Abusers of power undermine our society. Whether politicians or rabbis, those entrusted with power often betray their privileges. Thereafter comes the “conversation” about abuse, power and privilege. The problem is made worse by the internet which gives rise to new and more complex power dynamics. Between the right to free speech and the privilege of an internet connection, lies a tortured path. When powerful people abuse their privileges, we can easily call them to task on social media and listservs. Yet, using the internet to correct, warn or reprimand is also fraught with abuses.

The laws in parshat Mishpatim, instruct us to guard our speech, especially when it comes to questions of guilt or innocence. Exodus Ch. 23:1.  Do not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness: 23:7 Keep far from a false charge; do not bring death on those who are innocent and in the right, for I will not acquit the wrongdoer. Judaism offers a deep appreciation for the power of words. Talmud teaches that words created the universe and words can destroy a life. Similarly, our testimony against another person might alter the course of their lives.

In recent decades, the internet gave a new dimension to the power of speech as an instrument of justice. Each of us is empowered as an individual media outlet, able to blog, vlog, and podcast, or share ideas widely on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Reddit and more.  Given these platforms, we can express our opinions with great effect. Our pronouncements can ascribe guilt to people whether we know them or not, assessing them along the spectrum from rudeness to felonious behavior.

In response to people who have caused harm, the internet can be a tool to warn others, create community among victims, and share resources. Yet, those who undertake to share concerns, criticism or condemnations also have obligations to limit their words. In every case, each of us should stop before posting to ask, as Bernard Meltzer urges – “Is it true?” ”Is it kind?” ”Is it necessary?” – and add, “is it helpful?”

That pre-broadcast analysis of what we share on the internet is a holy endeavor. The first step is to be a fact checker.  We know that gossip, whether spoken or posted, may contain kernels of truth but ultimately is not factual.  Before speaking against another person, we should be certain of our facts.

The second step is to be caring enough to even consider the feelings of the person whose actions offend us. Without giving solace to a person who has caused harm, can we also demonstrate some concern for another person despite their doing a bad thing? As Bryan Stevenson likes to say, we are “more than the worst thing we have done.” Within Stevenson’s creed is the assumption that each of us is an imperfect creation, likely to behave badly at times.

The third step is perhaps the most difficult. We may feel justified in sharing our thoughts, and even be aggrieved by a third party’s offense. Yet, our own sense of satisfaction does not give the penumbra of necessity to our posts.

Finally, I would add, ask if your words provide a warning of harm to avert further offenses, or provides information likely to instruct proper behavior.

And our personal assessment or attacks on others should take into context the offending person’s position. All people make mistakes and sometimes abuse their power. The assessment of persons entrusted with power, such as political leaders, teachers, doctors, and rabbis demands a higher level of public scrutiny.

The response to people whose bad behaviors caused deep or repeated harm demands appropriate public warning. Yet, consider if your additional warnings are needed and deserved. When is our carping about another person’s inappropriate or even unlawful behavior an exercise in serving our own needs, licking our wounds, rather than benefitting the recipients of our postings?

Every person will at some point act improperly or even illegally. You would not want every infraction announced and revisited. Accordingly, we should be circumspect about our public criticisms of others.  How we are treated when we err or abuse our power may reflect how we have treated others. Ultimately, the golden rule reminds us that how we regard using electronic media is how we may be regarded in turn on Facebook and listservs.

Jewish law offers no specific instruction on the dangerous confluence of social media and the abuse of power. The power to communicate using a laptop is a privilege we should regard as holy. Perhaps we need a Torah of the internet teaching the right use of privileges and the righteous use of power.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

All people complain. Jews elevated complaining to a holy art. Just read the Torah. The text is peppered with complaints. Perhaps Torah anticipated the “gig” economy, where the world revolves around the threat of complaints. I’m not complaining, but . . .

Just after exiting Egypt, complaining began. Scared and untethered, the people wondered why they had left Egypt to die in the desert. In parshat Beshalach, before and after the miracle of crossing the sea people complained to Moses. What could be the Torah’s purpose in sharing this unpleasant side of the newly freed slaves? I believe that the Torah demonstrates that faithlessness is the underpinning complaining. Among the newly freed slaves, fidelity to God was tenuous. Whether chased by Egyptian troops or shadowed by hunger, the people lost conviction and hope. To demonstrate that point, the Torah preserved their complaints forever.

Yet, Rabbi Irwin Kula taught that complaining can also be understood as a yearning for a better world. The barren wilderness of Sinai was certainly not as attractive as the lush banks of the Nile or the milk and honey laden Promised Land. Complaints may also be born of a motivation to seek a better life.

In the modern “gig” economy, complaining has become the guarantor of successful commercial transactions. Whether Uber or Airbnb, complaints posted on the internet inform our faith in the unknown service provider. Yet, I have observed that the system has its weaknesses. In one Airbnb house rental, the owner advised me not to post a critical review of her home or she would post a critical review of us. In another case, I posted a complaint about the noise level in a small boutique hotel, before I had checked out. The owner quickly tracked me down and begged me to remove the negative comment as it might affect his livelihood. Otherwise, my complaints would hover on the internet forever.

At the airport, there are red, yellow, and green buttons at the TSA checkpoint and outside the bathroom. Did you find the bathroom experience satisfying? If so, press the green button. If not, press the red. As I don’t believe that my pressing a button will have any impact, I’d rather not touch another germ ridden point of contact.

There is a connection between complaining and faith. If we believe that change is possible, we should offer constructive criticism.  On the other hand, we can believe that grousing and complaining is an entitlement. Complaining for the sake of personal expression will always result in diminished spirit. Torah is teaching us that complaining without faith is puerile and unproductive, perhaps even destructive. Appreciation fills our soul with hope.

I’m not complaining, but I’d like to hear less complaining and more appreciation. Next time I might just press the green button.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

When you talk to God, you’re praying…When God speaks to you, you’re a schizophrenic.

An early prayer in the Torah is in the fifth chapter of Exodus. God sent Moses to Pharaoh with a demand. Pharaoh responded by increasing the Israelites’ burdens. Then, the people mock Moses. “Moses turned to יהוה and said, “O my lord, why did You bring harm upon this people? Why did You send me?”

Yes, prayer can be in the form of a question. Prayer can be supplicatory or questioning, personal or communal. Moses talks to God and says, “Why, why, why?” Moses’ question is sparked by awe and wonder, frequent elements of prayer.

Recently, my prayers followed Moses’ model. “God, what more are you asking of us? We’ve endured destruction, genocide, and terrorism. What more are you asking of us?”

I imagine God intended that Eden was only a small local park.  Left to our own devices, it took only two humans to misbehave and get evicted from paradise. The earth is not a utopia, and humans are not angels. God created it for our benefit. We haven’t yet learned how to direct our collective existence into peaceful coexistence. I want to talk to God about this dilemma.

Moses had similar questions. Moses heard back from God. He was not a schizophrenic.

I’m willing to believe in a God that communicates with us. I’m having trouble with the God that abides by human suffering and says nothing. Could God speak to us in ways we can’t understand, or perhaps we are not listening? Or maybe God has thrown God’s proverbial hands up in the air and said, I can’t do better than the Garden of Eden, and you didn’t make it there for a week!

God was still speaking when Moses came along. Moses and God continued their conversations over 40 years. God said, as reported in Chapter 6: “I have now heard the moaning of the Israelites because the Egyptians are holding them in bondage, and I have remembered My covenant.”   Why does God say “now” he has heard the moaning? Perhaps he was waiting for someone to seek God’s help. Perhaps, Moses was the first to say God, we need a major intervention here and now!

Moses’s request demanded an explanation. God left the answer to Moses’ imagination. Yet, God does respond in a different way. God assured Moses that it was time for God and Moses together to take action.

Like Moses, my questions/prayers also ask why. Why is there terror in Israeli homes and destruction in Gaza? Why are there tyrants in power and willing supplicants to support them? When, if ever, will this end? I may not get explanations. However, a fundamental teaching of the exodus story is that change begins when we call out and ask, “Why?” And the answer may be that we and God take action together.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

We are experiencing a breakdown in society. The divisions between intimates, whether friends or family, are pronounced in our times. We just don’t trust each other enough. People can’t relate to one another unless there is an element of trust.

As we read of the end of Jacob’s life in the Torah, we learn about trust. Jacob asks his son Joseph to swear an oath that Jacob will be buried in Canaan and not in Egypt. Joseph places his hand under Jacob’s thigh and swears the oath. Satisfied, Jacob turns toward the head of his bed, where the Rabbis opine that the Divine Presence is watching over Jacob. You can read this as if God is the guarantor of a person’s oath.

Few have an awe or fear of God sufficient to be bound by their words. Moreover, we no longer live in a time when a person’s word is their bond. People lack faith that others will place their promises above their personal desires.

Just as my Judaism is rooted in the faith of my ancestors, I believe that enduring oaths bind generations. Among those promises are to honor God and live a life infused by the Torah. In an “enlightened” world, that pledge has given way to pragmatism, relativism, materialism, humanism, and secularism. These modern concepts, while enticing, also tear at the fabric of a society based on trust, faith, and commonalities.

Even within families, relationships are rupturing because our faith in each other is lacking. Not too long ago, children obeyed a parent’s instruction. Just as Joseph obeyed Jacob, children did what their parents asked. In American society, such obeisance is a relic or relegated to the deeply observant religious communities. If we don’t practice honoring parents, how can we expect to transcend our differences in other relationships?

Building trust is not a one-way street. Trust requires listening to one another with honesty and candor. A demonstration of trust will require we sometimes set aside our desires to honor others we value.

Without a practice of subsuming our ego to time-tested values, we engender cynicism.  Cynicism, distrust, and egotism are rotting society from the roots of families to the branches of communities.

There was a time when a person was as good as their word. Now, parents cannot maintain faith that relationships will stand the test of the differences we express. We cannot take family loyalty for granted, as Jacob did Joseph.

Grandparents, parents, and children must speak about how we sustain families and build a civil society by pledging faithfulness to one another. With our continued promise to maintain relationships, we must cultivate trust as dearly as we would the essential nourishment that sustains life.

Rabbi Evan Krame

 

Jewish identity is a bit confusing. There are many organizational and fundamental identities of Jews. Are we a tribe, a religion, a people, or a race? I can hold multiple identities in mind. Jewish identity is confusing to others, and not in a good way.

Reading the story of Joseph reuniting with his brothers, the focus is initially on the tribe. Yet, Joseph invokes his relationship with God, suggesting a religious group.  God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was a homeland for generations. Jews garnered additional demarcations, such as people of the book and Christ-killers.  More recently, Jews became a race as well.

Joseph’s family safely settled in Egypt, but only for a while. Soon, a new Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph. The Jews were a growing minority and perceived as a threat to Pharaoh. With time, irrational fears gave rise to oppression and enslavement.

Reflecting on my Jewish identity, I have celebrated my tribal, religious, and communal Jewish identities. Growing up in New York, I assumed that most Jews were Ashkenazi and white. Now I know that Jews are not monolithic. Moreover, Americans have jumbled racial identity and Jewishness. At first, Protestants in America did not regard Jews newly arrived here as white. In part due to the civil rights movement, Jews became identified as white. And Jews bought into their newly minted identity as an entrée to American society. (The discussion around Jews of color be damned until the next century).

Now, the idea that Jews are a race baffles us. Finally, we understand that race is a social construct.  It is a human invention and not a scientific categorization. Yet, the characterization of people by race continues to divide us.

When Jews are victims of hate crimes, we identify as a protected class but not necessarily as a race. While our skin color might contrast with our African-American neighbors, our experience of victimhood has universal aspects.

Emma Green wrote in the Atlantic, “On the extreme right, Jews are seen as impure—a faux-white race that has tainted America. And on the extreme left, Jews are seen as part of a white-majority establishment that seeks to dominate people of color.” Anti-Semitism in America is rooted in white supremacy, even though in the United States, most Jews are recognized as white.

Scientific circles showed that concepts of racism are arbitrary and false. Yet, to understand the current wave of anti-Semitism, Jews must realize the animus that is born of a hatred rooted in racism. Hatred has persisted since the time of Joseph. Racism has merely given a new dimension to the persecution of Jews. Enjoy your religious, tribal, and national Jewish identities. However, we have to do more than merely be perplexed by anti-Semitism. Now is the time for vigilance regarding those whose racism characterizes us as threatening. The race is to surmount the vitriol and hatred.

Rabbi Evan Krame