Talking heads on television refer to breaking news as unprecedented. Their use of language belies history. The United States was founded in an insurrection. Both inspired and immoral revolts recurred in the years after. More uprisings will certainly follow. What is uncertain is how good people respond.

Insurrections are as old as Torah. Do you remember the revolt of Korach? After years of miracles and desert travels, Korach leads a revolt against Moses. In Parshat Pinchas, God ordered a census of the Hebrews. During the detailed count, Torah notes that the descendants of Korach did not die. Korach’s legacy is that his inheritors of rebellion will rise again.

The breaking news on cable television will report the next revolt. “History shows that both those who do not learn history and those who do learn history are doomed to repeat it,” wrote Nicholas Claremont. The question posed is how we minimize the threat of future violent, anti-democratic insurrections.

Good people forget these lessons. We share in the responsibility when we stand idly by. Recall these words written about the Shoah. “Thou shalt not be a victim, thou shalt not be a perpetrator, but, above all, thou shalt not be a bystander,” wrote Yehuda Bauer. “For evil to flourish, it only requires good men to do nothing,” wrote Simon Wiesenthal.

The Congressional hearings on January 6, 2021, are only the beginning of the necessary process of quelling the latest insurrection. Public truth-telling is the beginning of recovering this nation’s balance. Recording testimony is a start. It must be combined with our response – at the ballot box, in the halls of government, and by teaching our children.

The descendants of Korach did not die. They will not die until good people pay greater attention. Otherwise, the history of insurgency will repeat. The need for moral outrage and the demand for justice never ends.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

While watching Real Time with Bill Maher, I learned the word pusillanimous. Do you know it? It means showing a lack of courage. In Torah, the Hebrew people committed a great offense when they were too timid and too afraid to act. Now as then, we need the courage to challenge our foes.

In Torah, Moses sent twelve spies to scout out the land of Canaan. The land of milk and honey, promised to them by God, was already occupied by hostile tribes. Ten of the spies panicked. Those spies displayed all the courage of the knights in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, who ignominiously retreat from battle to the cry of “run away!” The pusillanimous scouts infected the people with their fear. The other two brave scouts, Joshua and Caleb, could not exhort them to action.

Democracy-loving leadership in our country may be suffering from a similar malaise. To me, the progressive leaders seem pusillanimous. The January 6 Select Committee has scouted out the land and their reporting is frightening. However, the Committee politely defers to the Justice Department and law enforcement to decide if criminal charges should be brought. We will still await legal action even after the Hearing Committee’s report is done. To set the country right we need a true and unflinching commitment to incarcerate the insurrectionist leaders. I want to hear that cause championed by our elected representatives.

On the other hand, Trump loyalists have never been circumspect. Trump’s first electoral victory rose on the chant of “lock her up.” Trump’s frustrated minions in 2020 offered the battle cry of a stolen election. The struggle for our republic looms large and menacing.

Democrats have not been as daring.  I fear that Democrats’ lugubrious pace might mean the death of our democracy. We are only months away from mid-term elections that will likely shift the majority in Congress from Democrat to Republican. Frightful clashes, political and bellicose, may ensue.

In the wilderness of Sinai, the Hebrew people were punished for their faithlessness with 38 more years of wandering. In our United States today, those devoted to democracy and human rights must demand action and eschew reticence. Otherwise, we might all be condemned to decades of wandering through a wasteland of autocratic governance.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

Joe Papp, the great theater impresario, produced plays about outsiders. His devotion to the outcast or interloper helped create a new era on Broadway. To champion the underdog, it helps to feel like an underdog.  Joe Papp was such an outsider, a product of his Jewish identity.

To be Jewish is to step into a tradition of being an outsider. Torah had its own mechanisms of creating outsiders. In parshat Naso, we read various ways Torah created “othering” categories. Favored persons might be priests or those who are pure. The priests placed impure people outside the camp.

If you wanted to achieve greater purity, you could expand your “otherness.” In Torah, you might become a Nazir. A Nazir demonstrated tremendous commitment, living an ascetic life in pursuit of a new “insider” status. Joseph Papp was a modern-day seeker of holiness, in the lineage of a Nazir. While not an ascetic, Papp was wholly devoted to a holy cause.

Papp understood that every person has had their nose pressed to the glass, looking inside and feeling like an “other.” The more obvious reasons might be sexual identity, skin color, or immigrant status. Papp intuited that if we approached the world from our own place of differentiation, he could foster understanding and thoughtfulness.

Joe Papp hid his Jewish identity as a young man. Yussel became Joe and Papirofsky became Papp. In his early career, he told no one he was Jewish. A notorious workaholic, Papp began building what became the Public Theater in Manhattan, far off-Broadway, operating as a non-profit organization. That stage showcased the stories of outsiders because of Papp’s worldview. In particular, the Public was a venue for actors of color to embody roles traditionally played by white actors. The theater-going public learned to appreciate the world through the eyes of an “other.”

Papp turned to Shakespeare early on. His first Shakespearean play in 1962 was The Merchant of Venice. Shylock the moneylender is the quintessential outsider. A Jewish man limited by his identity trying to protect his family and his capital. But Shylock is also portrayed as sinister and craven. The Jewish community of New York protested the choice of play. It was then that Papp made public his own Jewish identity, declaring he would personally direct the play and that he would not produce a play that betrayed his own Jewishness.

The Merchant of Venice, featuring George C. Scott, was a triumph for the Public Theater and a turning point for Joe Papp. Shylock’s anger was portrayed not as the arbitrary venom of a congenitally spiteful man, but rather as a product of Jewish suffering inflicted by anti-Semites and their allies. In Papp’s hands, the scornfulness morphed into an appreciation of the outsider.

Papp was the “nazir” of the New York theater world. He elevated his outsider status, with devotion to a holy cause – to connect every theater goer with the fullness of society. His success can be measured by the broad public awareness his plays gave to racism, the Vietnam war, homophobia, and sexism. The Public theater first brought us The Normal Heart, Hair, and For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf.

The lesson for us today is to seek out the stories of others. We can begin by acknowledging our own sense of being other. From knowing our own frailty, we can better hear their stories – trans people, new immigrants, our African-American neighbors, and our Asian co-workers. We too can expand understanding and kindness if we allow ourselves to be challenged to see the world through other eyes.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame