prefer to remain safely embedded in the crowd, protected by the masses. But each of us has his or her day, and like the tree, each of us knows when that day is at hand. When our time comes to take that leap into the unknown, alone, we summon up the strength to do so.

 

Trees also teach us about the nature of glory. It is fleeting and yet it is real. For half a year trees build up to this blazing show, growing leaves, biding their time, swaying to and fro, as if rehearsing for this one moment. And when that moment finally arrives, after all the anticipation and fanfare, it is over in a matter of a few days. One wonders whether it is all worth it. Or is it all just vanity of vanities, the fruitless striving to achieve immortality?

 

It is worth it. What would our lives be like without the fall?  Where would we be without the trees?  As fleeting as the show may be, it is equally spectacular, and the memories of fall live on long after the last leaves have been raked. The glory may be momentary, but the beauty lives on, through memory.

 

There is a lot we can learn from the spectacular colors of the trees; they are for us what the rainbow was for Noah.

 

So here is my prayer for the foliage:

 

Blessed are You O Lord our God who gives each of Your creations the potential for individual greatness and momentary glory, and the capacity to record that glorious moment in memory as a permanent inspiration.  Blessed are You, God, Who enriches our lives with spectacular color.

  

AJC Survey of American Jews

 

The American Jewish Committee's annual survey of American Jewish Opinion sheds light on the perspectives of American Jews regarding election-related issues, including the most important topics in their voting preference, which candidate would do a better job on key issues facing the U.S., and their choice in candidate.  See the JTA's write-up of the report, the AJC press release, and an analysis of the findings. Beyond the pure presidential politics, if you read the AJC analysis, one thing that is clear is that there is an ever widening gap between Orthodox and non-Orthodox American Jews and between American Jews and Israelis - and a decline in concern for Israel among American Jews.  

For comparison to prior years, see past AJC surveys of American Jewish opinion: 2019, 2018, 2017, and 2016. 

Here is the current survey:

 

My blog post from the Times of Israel:

Are Holocaust Analogies Ever Appropriate? Yes. Now.

In the wake of President Trump's refusal to disavow white supremacy at last month's first presidential debate, the Jewish Democratic Council released a powerful 30 second ad making the direct comparison between Trump's tactics and the rise of fascism in 1930s Germany.  Many cried foul, including the Anti-Defamation League, though prominent Jews like historian Deborah Lipstadt and former ADL director Abe Foxman sympathized with the ad's message.

So the question that has hovered over political debates and cocktail party conversations for decades once again came to the fore: Is it ever appropriate to use Holocaust analogies, and if so, when?

Yes it is appropriate, when done judiciously and respectfully and when necessary.

In my house, back when my kids were growing up, we had the Anne Frank Rule.

One night during a school vacation, my family was engaged in a stimulating round of "Apples to Apples" - that popular game where a rotating judge picks a descriptive card (like "refreshing," or "feh!") and other contestants select cards that they hope the judge will consider the best possible match (like "Passover" and "Alan Dershowitz"). Naturally, we were playing the Jewish version.

This particular game was one of our all-timers. It came down to the final hand, with my two sons and me each having a chance to win. With the game on the line, we doubled the stakes and pulled out two descriptive cards: "odd" and "offensive."

My sons played "Crown Heights," "my bedroom," "J-Date" and "Dennis Prager." I suppose any of those could have been the best match. But I held the trump card in my hand. You see, I had just drawn "Anne Frank." We have a little rule in my family, one suggested to us by a close friend. Whoever plays the "Anne Frank" card automatically wins that hand. No questions asked. The idea is that it would be offensive to Anne's memory, and by extension, all Holocaust victims, for Anne to lose to, say, "Joan Rivers" or "potato kugel."

But here, the exact opposite would be occurring. Anne would win for matching "odd" and "offensive." How could we shame her in this way?

I succumbed to that logic and pulled back the card. I lost the battle but won the war, as my family then engaged in a dialogue about how, just as Anne's is no normal card, the Holocaust is not just any old piece of the Jewish identity puzzle.

The "Anne Frank Rule" applies to our culture writ large just as it works for "Apples to Apples." Once the Holocaust is invoked in an argument, it usually is game, set and match-but only when the subject is raised at the proper time and by the proper person, and only if it is not overused. The Holocaust has been brought into so many political arguments, on all sides of the spectrum, that a new rule was created: Godwin's Law, stating that if a discussion continues long enough, inevitably someone or something will be compared to Hitler, which ends the discussion.

The Shoah offers numerous potential lessons that can be applied to contemporary situations, but it's debatable as to which analogies "work."  Comparing any concession in international negotiations to the appeasement at Munich, for instance, is a tactic that has been so overused that its potency has been drained.  Google "Netanyahu" and "Munich," for instance, and you get over 1,080.000 results.  And President Trump was totally out of line when he recently compared New York City's crackdown on Orthodox Jewish anti-lockdown demonstrations to Nazi-era roundups.

So the Holocaust card, like the Anne Frank card, must be played sparingly and with due deliberation.

But in the Trump era, all bets are off.

When the Holocaust-related term "Concentration Camps" was used in July of 2019, in describing the crowded and squalid detention facilities used by the Trump administration for asylum seekers and other refugees at the U.S.-Mexican border, the U.S. Holocaust Museum cried foul. I winced a bit myself. But in an essay for Slate, Yale historian Timothy Snyder explained how and when Holocaust analogies are not only appropriate, they are necessary.

"To forbid analogies makes the Holocaust irrelevant to future generations. If an American child can identify with Anne Frank, an American child might ask what it is like for immigrant children to be separated from their parents. To forbid analogies is to forbid learning, and to forbid empathizing . . . The point of historical comparisons is not to seek a perfect match- which can never be found-but to learn how to look out for warning signs."

Even Michael Godwin, the originator of Godwin's Law tweeted  after Charlottesville that his law had met its match in the Trump era. "By all means, compare these (expletive)-heads to the Nazis," he wrote. "Again and again. I'm with you."

The use of the Shoah in conversations about refugees or hate groups is completely appropriate, especially in light of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who were turned away at the door to freedom, including-it must be noted-the family of Anne Frank, whose father Otto sought to bring his family to America. Had she survived, Anne Frank would have turned 90 last year-and she could have lived a perfectly uneventful, happy life.

Holocaust analogies should be used sparingly, to be sure, but when used appropriately, there is no question as to who has the moral authority to play that card. Jews do.

I've never been a big fan of calling the Jews a "chosen people." Still, I never saw the concept as a signal of superiority, but rather as a summons and a responsibility, to bring Sinai's vision of holiness, justice and love to the world. Chosenness still calls on us to strive to repair the world, as it did at Sinai; but now our moral voice has been amplified 10 times over by historical experience. When Jews invoke Auschwitz, the world listens - because we were there. Many hate us for that, especially if they idealize fascism. Others admire us. But everyone listens.

We need to hold the Anne Frank card close to our vest, play it when necessary, and appreciate the moral power of its message.

And that message has never been more relevant than right now.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

 

Are Holocaust analogies ever right? Yes. Now.

OCT 20, 2020, 7:43 PM

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In the wake of President Trump’s refusal to disavow white supremacy at last month’s first presidential debate, the Jewish Democratic Council released a powerful 30 second ad making the direct comparison between Trump’s tactics and the rise of fascism in 1930s Germany.  Many cried foul, including the Anti-Defamation League, though prominent Jews like historian Deborah Lipstadt and former ADL director Abe Foxman sympathized with the ad’s message.

So the question that has hovered over political debates and cocktail party conversations for decades once again came to the fore: Is it ever appropriate to use Holocaust analogies, and if so, when?

Yes it is appropriate, when done judiciously and respectfully and when necessary. It is both appropriate and necessary with regard to Trump and Trumpism.

In my house, back when my kids were growing up, we had the Anne Frank Rule.

One night during a school vacation, my family was engaged in a stimulating round of “Apples to Apples”—that popular game where a rotating judge picks a descriptive card (like “refreshing,” or “feh!”) and other contestants select cards that they hope the judge will consider the best possible match (like “Passover” and “Alan Dershowitz”). Naturally, we were playing the Jewish version.

This particular game was one of our all-timers. It came down to the final hand, with my two sons and me each having a chance to win. With the game on the line, we doubled the stakes and pulled out two descriptive cards: “odd” and “offensive.”

My sons played “Crown Heights,” “my bedroom,” “J-Date” and “Dennis Prager.” I suppose any of those could have been the best match. But I held the trump card in my hand. You see, I had just drawn “Anne Frank.” We have a little rule in my family, one suggested to us by a close friend. Whoever plays the “Anne Frank” card automatically wins that hand. No questions asked. The idea is that it would be offensive to Anne’s memory, and by extension, all Holocaust victims, for Anne to lose to, say, “Joan Rivers” or “potato kugel.”

But here, the exact opposite would be occurring. Anne would win for matching “odd” and “offensive.” How could we shame her in this way?

I succumbed to that logic and pulled back the card. I lost the battle but won the war, as my family then engaged in a dialogue about how, just as Anne’s is no normal card, the Holocaust is not just any old piece of the Jewish identity puzzle.

The “Anne Frank Rule” applies to our culture writ large just as it works for “Apples to Apples.” Once the Holocaust is invoked in an argument, it usually is game, set and match—but only when the subject is raised at the proper time and by the proper person, and only if it is not overused. The Holocaust has been brought into so many political arguments, on all sides of the spectrum, that a new rule was created: Godwin’s Law, stating that if a discussion continues long enough, inevitably someone or something will be compared to Hitler, which ends the discussion.

The Shoah offers numerous potential lessons that can be applied to contemporary situations, but it’s debatable as to which analogies “work.”  Comparing any concession in international negotiations to the appeasement at Munich, for instance, is a tactic that has been so overused that its potency has been drained.  Google “Netanyahu” and “Munich,” for instance, and you get over 1,080.000 results.  And President Trump was totally out of line when he recently compared New York City’s crackdown on Orthodox Jewish anti-lockdown demonstrations to Nazi-era roundups.

So the Holocaust card, like the Anne Frank card, must be played sparingly and with due deliberation.

But in the Trump era, all bets are off.

When the Holocaust-related term “Concentration Camps” was used in July of 2019, in describing the crowded and squalid detention facilities used by the Trump administration for asylum seekers and other refugees at the U.S.-Mexican border, the U.S. Holocaust Museum cried foul. I winced a bit myself. But in an essay for Slate, Yale historian Timothy Snyder explained how and when Holocaust analogies are not only appropriate, they are necessary.

“To forbid analogies makes the Holocaust irrelevant to future generations. If an American child can identify with Anne Frank, an American child might ask what it is like for immigrant children to be separated from their parents. To forbid analogies is to forbid learning, and to forbid empathizing . . . The point of historical comparisons is not to seek a perfect match— which can never be found—but to learn how to look out for warning signs.”

Even Michael Godwin, the originator of Godwin’s Law tweeted  after Charlottesville that his law had met its match in the Trump era. “By all means, compare these (expletive)-heads to the Nazis,” he wrote. “Again and again. I’m with you.”

The use of the Shoah in conversations about refugees or hate groups is completely appropriate, especially in light of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who were turned away at the door to freedom, including—it must be noted—the family of Anne Frank, whose father Otto sought to bring his family to America. Had she survived, Anne Frank would have turned 90 last year—and she could have lived a perfectly uneventful, happy life.

Holocaust analogies should be used sparingly, to be sure, but when used appropriately, there is no question as to who has the moral authority to play that card. Jews do.

I’ve never been a big fan of calling the Jews a “chosen people.” Still, I never saw the concept as a signal of superiority, but rather as a summons and a responsibility, to bring Sinai’s vision of holiness, justice and love to the world. Chosenness still calls on us to strive to repair the world, as it did at Sinai; but now our moral voice has been amplified 10 times over by historical experience. When Jews invoke Auschwitz, the world listens— because we were there. Many hate us for that, especially if they idealize fascism. Others admire us. But everyone listens.

We need to hold the Anne Frank card close to our vest, play it when necessary, and appreciate the moral power of its message.

And that message has never been more relevant than right now.

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman is author, most recently, of “Embracing Auschwitz: Forging a Vibrant, Life-Affirming Judaism that Takes the Holocaust Seriously” (Ben Yehuda Press, 2020).

Sydney Kassel Zoom Bat Mitzvah

In this Moment: The Power of Prayer - The Mitzvah of Voting

 

In This Moment

 Shabbat-O-Gram, Oct 16, 2020

Mazal tov to Sydney Kassel, who becomes Bat Mitzvah this Shabbat morning

Shabbat Shalom!

All the holidays are finally behind us and we can now get into the "routine" of the fall season.  Right. Routine. Well, as routine as it can get, knowing that we are facing the very real concerns of a national Covid-19 resurgence that is inevitably creeping back to our area, despite the heroic efforts of so many to maintain responsible and safe practices.  

As you can see, we are in the "yellow zone," and statewide, an uptick in cases is most definitely occurring. This week we begin our fall b'nai mitzvah season.  For the next 9 weeks, we will celebrate b'nai mitzvah, and we will do so safely.  All of the services will be Zoom-based, with some of the b'nai mitzvah families opting to be based at home and others in the sanctuary.  But the operative word is "celebrate." I've been working with students on their speeches over recent weeks and I am happy to inform that they are all rock stars.  They "get it," and while they are naturally disappointed that things aren't going according to the original plan, they also sense their deeper obligation to the safety of their families and community as well as the historic call of this moment.  They will have something to tell their grandchildren about, and they understand that they are, for all of us, a symbol of hope and resilience.  They are embracing their moment.

I prepared a brief training video to help families navigate some of the challenges of services in these socially distanced times.

Torah Tutorial for B'nai Mitzvah Families

So join us on Zoom to celebrate with Sydney Kassel and her family tomorrow morning at 10, and every subsequent week when another student ascends our virtual Mount Sinai.  And join us for Kabbalat Shabbat tonight at 6.

And with the holidays behind us, I would love to meet with you for a Zoom coffee.  I'm setting up virtual office hours and would love to set up a time to talk!

The Power of Prayer - The Mitzvah of Voting

"I believe in the power of prayer," said Amy Coney Barrett this week in her prepared testimony. Jews do too. But prayer takes on different forms. We pray with words, but we also pray with our feet. We pray with our commitments and we pray with our ballots. As I dropped off my ballot this week at the Government Center, I recited a blessing, grateful to have lived to reach this moment, grateful for the freedom to vote, and aware of my obligation to fulfill the mitzvah of saving lives - including potentially my own. It was a sacred moment, a moment of pure prayer. Jerusalem, in a parking garage. This box was my Kotel, a note inserted into its crevice, a ballot containing my response to the Cry of our times, a Cry that demands action - action that we can all take, that all Americans must take. The fate of the nation will be determined in parking garages and school gyms and libraries, by long lines of voters waiting 3,5,8 hours or more to do something so simple, yet so earthshaking. It's all worthy of a blessing.

Blessing the Ballot

At times like these, it's important to remember that voting is a prime Jewish value expressing our deep belief in the power that we have to change the world.  Jews were deeply involved in both the women's suffrage movement of the 1920s and in the civil rights struggle of the 1960s, which, among other accomplishments, achieved the extension of the right to vote to African Americans.  Some early Jewish voting-rights advocates included Clara Lemlich who, in 1909, following the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, organized one of the most important strikes in American history and who then turned her energies to creating a working class women's suffrage organization; and Gertrude Weil, a leader of the North Carolina Equal Suffrage League beginning in 1915 and a crusader for voting rights and election reform.

I remain committed to the notion that religious institutions and clergy are best served (and are on more solid constitutional grounds) not endorsing candidates. Still, the urgency of this moment demands that clear and articulate values-based voices be heard.  It is in that spirit that I'll be engaging in a dialogue with conservative faith leaders in a panel next Thursday, on the Faith Community FB Group page of the Lincoln Project.  The letter that I wrote to you on November 10, 2016, holds as true today as it did then.  And the act of voting has become more of a mitzvah - and a prayer - than ever before.

Torah "To Go"

Chalk one up for disruptive innovation! Simhat Torah was always going to be the toughest Jewish holiday to celebrate during the pandemic. How can you circle the sanctuary with the Torah safely, with all the requisite dancing and singing and without sacrificing the kind of "ruach" (spirit) we've come to expect? Last Sunday, we circled the sanctuary - and the rest of our building - seven times in cars, while Katie Kaplan and Koby Hayon played and sang over our new FM radio station created specifically for this event, WTBE. People decorated their cars and waved Israeli flags. I must admit, at times I felt like was on the last float of the Macy's parade (the one with reindeer) but considering there will be no Macy's parade this year, even that seems appropriate. And to top it off, we distributed candy through a chute.

Click here for the Zoom video of the procession

Photos by Leslie Heyison

And this week, we start the Torah cycle all over again, from the book of Genesis.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman

Simhat Torah Drive-By Hakkafot

Simhat Torah processions in a safe, distanced way!

On Rosh Hashanah, the Rabbi Took a Knee (Times of Israel, featured Op-Ed)

 

On Rosh Hashanah, the rabbi took a knee

Everything changed with that knee on the neck, and our stiff-necked people will rise up for justice; we will rise up to repair the world

OCT 9, 2020, 3:50 PM

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On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, I did something I never would have considered doing before this crazy year — and yet it was a gesture that felt perfectly natural and logical, given what we’ve experienced. So natural, in fact, that I wonder how many rabbis did the same thing.

I took a knee, to demonstrate an unwavering solidarity with the most important social justice movement of our time, Black Lives Matter.

(Courtesy)

Yes, Black Lives Matter  – and it matters that Jews unequivocally share in this moment of activism. As author Ibram X. Kendi has stated, we can’t simply be “not racist” – we need to be anti-racist.

Some people don’t like that slogan Black Lives Matter, retorting, “All lives matter.”  And it’s true. Every human life is of infinite value.

But we need to start with the group that has been victimized systemically for centuries, the group with the knee on the neck. What has long been implied now needs to be stated clearly – When we say ‘Black Lives Matter,” what we are really saying is, “Black Lives Matter, TOO!” 

It’s a very Jewish thing: The first principle of rabbinical interpretation is called a Kal Vachomer. And this is a classic Kal Vachomer – an a fortiori argument where the “lesser” proves the greater.  Black lives should absolutely not be considered of lesser value than other lives, but they unfortunately have been – even enshrined as such in the three-fifth clause of the U.S. Constitution.

So, raise your thumbs in yeshivish discourse and say: “IF…. Black lives matter, lives that have been routinely discarded and abused…IF Black lives really do matter, then so do all those other groups who have not been so abused.”

It’s a strange logic, but, in a sad way, it works.  It starts with Black lives, because they have been most oppressed for the longest.  But it doesn’t end there.  It’s about changing the way people think about human dignity.  Once we correct the record, once we say that Black lives are not worth just 3/5 the value of a white life, then we can move on to confirming the equal value of all lives. Once we own up to the 4,743 lynchings that have taken place in this country, the stench of Jim Crow, the murders, the mass incarceration, and the systemic racism that is still rendering my neighbors’ lives less valuable than mine even with regard to Covid, we will then come to recognize that all lives have dignity, and that matters. (Note that during the Holocaust, a Jewish life was deemed to not be worth even one cent!)

That’s why Jews should support Black Lives Matter – to show how we can be and must be firm allies to our neighbors in writing the wrongs of history.  And now is the precisely the time to do it.

It’s about shared suffering and empathy.  It’s about John Lewis, whose speech to Emory graduates rang through the Capitol Rotunda while his body lay in state, when he recalled the three young people who were murdered by the Klan in that fateful summer in Mississippi, James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, two white Jews and a non-Jewish African American. And they did not die in Vietnam, Lewis said, or in Eastern Europe or Central America; but right here, in America, simply trying to help all our citizens to participate in the democratic process.

After what we saw happen to George Floyd and others, how could we not be anything but completely supportive – and mobilized?

I’m fully aware that some Black leaders don’t like Jews. It goes both ways, I must add – and we must be the bridge. You can have your Lewis Farrakhans and Meir Kahanes and I’ll take John Lewis – and Elijah Cummings, whose Youth Program in Baltimore has sent over 200 teens to Israel over the past twenty years.

The Jewish Council of Public Affairs (JCPA) represents nearly 150 Jewish community relations councils, agencies and denominations. This is no radical group. It is as mainstream as it gets. Here’s what they say about Black Lives Matter and concerns raised about anti-Semitism and Israel.

BLM’s 14 Guiding Principles and its 2020 goals and focus – indeed, its entire website – makes no mention of Israel, and neither does its platform or its 2020 legislative agenda.  There are, invariably, some Israel critics, even anti-Semites, among those leading or supporting the fight for racial justice in this country, as there are among any comparably large group of people. But this fact should not preclude participation in in the fight for equality in the U.S. …These positions do not represent the entire movement, only a small group.

There are those who want to divide us – and they are primarily neither Black nor Jewish, nor, I should add, Jews of color, as ethnic classification is never binary. There are those who want to lure Jews into distrusting Blacks and other minorities.  There are those who try to push the victim button that has infected Jews with fear and chauvinism.

Don’t fall for it – and don’t let your elderly relatives fall for it, they who are the most susceptible to emotional manipulation.  Share these words with them:

Hello Bubbe and Zayde! Good Yontiff! You look great, Kenahora! How’s the weather? 

Now listen to me. The most Jewish thing we can do is embrace this moment of coming together and righting the wrongs of the past. Don’t listen to the haters. 

We have faced anti-Semitism from all sides, from the left and from the right.  But there is no moral equivalence here.   We know that the primary danger comes not from the Black community or Black Lives Matter, but from those who killed our people at prayer in Pittsburgh and Poway and who killed Blacks in churches in Charleston and Birmingham.  Those murders all have the same return address.

Let us not be distracted.  The D.H.S  has declared White Supremacy to be “the most persistent and lethal threat” to the US through 2021. White supremacists have used the strategy of racist “divide and conquer” from the beginning of time – but it won’t work now. Their time has run out. It ran out during those 8 minutes and 46 seconds when George Floyd was murdered on May 25.

In that moment, the call was heard, from the flagpoles of NASCAR to the Washington Football Team. From Fort Bragg to the NBA bubble, to Aunt Jemima’s kitchen. In that moment, the greatest sin of all time began, at long last, to unravel.

Everything changed with that knee on the neck. And our stiff-necked people will rise up for justice; we will rise up to repair the world.

But first, we will take a knee in solidarity.

Which is exactly what I did on the first day of Rosh Hashanah.

And then I proclaimed:

We now have our knee on racism’s neck. And if we pursue our mission with determination and love, there is nothing that the White Supremacists and their enablers will be able to do about it.

—

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman’s new book is Embracing Auschwitz: Forging a Vibrant, Life-Affirming Judaism that Takes the Holocaust Seriously