Love II: Choosing to Love Judaism

Parshat Ekev 5770

Last week I spoke about love and how love relationships bring with them many challenges.  It isn’t easy to find love and when you do, it isn’t easy to sustain.  Yet, love is essential to who we are as human beings and love is our best hope for redemption – as individuals and as a world.  So, whenever two people come together in love, it is worth celebrating.

This evening, former first daughter Chelsea Clinton is getting married.  She apparently has found her beshert – the love of her life.  I wouldn’t usually remark on this sort of thing; but, as it happens, her groom Marc Mezvinsky is Jewish.  The son of a political family himself, Mezvinsky was raised with a Jewish identity and grew up in a Conservative synagogue.  So a lot of our Jewish friends in the press and in the leadership of the Jewish community have felt a need to comment on this very famous interfaith wedding.  Frankly, I feel a bit sad for Chelsea and Marc – neither of them chose to be celebrities and they probably don’t appreciate having millions of people gawking or giving opinions about how they should live their lives.  So I’m going to try not to talk about Chelsea Clinton and Marc Mezvinsky, per se, but I am interested in the ways this event has prompted a conversation in our community about interfaith weddings.  So, “Mazal Tov” to Chelsea and Marc and let’s leave it at that.

That being said, the reactions to the Clinton-Mezvinsky wedding, have been interesting to read because they say a lot about where we are as a Jewish community on interfaith relationships.  On the whole the Jewish community is not reacting with horror or dread.  However, there is an ambivalent mix of pride and concern.  On the one hand, I hear some muted pride that “one of ours” has made it to the top of American social life.  For some people this wedding is further evidence that we’ve arrived as a community.  All the barriers have fallen.  Yeah us! On the other hand, it is a sign of the times because the reality is that Marc Mezvinsky is not at all unusual.  He’s among the majority of American Jews today who marry someone of another religious background.  In fact, in his age cohort of younger Jews, the intermarriage rate is approaching 70%.  Oy vey!

As a community, we have good reason to be concerned about intermarriage.  The sociological research shows that intermarriage is a huge challenge to Jewish continuity.  We have always been a small minority that has felt threatened by outside influences.  This week’s Torah portion is a good example of how far back these concerns go.  In parashat Ekev Moses admonishes the people to follow in God’s ways or risk destruction.  He exhorts the Israelites to wipe out the pagans who occupy the land of Israel saying, “You shall destroy all the peoples that Adonai your God delivers to you, showing them no pity.  And you shall not worship their gods, for that would be a snare to you.”   Moses goes on to say, “You shall consign the images of their gods to the fire… You must not bring any abhorrent thing into your house, or you will be destroyed like it; you must reject it as abominable and abhorrent, for it is forbidden.” (Deut. 7:16; 25-26).

To our modern sensibilities these words seem harsh and intolerant.   But in context these strict social boundaries made a lot of sense.  The Cannanite tribes threatened to destroy us and their pagan practices enticed our people away from the One true God.  And I think our defensiveness over the centuries about mixing with other peoples made a lot of sense because we were persecuted and abused.  Today the situation is markedly different (or at least I would like to think so).  Jews today, especially in the United States, are freer and more accepted than at any time in our long history.  And, in contrast to our early 20th Century European brethren, I don’t think we’re deluded when we feel truly part of this multicultural society.  I really think we’re living in a new era of Jewish life.  That doesn’t mean we should stop encouraging Jews to marry other Jews, but it also means that shunning people who intermarry isn’t going to get us very far. 

When I was growing up, when someone married out of the community, it was often interpreted that they were rejecting their Jewish heritage.  But that turns out not to be true.  Instead, intermarriage is an outcome of the very freedom and acceptance we cherish; and many people who choose a partner who isn’t Jewish do not see their choice as incompatible with maintaining a Jewish identity or passing that identity along to their children.  And this isn’t unique to the Jewish community.  Americans today do not, by and large, see themselves divided by tribes or ethnicities.  And when it comes to religion they pick and choose with little loyalty to dogmas or ideologies.  People are instead seeking religious experiences that add wisdom and meaning to their lives. 

So, if we can no longer rely on tribal loyalty to keep us together; and if fear of anti-semitism isn’t a good enough reason to be Jewish, what then is the basis of our Jewish identity?  Judaism today is something people either choose to participate in or not.  So if we are to survive as a community, we need a new way of talking about Judaism and Jewish identity.  If couples like Chelsea and Marc are going to choose to give their children a Jewish identity, it will be because they find something meaningful, relevant, and compelling in Judaism that helps them live their lives with greater depth and purpose.  The challenge for Jewish leaders is: how we do that with integrity and loyalty to our tradition?

We shouldn’t forget that Judaism is much more than a wisdom tradition.  It is a way of life practiced by a people who share a common culture.  Judaism makes claims on our lives and demands of us.  The mitzvot, God’s commandments, are not a menu of choices.  So what is it that Judaism expects of us today?  Perhaps this week’s parsha also can give us some guidance.  In parashat Ekev Moses sums up Judaism in a succinct statement.  “And now, Israel, what does Adonai your God ask of you?  Only this: to revere Adonai your God, to follow in God’s ways, to love God, and to serve Adonai with all your heart and soul.” 

That’s Judaism in a nutshell.  All of our ancient traditions, customs, and laws, are directed to this purpose: Serving God and living by God’s example.  Judaism and the mitzvot are not an end in themselves.  Instead they are the means to a higher purpose.  If we remember that, perhaps we have a good chance of passing our religion on to our children.

Love is a Verb

Love is an art form that must be continually refined and practiced.   

Parashat Va’etchanan / Shabbat Nachamu 5770

In one of my favorite scenes in Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye the milkman asks his wife Golda this very simple question: “do you love me?”  To which she very romantically answers, “do I what!?” 

To modern audiences it might seem like a silly question.  In an open and free society like the one we live in, we take for granted that love is an individual decision that stems from romantic feelings.  But Fiddler is a reminder that it wasn’t too long ago that arranged marriages were common in many Jewish communities as well as in other traditional cultures. 

When we think about our ancient ancestors and the texts we inherited from them, the theme of romantic love does not usually come to mind.  There are only a few examples of romance that stand out in the Torah.  But the truth is that love is very important in Judaism.  In fact we have a day set aside for celebrating love. 

According to the Mishna (Taanit Ch. 4), during the time of the 2^nd Temple, the 15^th Day of Av (Tu B’Av) was a day set aside for romance.  Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel recounts that on Tu B’Av, under the warm glow of a full summer moon, the young women of Israel would go out of the city walls dressed in white and dance in the vineyards calling to the young men to choose their bride. 

We know very little historically about Tu B’Av and it fell out of practice after the destruction of the Temple, but in recent decades this day has been revived in modern Israel as the Jewish day of romance (kind of like Valentine’s Day). 

It’s interesting to me that this joyous day comes right after the saddest day of the Jewish year – Tisha B’Av.   On the 9^th of Av we mark the destruction of the 1^st and 2^nd Temples, the massacre of Jewish martyrs, and a number of calamities that have befallen our people over the centuries; but just 6 days later we have a celebration of love.  It was also on the 9^th of Av, according to tradition, that the Spies returned a negative report about the Land of Israel and God condemned the generation that had left Egypt to wander in the wilderness; but on the 15^th of Av, 40 years later, the Israelites were given permission to enter the Promised Land. 

I don’t think it is a coincidence then, that Tu B’Av – the day of love – falls during the week we read Parshat Etchanan.  Love figures in very centrally to this week’s parsha in which Moses admonishes the people to follow God’s mitzvot and live up to God’s standards when they settle the Land of Israel.  He recounts how we witnessed God at the foot of Mount Sinai (called Horev in the Book of Deuteronomy) and how we received the 10 Commandments. 

This parsha also contains one of the most famous passages in Torah – recognized by almost any Jew.  “Shma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad.”  The Shma and the paragraph known as “V’ahavta” are taken from Chapter 6 of the book of Deuteronomy.  This section is essentially a sermon on the first commandment, which is to know that there is One God and to Love God.  “Shma Yisrael – Hear, O Israel!  Adonai is our God, Adonai is One.  You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all you have.”

The most well-known Mitzvah – to Love God – is also one of the most enigmatic.  How can love be commanded?  How can God demand our love?  The reason this commandment seems odd to us is that we’ve been raised in a culture in which love is thought of as a noun – an emotion or sentiment that one feels.  But for God, love is a verb – love is something you do.  It is true that emotions cannot simply be commanded, but we can be instructed to act in loving ways. 

Let’s consider the first line of V’ahavta because from it we can learn about what the Torah means by love.  “V’ahavta – You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart (b’chol levavcha)…”  Our ancestors believed that the heart was the seat of intellect and will.  Therefore, to love God with our heart means to love with intention – with all our thoughts and desires.  The Hasidic Rabbi known as the Sfat Emet says that loving God with our heart means directing our impulses and drives (both noble and base) to God so that everything we do is imbued with holiness.

“u’v’chol naf’shecha - With all your soul…”  The word nefesh in the Torah is often translated as “soul” but it really means “life.”  Love God with your life.  Basing himself on the Talmud (Ber. 54a, 61b) the commentator Rashi says that loving God with your Nefesh means being willing to give even your very life for God.  When you truly love someone, you have to be willing to give of yourself.  It takes a commitment of the heart, but also a commitment of self.

“u’v’chol me’odecha”  This is usually translated as “with all your might.”  The word “me’od” is really a measure of quantity, so the traditional understanding of this phrase is that loving God “b’chol me’odecha” means loving God with all you own and all you have.  It means not only the willingness to give something intangible – like your time and effort.  This means quite literally to give what you have to God.  Sometimes loving relationships call on us to really give to another what is precious to us. 

The paradigm for loving God also applies to all the loving relationships in our lives.  Loving other people cannot simply be a sentiment we hold in our hearts.  The romantic impulse that draws us to another person is not enough to sustain a relationship.  The Psychoanalyst Erich Fromm (perhaps drawing on his Jewish roots) also observed that true love is not a passive feeling but rather an art we must cultivate and practice. 

It isn’t easy for me to talk about this subject.  I like to think of myself as a pretty good husband and father, but I’m as guilty as anyone of being lazy when it comes to what Fromm called The Art of Loving.  It’s so easy to forget that love is a verb – something you have to do and sustain.   But that’s the point.  One of the lessons of parashat Etchanan is that God would not have to command Love if it were easy to do.  Think about it: Moses is speaking to the generation that experienced God’s salvation from Egypt, saw the plagues and the miracles God did, and actually encountered God face to face at Mount Sinai.  You might think that they would have no trouble loving God.  But God understand that love is not easy.  So we shouldn’t beat ourselves up when we falter in our attempts to love another.  Through love of God, the Torah gives us a paradigm for life.  Or, as Fromm put it “Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.”

So this Sunday night and Monday (on the 15^th of Av) do something loving for someone you love; and let this day – like the Sh’ma we recite day and night – serve as a time to refine your skill in the art of loving.  Take an opportunity to go beyond the feeling of love that you hold inside and instead remember that love is verb.

UPDATE: Rotem Conversion Bill

Thankfully, it looks like the Rotem Bill will not be voted on before the end of this legislative session.  Your letters and the efforts of our leadership made a difference.  But the Rotem Bill is not dead yet.  In all likelihood it will be taken up again when the Knesset reconvenes after the High Holy Days.  Please stay tuned for updates and keep yourself informed on the issue.  United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism has a very helpful page with information about the bill and relevant links.

The situation with regard to the Conversion Bill looks very encouraging. I hesitate to say it is totally and completely off the table for this session only because I know there are still some meetings taking place and I know that MK David Rotem and his allies would attempt to move the bill forward if they saw the slightest chance for success. Your efforts in all of this were extremely important. Through our website link alone we know of 23,000 emails that went to Prime Minister Netanyahu and we understand that the office of the Prime Minister, in total, received in excess of 50,000 emails. I think it looks very good, but we are staying alert. Again, thank you. David H. Lissy Executive Director and CEO Masorti Foundation for Conservative Judaism in Israel

To learn more, please contact: Masorti Foundation for Conservative Judaism in Israel 475 Riverside Drive, Suite 832 New York, NY 10115-0068 (212) 870-2216; 1-877-287-7414 http://www.masorti.org/; info@masorti.org

Words of Rebuke

Parshat Devarim 5770

Events taking place in Israel threaten to further disenfranchise non-Orthodox Jews.  We should not be afraid to offer loving rebuke backed up by real substance.

This Shabbat we begin reading from the Book of Deuteronomy – Sefer Devarim.  The entire book of dvarim consists of a series of sermons that Moses gave to us as we stood poised to take possession of the Land of Israel. 

In this first parsha of Sefer Dvarim, Moses recounts the long journey the people took through the wilderness.  He lists all the places where Israel encamped or where some significant event took place.  The parsha opens very simply: “Eile ha-dvarim asher diber Moshe el kol Yisrael…” These are the words that Moses spoke to all Israel…” On this verse, Rashi – the most important of the Medieval Biblical commentators – points out that the verse uses the word diber (spoke) rather than amar (said).  Rashi explains that the use of the word “spoke” means that by these words Moses was rebuking the people; and that the purpose of recounting all the stops along the way was to remind the people of all the times that they disobeyed God.  Rashi bases his comment on a principle set out in Midrash (Sifre) that notes that anywhere that the Torah uses the word diber (spoke) it indicates rebuke whereas the word amar connotes praise.  Rashi goes on to say that the reason Moses only recounts the places and not each sin committed in those places was in order to not shame the people.  In other words, Moses wanted the Israelites to remember all the setbacks along the journey, but didn’t want to rub their faces in it.

            From this instance of gentle reproof we learn some Jewish principles of loving rebuke.  The first thing we learn is that criticism is necessary and important.  Without critique and expressions of disapproval, people don’t grow or improve.  The second lesson Moshe teaches us is that truly valuable rebuke comes out of love and sincere concern for the wellbeing of the other. 

            In Hebrew, the word for rebuke is tochecha.  And our ancient sages were very concerned with tochechah because, as important as rebuke is to our interpersonal relationships and a well functioning society, when done wrong it can be very destructive. 

            The Mishna – the compendium of Torah interpretation from the 2^nd century – recounts a discussion on the opening of our parsha.  In it, Rabbi Tarfon laments, “I doubt if there is anyone in this generation who is fit to give rebuke” because there is no one who is beyond reproach like Moses.  Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah replies, “I doubt if there is anyone in this generation capable of receiving rebuke.”  Rabbi Eleazar observed that, unlike the Israelites who listened attentively to Moses, most people nowadays get defensive when they are criticized and are not able to hear rebuke as an act of love.  Then Rabbi Akiva adds a third opinion saying “I doubt if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to offer criticism.”  In other words, the problem isn’t that we lack people as righteous as Moses or as receptive as the Israelites, but rather that good tochecha is an art form that few people know how to practice.  Too often, we level criticism of others in order to feel superior or to humiliate.  Sometimes rebuke is really a veiled way of attacking our enemies.  On the other hand, tochecha done right starts from a place of genuine love and concern for others.  We offer reproof to the people we love because we want them to improve.  When you offer criticism with love and humility, it is not destructive but rather an act of affirmation and faith – it affirms that you care about the person you’re criticizing enough to be concerned for his or her behavior.  And, loving rebuke expresses faith that the person you are criticizing is capable of doing better. 

It is with this long preface that I now step with trepidation into the risky territory of tochecha with what I hope will be taken as loving rebuke. 

I have been preoccupied this week with two events that took place in Israel.  On Monday morning, Rabbi Anat Hoffman, a leader of Reform Judaism in Israel and Chair of a group known as Women of the Wall was arrested at the Kotel.  Since 1989, Women of the Wall has been meeting every Rosh Hodesh to pray at the Kotel.  Over the years, these women have been subjected to verbal and physical violence from haredi men for doing nothing more than praying quietly.  In a number of rulings, the Israeli Supreme Court has upheld the right of the women to pray at the kotel so long as they do not wear Tallitot or Teffilin and as long as they don’t chant from the Torah.   On Monday of this week, Rosh Hodesh Av, Rabbi Hoffman was arrested for merely holding a Torah, even though she was not in violation of the court’s ruling. 

            This incident, and other recent arrests of WOW members, has caused an enormous uproar among the leadership of the Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist movements because it is emblematic of an ongoing religious conflict within Israeli society and only the latest in a growing effort by the state-sponsored rabbinate to disenfranchise non-Orthodox and secular Jews. 

            The incident at the Kotel was closely followed by another troubling event.  On the same day, a Knesset committee approved a draft bill that, if passed, will cede greater authority to the Chief Rabbinate over conversions to Judaism.  Up to this point, conversion has been one of the few areas of Jewish life that the Chief Rabbinate does not control.  According to the status quo, any orthodox rabbi can perform conversions in Israel; and conversions performed by rabbis of any stripe outside of Israel must be recognized by the State for purposes of immigration and citizenship.  But, that has left a lot of Jews, especially immigrants from the Former Soviet Union in limbo.  Though they are recognized as Jewish citizens of Israel, they are not Jewish for purposes of marriage, divorce, and burial in Jewish cemeteries (because all of these areas are controlled by the chief rabbinate).  A Member of Knesset named David Rotem originally drafted this bill in an attempt to make the conversion process easier on the largely Russian supporters of his Yisrael Beiteinu party.  But, once it got into committee, MKs representing religious parties amended the bill to give unprecedented power to the Chief Rabbinate which will allow them to impose a strict standard for conversion and give them the power to invalidate conversions they deem un-kosher, even for purposes of immigration.   Earlier this year, PM Netanyahu indicated he would oppose the bill, but he now appears to be wavering.  This has leaders of the non-Orthodox movements very worried and they are lobbying hard to persuade Netanyahu to put an end to this legislation. 

            Please understand that I am vocalizing this rebuke as someone who deeply loves and cares for Israel.  I think that because of the very real and scary threats to Israel’s security, we’ve conditioned ourselves not to be critical of the Israeli government (even when the issue doesn’t concern foreign policy).  But if we love Israel and care about its future and the future of the Jewish people, we must not be afraid to rebuke when rebuke is warranted. When we lovingly express our concern about something going on in Israel, it doesn’t weaken us or give fuel to our enemies.  It demonstrates that we care enough to want Israel to do better. 

              As American Jew who know the value of religious freedom; and as Conservative Jews who stand to lose if that freedom is denied us in Israel, we need to be speaking up about this issue.  Many of you probably saw my blog and facebook postings on the Rotem conversion bill.  If you haven’t, I urge you to learn more about the issue of religious pluralism in Israel.  I hope you will join me in lovingly rebuking the Israeli politicians who are allowing the haredi minority to grab even more power than they already have.  

            Finally, we have to do much more than send letters.  We need to put some substance behind our concern for religious freedom in Israel.  There are a number of things we can do.  We can support financially the small but vibrant Masorti Movement (which is what Conservative Judaism is called in Israel).  Instead of visiting the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods like Me’a Shearim and spending our tourist dollars in Haredi shops, whose owners distain our practice of Judaism, we should visit Masorti communities like the one our good friends Holly and Phil Seigel just moved to in Kfar Vradim.  We should be careful not to donate to Israeli and American organizations who work to undermine religious freedom and diversity.   And, likewise, we need to urge Federation and other large organizations and philanthropists to direct their funds to Israeli organizations that promote freedom and democracy in Israel. 

            There’s a lot we can do if we’re not afraid of being critical - as long as our critical support is motivated by our love and concern for Israel.

Shabbat Shalom.

Urgent Request: Please write to PM Netanyahu in support of religious pluralism

Please take a moment to read the letter below from the Masorti (Conservative) Movement in Israel about the impending passage of a bill that severely threatens religious pluralism in Israel.  This is of urgent concern to all Jews, especially American Jews who affiliate with the non-Orthodox denominations.   Thank you.  --Salomon

Dear Friends,          

            In March, we wrote to many of you about proposed legislation in the Knesset which, under the guise of helping address the conversion problem for olim from the former Soviet Union, would have granted legal standing to the control of the Chief Rabbinate and would, additionally, discriminate against Jews By Choice in terms of rights under The Law of Return.

            On Monday, a version of the proposed legislation, with language added by Shas which would make it even more problematic, was approved by a 5-4 vote in the Constitution, Law and Justice Committee. This happened despite public assurances by Prime Minister Netanyahu that no action would be taken until Natan Sharansky, Chair of the Jewish Agency, and the non-Orthodox streams had collectively worked on an appropriate solution.

            This proposed legislation is extremely damaging to Israel-Diaspora relations. Its proponents are pushing for speedy passage by the full Knesset. You must help stop this.

            Please click below to send an email to the Prime Minister recording your objections. Please forward this email to your friends and congregants and urge them to follow your lead in writing to Prime Minister Netanyahu. Speed matters. Please act right away. We are joined in this battle by leaders of the Reform movement and the Jewish Federations of North America.

            It is important to note for the record that Natan Sharansky has been extremely cooperative, constructive and helpful. He has expressed to the Knesset his own displeasure with regard to the actions being taken.

Click here to ask Prime Minister Netanyahu to prevent passage of the MK David Rotem Conversion Bill.

Sincerely,

David H. Lissy

Executive Director & CEO

Masorti Foundation for Conservative Judaism in Israel

To learn more, please contact:
Masorti Foundation for Conservative Judaism in Israel
475 Riverside Drive, Suite 832
New York, NY 10115-0068
(212) 870-2216; 1-877-287-7414
http://www.masorti.org/; info@masorti.org

The Cost of Silence

Parshat Mattot-Masei 5770

When you become a parent, your cultural context changes.  My favorite poets used to be Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson.  Nowadays I read a lot of Shel Silverstein poems.  One of my favorites is called “The Bagpipe Who Didn’t Say No.”  The poem is about a very brief romance between a lonely turtle and a bagpipe.  It begins:

It was nine o'clock at midnight at a quarter after three
When a turtle met a bagpipe on the shoreside by the sea,
And the turtle said, "My dearie,
May I sit with you? I'm weary."
And the bagpipe didn't say no. 

Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "I have walked this lonely shore,
I have talked to waves and pebbles--but I've never loved before.
Will you marry me today, dear?
Is it 'No' you're going to say dear?"
But the bagpipe didn't say no. 

I’ll spare you the rest.  Suffice it to say marriage was short lived.  Now it might seem funny to us that a bride – in this case a bagpipe – can consent to being married without saying a word.  But, as a matter of fact, in traditional Jewish law this is pretty much how a wedding happens.  According to halachah, the groom presents the bride with a ring and makes a legal declaration of his intention to acquire the her as his wife.  The bride need not say anything; rather, her silent acceptance of the ring is enough to signal her consent.  Thankfully we’ve evolved the traditional ceremony a bit, and today most brides also give their groom a ring accompanied by an affirmative statement of intention. 

In this week’s Parsha we also see an instance where silence is considered as assent.  Parshat Mattot starts with a discussion of the vows taken by women.  In Biblical times, if a woman took a vow or an oath, her husband had the legal right to annul it.  As long as he verbalized his objection on the very day that he learned of the oath, he could invalidate it.  We might take this, like the traditional wedding ceremony, to be an artifact of a patriarchal society.  I’m not going to apologize for our Biblical ancestors – that’s the way it was back then. But, you could argue that the rule was progressive in its context because at least it affirmed that women had the power to make binding vows.  Furthermore, you could say that the rules actually curb her husband’s power over her by limiting his opportunity to overrule her. At any rate, if he did not object on the very day he learned about the vow, his silence was taken as approval. 

There are other examples in Jewish law where silence is understood to be a gesture of assent.  Our tradition does not believe that it is possible to just stay quiet (certainly not for Jews!)  Not speaking up is as good as saying yes.  And when we learn of something objectionable and we fail to speak out, it is as though we support it.  As a Jew you don’t have the option to sit on the sidelines.  And, indeed, we Jews have a long history of speaking out against injustices and wrongdoing.    

For the past few months we’ve all been watching a horrifying event unfold.  On April 20, the Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded off the coast of Louisiana, killing 11 rig workers and setting off what is now the worst environmental disaster in US History.  Today marks 82 days since the spill started gushing at least a million gallons of crude into the Gulf of Mexico every day- that's roughly one Exxon Valdez every 4-7 days.  Chances are the gusher won’t be plugged until a relief well is completed in August (and there’s a chance that might not work either).  I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.  We’ve all been paying attention to this story unfolding, but as I studied this week’s parsha it occurred to me that I’ve been silent about it from the bima.  The BP spill has been going on for nearly 3 months and I haven’t said anything about it.  And, reading about how silence can be taken as assent, it made me wonder what to make of my own silence.

And, I’m not alone – neither rabbi Dollin nor I have spoken about it.  Please understand, that’s not meant as criticism of Rabbi Dollin or myself.  In fact, I put out an email to my colleagues around the country asking if they have spoken about the spill.  Only three rabbis told me they’ve preached about it from the bima.  I’ve looked on the internet for any statement from a rabbi on the oil spill and have found very few.  Like I said, I’m not pointing this out to be critical.  I think there are good reasons for the silence.  It is hard not to be totally dumbstruck by this tragedy – especially when we’re still in the midst of the crisis.  It will take a long time for us all to make some sense of this terrible catastrophe (hopefully not as long as the cleanup will take).  So I’m not surprised about the silence.  But at the same time, I became a rabbi because I sincerely believe that Torah is a source of wisdom; and that living by its values makes our lives better and makes the world better.  It may be too soon for a totally coherent Jewish response, but I have to believe that our tradition cannot remain silent much longer. 

There are many Jewish sources that can be brought to bear on this situation, but let’s consider an episode in this week’s Parsha.  Shortly after the discussion of women’ vows, the Torah says that the tribes of Reuben and Gad approached Moses with a request.  Reuben and Gad were wealthy tribes who owned a lot of cattle.  So they asked Moses for permission to settle the fertile grazing grounds on the East side of the Jordan River, instead of joining their brethren in the conquest of the Land of Israel.  Moses erupted in uncharacteristic indignation saying: “Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here!?”  The leaders of Reuben and Gad – confronted with their selfishness and self-centeredness – instead committed themselves to lead the way in the conquest of the land. “We will not return to our homes,” they respond, “until every one of the Israelites is in possession of his portion.”  In turn, for their loyalty they were granted their request.

One of the values we can derive from this episode is the idea of communal responsibility.  It’s true that Reuben and Gad’s initial impulse was self-interest rather than responsibility to their community.  It’s not surprising and I don’t think it makes them bad people.  We all act that way sometimes when left to our own devices.  I think our tradition recognizes that people act in their self interest unless otherwise called upon to be responsible to others.  We wouldn’t need Torah and laws if people always acted responsibly.  Moses may have shamed them into it, but in the end Reuben and Gad were rewarded for acting responsibly and looking out for their brethren.  One of the many lessons we can take from the Torah is that we can’t always expect people (or corporations) to act responsibly on their own.  BP might have prevented this disaster if they had spent (or been compelled to spend) a little more time and money on sensible safety measures and realistic contingency plans. 

And then there’s a second point I want to make about responsibility.  Beyond the need for oil companies to act more responsibly (or be compelled to act more responsibly), each and every one of us has got to come to terms with our own culpability for this tragedy. 

It is my observation that one of the reasons we’re having such a hard time talking about the spill is that it scares the tar out of us.  And I think it terrifies us into silence because we quietly know that we bear some responsibility too.  This event is a harbinger.  It’s a canary in the coal mine.  It certainly isn’t the first one, but I think it might just be the most tangible.  For decades scientists and activists have been warning about the many different potential negative consequences that lie ahead due to our ever growing consumption of oil – global warming, melting ice caps, rising sea levels, and global conflicts.  But, it’s hard to grasp what the big deal is about a few degrees of atmospheric temperature change; and it’s easy to ignore a story about polar bears who can’t find ice or tiny Pacific Islands that are being swallowed up by the rising seas.  This one is different.  It’s in our backyard, it’s devastating an entire region of our country and its economy, it’s smelly and dirty and toxic and it’s sticking to everything it touches.  I think part of the reason we’re scared dumb about the oil spill is that this time we can’t avoid the inconvenient truth – that our use of hydrocarbons will someday have devastating consequences.  Well “someday” was April 20, 2010.  The petroleum party is over.  We can no longer defer the real costs of a petroleum-dependent economy to sometime in the future.  The future is now.  This spill is going to cost us billions, maybe trillions, and far more in ways that you can’t put a price tag on.  Moving forward we have a choice: we can start acting responsibly and pay the real costs of energy up front; or we can pay even higher costs later. 

           

In the next several months, years, and even decades there will be a lot to say about this event.  The BP Oil Disaster, I predict, will be one of those watershed moments.  I hope it will energize a new conversation about our dependence on hydrocarbons, our stewardship of the environment, and the balance of business interests and public interests. 

We can no longer afford to be silent.