Martini Judaism

Trigger warning: this episode contains references to sexual violence. October 7 reminds Jews of what happened in Hebron on August 24, 1929. In her book "Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine That Ignited the Arab-Israeli Conflict," Yardena writes: On that morning, 3,000 Muslim men armed with swords, axes, and daggers marched through the Jewish Quarter of Hebron. They went from house to house, raping, stabbing, torturing, and in some cases castrating and burning alive their unarmed Jewish victims...Infants were slaughtered in their mothers' arms. Children watched as their parents were butchered by their neighbors. Women and teenage girls were raped. Elderly rabbis and yeshiva students were mutilated. Sixty-seven Jewish men, women, and children were murdered, and dozens more wounded...The British High Commissioner of Mandatory Palestine, Sir John Chancellor, wrote in his diary, “I do not think history records many worse horrors in the last few hundred years.” Those attacks were not limited to Hebron, the most ancient place of Jewish settlement in the land of Israel, where Abraham purchased the cave of Machpela as a burial place. Those attacks were in Jerusalem and spread to other cities, as well. Why should these stories matter? Because, to coin a phrase: what happened in Hebron has not stayed in Hebron.  

Why does the death of the Pope touch me, as a Jew? I cannot think of a Pope who had the depth of relationships with the Jewish community as this Pope had enjoyed. As Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, he had a close working relationship with the Argentinian Jewish community. His response to the 1994 bombing of the AMIA center in Buenos Aires -- until 2001, the most lethal terrorist attack in the Western Hemisphere -- was notable for its compassion. He had visited synagogues in Argentina. Moreover, he collaborated with Rabbi Abraham Skorka, the rector of the Seminario Rabínico Latinoamericano, in the creation of Sobre El Cielo Y La Tierra ("On Heaven and Earth: Pope Francis on Faith, Family, and the Church in the Twenty-first Century"), which is the transcript of a series of conversations between the two men. For a while, it was Amazon's best selling religion book. And yet, despite those warm relationships with the Jews, Pope Francis could be inconsistent. In August, 2021, he preached that the Torah “does not offer the fulfillment of the promise because it is not capable of being able to fulfill it." This was classic supercessionism. Judaism was the "old covenant" -- the "Old Testament" -- Covenant 1.0, the beta version. Christianity was Covenant 2.0 -- replacing Judaism.  So, on the one hand: deep love and respect. On the other hand: some theological issues with Judaism.

I was talking with a Roman Catholic-raised friend who no longer practices the religion of his youth. At a certain point in the conversation, he snorted about "cafeteria Catholics," which sardonically describes those who adhere to parts of Catholic teachings or practice certain rituals, but dissent from others. It made me realize I am a "cafeteria Jew." Which brings me to Kate Mishkin, the creator of a compelling podcast with an enviable pun as its title, "Shofar, So Good."   In her podcast, she engages in thoughtful, gutsy conversations about weighty subjects like prayer, death and forgiveness. In our "Martini Judaism" podcast interview, we talk about her childhood growing up with interfaith parents and in the religion of what people call "Jewish values." And we take a deep dive into what those values might be. We also talk about her life as a journalist, living and working in a variety of places, but especially in Charleston, West Virginia, which is not exactly the Tel Aviv (or even Haifa) of America, but a place where she found herself Jewishly, largely through the help of a remarkable rabbi in that community. Kate hit me with a metaphor I never considered before. She described herself as walking along the beaches of the world with a metal detector, sifting through the sand searching for Jewish objects and ideas. She knows there are many beaches in the world and a whole lot of sand. Those objects and ideas are rarely just below the surface, but found several inches deeper. It means there is a lot of work to do. This is a metaphor for Judaism I happen to love. We once might have imagined that Judaism comes to us as a completely wrapped package, and all we have to do is open it up and there it is — a full-blown identity. Not anymore. Through this lens, Judaism can be viewed as a collection of choices we make. Almost every day, we curate our Jewish identities and make meaning of them. This means certain things get in — say, Shabbat, Passover and social justice — but other things wind up on the back burner, maybe keeping kosher or building a sukkah. Some might cynically call that "cafeteria Judaism," and they would not be wrong. The truth is, I don't know any Jew, even the seemingly most pious, who takes on the entirety of the tradition. We are always picking and choosing. You could also call it Israeli hotel breakfast buffet Judaism — where you walk through the line, see what is available, see what looks good, take it back to your table and enjoy it. But the most important thing is these choices are not static. Just as you can try many different foods over a multiday stay at a hotel, you might try many different things over the course of a Jewish life. It all depends on the attitude with which you go through the buffet, or travel down Judaism Street or walk along the beach looking for treasures in the sand. As for me, my attitude has always been curiosity, openness and a willingness to give my tradition the benefit of the doubt. Listen to Kate Mishkin, and learn from her.

My friend, Vanessa Hidary. Vanessa Hidary is a cool person. She is a spoken word artist, an educator, and an advocate. She is a trail-blazer. Her work has had a profound impact on both the Jewish community and beyond. Recently, the ADL honored her as a "Hero Against Hate."  Vanessa embodies the bravery of Queen Esther, the pride of Mordecai, and a little bit of Vashti's attitude thrown in for good measure. She is a one woman megillah. How did we first meet? We were at a Jewish conference together – the Conversation, which was convened by the veteran Jewish journalist Gary Rosenblatt. At that conference, she did a performance of her signature poem, "Hebrew Mamita." It was a celebration of her diverse, proud, take-no-prisoners Jewish identity – as a daughter of the Syrian-Jewish diaspora. She challenged Jewish stereotypes.  I was overwhelmed. “Hebrew Mamita” became a classic. Vanessa performed it in New York City venues, and that was how she became a pioneering voice Jewish identity in the slam poetry scene. "Hebrew Mamita" was featured on HBO's Def Poetry Jam, where she openly discussed her Jewish heritage. She founded the Kaleidoscope Project, a narrative-arts initiative that amplifies the stories of Jews of color, Sephardic and Mizrachi Jews, and those with interfaith experiences. In the podcast, we talk about our responses to the murder of the Bibas children; what it means to be a Jew in the arts community, after October 7; and what it means to be politically homeless, after October 7. And, we talked about her spoken-word piece, "Bad Jew."

What do Batman and Superman have to do with Jewish identity? Other than the fact that their creators were Jews: Batman by Bob Kane, and Superman by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster? It is more than that. It is about having multiple identities. About a decade ago, I interviewed for a rabbinical position. A past president of the synagogue asked: "Rabbi, are you a Jew first, or an American?” This was my answer. "With all due respect: If that question could wear clothing, it would be a Nehru jacket. It seems so out of fashion right now. I live my life fully, both as an American and as a Jew. And I suspect that most American Jews would say the same thing. They feel no tension between their American identities, and their Jewish identities." The (admittedly edgy) answer must have satisfied him. He nodded; I got the job; we became good friends. But, what was this gentleman really asking me?  He was resurrecting a classic Jewish accusation -- that Jews have dual loyalty -- to their Jewish identity, and to the places that they live. It is a suspicion as old as Pharaoh in the book of Exodus. And, what was I doing? I was playfully suggesting that you can have both identities -- often, simultaneously. It is not only possible to have dual loyalties. It is necessary. That is the subject of our podcast interview with Rabbi Nolan Lebovitz. He is the senior rabbi of Valley Beth Shalom, in Encino, California – one of the most prominent synagogues in America. His new book: "The Case for Dual Loyalty: Healing the Divided Soul of American Jews."

"If God lived in our neighborhood, we'd throw stones through His [sic] windows." I do not know who originally said that, though I think that the original was in Yiddish. But, it's true. And, if you were to ask me whether Jewish worship has a "design flaw," I would say that this is it: almost nowhere in our services do we get to yell at God, and to protest God's actions and in-actions. We want our worship experiences to be uplifting and inspirational. But, we are missing out on the emotional richness and depth of the religious experience. Yes – joy, gratitude, uplift. But, anger and questioning are part of any healthy relationship. Where is that in our prayer experience? This is a crying shame -- and I emphasize "crying." Because crying out at God, and yelling at God, and protesting God is a distinctive part of Judaism and Jewish texts. It goes back to Abraham, who protested God's planned destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah; Moses, who protested God's threatened destruction of the Israelites at the incident of the Golden Calf; Job, who demanded justice from God; the author of the Psalms, who has a lot to say about God's actions and silence -- all the way to Tevye ("I know we are your chosen people. But, once in a while, can't You choose someone else?") to Elie Wiesel.... In fact, that is the original meaning of the term "chutzpah." It means audacity -- against, and with, God. This is the essential, sacred lesson of a new, spectacular book by Menachem Rosensaft -- "Burning Psalms: Confronting Adonai after Auschwitz.” Menachem is an attorney in New York; the founding chairman of the International Network of Children of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, and most notably, had been active in the early stages of the Israeli-Palestinian peace process.

Remember the 10th commandment? "Thou shalt not covet"? This past week, many preachers violated that commandment. They were coveting the sermon Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde delivered at the National Cathedral during a service the day after President Donald Trump's inauguration, in which she pleaded with Trump to show mercy to the most vulnerable among us. (Speaking Jewish right now: If I had been blessed with the opportunity to address the president, I would not have used the word "mercy." I would have asked him to show compassion and to do justice. But that's me). Many of my colleagues and friends have been debating: Was the bishop appropriate? Was her sermon in good taste? Did she publicly shame and humiliate the president? I have been struggling with all that as well, and now I think she was totally spot on. And not only because I agreed with her. Sure, she made President Trump a little uncomfortable.  Deal with it, Mr. President. That's often what sermons are about. As my colleague and friend Rabbi Rick Jacobs notes: "The job of a religious leader is not to tell those in the pews — whether the usual parishioners or their country's leaders — what they want to hear. Rather, the job requires clergy to speak the truth of their tradition as they understand it." Or, put differently, sometimes it is the goal of a sermon to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. To "shake and stir" them. You want to feel all good and comfortable? Go to a spa.

It happened exactly four years ago. I am speaking of January 6, 2021 -- the attack on the US Capitol Building by supporters of Donald Trump – claiming that President Biden had stolen the election. It was, to quote Bill Kristol, our national day of shame. It was, to borrow FDR's iconic phrase, a day that will live in infamy. There were many things that we cannot unsee, and that we cannot unhear. Among the rioters that stormed the Senate chamber was a man who provided us with one of the most memorable and disturbing images of that dark day in American history. A bare-chested, self-styled “shaman” named Jacob Chansley, was wearing a horned helmet. At a certain moment, he removed that helmet, and he led the group in prayer: "Thank you heavenly father for gracing us with this opportunity… to allow us to exercise our rights, to allow us to send a message to all the tyrants, the communists, and the globalists, that this is our nation, not theirs. We will not allow America, the American way of the United States of America to go down… In Christ's holy name, we pray." That was a demonstration of Christian nationalism -- the subject of our podcast with Amy Spitalnick, the CEO of the Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA) -- a powerful national voice on issues of democracy, antisemitism, extremism, and hate.  In our conversation, you will learn that Christian nationalism poses three threats -- to America, to Jews and other religious minorities, and even to Christianity itself. (Many Christians themselves recognize this; check out this interview with Amanda Tyler, author of "How To End Christian Nationalism.")

Last week, we observed the first yahrzeit (anniversary of a death) of Dr. David Ellenson -- past president of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, past provost of that institution, a professor at that institution for a generation – a teacher, a theologian, a historian of Jewish ideas, a world class thinker. Someone said that “David was always the smartest person in the room, and he never let you remember that.” If you could look up the word mensch in a dictionary, you would see David's photograph. You could meet him and never know he possessed one of the greatest Jewish minds of this generation. Simple, unpretentious, a man who made everyone feel that he was a member of their family. A man who passionately loved his own family, especially his wife, Rabbi Jacqueline Koch Ellenson, and their children, several of whom have followed David and Jackie into the rabbinate. David and I were friendly for more than fifty years; our kids are friends; our grandchildren are friends. Three generations of friendship in one family. It does not get any better than that. Please check out the podcast that we recorded in his memory. It features: Professor Arnold Eisen – former president of Jewish Theological Seminary. Rabbi Michael Marmur – associate professor of Jewish theology at HUC-JIR, Jerusalem, who had served as the Jack, Joseph and Morton Mandel Provost at HUC-JIR, having previously been Dean of the Jerusalem campus. Elisheva Urbas – editorial director, Hadar -- an editor, writer, translator, coach, and teacher. We took a deep dive into David's life -- beginning with his formative years in the Orthodox community in Newport News, Virginia. We discussed how David's Southern Orthodox Jewish boyhood shaped him -- making him sensitive to what it means to be a cultural stranger, and imbuing within him an infectious love for clal Yisrael -- the entirety of the Jewish people.  

If you encounter someone who wants to talk about God, odds are that person isn't Jewish. Why? I am talking to a friend of mine about his experience on various dating sites. He tells me that from time to time, he will come across a profile that seems promising. And then, right there in the first paragraph, the woman will write: “Must love God.” As he scrolls down a little further, he sees that she is a Christian – and that she inevitably describes her politics as “conservative.” “I don't get it,” he says to me. “Why is it that anyone who writes ‘must love God' is always Christian? I'm Jewish. I love God. Do these people think that only Christians love God? And since when does ‘must love God' mean ‘must be a Christian – and of a particular kind and political persuasion?'” That was the question that led me into a conversation with Professor Arnold Eisen, one of American Judaism's most esteemed thinkers and personalities. From 2006 to 2020, he served as the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America – the flagship academic institution of Conservative Judaism – where he was only the second non-rabbi to serve in that post. He is an author of many books, and a cherished teacher and public intellectual.

Rabbi Jeff Salkin sits down with Rabbi Jonah Pesner, one of American Judaism's most prominent voices and the director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism. Together, they dive into the deeply rooted relationship between Judaism, politics, and social justice, exploring why so many Jews align with liberal causes while maintaining a vibrant spectrum of political thought within the community. From the historical and spiritual foundations of Jewish values to modern-day challenges in maintaining empathy amidst polarization, Rabbi Pesner offers insights that are both grounded in tradition and urgently relevant. The conversation spans critical topics, including: The intersection of Jewish peoplehood and universalism in shaping political priorities. The impact of October 7 and the ongoing war in Israel on Jewish voting patterns and political alliances. Rising concerns about anti-Semitism across the political spectrum and its influence on communal discourse. The role of religious institutions in fostering thoughtful, inclusive spaces for dialogue amidst deep societal divisions. As always, Rabbi Salkin keeps the conversation shaken and stirred with humor, insight, and a dash of martini wisdom. Whether you lean left, right, or somewhere in the middle, this episode will challenge you to think critically about what it means to live into the Jewish covenant in today's world. Episode Highlights Roots of Jewish Liberalism: Rabbi Pesner reframes the stereotype, asserting that Jewish political values stem not from liberalism or conservatism but from Torah's call to protect the widow, orphan, and stranger. Navigating Polarization: A nuanced discussion on how synagogues can become havens for respectful debate and sacred disagreement. Facing the Challenges of Anti-Semitism: Addressing the rise of anti-Semitism from both extremes and the Jewish community's response. If you're inspired by this episode, let's continue the conversation: Follow Rabbi Salkin's Martini Judaism column on Religion News Service. Rate and review the podcast on your favorite platform to amplify its reach. Share this episode with your community to spark discussions about Jewish values, politics, and the power of hope.

On Tuesday, July 16, I and a group of rabbis traveled south from Jerusalem — to the Gaza envelope. There, we visited the places that Hamas had ravaged on Oct. 7, 2023. We visited the site of the Nova music festival, where we said kaddish for the young victims. We visited Kibbutz Nir Oz. We walked through the rubble of the burnt houses, the burnt kitchen, the places where people died, and the places where people were taken hostage. One-quarter of the residents of Nir Oz were killed or taken hostage. I have experienced many moments of pain in my Jewish life, even as I have experienced many moments of joy and exaltation. But never in my life have I encountered the memories of such sheer evil as I did at Nir Oz. I had not known at that time that I was walking in the footsteps, walking the same ground, as Alex Dancyg, of blessed memory — a proud son of Warsaw. And so it was in Warsaw on Yom Kippur that I dedicated the memorial service to his memory. Adapted from my Yizkor sermon, given on Yom Kippur, Beit Warshawa, Warsaw, Poland.

Two of my favorite people — Abigail Pogrebin and Rabbi Dov Linzer — who have just written a new book, "It Takes Two To Torah: An Orthodox Rabbi and Reform Journalist Discuss and Debate Their Way Through the Five Books of Moses," with a foreword by Mayim Bialik. This is a book about each Torah portion, as read through their lenses, and is a series of conversations and intellectual wrestling matches.

First, this modern Orthodox rabbi was one of the first rabbis to really touch my life and to engage me in what my Protestant colleagues would call “formation.” Rabbi Yitz Greenberg was a congregational rabbi in Riverdale, NY; the founder of the Jewish studies program at City College of New York; the creator of CLAL, the Center for Learning and Leadership – which is a think tank for Jewish pluralism and intra-Jewish conversation. I first met Rabbi Greenberg and his wife, Blu, the major Jewish feminist leader, when he engaged me to work with a bunch of modern Orthodox teenagers on a CLAL retreat. That encounter with Rabbi Greenberg, whom I would come to know as Yitz or Rabbi Yitz, changed my perception of Orthodox Jews and Orthodox Judaism. It made me more open to seeing the Jews as a unified people, and not just a discrete collection of ideologies. Yes: this Orthodox rabbi helped shape the world view of this Reform rabbi. His vision of an observant Judaism that was open to the world and freely encountered the world moved me – so much so, that decades later, I would become a regular participant in the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, founded by Rabbi Greenberg's colleague, the late Rabbi David Hartman – also an Orthodox rabbi, and like Yitz, also a rebel. The second way in which Rav Yitz is my oldest friend in the rabbinate: he is 91 years old, and he has just published his magnum opus, his master work, the culmination of everything that he has taught for so long -- "The Triumph of Life: A Narrative Theology of Judaism." This is the book that Yitz's students -- and frankly, the Jewish world -- has been waiting for for more than a half century.

We need to take the spiritual journey of Ana Levy-Lyons with the gravity it deserves. Truth be told: There is a shortage of rabbinical students. Jews need rabbis. Levy-Lyons obviously has the human, intellectual and spiritual skills for it. I look forward to welcoming her as a Jew, and certainly as a colleague. But there is far more to this story than is readily apparent. This is not only a story about how someone has entered Judaism. It is also a story about how someone left the Unitarian Universalists. The reason for that departure is fascinating, compelling and instructive.

Jews have been living on an emotional roller coaster. In recent weeks, we experienced a welcome "high." Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro was under serious consideration for vice president on the Democratic ticket. Then, in recent days, for many Jews, a "low" when Josh Shapiro was passed over in favor of Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz. Jews have a right to be disappointed. But along with that disappointment, let us realize the Shapiro possibility contains two serious lessons for American Jews. First, the purpose of an election is not to make Jews (or any other ethnic group) proud. The purpose of an election is to win.

More than forty years ago, as I prepared to ascend the pulpit for my first High Holy Days sermon as a rabbi, one of the elders of my congregation, dear old Arthur Leibowitz, pulled me aside. “Rabbi,” he said to me, “Preach the Dickens at 'em.” I said to him: “OK, Arthur. Just please don't have any great expectations.” American Jews already know, intuitively and rationally, that they are living in the "worst of times." The rise of antisemitism, both in the United States and abroad, and the ongoing, unfolding horror of October 7 and its aftermath, makes that all abundantly clear. But, let me pull back the curtain for you, and show you that in some ways, we are living through the best of times.

“I am running away to join the circus.” It was 2004, and my synagogue in Atlanta had welcomed Amichai Lau-Lavie as a guest speaker. Amichai had been the founder of Storahtellers, a ritual theater company, which was an innovative approach to presenting Torah in synagogue. He had come to our congregation along with what could only be described as a madcap ensemble of actors, singers and theater professionals – who also knew Torah.  They dramatized the Torah portion. And, much more. The congregation was mesmerized. The next day, we had breakfast. This is what I said to him: “You are the circus, and I am running away to join you.”  Those are the kind of feelings that Amichai Lau Lavie evokes. For decades, he has been one of American Judaism's most creative, most courageous, and most outrageous, spiritual leaders. Listen to the podcast interview with him. This is his resume. Time Out called him “an iconoclastic mystic." NPR called him “a calm voice for peace." According to the New York Times, he is a “rock star.” The Jewish Week called him “one of the most interesting thinkers in the Jewish world.” Rabbi Lau-Lavie is the Co-Founding Spiritual Leader of the Lab/Shul community in NYC, where he has been living since 1998. Just recently, his colleague at Lab/Shul, Shira Kline, received a coveted Covenant Award for her contributions to Jewish education. He was ordained as a Conservative rabbi by the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in 2016 – which is the only thing conservative about him. Being a rabbi is not a career for Amichai; neither is it a calling. It is a genetic predisposition. His cousin is Rabbi David Lau, the current Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Israel. His uncle is Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, the former Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi, and survived the Holocaust as a child. His brother is Rabbi Benny Lau, one of Israel's most prominent Orthodox rabbis. If Amichai did 23 and Me, the results would scream: "rabbi!" Amichai is the 39th generation of rabbis in his family. Except, he is the first one to be openly queer. Did I mention that he used to be a drag queen? His drag persona was Rebbitzen Hadassah Gross, a Holocaust survivor from Hungary, who was the widow of several rabbis. Amichai Lau-Lavie is the subject of a new movie -- Sabbath Queen, directed by Sandi DuBowski, who previously directed "Trembling Before G-d," which was the first film to shine a light on the plight of Orthodox LGBTQ persons. "Sabbath Queen" had been entered in several festivals, but had been cancelled because, well, you know. It is making its premier at the Tribeca Film Festival, where it is the only Israeli-ish film in the festival. Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie has many gifts. Chief among them is his ability to transform our views of Judaism, in which he takes us from the either/or to the both/and. He strives to be radically inclusive, even if it means dipping his toe into waters that some might find heretical. My favorite quote of his: “The Bible is the PDF, and we are working on the google doc.” As in: The biblical text might be a set text (as some might say: set in stone). But, a google doc is the result of many minds, souls, and hands writing and re-writing it -- as a communal effort. We are all working on that doc.  

I am experiencing serious FOMO. I am totally bummed that I am going to be out of the range on Monday to watch the solar eclipse. So, let's talk about Judaism and eclipses. Are there eclipses in the Bible? Most likely. It is possible that the plague of darkness during the Exodus from Egypt was a total eclipse of the sun. Likewise, when the sun stood still in the book of Joshua, that also might have been an eclipse. There are also references to solar eclipses in medieval Jewish texts, especially as they might have influenced the calculation of the new moon. But, far more compelling is the idea that God is also in eclipse. The term for that is "hester panim," the act of God concealing the Divine Presence as a way of punishing the Jewish people. To experience the hidden Presence of God was to experience great terror and anxiety: "How long, O LORD; will You ignore me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long will I have cares on my mind, grief in my heart all day? How long will my enemy have the upper hand? Look at me, answer me, O LORD, my God! Restore the luster to my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death; lest my enemy say, “I have overcome him,” my foes exult when I totter" (Psalm 13: 2-5). It is dangerous — to directly experience the hidden nature of God can sear itself into your eyes, and into your soul. God chose to conceal the Divine Presence — either as a punishment for sin or because God cannot tolerate the fact of our suffering. But, here is the good news: a God Who hides is also a God who can be found. The eclipse itself is a testimony to the cycles that attend to the natural universe, the flowing of time and the placement of the planets and orbs — all imagined, all in the mind of God — as intimated in the opening words of Genesis. You have bought your eclipse glasses, haven't you? In the words of Bruce Springsteen: Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sunBut mama, that's where the fun is ("Blinded by the Light").

What are the three little words that rabbis almost never, ever, say to their congregations. Hold on, because I am about to say them. God loves you. That is the topic of Rabbi Shai Held's new book, "Judaism Is About Love,"` which is also the topic of today's "Martini Judaism" podcast. Wait a second, you are saying. Isn't this supposed to be Martini Judaism -- not Martini Evangelical Christianity? Am I reading the wrong column, or has Jeff Salkin decided to convert? Neither. Let's face it: “God loves you” is not how the world views Judaism. It's not how Jews view Judaism and God either. We have forgotten and abandoned this sublime and comforting idea, and we are the poorer for that amnesia and abandonment.  A conversation with Shai Held, regarding his new book on the topic... Our liturgy proclaims it very clearly – for starters, in the Shabbat evening liturgy: The ahavat olam prayer: "with eternal love You have loved us" – and the sign of that love? The Torah and its laws. In the Avot prayer, we chant that God will bring us redemption for the sake of our ancestors b'ahavah, in love. In the Kiddush, we chant that God gives us Shabbat b'ahavah, with love…. I like to think of Judaism as the story of a romance. Act One: God meets people. That is the patriarchal period. The Jewish people begins when God, for no apparent reason – this is how the mystics put it – God fell in love with Abraham, and with Isaac, and with Jacob. Act Two: God and people date. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the matriarchs — all have conversations with God. Act Three: During the sojourn in Egypt, God and people are out of touch. Act Four: God hears the cries of the beloved coming from Egypt. Act Five: God remembers that love. Act Six: God and the Jewish people get married at Sinai (which will happen a few weeks from now, on Shavuot). It is why on Shavuot some communities actually write a ketuba between God and the Jewish people. Act Seven: Then comes the business with the Golden Calf. A big disappointment. A bad day in the marriage. Act Eight: We endure God's perhaps petulant or even passive-aggressive silence. For much of the later parts of the Jewish Bible, God says nothing. Act Nine: We and God re-invent our relationship over and over again. The Temple is destroyed; the Jews rebuild it; the Romans destroy it again; the Jews figure out new ways of demonstrating their love for God. When we study Torah, do you really want to know what is happening? It is as if we have entered into that romance with God. We read every word of Torah, listening to its nuances and wondering aloud and in sacred community about its meaning…. If you've ever been in love, you know exactly what I mean. In the Zohar, the cardinal text of Jewish mysticism, the author imagines the Torah Herself (yes, herself – in the Jewish imagination, the Torah is always feminine). The Torah is a kind of Rapunzel, waiting coquettishly in her tower while her lover tries to find her and rescue her and even ravish her. Our love affair with Torah is perhaps the closest way that we can understand our love affair with God. Where did we lose the idea that Judaism is about love? Our history has bruised us and battered us, and it has forced us to be deaf to our own beautiful traditions. To quote the late chief rabbi of Great Britain, Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: “Once upon a time, we saw ourselves as the people that God loves. “Now, all too many of us define ourselves as the people that the world hates.” Yes, I am painfully aware of what is happening in the world right now -- and especially in this country -- with the frightening rise of antisemitism. But, the idea that we are the people whom the world hates is a pathetic distortion of our faith and our fate. Because, do you know why countless generations of Jews were able to stand up to Jew-hatred? Because no matter what befell them, they had faith in God's love. We still do. Thank you, Shai Held, for bringing that idea back. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A very intelligent young person once asked me: “When did the Bible stop?” “What do you mean?” I responded. “I mean,” she said, “when did they decide that the Bible was finished? Why can't we simply add on to it? Why can't it be like a loose-leaf notebook, where you put things in and take them out whenever you need to?” I admit I had found that question to be, well, irreverent. Now I am not so sure. Now I actually think it was a great question and I have been asking it myself. Not about taking pages out of the Bible (though I am sure there are some things I would not miss), but about adding pages to the Bible. Perhaps we are writing a new Jewish Bible for our time. Especially since Oct. 7. That is what Rachel Korazim, one of Israel's most noted and most beloved educators, has revealed to us — a new book of Lamentation. Listen to the podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It is November 10, 1938. It's in a small city in Germany. It is the night after Kristalnacht, the night of broken glass that ushered in the mass roundups and the killings that would become the Holocaust, what we call the Shoah in Hebrew. There are a group of men shoved together in a cell. They are all of different ages. One of them turns to a much younger man, a rabbinical student who was no more than twenty years old. “You! You are a rabbinical student. You are a student of Judaism. So tell us – what does Judaism have to say to us at a time like this?” The recipient of that weighty question was young Emil Fackenheim. He would spend the rest of his life coming up with answers to that question. In so doing, he became one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of our time . In this column and accompanying podcast, we pose that question to Liel Leibovitz. He is an Israeli journalist, author, media critic and video game scholar. He is a prolific writer, mostly for Tablet magazine. I have followed his work for years.We talk about Liel's fascination with that often arcane, and central, Jewish text... how the contemporary writer Jonathan Rosen called the Talmud “a drift net for catching God”... and how the Talmud is like an ancient version of the Internet. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The other day, I was talking to someone about a friend of mine who had converted to Judaism, a.k.a., joined the Jewish people. My conversation partner stopped me in my tracks. "I don't believe in that," he said. "You can't convert to Judaism. You can't just join the Jewish people. You either are Jewish, or you are not. What — you take a class, and you take a test and they dunk you (in the mikveh, the ritual bath) and poof — you're Jewish?!?" "No!" he continued. "You have to have a yiddishe neshame, a Jewish soul. You have to have centuries of suffering and feeling. It has to be in your DNA!" I will tell you what went "poof," at that moment. 2,500 years of Jewish history, law and theology went "poof." More than 40 years as a congregational rabbi working with Jews-by-choice went "poof." More than 40 years of being an activist and a leader in the Reform movement working to welcome Jews-by-choice went "poof." More than 40 years of having colleagues in Jewish professional life who are Jew-by-choice went "poof." And, let us be clear: Thousands of years of people joining the Jewish people to live Jewish lives and sometimes, tragically, to die Jewish deaths, went "poof." So, let me say it again — just in case you were not listening decades ago, or just in case you are new to this topic. Judaism is not a closed club. Judaism is not a secret society. Judaism is not in your DNA. Actually, there are genetic elements of having ethnic Jewish ancestry. Every week, countless people are finding out, via 23 and Me, that they are, in fact, some percentage Jewish. But, therein lies the paradox. The Jews are a tribe, a family, a people and a nation — into which you do not have to be born, but in fact, that you can join. Is it easy to feel that sense of connection, and that sense of history? No. Can you learn it? Absolutely. And it happens all the time. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Did you ever think, in your wildest imagination, that the events of October 7 would lead to an all out culture war that would involve every sector of American intellectual and academic life? Me neither. And yet, here we are -- with the result that many American Jews are now questioning the role of the university in their lives, and in the life of the Jewish community. To help us discern the depths of the university and the Jews, check out the podcast -- a conversation with Mark Oppenheimer. He has been writing about American religion for more than 25 years. From 2010 to 2016, he wrote the “Beliefs” column, about religion, for "The New York Times," and he created "Unorthodox," the world's most popular podcast about Jewish life and culture, with over 7 million downloads to date. He is the author or editor/co-editor of five books, including "The Newish Jewish Encyclopedia: From Abraham to Zabar's and Everything In Between" and "Squirrel Hill: The Tree of Life Synagogue Shooting and the Soul of a Neighborhood." He holds a Ph.d in religious studies from Yale University; has taught there, at Stanford University, Wesleyan University, and New York University, and currently serves as the vice-president of open learning at American Jewish University, We have a wide-ranging conversation -- most of which is about the experience of Jews in the Ivy League. 

“Don't know much about history…” Those were the immortal words of Sam Cooke. It happens to be true. Many of us don't know much about history. Just think of the way that we use the word. Someone gets fired from a job, and what do we say? “She's history.” But, I love history, especially American Jewish history. No one has nourished that love of history more than Professor Jonathan Sarna of Brandeis University, past president of the Association for Jewish Studies and Chief Historian of the National Museum of American Jewish History in Philadelphia. In this podcast, Professor Sarna and I get into the weeds of American Jewish history, and the history of anti-Semitism, American style. Pay attention: Both Brandeis University and the state of Israel are celebrating their 75th anniversary. One event happened in Waltham, Massachusetts; the other, in the Middle East. How are those two events linked?  Americans have had “diverse and conflicting attitudes“ toward Jews. Name some Americans who were simultaneously antisemitic and philo-semitic (lover of Jews). Why were my parents upset when I purchased a 1966 Mustang? (Hint: consider the maker). Who was America's most famous and visible Jew-hater? (Answer: In the 1930s, Father James Coughlin, an antisemitic priest, had a huge radio following. Imagine Father Coughlin with TikTok). Compared to other American minorities, historically Jews have gotten off pretty easy. Name some other groups in America that have suffered bigotry -- even more than the Jews. (Hint: and not just Blacks). Is anti-Zionism a form of anti-Semitism? (Hint: the Hamas killers bragged to their parents that they killed -- not Israelis, not Zionists, but Jews.) (A second hint: What was the name of the most infamous Czarist anti-Semitic tract, that is still a best seller in too many places? It is a mythology of global Jewish control, and its name is "The Protocols of the Meetings of the Learned Elders of ___________.") What would happen if college admissions corresponded to the percentage of Jews in America? (Hint: It would not be good for the Jews.) As bad as it might seem today, what makes this situation "better" than other surges of anti-Semitism that we have experienced in the past? (Hint: watch how the government is responding). Finally, you must listen to the very end -- because Professor Sarna offers words of hope, determination, and inspiration that will lift your souls. How does he do it? Because he is, after all, a historian. Please enjoy my new book -- the first book to outline what a post-October 7 American Judaism will look like -- and how we can restore communal obligation to liberal Jewish life. Tikkun Ha'Am/ Repairing Our People: Israel and the Crisis of Liberal Judaism.

No one ever asks, "Why should India exist?" Or Albania. Or the United States. Or any country in the world. Except for one country: Israel. So, let me make this simple — and overly simplistic. Why does Israel exist? Here are my two R's of Israel. To rescue Jews who are persecuted. To save Jews from Jew-hatred. That was the wake-up call that Viennese journalist Theodor Herzl experienced during the trial of Alfred Dreyfus for treason in France in the early 1890s. He saw the mobs in the streets calling for death to the Jews. It caused him to sing a much earlier version of The Animals' classic song "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place." That urge became political Zionism. (How wonderful that we no longer have mobs in the streets chanting "Death to the Jews!" Oh. Wait. ... ) The second reason is resurrection — of the Hebrew language, of Jewish culture and of Judaism itself. That, roughly speaking, is the cultural Zionism of Ahad Ha'Am. How are those two R's doing? Listen to the podcast, as I interview Raquel Ukeles, chief editor of the new catalog of some of the richest of the library's holdings: "101 Treasures From the National Library of Israel." Ukeles serves as the library's head of collections. She earned a Ph.D. from Harvard in comparative Islamic and Jewish studies. She also studied Jewish law in Jerusalem and New York, and Islamic law and Arabic in Egypt, Morocco and the Netherlands. Here is what you will learn. The National Library of Israel is not a "Jewish" library. Quite the contrary: It is an institution that cherishes and celebrates all aspects of Israeli society. One of its major collections is of Islam and the Middle East. The library reaches way beyond Israel. it sees itself as a guardian of global cultural heritage, dedicated to democratizing knowledge, advancing education, promoting research and fostering dialogue. Its collection spans over 200 languages. What would you find in their collections? I totally geeked out over this stuff. Handwritten works by Maimonides and Sir Isaac Newton. Exquisite Islamic manuscripts, dating back to the ninth century. The personal archives of leading cultural and intellectual figures, including Martin Buber, Natan Sharansky, Hannah Szenes and Franz Kafka. A pre-modern feminist blessing, from a 1480 Italian prayer book. It was the work of Abraham ben Mordecai Farissol, who wrote three prayer books for women. There is a traditional blessing, in which men thank God "for not making me a woman." He changed that, so that women could thank God for "having made me a woman and not a man." The original music of "Yerushalayim Shel Zahav" (Jerusalem of Gold) by Naomi Shemer — the most iconic popular song in the history of Israel. Check out this version by the rock band Phish. Ancient Babylonian demon traps (!). A Christian "Book of Hours," describing a certain kind of Christian spiritual contemplation. The library enshrines how Jews understand the world. Yes, we begin with our people; yes, our people are rooted in our land; yes, we share the land with other peoples — and then we ascend to a universal sense of what the best of the humanities can offer. As I went through "101 Treasures From the National Library of Israel," page by page, I wept. Because this is the Israel that relatively few people, even Jews, know — and this is the Israel that our enemies want to destroy. Not on my watch.

Do you know what it's like to fall in love? I don't mean falling in love with a romantic partner. I am talking about the moment of falling in love with a performer — because you know that person gets it and gets you and understands you. That is what happened to me back in 1991, when a friend of mine played me an album called “From Strength to Strength” by Peter Himmelman. That title is a biblical quote. It's what Jews say to each other at significant moments in life: “May you go from strength to strength.” The best cuts from that album? "Woman With the Strength of 10,000 Men,” “Impermanent Things” and "Mission of My Soul.” Himmelman imported Jewish theology and text and put it out on alternative radio. I was hooked. I fell in love. Total musical crush. In 2002, Himmelman was nominated for an Emmy Award for his song "Best Kind of Answer," which appeared on the CBS series Judging Amy, for which he also composed the score. He composed the music for the FOX television show Bones through the fourth season. He was nominated for a Grammy Award for his children's album, "My Green Kite." Himmelman is a rarity in American popular music — an observant Jew who observes Shabbat. Some years ago, he turned down three offers to appear on the Tonight Show because they conflicted with Shabbat or Jewish holidays (he accepted the fourth invitation, for an appearance on Thanksgiving). He is married to Maria Dylan. She is the daughter of Bob Dylan. They have four children and grandchildren. You are going to love this podcast. We talk about rock music (my first love), Jewish culture, Jewish identity, spirituality and what it means for Jews to live post-Oct. 7. We listen to his music as well.

I first encountered Nora Gold when I read her amazing novel, Fields of Exile, which is about the anti-Israel ideologies that are now sweeping across the academic world – in her case, with a unique focus on what is happening in Canada. It is about antisemitism on the college campus. That book was enough to make me a total fan. Today, we are talking to her about her new collection -- 18: Jewish Stories Translated From 18 Languages. This is the first anthology of this kind in 25 years. And, no -- these are not mere maysehs. These are important Jewish short stories, all of them originally published in Jewish Fiction .net. In the book's introductory paragraph, Nora tells a story about an arrogant, ignorant pundit who told his listeners that there was no Jewish fiction being created anywhere other than the United States (and perhaps in Israel). This collection is a response to that charge. It totally blows out of the water the idea that Jewish culture comes only from this continent, and from Israel.

What do we do now? Many Jews, all over the world, are asking themselves that question during these difficult weeks. Israelis are asking: What do we do now – to rebuild our land, our towns, our kibbutzim, our broken lives? What does it mean to maintain hope in the Jewish future? A new book -- "Jewish Priorities: Sixty-Five Proposals for the Future of Our People" -- offers its readers numerous answers to those complex questions. This is an amazing, unnerving, and challenging book. It brings together a remarkable array of new essays from across the Jewish world. An unprecedented, large-scale collection of timely and provocative essays from a wide range of Jewish thought leaders that aims to start a global conversation among Jews about their future as a people.

A blood libel. That was the first thing that went through my mind when I heard about the bombing of the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza, which claimed the lives of between 200 and 300 people. Palestinians, much of the Arab world, and various organizations immediately blamed Israel. There is now ample evidence, accepted by the United States, that the bombing was the result of a failed rocket that had been launched by Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Here is the audio and transcript of the Hamas terrorists discussing it. There are those who cannot and will not believe that this was not an Israeli hit, however tragic it was. They simply believe that the Jews, in the guise of the Jewish State, are evil and blood thirsty. They have inherited a very long, dark history. It is the oldest antisemitic myth in the world -- the blood libel --- the accusation that Jews would kidnap a Christian child, kill him, and use his bones for Passover matzah and his blood for Passover wine. In Europe, especially, this savage and pervasive accusation dictated the choice of wine for the seder. While red wine was traditional and preferable, the blood libel prompted others to choose white wine. Just so that you could drink a wine that does not look like blood. Just to be safe. Why did my mind go to "blood libel?" Because we are talking about antisemitism. When it comes to antisemitism, this is what you need to know: every single false, bizarre, and hurtful accusation and belief about the Jews still exists: that the Jews are violent; that they control economies; that they are part of an international conspiracy; that they are Christ-killers; that they are misanthropes. None of those beliefs have disappeared. And, especially now, "the way we talk about Israel is the way we talk about Jews." That is one of many startling and fresh insights that Rabbi Diana Fersko offers us in her new book, "We Need To Talk About Antisemitism."

I can't. I just can't. At Kibbutz Kfar Aza, they have found the bodies of some 40 babies, some of whom had been beheaded. This past week has been the most difficult week in the history of the Jewish people since the end of the Shoah/Holocaust in 1945. There is a word for what happened, and it is not an “attack.” It is a pogrom, and it makes the most infamous pogroms in Jewish history – those at Kishinev, 1903 -- pale in comparison. They did not go after military targets. Hardly. They have taken hostages — children; elderly people, including a Holocaust survivor who uses a wheelchair; and several soldiers. More than 260 bodies have been recovered at a music festival in southern Israel. Jews were rounded up and shot in the streets; we have not seen this since the Holocaust. Hamas dragged hostages through the streets of Gaza. They publicly mutilated corpses. Israeli girls raped. Children in Gaza tormented Israeli hostage children. Hamas pulled hostages from cars, screaming “Allah hu akhbar!” Hamas has called on their people to use all weapons. Including axes. They screamed, in apocalyptic tones: “Today the most glorious and honorable history begins.” The charter of Hamas is an opera of conspiratorial antisemitism, which suggests that the Jews are in league with calls for the destruction of the state of Israel and her inhabitants: “Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.” In its 1988 charter, it alleged that the Jews were in league with "Freemasons, Rotary Clubs, and the Lions." There is a word for what we -- all Jews, and not just Israelis -- are experiencing. It is called trauma. We dedicate this podcast to the people of Israel, as we talk about trauma, resiliency, and hope.

"Embarrassed." "Ashamed." "Confused." "Ambivalent." "Frightened." Last week, I sat with a group of Jews in a synagogue. It was an adult education session, and I had asked them to complete the following sentence: “When I think of Israel, I am…” Those were the reactions – what goes through their minds as they think about Israel, and what goes through their souls as they think about Israel. I was shocked, but I was not entirely surprised.

The word is "postmortem," and it fits. For that is what the media has been conducting in the wake of the catastrophe that befell the Titan in the North Atlantic with the tragic loss of five lives. And yet, almost immediately, there was an outcry. In the words of The New York Times: On one vessel, five people died on a very expensive excursion that was supposed to return them to the lives they knew. On the other, perhaps 500 people died just days earlier on a squalid and perilous voyage, fleeing poverty and violence in search of new lives.

This conversation with author Bruce Feiler could not have happened at a more opportune time. I am in the process of retiring from the full time congregational rabbinate. I am in the process of finishing up a pulpit career that lasted more than forty years. Over the last few weeks I have found myself repeating the words of my rabbi. Peggy Lee, who sang plaintively: “Is that all there is?”  Is that all there is to being a rabbi? You build relationships; you teach Torah; you embody; you represent; you symbolize – and then, you reach the end of your work years – and then, what? All of my friends who are retiring, no matter what the career, find themselves asking the same question. For some, it is: I wake up in the morning; now what do I do? But for others, it is more like: I wake up in the morning; now who am I? Who am I if not my title and if not my job description? Is that all there is? Join me in my conversation with Bruce Feiler, media personality and the author of many books -- some on biblical topics ("Walking the Bible: A Journey by Land Through the Five Books of Moses," "Abraham: A Journey to the Heart of Three Faiths," "Where God was Born: A Daring Adventure Through the Bible's Greatest Stories"); on the contemporary family ("The Secrets of Happy Families: Surprising New Ideas to Bring More Togetherness, Less Chaos, and Greater Joy"), and now, on the nature of the meaning of work in today's world -- "The Search: Finding Meaningful Work in a Post-Career World." This is what we discuss: Why two-thirds of Americans say they're unhappy with their work; why three-quarters say they plan to look for new work over the next year, and why unprecedented numbers of Americans are quitting their jobs. How the very idea of "career" might be dead -- or at least, the idea of a single career. Why professional success no longer requires climbing, but digging. Why you should realize that you might be living a “nonlinear life.” The meaning of the "workquake," and how you would recognize it if you felt it. Why so many people are willing to trade in their earnings for meaning in life. (Spoiler alert: a study in 2018 that was published in the Harvard business review found that 90% of workers were willing to give up a quarter of their entire life earnings in exchange for work that was meaningful.) But, throughout the podcast. I found myself smiling, because this conversation and Bruce's book reflect many things that I wrote in my own book, written almost thirty years ago (!) -- "Being God's Partner: How To Find the Hidden Link Between Spirituality and Your Work." Even back then, I was interested in how people bring their spiritual values into the workplace, as a way of creating both meaning and balance in their lives. I reminded Bruce that we have several ways of speaking about our work. There is career – that which we carry. There is vocation – the voice that calls to us. But the Hebrew language goes one step further – to avodah – which is the word both for "work" and "divine worship." It is true that some people worship their work. That is how we wind up with how we wind up with the twin idolatries of careerism and workaholism, which I noted was the only non-stigmatized addiction in American culture. It's not only not stigmatized; it is often a matter of pride.  But I also believe that there are ways of making our work into worship – of making sure that we incorporate the highest pieces of ourselves – so that we are not, in the words of my Yiddish speaking forebears simply machen a leben, making a living, but creating a life. Bruce is an old friend, from my Georgia days, and we share some sweet Jerusalem memories as well -- about how we journeyed together to a place of meaning, and first started talking about what it would mean to make your own life into a sacred pilgrimage. Enjoy the podcast!

“So, Rabbi, in your more than forty years in the rabbinate, what are those things that surprised you – those things that you never expected, or that you once expected that didn't actually come to pass?” There would be a long list, but here is the one that moves me in particular. Forty years ago, we never would have expected that so many Jews would turn to God as the location of their Jewish energies – that trend that we call Jewish spirituality. In particular, we never would have expected that so many people – Jews and gentiles alike – would flock to the study of the teachings of Jewish mysticism – what we sometimes sloppily lump together into a bulging file folder called kabbalah. My guest on today's podcast – talking about Jewish mysticism, and Hasidism, and neo-Hasidism, and Jewish spirituality – is one of the veteran teachers – may I say rebbes, even gurus? – of the new Jewish spirituality – Rabbi Arthur Green. At the age of 82, Art Green is nothing less than a living legend. Consider the chapters in his Book of Life: In 1968, he founded Havurat Shalom, an experiment in Jewish communal life and learning that birthed the Havurah movement. (Check out this podcast with another pioneer of that movement, Rabbi Michael Strassfeld). He taught in the Religious Studies Department of the University of Pennsylvania. In 1984 he became dean, and then president, of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College in Philadelphia. In 1993, he was appointed Philip W. Lown professor of Jewish Thought at Brandeis University. And then, obviously needing yet another rabbinical seminary to lead (because they're like potato chips -- you can't have just one!) -- he became the founding dean of the non-denominational rabbinical program at Hebrew College in Boston.  We are talking to Rabbi Green today because of his new commentary on the Jewish prayerbook -- "Well of Living Insight: Comments on the Siddur." You will never read another commentary quite like this one -- a book that focuses on phrases that are filled with light, and which speak to our inner lives. Because that is who Art Green is -- a teacher who helped create the GPS of the inner life of the Jew. Listen to the podcast, and join us as we talk about Art's childhood; his earliest influences; how contemporary Judaism became stale, and how it can awaken; how we dropped the ball on God; and what it means for us to be seen by God. And another thing (which I discussed in my review of the new work by Paul Simon): how we need more metaphors for God. It is not as if we need to invent them, as Paul does (fun fact: Paul Simon and Art Green are precisely the same age). Rather, Art reminds us that the metaphors for God are already there, embedded in Jewish mystical literature. God as sea, garden, soil, river -- even Jerusalem. My partial solution to the crisis in Judaism: We need more metaphors for God. Let's find them. The Jewish people depends on it. And maybe, even God.

If we held a moment of silence for every American who died of COVID it would take nearly two years at a rate of 24 hours a day to cover every name. More than 6.6 million people worldwide and counting have died of COVID -- including more than a million Americans. These are all people who loved and were loved. This is an extraordinary and grim statistic, as on May 11, the CDC declared that the Federal COVID -19 Public Health Emergency has ended.

"That's it!" my friend told me over coffee. "I am so done with Israel! The corruption, the situation with the Palestinians, the racists in the government...How can you still support them? How can you even want to go there this summer?"

I started my rabbinical career 42 years ago, when I served as an assistant rabbi at a large, urban synagogue in Miami, Florida. Those were interesting and challenging times. I arrived in the wake of the Mariel boat lift. I experienced the plight of the Haitian refugees.  Those were the days of "Miami Vice," and I was living that television show. In 1983, I left Miami for points north, and I rarely looked back -- even though my late father eventually moved to south Florida. Time and circumstance changed, and eight years ago, I returned to south Florida. My career has flourished here, and it will soon come to an end (the full time congregational rabbinate part, at least). I have loved the two congregations that I have led. I have made some deep and lasting friendships and relationships. I have come to enjoy the climate (well, not in July). I have appreciated the cost of living. I have gotten used to eating dinner at 4 pm (that was a joke). But, there is one thing that I cannot abide, and that is the growing sense that this state is becoming Ground Zero for the repression of women; LGBTQ people -- and, increasingly, ideas themselves. From today's JTA: Florida's state education department rejected two new Holocaust-focused textbooks for classroom use, while forcing at least one other textbook to alter a passage about the Hebrew Bible in order to meet state approval... Under Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis, the state has made an effort to clamp down on what he calls “woke indoctrination,” mostly regarding race and gender. The textbooks' rejection is the latest example of how that drive is affecting Jewish topics as well.  

It was the fifteen worst minutes in American Jewish history. It happened on October 27, 2018. It was a Shabbat morning. A gunman, Robert Bowers, entered the Tree of Life -Or L'Simcha Congregation in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – in the heart of the historically Jewish Squirrel Hill neighborhood. Bowers opened fire on the worshipers, and by the time his attack was over, eleven worshipers were killed, and six were wounded. Over the years, I have spent much time in Pittsburgh, teaching and lecturing. I have what I can only call an urban crush on the city. That is especially true of Squirrel Hill, which is one of the last true "shtetls" in America, a village that was the model for Fred Rogers' "neighborhood of make believe," a place where everyone knew and cared for each other, and a place where Jews came, settled, and mostly stayed, no matter what their level of affluence. Prior to that Shabbat morning service, by my own calculation – there had been eight fatalities due to antisemitic violence in American history. The shooting in Pittsburgh almost doubled that number. Other acts of violence – the shooting at Chabad in Poway, California; the shooting at the kosher grocery store in Jersey City, New Jersey; the machete murder of the rabbi in Monsey, New York to follow. The Tree of Life shooting was a trauma in American Jewish history. As jury selection continues for the trial of Robert Bowers, the scab has been torn off that wound, and the Jews of Pittsburgh experience that trauma anew. The big question: If found guilty, should Bowers get the death penalty? That is the subject of this podcast with Marshall Dayan -- attorney, law professor, and an activist against capital punishment. Marshall has been actively involved in the anti-death penalty movement since 1981, and has represented those charged with or convicted of capital crimes since 1986. He has served as Chair of the Board of the National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty; as President of the North Carolina-based People of Faith Against the Death Penalty, and as Vice Chair of the Commission on Social Action for Reform Judaism.

Bernard Malamud. Saul Bellow. Philip Roth. Joseph Heller. Herman Wouk. J.D. Salinger. Norman Mailer. E.L. Doctorow. Chaim Potok. Leon Uris. That is a partial list of American Jewish writers of the recent past -- all of them lions of literature, and all of them now dead. There is one woman who belongs on that list, and she is the only one left of that generation. I refer to Cynthia Ozick, who last week celebrated her 95th birthday. Cynthia Ozick's literary output has been prodigious. Not only fiction, but non-fiction and literary criticism -- at a dizzying intellectual level. Cynthia Ozick is not only our greatest surviving literary figure from that generation; she is also one of American Jewry's and America's preeminent public intellectuals.

So, this really happened. Some years ago, my young cousin was on a United Synagogue Youth trip to Israel. While she was there, the group went north to tour the grottoes at Rosh HaNikra. Alas, while taking photographs, she dropped her camera into the water. She called her mother, heartbroken, and they both concluded the camera was irretrievably lost. A month after her return to the States, my young cousin got a package. It contained her camera. What had happened? Apparently, there were Israel Defense Forces soldiers on maneuvers, off the Mediterranean Coast — not far from Rosh HaNikra. A skin diver found the camera, sitting at the bottom of the sea. He opened the camera; took out the card; saw photographs of kids wearing USY Minneapolis T-shirts; contacted USY in Minneapolis; asked if anyone who had been on an Israel trip had lost a camera; located her — and that was how my cousin got her camera back. Perhaps this would have happened anywhere. But, to me, it is the sort of thing that makes you say: "Rak b'Yisrael. Only in Israel." Why? The mitzvah is called hashavat aveidah — returning lost objects. It is a Jewish obsession. There is an entire section of the Talmud that covers this subject. There, we read that in the ancient Temple, there was a chamber to which people would bring stuff they had found, and people would search there for what they had lost. A midrash says every tribe of Israel had a particular job to do. The tribe of Dan had the job of tagging along after all the other tribes to find lost objects they might have dropped along the way. As we celebrate the 75th anniversary of the founding of the state of Israel, let us ask ourselves: What had the Jewish people lost? And, what did the state of Israel help them find again?

It is time to play movie trivia. According to the American Film Institute, who is the greatest hero to ever appear in a movie? Indiana Jones? Rocky Balboa? Um, Gandhi? The answer: Atticus Finch, in "To Kill a Mockingbird" — played by Gregory Peck in the 1962 classic film adaptation of Harper Lee's novel.

Mad magazine was the haggadah of my childhood. It was my sacred text, my script and my constant companion — so much so that I cannot imagine my childhood and early adolescence without it. That is why these past few days have been sad for me, and for so many others. Al Jaffee, perhaps the last of the creators of Mad, has died at the biblical age of 102. In 2016, Guinness World Records recognized him for having had the longest career as a comic artist. Let me go through that haggadah — that "sacred" script — of my childhood. I lived for Mad. 

I have been watching what has been unfolding in the state of Israel – the 5 percent (and growing) of the Israeli population that has taken to the streets of the Jewish state. They are protesting the proposed changes that would radically diminish the power of the judiciary, thus threatening the only thing that Israel has that represents a true balance of powers. When I see those scenes, it brings me back to those heady days of 1969, 1970 – when my American peers and I protested the Viet Nam war, and racism – and any number of things. I feel a kinship with the throngs in the streets of Israel, because I agree with them. Israel and the Zionist project itself are in danger. Join me in this podcast -- a dive into the rich legacy of Israeli protest music. Our guest: Yossi Klein Halevi: one of Israel's most prolific and profound writers and journalists; an author of many books, including "Like Dreamers," which was about the generation of soldiers who fought in the 1967 Six Day War, and how those individuals shaped Israeli society; a fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute, where he is the co-director, with Imam Abdullah Antepli, of the Muslim Leadership Institute – one of the most significant voices in the Jewish world today.  

The word is "shushky." It means to shush something -- to not speak about something, to silence a conversation. It is a uniquely Southern Jewish Yiddishism. Let me tell you about the first time that I heard that word. I was with a group of Jews in Atlanta, Georgia. The conversation turned to the topic of Leo Frank. I suggested that it might be a “nice idea” to have a monument for him, somewhere in Atlanta. As they say -- awkward. "Under no circumstances," someone said. "It's too raw. It's too fresh,” another person said. "Let's just shushky the whole thing, shall we?" yet another person said. Consider the musical, "Parade," with the book by Alfred Uhry, author of "Driving Miss Daisy" and "Last Night of Ballyhoo," now revived on Broadway. It has gotten good reviews, along with some harassment by antisemites. Why "Parade," and why now? Because "Parade" is the story of the life and death of Leo Frank. His story will no longer be shushkied. 

This might be one of the most important columns that I have ever written. I wrote this, and created the accompanying podcast, because I want to help people deal with the most momentous decision that anyone can make. In the early 1980s, I was at the very beginning of my rabbinical career. I was serving a congregation in Miami, and I visited one of our congregants in the local hospital. His name was Eli TImoner. My guest is Rabbi Rachel Timoner, the senior rabbi of Congregation Beth Elohim in Brooklyn, New York. She tells the story of her father, and of the movie, "Last Flight Home," which her sister, filmmaker Ondi Timoner directed. It is a documentary about Eli TImoner's decision that he wanted to end his life.

Here is a new Jewish party game. Gather a bunch of friends around a table, and everyone must complete the following sentence: “The Jewish people should continue to exist and thrive because … ” You think it's easy? It's not. In fact, one of the things that makes this a Jewish party game is that the only people that ever ask themselves whether and why they should exist — just happen to be the Jews. That is why I was thrilled to interview Rabbi Michael Strassfeld. He is a noted author and thought leader in American Judaism (more on his most famous book later). His new book is “Judaism Disrupted: A Spiritual Manifesto for the 21st Century.” We talk about the Jewish counterculture, and what is good in Hasidism, and what Rabbi Strassfeld believes we have to get rid of in order for Judaism to survive. Rabbi Strassfeld is asking the following question: For what purpose are we preserving Judaism? Just to preserve it for its own sake is not compelling to me. If Jews no longer find Judaism meaningful or if it turns out Judaism can only flourish when we are being persecuted or by withdrawing from the world into separatist enclaves, then I am not sure Judaism can or will survive. The argument for observance for continuity's sake seems to me wrongheaded and one that I think people will increasingly find unconvincing. “Hanging out” with Rabbi Strassfeld brought me back to my years as a college student, when there was one Jewish book that everyone had on their shelves. And no — I am not talking about the Hebrew Bible. That book was “The Jewish Catalog,” edited by Michael Strassfeld, Sharon Strassfeld and the late Richard Siegel. “The Jewish Catalog” was sort of like a Jewish version of — and here, I am really dating myself! — the “Whole Earth Catalog.” “The Jewish Catalog” was unique. It was a volume on how to create your own Jewish life, and a Jewish life for the community that you wanted to craft for yourself. Ultimately, “The Jewish Catalog” would consist of three volumes — with essays and do it yourself guides by all of the major and even the minor figures of the Jewish counterculture of the time — many of whom have died, but whose influence lives on, profoundly. “The Jewish Catalog” was an American Jewish publishing phenomenon. It went on to be one of the bestselling books in American Jewish publishing history. Fifty years later (!),the question is no longer: How do I create a Jewish life for myself? It is a deeper question. Why would I want to? Why would I need to? That is the question that keeps me awake at night.

I love malapropisms. My favorite: A number of years ago, a bar mitzvah kid was leading services from an earlier Reform prayer book, “Gates of Prayer.” He was supposed to have read: “In a world torn by violence and pain …” Instead, it came out of his mouth as: “In a world torn by violence and prayer …” He got that right. My guest is Professor Marcia Pally. Professor Pally teaches at New York University and at Fordham University and held the Mercator Guest Professorship in the theology department at Humboldt University-Berlin, where she is an annual guest professor. Her latest book is “White Evangelicals and Right-wing Populism: How Did We Get Here?” We discuss her concerns about right-wing evangelical populism. Want to watch something terrifying? Check out this video of the song “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Watch those young, beautiful children doing exactly as the lyrics would teach: preparing to become Christian soldiers, marching as to war. The images are terrifying. This subject is so hot, so alive and, frankly, so upsetting — precisely because it is about the weaponization of faith. A group of insurrectionists, including Jacob Chansley (shirtless), prays inside the U.S. Senate chamber after breaching the Capitol, Jan. 6, 2021, in Washington. Video screen grab via Luke Mogelson/The New Yorker Check out this quote from Professor Pally's book: Among those who on January 6, 2021 rioted at the US Capitol building claiming that the 2020 election had been stolen from Donald Trump was a small group that stormed the Senate chamber. Removing his horned helmet, a bare-chested “shaman” figure named Jacob Chansley led the group in prayer: Thank you heavenly father for gracing us with this opportunity… to allow us to exercise our rights, to allow us to send a message to all the tyrants, the communists, and the globalists, that this is our nation, not theirs. We will not allow America, the American way of the United States of America to go down … Thank you divine, omniscient and omnipresent creator God for blessing each and every one of us here and now …. In Christ's holy name, we pray. I could not put Professor Pally's book down, and then I went on to watch Andrew Callaghan's documentary “This Place Rules,” which just came out and which is available on HBO Max. It is a chronicle of his trips across the United States, visiting people who wound up — or whose compatriots wound up — on the steps of the Capitol building on Jan. 6. Many of these people were terrifying. I also mean they were physically terrifying. While I believe everyone has the right to do with their bodies as they want to — these people seem to have gone out of their way to alter their appearances so as to look really scary. They define the meaning of terror. It worked. I have to say: It terrified me. The whole issue of how faith becomes intertwined with right-wing politics, violent bigotries — all of that — I was fascinated. Grimly fascinated. I was grimly fascinated and terrified and depressed by the interviews in the film with children who believe in various conspiracy theories, including the QAnon conspiracy theory. But even more than that: I found it absolutely revolting that they were quoting those theories and then using terms like “globalist” or “Rothschilds,” which are antisemitic dog whistles. All of which reminded me of something about faith. The late Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, who served as the chief rabbi of Great Britain and who had a warm relationship with the current King Charles, once said — and it has always stayed with me — that religion has the power to make good people better, and it has the power to make bad people worse. It is ultimately our choice.

In honor of my niece's return from her Birthright trip — which has become an American Jewish rite of passage — I talked with sociologist, Len Saxe, about what Birthright gets right.

It's not the usual venue for it — that would be a coffee place on Emek Refaim Street in Jerusalem, but I spent about an hour talking with my friend and teacher, Gil Troy. Gil is the author and editor of nine books, including several books on Israel and Zionism — and most recently and most impressively, “Theodor Herzl,” a collection of Theodor Herzl's writings in a beautiful three volume set published by Koren, as part of its imprint, the Library of the Jewish People. We also talked about great American presidents (who would you like to have lunch with?), and our mutual American diplomatic heroes, and about what it means to support Israel, even in its most difficult times. When I think of Zionism, I focus on one of my own heroes — a man whose yahrzeit, the anniversary of his death, was just last week — the great Israeli writer and thinker, Amos Oz. Four years gone, and four years mourned. Amos Oz was quite aware there were many people who did not believe there should be a Jewish state, because they simply do not believe in nation-states. This is what I would call the John Lennon “Imagine” argument: ”Imagine there's no countries; it's easy if you try.” This is how Amos Oz responded to that argument: I would be more than happy to live in a world composed of dozens of civilizations, each developing in accordance with its own internal rhythm, all cross-pollinating one another, without any one emerging as a nation-state: no flag, no emblem, no passport, no anthem. No nothing. Only spiritual civilizations tied somehow to their lands, without the tools of statehood and without the instruments of war. But the Jewish people has already staged a long-running one-man show of that sort. The international audience sometimes applauded, sometimes threw stones, and occasionally slaughtered the actor. No one joined us; no one copied the model the Jews were forced to sustain for two thousand years, the model of a civilization without the “tools of statehood.” For me this drama ended with the murder of Europe's Jews by Hitler. In other words: It would be lovely if there were no nations, and we could all dwell together in the imaginary world of “kumbaya.” But, if a nation wants to divest itself of the trappings of its nationhood, let it go first. France, Germany, Italy… “After you,” Oz is saying. Don't expect the Jews to be the first to divest itself of its national and particular identity, and don't expect the Jews to be the only “universal” people in the world. Especially since universal identities do not exist. Until there is a universal, human identity –—which is to say, until the coming of the great messianic age — I will maintain my allegiance to this people, to this land and to this God.

This podcast will begin with a sad story — about a family in turmoil. Their story mirrors what is happening in the larger society — the struggle over politics, culture and how to engage each other on those topics. Join me in a conversation with David Bernstein and Rabbi Amy Wallk as we discuss the ramifications of far-leftist politics, cancel culture and antisemitism. I tell this story with the permission of the person involved. It is not pretty. A man came to see me in my office, very distraught. His two adult daughters have cut off all communication with him. Why? Because they disagree politically. The parents are conservative; the children are far left. They have accused their parents of being racist, misogynistic, etc. I know this man and his wife. True, they are political conservatives. It is also true that they are on the board of a soup kitchen. They serve food in a church in one of the most impoverished areas of south Florida. We might disagree on policy issues, but these people are hardly racist. The man tells me, through tears, that he is approaching 80 years old: “Who knows how much time I have left? We want our children! We want our grandchildren! Our love for them is far bigger than a political party!” This poor man. This poor family. My heart breaks for them. This story sat with me as I read David Bernstein's new book “Woke Antisemitism: How a Progressive Ideology Harms Jews.” David is a veteran Jewish communal leader, a classic liberal (as am I) and the founder of the Jewish Institute for Liberal Values.