Chelsea, Marc and the Jewish Problem

One hundred years ago it would have been impossible, for a Jew would never have been considered an appropriate match for the daughter of the President of the United States; and one hundred years ago it would have been improbable, because very few Jews would have married out of the faith.

But 2010 is not 1810 or 1910. The news media yawned when Chelsea Clinton married Marc Mezvinsky in a ceremony that featured a tallit and sheva brachot, a Rabbi and a Minister. Jews have thoroughly integrated into American society, and as a result bigotry is scarce and intermarriage common.

But for Jewish pundits, the Clinton-Mezvinsky wedding is a religious Rorschach test. Each pundit gazes into this intermarriage, and sees their own reflection. For some Jews, the Clinton-Mezvinsky wedding is actually a source of pride, a sign Jews have truly arrived. Others fret, wringing their hands and issuing jeremiads about how the Jewish community has failed. Orthodox polemicists blame the failure of the Liberal movements, outreach professionals blame the community’s failure at outreach, and Zionists see this intermarriage as indicative of the failure of Diaspora Judaism. Hundreds of op-eds and sermons have been devoted to dissecting this intermarriage and agonizing about the contemporary “Jewish problem”, a crisis of assimilation and indifference.

Many of these pundits make compelling cases, but I can’t help feeling like they’re all missing the point. Assimilation isn’t occurring because Judaism has failed; it’s occurring because all institutions, including Judaism, are declining. As David Brooks has pointed out, institutional thinking has eroded across the board, in schools and sports, in businesses and in banks. Respect for and devotion to institutions is disappearing.

Today’s mindset is profoundly individualistic. Every practice is evaluated by one simple criterion: “what’s in it for me?”. By contrast, institutional thinkers approach their institutions with a profound feeling of reverence and responsibility. Brooks quotes political scientist Hugh Heclo, who writes that “institutionalists see themselves as debtors who owe something, not creditors to whom something is owed.” Institutionalists are extremely uncommon nowadays.

Simply put, intermarriages occur when the institution of Judaism becomes a secondary concern, superseded by one’s individual needs. And since individualism is the order of the day, few can justify passing up true love in order to respect a millennia old tradition.

Some Rabbis have tried to repackage Judaism into user-friendly parcels in order to make it more appealing in an age of individualism. They have offered Jewish wisdom about leadership and family, and even tips on kosher sex. I use this approach myself, and it certainly helps make Judaism more relevant and meaningful. But ultimately, this approach will fail as a weapon against assimilation, because in our zeal to make every Jewish practice useful and beneficial, we have actually undercut the very foundations of Judaism. Judaism is founded on a sense of duty; we fast on Yom Kippur, even though it’s uncomfortable; we circumcise babies even though it’s painful. We do so because Judaism is a transcendent institution that we revere.

Abraham, the founding father of Judaism, proudly announced “Hineni- I am ready”; he was ready to sacrifice for any and all of God’s demands. And throughout history, Jews have been willing to put Jewish destiny before individual interests. Until now. With a deeply individualistic zeitgeist blowing by us, who knows if there will still be Jews who will proclaim “Hineni” at the end of the 21st century.

(But in the end, things are not so bleak. for a more optimistic continuation of this article, read this.)

A Lost Joy

We are lucky enough to live in the lottery winner of civilizations. Our standard of living eclipses that of previous generations. Dreaded illnesses have been banished forever, and life expectancy has gone up by thirty years in the last century. Luxuries that were inconceivable fifty years ago are now the birthright of the middle class.

The past was a lot different. People in my parent’s generation grew up in a world of wars, financial depressions, and inferior medical care. These difficulties shaped their lives and left their scars. One man I knew, who had no money as a child, remained a miser long after he had achieved exceptional wealth. Another survivor I knew, traumatized by the hunger he endured, left caches of food and money all around his house. Adversity leaves a bitter imprint, tattooing antique worries into our hearts.

Thankfully, today we live in an era of exceptional abundance and tranquility; my kids have been vaccinated against a slew of afflictions, will never be drafted into the army, and generally worry most about if and when they will be getting a new electronic gadget.

Every day, we must remind ourselves to appreciate these remarkable blessings, and thank God for our bounty. But for the most part, there is one blessing our generation has been denied: the joy of triumph.

A true triumph is when one has overcome existential challenges. Alongside the painful memories of suffering lies a fierce pride, a profound self-respect built on courage and determination.

One woman I knew, who was disabled as a child by polio, refused to allow her disability to define her life. She lived a life of courage, determination and love, and served as inspiration to a multitude of people, including myself. She had become the exceptional person she was despite her difficulties, but also because of them; she had passed life’s tests. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch writes that the Hebrew word for test, “nissah” is related to the Hebrew word to raise up, “nasso”. This is because a test is not meant to merely be endured, but rather to raise one up to a higher plane. And there is nothing sweeter than passing life’s tests.

Today, one can observe the joy of triumph at select celebrations such as weddings. The grandparents or great grandparents speak a European accented English, and simultaneously have a tear and a twinkle in their eyes. They are graduates of university of life, and sometimes have a six digit diploma tattooed on their arms. They tell you that the bride is named after a sister who didn’t make it, and then they ask you to make a l’chaim, a toast, to the future of the young couple. This toast is different than any other toast, because it has a message of determination that says: “damn you Hitler, we’re still here”. And as you raise your glass, you realize that the smile on the grandfather’s face is unique: it’s the smile of triumph.

Those of us who have lived privileged North American lives will never experience that smile, because a test free life is a triumph free life. That's how it should be, because God forbid, no one should ever desire the anguish of tests; and in the end, far too many fail their tests. Indeed, if you asked the smiling grandparent at the wedding, they’d tell you their deepest wish is for all of us to live lives of peace and tranquility.

No, we will never know the joy of triumph. But if we look in the right places, for a few fleeting moments, we too can share that smile of triumph, a triumph earned by blood, sweat, and tears.

My New Hero

I don't even know my new hero's name. She isn't a famous movie star or a politician. Actually, I’ve only met my hero once, serving coffee at the Second Cup where she works.

But she's my hero anyway, because like all heroes, this big hearted barista had a mission: to put a smile on everyone's face. I had run into her cafe hurried and stressed, looking for a quick caffeine fix between meetings; and to be honest, like most other customers, I was a lot less congenial than I should have been. Yet this woman accepted my order gracefully, and with just a few kind words managed to make me smile. This hero had made a difference in my day; and she certainly makes a daily difference in the lives of her customers as well.

Now, calling this cheerful coffee salesclerk a “hero” might seem like a gross exaggeration to you; but I am dead serious about what I’m saying. Yes, I’m sure you agree with the Mishna in Pirkei Avot that we should greet people with a pleasant face; after all, that’s how our mothers raised us. But frankly, there’s a lot more than manners at stake here.

Smiles are in short supply nowadays. People are far more busy and stressed than they were fifty years ago. (Why that is is a topic for another time). Socially, we are cut off from everyone except for those who are closest to us. True “neighbourhoods”, where people actually know their neighbours, no longer exist. Even in the suburbs, people are unable to name most of their neighbours; people may live next door to each other, but they aren’t next door neighbours. We have retreated into well insulated cocoons, entertained by the flickering screens of the electronic age, communicating virtually with virtually everyone, but truly knowing virtually no one. True community spirit, with a sense of being connected to those who surround us, has disappeared nearly everywhere.

Along with the collapse of community has come the collapse of civility. There’s simply no time to say hello; after all, we have to get down to business. People chatter away on cellphones while standing on line, and the polite banter of strangers only occurs when two people are simultaneously between calls. E-mail is even worse; the linguistic structure of e-mail has the ambience of firefighters shouting to each other during a four alarm fire. Greetings, even first names, are omitted, leaving only a blunt request, sometimes delivered in caps, demanding of us to “CALL JIM NOW”. Frankly, we are stretching the social fabric a bit too thin, and we are witnessing an epidemic of grumpiness.

And grumpiness makes a difference. I remember being stunned when a former Member of Parliament, discussing his life in politics, told me that at times legislation, even the course of governments, are deeply affected by the moods of the leaders. A Prime Minister arrives one morning in foul mood because he had a fight with his wife, and all of a sudden, initiatives are upended, ministers are demoted. Grumpiness is not just a mood; it can change history. And much like the famed “butterfly effect”, (that a butterfly flapping its wings can change to course of the weather) a simple lack of civility can have far reaching consequences as well.

And that’s why this barista is my hero. By putting a smile on the faces of her customers, she has pushed back against the impolite and impersonal. And with her cheerful countenance, she has made difference; after all, even one smile can create a hurricane of kindness.

What a Peace Activist Should Want

(Rally Speech 6-7-10)

I am also a peace activist.

I pray for peace every day, three times a day. In the daily prayer we say the words “Sim Shalom”, asking God for world peace.

I dream of peace, just like Isaiah dreamt,

וכתתו חרבותם לאתים וחניתותיהם למזמרות

“They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks”.

And I hope for peace, much like Yitzchak Rabin hoped for peace when he said to Yasser Arafat on the White House lawn on September 13, 1993:

“We say to you today in a loud and a clear voice: Enough of blood and tears. Enough.”

And like Isaiah and Yitzchak Rabin, I too dream of peace.

I’m also a peace activist.

But I have some questions for the "peace activists" who were traveling with the "Freedom Flottilla".

Why do you ignore the plight of the Muslim Uigers in western China?

Why do you ignore the Fur, Zaghawa, and Masalit tribes in the Darfur region in Sudan?

Why do you ignore the plight of the pro-democracy movement in Iran, where students are getting slaughtered in the streets of Tehran?

And why is it that you couldn’t bring a measly little package to Gilad Shalit, who has sat for nearly 4 years in captivity without a visit from the Red Cross or a family member?

And why is it that when Jewish blood flows in the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, when rockets rain down on Sderot, you, the "peace activists" are silent?

And why is it that as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad builds a nuclear bomb to destroy Israel, you say nothing?

And why is it that whenever someone talks about peace, it must be at the expense of Israeli lives?

My dear “peace activists”, this is the key to understanding the situation in Gaza. Read Hamas’ charter, and then compare it with Israel’s declaration of independence.

The Hamas charter says:

"Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it”

“The stones and trees will say O Muslims, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him.”

And the Hamas Charter quotes the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a horrific anti-Semitic forgery that has caused Jews so much suffering the last century.

On the other hand, Israel’s declaration of independence offers peace to the surrounding nations. It says:

WE EXTEND our hand to all neighbouring states and their peoples in an offer of peace and good neighbourliness, and appeal to them to establish bonds of cooperation and mutual help with the sovereign Jewish people settled in its own land.

Indeed, it’s the only Declaration of Independence in the world to make an offer of peace!

AND THIS COMPARISON TELLS THE ENTIRE STORY – WHAT DOES HAMAS REALLY WANT, AND WHAT DOES ISRAEL REALLY WANT!!

Now, another question for the “peace activists” around the world: why is it that Israel is assumed to be guilty until proven innocent? That until videos and photos from the Mavi Marmara were revealed, all of the “peace” community assumed the worst about Israel, assumed the worst about the one democracy that actually treasures human rights in the Middle East?

Why was there a rush to judgment, eventually overturned when the videotape was revealed?

And indeed, “peace activists” in this very city, gathered two days ago to criticize the Government of Canada for not rushing to judgment.

These “peace activists” came to criticize Canada, and show their support for Hamas.

Well, as a Canadian and a peace activist, I want to say that I take pride in the Canadian government. I’m proud of her support of Israel.

Yes, I am also a peace activist, but I want a true and just peace.

I deeply want to see the Palestinians live in peace and prosperity….. but I also want Israelis to be able to live in peace in their ancient homeland.

I want Israelis to wake up in the morning, and not worry about Kassams and Katuyshas and suicide bombers.

I want a Middle East without terror, a Middle East with true peace.

I too say: Enough of blood and tears. Enough.”

And enough of Ahmadinejad and Hamas and Hezbollah.

It’s time for true peace in the Middle East.

What’s Your #ish?

No, that’s not a typo. #ish is a word, or at least it’s word-ish. #ish is actually a marketing invention, an amalgam of a hashtag, (a secret symbol comprehensible only to users of “social media” like twitter), and the funnier sounding half of the word Jewish. “What’s your #ish?” is the slogan of a $300,000 Jewish Federations of North American marketing campaign aimed at 18-35 year olds. Armed with a trendy tagline and comically offbeat video, this cutting edge marketing campaign invites young Jews to offer serious and silly descriptions of their “#ish”, the essence of their connection to Judaism.

Despite the comic ambience of this campaign, no question could be more serious. Jews need to know why they should be Jewish. This question is THE question, and needs to be discussed by everyone, from husbands and wives to parents and children, to the board of directors at every Federation in North America

But in many ways, this question is a sad question; or to be more precise, a serious question that gets too many absurd answers. I know this campaign is meant to elicit comic, tongue in cheek banter; at the same time it’s still distressing to consider that for many Jews, Jewish identity has been trivialized down to an absurd caricature, and a proud spiritual tradition has been reduced to a series of kitschy icons: Bubbies, corned beef, Woody Allen, Yiddish and Jewish jokes.

The Jewish community has done an awful job articulating “what’s our #ish?”. Instead of embracing a serious Jewish mission, we have poured our energies and philanthropic dollars into building nostalgia based cultural institutions. We forget that Judaism is not the “shvitz”, and not a pastrami sandwich, and not a production of Fiddler on the Roof. Yes, Judaism is more than lox, bagels and Woody Allen; it is a proud intellectual and spiritual tradition. Judaism is more than a hashtag, it’s a mission.

That Judaism is a mission is the fundamental idea embraced by serious Jews of every stripe, from the Jewish Socialist to the Ultra-Orthodox Chassid. (What exactly that mission is, is another story!). And Jews have made significant sacrifices throughout the ages to pursue this mission. When Abraham is asked by God to wander in search of his destiny, it was not in order to find a better cholent recipe or a good joke.

Well then, what’s my #ish? I’d like to answer with a story. (How Jewish is that!).

Dr. Rick Hodes has been doing a heroic job serving the JDC in Ethiopia for the last twenty years. One day, a young Muslim woman, Merdya Abdisa, comes in with a tumor the size of an orange around her eye. Hodes sends her file to leading surgeons around the world, but they all say it's impossible to operate on her. One day while visiting Minneapolis, Dr. Hodes overslept, and arrived at the synagogue just after services. The Rabbi was still there, studying with another man.

After praying, Dr. Hodes chatted with the Rabbi and his student. As it turns out the student was a doctor, with the precise specialty needed to do Merdya’s surgery. After showing the doctor, Eric Nussbaum, pictures of the young girl, Dr. Nussbaum said: 'I'd love to try to help this lady.'". A short time later Merdya was in Minneapolis having her tumor removed.

This story is a classic Jewish saga. It includes Torah, prayer, Jewish doctors and a Rabbi.

Most importantly, this story is about the Jewish mission, the profound desire to change the world, from Ethiopia to Minnesota.

And that’s my #ish.

The Zero Dollar Solution to the Jewish Continuity Problem

Why Do We Have Children? A Speech for my Son Eitan’s Bar Mitzvah 4-17-2010

Why do we have children? What motivates people to bring small, demanding, and noisy dependents into the world?

This question is particularly relevant this morning, as the Steinmetz family celebrates our third Bar Mitzvah in 20 months.

And that’s a lot of bar mitzvahs!!

But imagine what it was like 13 years ago!! It was a lot of baby boys.

Your mother and I used to joke that we have triplets, carrying around you and Akiva and Hillel, three boys two years old and under. Then Ilana came along, and we had four children four and under.

So, we have to ask the question again: why do we have children? It can be a lot of work.

1. The Rabbi’s Answer: To Teach

So if you ask a rabbi, he would tell you that having children is a mitzvah, the first mitzvah in the Torah, to be fruitful and multiply.

But what is the purpose of this commandment? To the Rabbi, the commandment of having children is not simply intended to populate the earth; it is part of a larger project, not just to give birth to the children, but to teach the children as well.

Rav Soloveitchik has explained that there are two levels of parenting: natural parenting and covenantal parenting.

Natural parenting is having children, following nature. In covenantal parenting, teaching becomes the key part of the parenting experience, in which the child is nurtured spiritually as well.

Soloveitchik’s comments underline how the role of father and teacher are already compared and combined in the Tanach, and even more so in the Talmud. Having children is simply a prerequisite to teaching children.

And we teach Torah because we must share, with our children, with our friends, and with the world, Torah wisdom and insights.

And this teaching mission starts with Abraham. Abraham teaches everyone about the foolishness of idolatry and the way to God.

And from Avraham on, we’ve been a teaching religion, and a religion of teachers. We have taught the world about:

belief in one God

brotherhood

freedom

man being in the image of God

and loving your neighbor and loving the stranger

And teaching has been your father’s passion too. That’s why I became a Rabbi, believe it or not.

I became a Rabbi because I loved Tanach and Talmud and Maimonides and Rav Zaddok and Rav Soloveitchik, and the Aruch Hashulchan. And I loved to teach about them.

Now I don’t expect you to become a Rabbi, Eitan….. but I do expect you to become a student of Torah and a teacher of Torah. That’s been the Jewish passion for the last 3,800 years, and it’s what Jews do.

And that’s why each generation of Jews looks forward to the next generation, to be able to pass the lessons of Judaism onto another generation.

2. The Scientist’s Answer: To Love

But, if you ask a scientist, the reason we have children is simple: to ensure the continuation of the species.

To the scientist, the maternal instinct, and when it exists, the paternal instinct, the desire to raise children, is a deeply held instinct, shared by man and animal.

But even though this is a basic instinct, an animal instinct, the Torah honors it a great deal.

Maimonides in the Moreh Nevukhim (3:48) makes this point as well, when he says that one must treat the mother bird with compassion when taking her chicks because the concern of a mother for a child is the same, both in animal and in man. And if humanity wants to merit “long days”, they must treat the parent-child attachment (of all animals) with respect.

And although the scientist may not speak poetically, in actuality most of us call this instinct something else: love.

Love is the powerful, loving attachment and devotion of the parent for the child.

And that’s why this “instinct”, even when found in animals, is so admired. The Tanach often uses the images of animal parents watching over their young, because some of the most powerful images of parental love come from the animal kingdom, where love is absolutely instinctive. And there is nothing more beautiful than the love of a parent who will do whatever it takes to nurture their child.

Love is a powerful reason to have children. No it’s not easy to have children, to love children; it requires sacrifices.

In your own family, you have seen the enormous sacrifices mommy makes for you, and for all of the children.

Mommy works,

runs a home that is open to an entire community,

has volunteered abundantly for your school and for our community,

and she is a nurse,

a taxi driver,

a cook,

a homework tutor

a psychologist

to you and your three siblings!!

and look how she plans amazing and beautiful bar mitzvahs!!!

Now that’s love Eitan!

And Mommy’s love reflects the wonderful example set by her parents, by your Bubby and Zaidie, and the wonderful home they built, and how devoted they are to their three daughters and all of their grandchildren.

And I have seen my mother bring up four little children on her own, as a widow and single mother. She had to provide for us and care for us, and be a mother and father to us.

It wasn’t at all easy.

It was love.

And trust me, I didn’t make it easy for her. I wasn’t always a Rabbi!

One day when I was seven, I went into the garage in our home and decided to drive the car. The garage was on the top of a hill, and I released the emergency brake and parking brake; and the car rolled down the hill. My mother looked out the front door and shouted at me to jump out; she shouted at a neighbor riding his bicycle in the path of the car to jump off. The car rolled down the hill, ran into a telephone pole; the car’s back window got smashed, and the car lost the door I jumped out of.

(By the way, don’t you ever do anything like this!!)

To deal with situations like this, you need courage. More importantly, you need love.

But that powerful instinctive love is why we have kids. That’s why Mommy and I wanted to have you.

3. The Simple Jew’s Answer: To Survive

So, you might ask scientists and Rabbis why they have children.

They might have sophisticated, thoughtful answers – and explain how instinctive it is to love, or how essential it is to teach.

But there is someone else you need to ask this question to as well: the simple Jew.

The simple Jew might not have any degrees; he might not have spent a great deal of time studying.

But the simple Jew has life experience, he has learned the lessons of history.

And if you ask the simple Jew: why do you have children?

He will tell you simply: we have children in order to survive.

Without children the Jewish people would disappear.

The Gemara (Sotah 12a) tells us that when the survival of the Jews in Egypt was in crisis, it wasn’t the great Rabbis and great leaders who led the way to survival – but rather a little girl. Amram, Moses’ father, was the leader of the generation. He decided that it was absurd for Jews to have children if the Egyptians would throw every male child into the river.

Now Amram’s decision was sensible and ethical, the sort of decision you’d expect from a great Rabbi. But his daughter Miriam, a young girl said to him: “Abba, if you do this, the Jewish people will disappear! If you do this, you’ll actually end up being worse than Pharaoh.”

Miriam was right, and Amram was wrong. Great Rabbis may have great ideas – but sometimes they outthink things, and miss the big picture.

When it comes to something as basic as survival, go ask a simple Jew what to do – that’s their specialty.

Simple Jews understand that for the Jewish mission to continue, we need to hang on.

To have children.

To survive

We now stand during sefirah – when we remember the destruction after the Bar Kochva revolt of 132-135.

At least 600,000 Jews were killed in the aftermath of the Bar Kochva revolt.

We also remember the events of the Crusades at this time of year. In 1096, during the First Crusade – 800 were Jews killed in the synagogue of Worms on May 18^th.

Just this past Sunday night, right at this Bima, we had a community wide Yom Hashoah service, to commemorate the deaths of the 6 million, including your great grandfather and quite a few members of your family.

So how did we bounce back after all of this? How did we survive?

We survived because simple Jews knew they had to survive – they knew they had to rebuild after the Shoah, to have children and grandchildren.

They had one dream – to keep the Jewish people alive.

And that’s my dream too.

You know, my mother, your grandmother, is a survivor of the Holocaust.

One of her most powerful memories is in Auschwitz, Simchat Torah 1944.

In a dream, Bubbie had a vision of her late mother, who came to her and told her that everything would be OK.

Right afterwards, she was called out and selected to be among a group of people transferred to a work camp, a place much better for survival. Bubbie’s dream was so powerful, so vivid, she to this day has no doubt her mother appeared to her, and was truly watching over her.

But actually, what is most remarkable about this dream is that it reflects an earlier dream. While Bubbie is dreaming of her mother, there’s never any doubt in Bubbie’s mind that her mother is there with her. Bubbie knows that wherever her mother's soul may be, her mother is thinking of her, watching over her her,

Bubbie knows that her mother is always dreaming of her.

Bubbie knew, even when she was a small child, that her mother had dreams for her, dreams of a Jewish future.

And the truth is, it’s not just Bubbie’s mother, your great grandmother, who dreams of her children.

Every simple Jew has the same dreams.

The dreams of the simple Jew are:

to survive,

to have Jewish children,

to continue 3,800 years of Jewish History,

and to pursue the Jewish mission.

And so Bubbie’s mother dreamt of Bubbie surviving the Shoah, and continuing the Jewish tradition.

Then, Bubbie dreamt of me, Abba, continuing the Jewish tradition.

And now Mommy and I have a dream, Eitan.

And that dream is you.

We’ve been dreaming of you. And that’s why we had you.

We had you to love you.

We had you to learn with you.

And we had you to add another link in a 3,800 year old tradition.

May God bless you, and may you give us, and everyone else in this room, true yiddishe naches.

Mazel Tov!!