Speak Truth to Power

The Old Synagogue stood on Rosenstrasse, at the edge of the oldest part of Berlin. A small park and quaint buildings form a typical Berlin thoroughfare. Here, on February 28, 1943, an unprecedented demonstration began. The Aryan wives of Jewish husbands protested to prevent the deportation of their husbands.

Such protests were not only illegal but quite dangerous. Dozens of Jewish men were detained in a final Nazi attempt to clear Berlin of all Jews. After a week of protests, dozens were released from custody before being sent to certain death at Auschwitz.

These women are remembered in a 2003 movie for their heroism. There is a memorial on Rosenstrasse dedicated to these protestors. But I wonder if the world should celebrate these women. By definition, speaking truth to power is not merely calling out a government for a slight or setback. Speaking truth to power implies a moral or ethical motivation to benefit a greater good. The women of Rosenstrasse were brave, perhaps courageous, but their efforts were limited to their own self-interests. Never had there been any such demonstrations for the other 55,000 Jews deported from Berlin by the Nazis.

In Torah, we learn about speaking back to those who are powerful. Balak, King of the Moabites, summoned the prophet Balaam to come from Mesopotamia to curse the Hebrews. Three noteworthy conversations take place. In the first, Balaam seeks God’s approval but misunderstands the reply.  In the second, Balaam is embarrassed by his talking donkey, who calls out his master for being an “ass.” In the third conversation, Balaam is forced to confront Balak’s frustration and wrath. Balaam tries to explain that he is only able to speak the words fashioned in his mouth by God. Instead of curses, Balaam blesses the people.

Each of these conversations is a way of addressing authority – between a prophet and God, between a donkey and its rider, and between a servant and his royal master. Only when Balaam reveals God’s honest truth to Balaak is he speaking truth to power. His words honor God.

Speaking truth to power became a fashionable phrase among progressive groups in America. With moral certainty, protesters object to war, injustice, and discrimination. The history of free speech reaches far beyond these holy pursuits. Americans have a certain enthusiasm for degrading those in power. Today many people delight in the upstart or firebrand who speaks as a victim but is really a bully. Ultimately, we may have lost the distinction between the holy act of speaking truth to power and merely speaking out.

In the most recent hearings of the January 6 Committee, administration insiders have come forward to speak of their last-ditch efforts to curtail a violent overthrow of the United States. We applaud their willingness to speak out. Yet, I worry that we give them too much credit. These newly designated heroes waited far too long before standing up for our nation. Perhaps their last-ditch efforts were as much for their own self-interests as it was for our nation.

It takes courage to speak out publicly. The act of protesting to the leader or president is what makes a person seem heroic. As Jews, it is not sufficient to be heroic. Rather our tradition asks that we be ongoing spokespeople for what is moral and ethical. Pursuing our self-interests is not sufficient. The perilous times we live in demand that call out injustice as a practice or prayer, for the sake of peace, for the sake of our democracy.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

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The Torah of Germany

The current United States Supreme Court again ruled in ways antagonistic to universal rights. The Court curtailed the Environmental Protection Agency’s authority to set standards on climate-changing greenhouse gas emissions for existing power plants. After the horrifying decision endangering women’s health, the Court has moved on to jeopardizing our well-being and our planet. Choices on protecting the planet and expanding individual rights are as old as the Torah. With Torah there is hope.

Some countries are leaders in protecting rights and the environment. Germany is one such country. While on vacation in Berlin, I saw a homeless man lying on the street. Our guide told us that the man was homeless by choice. The German government guarantees shelter for anyone in need. Their social welfare system works well – free childcare, excellent health care, and a dynamic social security system. Environmental advocacy is ubiquitous. When buying a bottle of water at a kiosk the vendor made certain that I would return the bottle for a refund.

As I read Parshat Chukat in Torah this week, I found cautionary tales for our times. After Miriam died, the miraculous water source that sustained the Hebrews dried up. God instructed Moses to speak to a rock and draw water. Instead, a curmudgeonly Moses hit the rock and chastised his people. Water gushed from the rock. Poor Moses was denied entry into the promised land for his faithlessness.

An environmental advocate might offer a modern understanding of this story. As the planet warms, extreme droughts are underway. To save the planet, thoughtful and sustained water management will be essential. Striking out will not suffice.

A few chapters later, Moses is instructed to gather the people. Where they gathered, the leaders of various tribes together dug wells. With a spirit of cooperation, a source of water was released. Everyone benefitted from the joint efforts.

Economic cooperation and environmental collaboration are hallmarks of Germany’s successes today. These values mimic the arc of the Torah’s description of how to move from a water crisis to coordinated environmental management. Moreover, Germany is committed to equal participation by all people in social, political, and economic life – regardless of gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, skin color, disability, or other traits.

This year, even as we celebrate America’s birthday we grumble about America’s turn toward extremism. I suggest that we look to both Torah and Germany for inspiration on how to resuscitate our Democracy. Germany’s take on Torah is expanding freedom and preserving our planet. It may strike you as odd that the words Torah and Germany are used for the same proposition. Yet, it gives me hope that any desperate situation can be turned toward the good.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

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A Little Rebellion

Have you had the urge to shout, “to hell with this” or “enough is enough!”? Now is the time to raise your inside voice and start acting. Our personal anguish does little to effectuate change. We need to band together for a little rebellion.

Thomas Jefferson wrote that “a little rebellion now and then is a good thing.” Jefferson understood rebellion as a way of holding governments accountable. Even an unsuccessful rebellion serves to establish an encroachment on the rights of disadvantaged people. The challenge is to discern which rebellions are necessary and holy.

In Torah, Korach and 250 leaders of his generation spoke against Moses’ leadership. The rebels claimed that Moses elevated himself above God’s holy people. At first glance, their argument appeals to democratic principles. Upon further examination, their claims were baseless. While the mob claimed to be proponents of equality, I believe that they really wanted to usurp power from Moses and Aaron. The rebel leaders failed the test of the fire pans. Thereafter, their minions were swallowed up by the earth.

Another unholy rebellion took place in Washington, DC on January 6, 2021. The righteousness of that rebellion fails the test of our constitutional system of government. Those rebels are judged by their emails and texts rather than firepans. If justice prevails, many will be swallowed up by the legal system and incarcerated.

We who love democracy and protect human rights bristle at the idea of rebellion. We are horrified to think of conflict to protect these principles. Yet, there are times when a little rebellion is needed to restore dignity and freedom. The rebellion we need will be a storming of the polling stations and not the Capitol.  The insurrection we want will redirect the focus of government toward the people’s aspirations and away from special interests.  The uprising we require will restore balance to our nation and diminish incivility. The little rebellion is already underway.

Instead of taking up arms, take out your credit card. Support not-for-profit organizations that seek to safeguard individual rights. Instead of watching the protests, march in demonstrations. Share your optimism with friends and encourage their participation as well. Together, we can fashion a little rebellion that will protect our democratic and free nation.

Evan J. Krame

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Are We Pusillanimous?

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

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Separation Anxiety

I offered my farewell address last week. Two years ago I was elected President of the Washington Board of Rabbis. Back then the Covid pandemic already seemed interminable. What a challenging time for all of us, especially the clergy. The challenges of spiritual leadership were magnified by our disorientation and alienation. Rabbis needed peers to help them through that wilderness. I stepped up to lead the way.

This week in Torah, we read a story that encapsulates the angst of separation. Moses’ father-in-law, Hobab (also known as Yitro) accompanied the people after meeting at Mt. Sinai, about two years time. Hobab was the high priest of the Midianite people. He was an ally but not a “convert.”

The cloud lifted, the trumpets blared and the Hebrews readied to march. Moses said to Hobab “We are setting out for the place of which God has said, ‘I will give it to you.’ Come with us and we will be generous with you; for God has promised to be generous to Israel.” (Numbers 10:29).  Instead, Hobab turned to leave. Commentators suggest that Hobab understood there was no place for his Midianite clan in Israel. Moses pleaded with Hobab to stay, again offering to share the land. There the conversation ends. Exit Hobab stage right.

The text says that Moses hoped that Hobab would be a guide through the wilderness. I believe that a deeper connection had formed. Moses longed to continue the personal relationship with a fellow spiritual leader who had also served as a mentor.

Through the lens of this story, I thought about changes in the way we work and the effect on relationships. From home offices, we don’t have a personal experience of the people with whom we work. Zoom only offers limited interaction configured in boxes. Between the safety of staying at home and the conveniences of technology, our work lives are similarly encapsulated. Yes, we may get more time to hike and bike, binge watch, and binge drink, but less quality time with our professional peers and workmates. As work is often the greatest daily source of stress, camaraderie can be a source of comfort. As we near the end of the wilderness of this pandemic, we might reevaluate the benefits of sustaining a collegial and mutually supportive work environment. Moreover, we can appreciate our leaders’ need to be supported by peers.

Moses knew the challenges of leadership and understood the benefit of having colleagues. Whether examining the life of the first “Rabbi” or leading a group of 157 local rabbis, my admiration for religious leaders has grown. Send some love to a rabbi you know who has had to pivot and persevere through a challenging time. Especially those that lead us through the wilderness on their own.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

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The Public Theater

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

 

 

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Don’t Shut Down

I am trying not to shut down emotionally. The sense of overwhelming pushes on me like a bully’s knee on my back. The crush of despair begins with numbers, compresses with names, and swamps us with images.

The current wave started to crash with the war in Ukraine, continued through the shootings in Buffalo, and flattened me with the murder of school children in Texas. As is my practice, I tried to think about these episodes through a Jewish lens. The opening of the book of Numbers, BaMidbar, which we read this coming week offered some framing.

The book begins with the requirement of a census.  We count people. Thereafter, we group people with names. The numbers of Hebrews counted are associated with the names of clans. Only after some framing does the book of Numbers veer off into some of the most colorful depictions of people we have in all of Torah.

Each morning, as if a ritual, I watch Morning Joe. One commentator followed another. First, they offered numbers.  More children die in this country from gun violence than by any other means. Over 100 people die from gun violence each day in America. Then there was a discussion of the individuals who died, we shifted from Ukrainian names and then the names of people in Buffalo to this week naming teachers and children in Texas.

I was able to hold onto my emotions through numbers and names. But the images, the color commentaries, and the personal stories had the effect of shutting down my emotional response.  Then I watched President Biden exhibit bitterness and sadness during his comments on the Texas massacre. Senator Chris Murphy pleaded with his Republican colleagues to enact gun control laws. Deep emotion can be directed toward action.

On the other hand, emotion can impede action. When I was in Israel recently, our group met with a Palestinian journalist. He shared the tortured path of his family, disconnected from each other by borders and walls. Yet, he shared that he was no longer wedded to his anger. He described anger as an impediment to progress and a detriment to his own health.

In the United States, too many are operating from a place of anger. It is the anger of displacement.  It is the rage of oppression. The fury is most often directed at unnamed others – people with other skin colors, people who follow different faiths, and people from other countries. Yet, the anger doesn’t stop with the other. The anger becomes antagonism, leading to confrontation rather than cooperation.

I am learning that shutting down emotionally is counterproductive. But indignation and anger, on any side of an issue, will not bring peace anywhere. Emotions must be applied in a productive manner. And because emotions are so powerful, each of us will be challenged to take a breath, notice our emotions, and select those that help us resolve differences and which can motivate positive change. The numbers, the names, and the stories are now ours to carry forward. Let’s do so with productive emotional energy. Tamp down the anger and bring on the holy.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

 

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A Nation of Caring

Jews are voracious judges of other Jews. We critique each other’s foods and fashion. Sometimes we discriminate and denigrate each other. But if any other person, group, or nation endangers a Jew, we are united in purpose. When Russia invaded Ukraine, Israel had the opportunity to demonstrate unequivocally that all of Israel cares one for the other. This week, I’m on a mission to determine if Israel seized the opportunity or left it knocking at the door.

In Torah this week, God instructs us to redeem a fellow Jew who has been indentured. In the ancient economy, when an individual could not pay their debts, that person would lose their freedom. Torah offers an economy of belonging. Our anointed group is built on a foundation of mutual responsibility.

The modern global economy of ideas reimagines responsibility. Humanitarian concerns are less particular to any group or faith. For example, Israel has an international emergency response team. Israel’s team is always ready to fly off to help at the site of any disaster. Locally, our Jewish Federation has relief campaigns raising funds for hurricane victims, people imperiled by economic downturns, and war refugees. We know how to transform concern into active caring.

When Russia invaded Ukraine, Israel’s special teams arrived to distribute medical supplies. Israeli teams quietly rescued and recovered injured and ill people. At the same time, Israeli Prime Minister Naftali Bennett announced that Israel would  “embrace” Jews fleeing the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and allow refugees who aren’t eligible for citizenship to stay until the situation has “calmed.”

Those who read Torah understood that the first obligation as Jews is to take care of each other when in dire straits. Prioritizing our pledge as Jews to redeem each other, sets us in opposition to modern humanist approaches. Critics questioned the morality of Israel’s preferential treatment of Jews from Ukraine.

I’m off to Israel for a few days. The Jewish Federation has subsidized a trip for rabbis to meet with Ukrainian refugees and learn more about Israel’s response to this war. We will also discuss efforts to bring additional Ethiopians of Jewish heritage to Israel. Finally, we will meet with residents of Lod and Ramle to discuss tensions in towns with mixed Jewish and Arab Israelis.

Foremost in my mind, I will be trying to find balance. We will experience how we Jews honor Torah’s directive that Jews care for each other, in the creation of a Jewish state and in the law of return. At the same time, I will ask if we are also successfully recognizing that every single person is a child of one Creator, all deserving of life and dignity. As I report back, I will offer my analyses of how Israel is both a nation of priests that cares for each other and for every person in jeopardy. I’m hoping to find that all Jews are defined not merely by our caring but by how well we act on our responsibility to honor all human life.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

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Getting the most out of muffins

I was about to write a thoughtful essay about finding spiritual strength in troubling times. And then I went to the kitchen to grab a snack. I split an English muffin and place it in the toaster. Just then I had an insight. My search for transcendence began in my kitchen.

I had been reading Parshat Emor. Aaron, the High Priest, was told to collect oil to keep the lamps continuously burning. Also, Aaron was directed to display twelve loaves of bread each week. I thought about how we always leave a light on in our kitchen and the food on the counter. Two under-appreciated blessings were in front of me. First was the luxury of lights being ready and always available. The second was the display of English muffins, neatly arranged and packaged. Our kitchen was a modern replica of the holy temple.

The Priests lit the oil lamps and displayed the shewbreads of the bet Hamikdash solely to honor God. They were not on public display. Yet, these holy accouterments required collaboration and effort. The oil for the lamps and flour for the bread were contributions from many people. The lighting of the lamps and the baking of the bread required the work of the priestly hands. So too, the electricity we enjoy and the foods we eat reach us only after the efforts of many. We can undertake the priestly role. When we turn on lights or set out food to eat,  the priestly act is to remember God as the true source.

An additional instruction to Aaron was to place the candelabrum and shewbreads on “pure tables”. Curious, I wondered what makes a table pure? In Talmud, the Rabbis explore the purity of objects. Movable items, like a table, can contact impurity. Moreover, the tables were not Ikea pressboard, but solid wood covered with gold. Even ordinary items like a table can be made worthy of God’s notice. Then came my next insight.

What is ordinary, even in a kitchen, has the potential for holiness. Only two things are required. First, keep the kitchen pure. I don’t merely suggest cleaning surfaces. We wash hands before eating, compost scraps, buy healthy foods, avoid food waste, and recycle plastics. Waste, pesticides, and excess packaging are the impurities of today. While engaging in essential daily activities like shopping, food preparation, and eating, we should be mindful of these impurities.

The second is to treat our possessions as if they should be pleasing to God. We don’t have to display our possessions for the world’s approval. Rather, consider if your belongings are worthy of God’s notice. Do you buy free trade products? Or prefer something cheap made by underage labor over items made in safe work environments? Do you treat your possessions with respect or as disposables? How we engage in commerce is a daily opportunity to bring Godliness into our homes.

I found holiness in my kitchen, eating an English muffin. I elevate my spirituality when I avoid the impurities in this world and make purchases worthy of God’s notice. If we all did the same, we would be a nation of priests, just as the Torah desires.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

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The Jewish American Express Card

Back in the ‘Nineties, the slogan of American Express was “membership has its privileges.” Just pay your dues to join a community of card-carrying consumers. To emphasize your participation in a relationship with Amex,  your card (in green or gold or the most precious black) states the year you became a member. Today, Amex does not focus on connection. “Belonging” is less important in the 21st century. The same societal pattern can be seen in  Judaism today.

Marketing adjusts to the times, and the emphasis on the collective has given way to focusing on the individual. American Express offered a new slogan for the 2020s: “don’t live life without it.” Meanwhile, ads for the green card encourage us to say, “I got this.” With Amex, you and your hard plastic card are living your best life! And if you are looking for the American Express community, you can find it as an online forum.

The shift from membership to individualism reverberates through the ways we “do Jewish.” Foundational principles of Judaism reflect our responsibility of one person to another.  Parshat kedoshim, in the middle of the Torah, emphasizes the holiness of caring for others. The Jewish innovation was to create a relationship with God by accepting our personal responsibility to other people. When we honor parents, offer food to the poor, stay honest in business, and pay our debts, we connect with God.

Knowing that every Jew is responsible, one for another makes clear that Jewish membership has its privileges. The currency for credit in this holy community is the loving-kindness we offer. Judaism is a global network, and the only transaction fee is your willingness to expand goodness in the world.

The challenge is that modern society emphasizes efficiency and individualization. We rely upon the internet for information more than we discuss ideas with other people. People are free to move to Bay Ridge or the Bay Area, diminishing lasting attachments to a local community. Values are shaped by what we view on Netflix, perhaps more than by what we read in Torah. Accordingly, Jews are desensitized to the Jewish membership structure which builds on personal connections.

In addition, two years of covid lockdowns and masks broke the back of community spirit. Zoom and YouTube could not sustain a veritable sense of belonging. I don’t feel a part of the Jewish community while sitting in pajamas watching Shabbat service on a laptop.

Our challenge is to remember that Jewish membership is a privilege. Unlike American Express, you can be a member even if you don’t pay any dues. A healthier Judaism will focus on the benefits of membership. Taking on the responsibility of caring, we activate the purchasing power of the Jewish membership card. Your participation in a caring community prompts a network of holy transactions. You can log in to your account for a statement of transactions when you study Torah.

That is the Jewish enterprise, being of service to others. And Torah instructs us to carry that membership card and remember, “don’t leave home without it.”

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

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