Last Saturday evening, Motza’ei Shabbat, Steve and I attended an outdoor Havdalah ceremony, as part of a demonstration of protest against the latest insult to liberal religion on the part of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. The demonstration took place in front of the Prime Minister’s Residence in Jerusalem. Called together barely 48 hours earlier, the demonstration drew almost two thousand people, mostly Reform and Conservative Jews, but also Modern Orthodox Jews, secular Jews, and anyone who understands the danger of this most recent decision.
On Sunday, June 25, the day before our flight over here, Mr. Netanyahu announced his decision to rescind an agreement regarding a separate area at the Kotel Hama’aravi—the Western Wall—for egalitarian prayer. You will remember that I wrote to you while Steve and I were here in February of 2016 regarding this agreement, which had been reached a few weeks earlier, on January 31, 2016. This agreement was the culmination of almost five years of careful negotiations between Women of the Wall, the Israel Religious Action Center, the Israel Movement for Progressive (Reform) Judaism, the Masorti (Israel Conservative) Movement, Attorney General Mandelblit, Jewish Agency Executive Director Natan Sharansky, and others. According to the agreement, the men’s and women’s sections of the Kotel would remain unchanged. But a third, separate section at the Kotel would be constructed in an accessible, modern, comfortable modality, to provide an area for egalitarian prayer, accommodating men and women together.
In a stunningly brazen move, the Prime Minister caved in to pressure from the ultra-Orthodox power bloc, and decided to sacrifice a large portion of the Jewish world, both in Israel and North America. In addition to nullifying the Kotel agreement, Mr. Netanyahu also will be kowtowing to this same power bloc with regard to conversion. Consequently, conversions performed by Reform, Conservative, and many Modern Orthodox rabbis, both inside and outside of Israel, would be disqualified. On Saturday night, it was clear that if Mr. Netanyahu thinks that a large portion of the Jewish world will allow itself to be thrown under the bus for the sake of his ability to hold together his coalition, he is sadly mistaken.
In our Torah portion, the prophet Bylam looks down upon the Children of Israel from the heights of Mo’av, and observes an am l’vadad yishkon—a people that dwells apart (Numbers 23.9). Benjamin Netanyahu seeks to isolate the majority of the Jewish world, in order to maintain his political power. But he will end up isolating himself instead. He will cause irreparable harm to our people. We will not let this happen. There’s an expression in Hebrew, ad kan, v’lo yoteir—this far and no farther. The Prime Minister has crossed the line. He has violated a trust by abrogating an agreement, and double-crossing people who have negotiated in good faith for years. One of them is, if you will, a “rock star” of the Jewish world—no less a figure than Natan Sharansky—the symbol of the Refusnik Movement of Soviet Jewry – someone who is no stranger to demanding the recognition of his human dignity.
Mr. Netanyahu has crossed the line of ad kan. He has violated the construct of Klal Yisrael—the worldwide Jewish community. The vociferous outcry of Jews, both in Israel and in North America, has already resulted in a postponement of the decision on conversion for some six months. I encourage you to access the remarks made at last Saturday night’s rally delivered passionately by Rabbi Gilad Kariv, who is also an attorney, and the Director of the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism (Reform). URJ.org/blog/2017/07/05/we-have-not-yet-lost-hope
In his soliloquy, Bylam also voices a blessing with which we begin our morning prayers: Mah tovu ohelecha Yaakov, mishkenotecha Yisrael! – How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel! (Numbers 24.5) Bylam saw the Children of Israel as they dwelt together in peace. We can still dwell together in peace, if we are mature enough to accept and accommodate our differences.
This morning (Friday) at the Hartman Institute, we studied poetry of the Six Day War with Dr. Rachel Korazim, whom many of us were privileged to hear when she came to our temple in 2014 for Kristallnacht. Those of us who have traveled to Israel together also heard from her before visiting Yad Vashem. She ended hershiur today with an admonition to those of us who live outside of Israel. “Keep nudging us, ” she said, “we need you to keep nudging us and help us to do the right thing.” Admonition heard, Rachel. We will keep nudging. And I will wish you all a Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem, the City of Peace.
We open the Torah this week on our ancestors out in the Wilderness. They are in crisis. They are wandering, without much sense of where they are headed. They are hungry, without much assurance that they will find sustenance. They are frightened, without much confidence that they will be comforted. They complain to Moses. He has stood up to the Pharaoh, and led the people from Egypt to this Wilderness. But now even Moses is at his wit’s end. He doesn’t know how to comfort the people, and cries out to God in utter frustration: Did I give birth to this people. . . that they whine and complain to me? I cannot carry this people, for it is too much for me! (Numbers 11.12-14) God’s advice? Don’t try to do this alone. Gather for Me seventy of Israel’s elders of whom you have experience as elders and officers of the people, and bring them to the Tent of Meeting and let them take their place with you. I will come down and speak with you there, and I will draw upon the spirit that is on you and put it upon them: they shall share the burden of the people with you, and you shall not bear it alone. (Numbers 11.16)
The Israelites had been enslaved and beaten down by ruthless tyrants for 400 years. Now they were free, but they still had no sense of what that meant. They didn’t understand that with freedom comes another set of burdens—of responsibility, of sacrifice, of thoughtfulness and creativity, of working with leadership to form a consensus. In this exchange between Moses and God, our Torah seeks to convey this message of personal responsibility and group responsibility, if indeed, we want to exercise our freedom responsibly.
My thoughts this week, and perhaps some of yours, have focused upon the 49th anniversary of the assassination of NY Senator Robert F. Kennedy, in the Ambassador Hotel of Los Angeles, as he inched closer to the Democratic nomination for President. Bobby Kennedy evolved dramatically over his life, particularly in the five years between his brother John’s death and his own. He understood more deeply the pain in this country, and how he believed he could help us to rise up as a nation, to try to alleviate it together. While there are many statements he made that are particularly apt in this regard, perhaps this one is particularly emblematic. Bobby Kennedy was shot and killed on June 6, 1968.
Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
Our Torah portion this week is Naso. In the context of this episode, Moses and Aaron are told to take a census in the wilderness. The census of last week’s portion was for the purpose of counting up the male Israelites of age 20 or older who were able to bear arms. The census in this chapter, however, is to count up specifically the members of the tribe of Levi between the ages of 30 and 50, for the purpose of serving the sacred tasks of worship within the Tabernacle, to assist the Kohanim (priests).
The term “naso” is an interesting one in this context. While the meaning here is for counting, the more common meaning of the root is “to lift up.” One of the Hebrew terms for marriage is “nissuin,” because of the elevation in status of the woman as she becomes a wife, as it was viewed in the Talmudic period. In another form, the word becomes “nasi,” which means “prince,” or in modern vocabulary, “president.” The head of the Sanhedrin of the early Rabbinic period was the “Nasi.” The redactor of the Mishnah was Yehuda HaNasi, commonly translated as “Judah the Prince.” This great rabbinic leader wasn’t a royal prince, but rather, the rabbinic head of the Sanhedrin—President of the Sanhedrin, if you will. The Nasi of the State of Israel now is Reuven Rivlin. In Israeli government, he is less powerful than the Prime Minister, now Benjamin Netanyahu. But he is a head of government nonetheless, and often serves as the visible representative of Israel on the world stage.
This past week I have thought a great deal about this word “nasi,” as it pertains to our own country. Since the word comes from the root “to lift up,” the President of the United States holds the most elevated political status in our nation. While we do not assign royal or religious status to our presidents, we do ascribe to them an extra measure of respect and admiration—or at least that is our aspiration. Optimally, our president is an individual with superior intelligence and wisdom, whose obligation it is to protect and promote our interests, at home and around the world. I recall the words of the Union Prayer Book, which are rooted in many of our memories to this day. They were read just before the Torah was returned to the Ark:
Fervently we invoke Thy blessing upon our country and our nation. Guard them, O God, from calamity and injury; suffer not their adversaries to triumph over them, but let the glories of a just, righteous, and God-fearing people increase from age to age. Enlighten with Thy wisdom and sustain with Thy power those whom the people have set in authority, the President, his counselors and advisers, the judges, law-givers and executives, and all who are entrusted with our safety and with the guardianship of our rights and our liberties. (Union Prayer Book, p.148)
This past Memorial Day was a doubly auspicious observance, as we noted that it was the 100th anniversary of the birth of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, z”l.In his private life, as is now well known, of course, he was beset by physical and emotional frailties. Nevertheless, he had a brilliant mind and an expansive intellect. He had a profound appreciation and respect for history, and a deep understanding of how history needed to inform our decisions as a society. He understood the political process, and had significant personal experience within that process, as a Congressman and a Senator. He was a war hero, yet he demonstrated extraordinary restraint as he and his cabinet tried to keep us out of the potential nuclear conflagration that threatened the world during the Cuban Missile Crisis. He stood strong against the economic and political totalitarianism that the Soviet Union sought to impose upon the world. He and Jacqueline were patrons of the arts, and promoted the spark of human creativity in all areas of the arts. He had a vision for human progress. No, he was not a perfect person. Such a person does not exist. But as Americans, we were justified in looking up to him for those attributes that he did possess which were benevolent and admirable. We trusted him with our very lives, and his ability to grow was demonstrated even in the all too short time that he spent in the White House.
We now are witnessing a travesty that is being wrought upon our nation by the individual who currently holds this revered title, and it grows worse by the day. Our will as Americans to accord to the President respect, admiration, and even exaltation, has been completely dashed and pummeled. What an irony, that Russia once again looms so large in our national consciousness. No, it is no longer the Soviet Union. But its government rules with an iron fist, and its behavior on the world stage has been opportunistic and brutal. We have a “nasi” in our country who has promised to “make America great again.” Instead, the German chancellor, their “nasi,” has proclaimed in the wake of Trump’s recent visit, “Europe can no longer completely depend upon America.” Now our commitment to cleaning up and protecting our environment has been suspended. Mr. Trump has literally taken our lives, and the lives of future generations, into his hands, with reckless abandon and complete disregard of the reality that is staring us all in the face. While many of us look to 2018 to gain the upper hand in Congress, we can’t wait until then. There is much work to be done. One immediate step is to support a new alliance, formed as of today, by Governor Cuomo of New York, Governor Edmund Brown of California, and Governor Jay Inslee of Washington State. This is the United States Climate Alliance, to take aggressive action on climate change. If you would like to sign on as a supporter, you may do so here. Sign the petition now.
Our tradition teaches us to lift up our leaders, and accord them respect of their positions. But our leaders must earn and merit that respect. The office of President is a sacred trust between the one who holds it and American people. I have no faith in the will or ability of this “nasi” to uphold that trust. Now the welfare of our nation is in our hands. Our “nasi” is dragging us down. We must lift ourselves up, and not relent.
Today is March 17th, known to most of us as St. Patrick’s Day. It is also our congregant Howard Simka’s birthday – Happy Birthday Howard! For many of us in the orbit of the Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion [HUC-JIR], however, March 17th is significant to us the birthday of one of our esteemed past presidents, Rabbi Dr. Stephen S. Wise, z”l. Rabbi Wise founded the Jewish Institute of Religion in New York in 1921. Hebrew Union College was founded in Cincinnati in 1875 by Rabbi Dr. Isaac Mayer Wise (no relation to Stephen). In 1950, the two institutions merged to become the premier institution for the training of Reform rabbis, cantors, educators, and Jewish communal service workers.
The birthday of Isaac Mayer Wise, appropriately considered to be the “father” of American Reform Judaism, was March 29, 1819, in Bavaria. Because March 17th and March 29th are only ten days apart, HUC-JIR designates a day each year that falls in close proximity to both birthdays as “Founders’ Day.” This year, Founders’ Day was celebrated yesterday, on March 16th. In keeping with his unparalleled wit, Stephen Wise always wrote all his documents in green ink as a nod to St. Patrick, perhaps the more famous of the two (though I suppose that depends on whom you’re talking to). And, as an homage to his teacher Stephen Wise, Rabbi Dr. Eugene B. Borowitz, z”l, the dean of modern Jewish theology, also wrote in green ink. I remember the papers I wrote for Dr. Borowitz that were returned with Dr. Borowitz’s characteristically clear and carefully thought out commentary, all laced in green!
Since we marked Dr. Borowitz’s first yahrzeit a few weeks ago, this Founders’ Day was dedicated to his memory, and a retrospective of the innovative hermeneutic he formulated in 1948 as “Covenant Theology,” just as the world was coming to grips with what had befallen our people in the War, and the astonishing opportunity that awaited us on the eve of statehood. The two speakers at yesterday’s ceremony were Rabbi Dr. David Ellenson, Chancellor Emeritus of HUC-JIR, and Rabbi Dr. Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, National Director of Admissions and Recruitment at HUC-JIR. Both are outstanding scholars of Jewish theology, Dr. Sabath having earned her Ph.D. on “Freedom-in-Covenant: The Gifts and Challenges of Eugene B. Borowitz’s Theological Quest.”
Rabbi Ellenson included in his remarks an excerpt from Dr. Borowitz’s 1990 publication, Exploring Jewish Ethics: Papers on Covenant Responsibility (Wayne State University Press, 1990). In this contentious political climate, particularly amid the battle on Capitol Hill over the Affordable Care Act and/or its replacement, these words seem particularly apt, as Rabbi Ellenson noted. Dr. Borowitz articulated his primary “criterion for measuring the adequacy of a political arrangement.” He wrote:
“Being a Jew who, against the odds, has rather regularly been in synagogues for most of his post-bar-mitzvah life, I have had it drummed into me by repetitive Torah and prophetic readings that a social order is judged by the text cases of the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. . . Or the poor. The Bible believes that we are positively obligated to one another. Hence when people have special needs it is our duty to help them. . . We must not pervert justice for the poor or prevent it from functioning for the stranger, the orphan or the widow. The weak and powerless must not become disenfranchised. But the Bible goes far beyond structural entailments. It prescribes our substantive obligations to others less well-situated or competent. We must plead the case of the widow and the orphan. We must give food and money to the poor. (The nearby poor are our first but not our only responsibility.) We must leave the corner of our fields and what fell in the harvesting for the poor and the stranger who dwells in our gates. We must separate a tithe for the poor. These are not options, warmly recommended to the good-hearted. They are commandments; religious laws of the state in that odd theo-political situation (to borrow and re-direct Buber’s term) which the Bible describes.”
I was particularly moved by Dr. Ellenson’s choice of this passage in particular, out of the extraordinary body of writings that Dr. Borowitz bequeathed to us. The reason, in part, was a short, yet stunning statement earlier this week by Massachusetts Congressman Joseph P. Kennedy III, son of Former Congressman Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., and grandson of our own Former New York Senator Robert F. Kennedy, z”l. Mr. Kennedy responded to House Speaker Paul Ryan’s characterization of the Republican plan to repeal the Affordable Care Act as “doing an act of mercy.” At this, Congressman Kennedy ripped into the Speaker, saying:
“I was struck last night by a comment that I heard made by Speaker Ryan, where he called this repeal bill ‘an act of mercy.’ With all due respect to our speaker, he and I must have read different Scripture.
“The one I read calls on us to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to shelter the homeless, and to comfort the sick.
“It reminds us that we are judged not by how we treat the powerful, but by how we care for the least among us. Defined in purely secular terms, compassionate treatment for those in distress. It is kindness. It is grace. There is no mercy in a system that makes health care a luxury. There is no mercy in a country that turns their back on those most in need of protection: the elderly, the poor, the sick, and the suffering. There is no mercy in a cold shoulder to the mentally ill.
“This is not an act of mercy. It is an act of malice.”
Joe Kennedy is Irish Catholic. No doubt, today he will celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. We are Jews, and we honor the memories of two of our great teachers who wrote in green ink. But the Torah and the Prophets that we study and cherish are the same. So are the values. So too, are the responsibilities that all of us bear – for each other, and for our country.
(There were even 30 people marching in Antarctica!) A group of us left together from Union Temple after services and took the subway to East 14th Street in Manhattan, where we met up with several hundred Jews from the Downtown Kehilah, a consortium of liberal congregations in Lower Manhattan. We marched together up 2nd Avenue to 42nd Street, where we joined some 400,000 of our fellow New Yorkers in an unbelievable throng that stretched all across 42nd Street and then up 5th Avenue to Trump Tower. While we may have lost an election, we have not lost our values. The message was clear: we intend to uphold our values and our rights, and fight tooth and nail against those who would seek to undermine them.
The Prophets of Israel raised their voices in the name of righteousness and justice. In fact these two concepts appear as a word pair numerous times throughout the Prophetic books of the Bible. In Hebrew, the word pair is צדק ומשפט – tzedek u’mishpat.
This week began with our celebration of the birthday of the Rev’d. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., surely one of the greatest prophets of our time, or any other. His soaring oratory and his clarion call for צדק ומשפט – righteousness and justice – inspired the hearts of all who heard it, and it is a message that continues to resonate around the world. The Jewish alliance with Dr. King was born out of that message that resides in our shared Biblical tradition and historic experiences.
This week will end with the inauguration of a new president, one who made it his obsession to delegitimize President Barack Obama – an obsession motivated by racism and xenophobia. Now he has publicly and brazenly insulted and denigrated one of the icons of the Civil Rights Movement, Congressman John Lewis, a man who has devoted his life to the cause of צדק ומשפט – righteousness and justice.
It is perhaps fortuitous, perhaps ironic, or perhaps a little of both, that on this coming Shabbat we will begin our reading of the Book of Exodus and the story of our people’s enslavement in Egypt by a cruel and despotic leader. In our Passover Haggadah we read the litany of our troubled history, as we repeat the refrain, “many tyrants have risen against us.” It will be incumbent upon us, out of the foundational narrative of our history as a People, and our more recent history as champions of tzedek u’mishpat, to stand up and speak out to uphold these values in the face of pressure that we can only now anticipate with great alarm.
In this spirit, I offer an extraordinary speech that was given at the March on Washington as a “warm-up,” if you will, to Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I have sent it to you in years past, but it is worthwhile for us to listen again. The speech was delivered by Rabbi Dr. Joachim Prinz, z”l, the then Rabbi of Congregation B’nai Abraham in Livingston, NJ. He was on the podium alongside Dr. King at the march in his capacity as President of the American Jewish Congress. Read the text and listen to Dr. Prinz. He refers to the experience of Egypt as our spiritual and historic motivation.
הֲשֹׁפֵט כָּל־הָאָרֶץ לֹ֥א יַֽעֲשֶׂה מִשְׁפָּט: – Shall the Judge of all the Earth not deal justly?
Within our Torah portion this week is one of the most primal utterances of our entire tradition; one that has haunted us since it was first uttered. The implications are manifold.
Abraham finds himself in a confrontation with the Creator of the Universe. In its essence, it is a relatively simple exchange. God is enraged by the despicable behavior of the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, and thus is determined to wipe them out in an act of horrifying destruction. But Abraham pleads with God to reconsider.
Will You indeed sweep away the innocent along with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty innocent in the city. . . Far be it from You to do such a thing, killing innocent and wicked alike, so that the innocent and the wicked suffer the same fate. Far be it from You! Shall the Judge of all the Earth not deal justly? (Genesis 18.23-25)
The verse gives voice to moments both of pain and of righteous indignation at the injustice in that exists in the world at large, and in our own personal lives – injustice that flies in the face of the notion of a God who rules the world with justice and compassion. Particularly remarkable is the chutzpah, if you will, of Abraham, to challenge the Almighty in this way. But he does it to uphold the very values that we have come to understand to be the bedrock of Jewish teaching. We simply cannot annihilate whole populations of people. It is unjust and immoral.
Perhaps within the context of the events that are unfolding in our country, we would do well to remember the chutzpah of Abraham. The expression “speaking truth to power” sometimes feels overused. But in the face of an agenda that threatens to turn the clock back upon decades of progress that we have made in this country, all of us might benefit from Abraham’s chutzpah. In the coming months and years, we will have to stand up to those who would threaten and curtail our civil and human rights. We will have to do this in our pursuit of justice, as our tradition teaches it to us. Far be it for me to compare our new president to the Judge of all the Earth. L’havdil! (Just the opposite.) It is Abraham in this case whose example is worthy of emulation.
Jacob is on the move. He has had to leave his home, and journey to Haran to live under the protection of his uncle Laban. He is alone. It is night time, and he lies down and falls asleep. Suddenly in a dream, a ladder appears with angels going up and down. In the morning he awakens and realizes, “Surely God is in this place, and I did not know it.”
In the aftermath of the election that has left many of us stunned and filled with trepidation, we wonder what we can do now to prevent the protections we have enjoyed as Americans from unraveling. Here is one place to begin.
In a 2012 executive order, President Obama created the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program for DREAMers, undocumented immigrants who were brought to the United States as children, grew up in the United States, and want to give back to society and raise their own families in the only nation they know as home. Now participants in and applicants to DACA are in a vulnerable state. Their names and contact information are now known to the federal government, and if the succeeding administration seeks to deport all undocumented immigrants as it stated repeatedly during the campaign, and has restated in the past few weeks, the DACA program provides a robust list. Urge President Obama to take action to protect DREAMers and ensure our nation lives up to its proud history as a nation of immigrants by submitting your letter of support at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (RAC), where you will also find more information and contact number. Urge everyone you know to do the same.
Jacob’s dream was for God’s protection. The dream of all these people is to live in America in peace and security, and create productive lives for themselves and their families.
In the communities of Eastern Europe in the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries, and even beyond, there were certain people who would make their way from community to community, weaving stories and teaching lessons. They were itinerant preachers, who, in some cases, rose in stature to become folk heroes. Such a person was called a Maggid. This past Shabbat, not only the Jewish world, but all of humanity, lost a great man with the death of Elie Wiesel, alav hashalom, who liked to describe himself as a “wandering Maggid.” Writing on Saturday night in The Forward shortly after Professor Wiesel’s death, Rabbi Professor Michael Beranbaum wrote of this giant:
More than any other human being I know, he was responsible for changing the status of Holocaust survivors from victims and refugees to witnesses with a moral mission not only to remember the past but to transform the future. . . . A wandering Maggid going from community to community, from venue to venue, from synagogues and universities, gatherings, demonstrations, national capitals and political forums, speaking to an ever-changing global audience. His message was: “Remember the Holocaust. Remembrance must shape our character and has the capacity to transform the future.”
There have been many tributes and eulogies since Elie Wiesel’s death on Saturday, both in conventional publications and on social media. I think we would all do well to read as many as we can. I did not have the pleasure of knowing Professor Wiesel personally, though a number of my colleagues did. Yet, I feel as though he spoke to me, and indeed, to each of us, in an extremely personal and searing way. Those of us from Union Temple who went down to Washington together in May of 2006 heard him speak at the rally that he cosponsored with numerous Jewish organizations, the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, prominently among them. The rally was in support of the victims of genocide and brutality in Darfur. Professor Wiesel spoke to us calmly, and with dead seriousness. His mission, of course, was “Never Forget,” specifically with regard to the Holocaust. But he then reminded us soberly that “Never Forget” is meaningless unless we made it our business to stand up in the face of the genocide that was happening at that moment, and of all genocides wherever they happened. More than an author, a teacher, indeed, a “wandering Maggid,” he became one of the most tireless and outspoken human rights advocates of the modern era, and he touched the souls of all who ever heard him speak, or read his writing. “I’ve gone everywhere,” he said, “trying to stop so many atrocities: Bosnia, Kosovo and Macedonia. The least I can do is show the victims that they are not alone. When I went to Cambodia, journalists asked me, “What are you doing here? This is not a Jewish tragedy.” I answered, “When I needed people to come, they didn’t. That’s why I am here.” When asked what was the most important commandment in the Bible, he responded, “Thou shalt not stand idly by.”
Some years ago I became acquainted with a rabbi from The Netherlands who was a visiting professor for a year at Adelphi University. Both the rabbi and his wife survived the Holocaust as hidden children. They had chillingly similar stories to tell, each having been hidden in a suitcase, and transported to different families. One afternoon I had the pleasure of driving the rabbi home after a conference. When he told me he knew Elie Wiesel quite well, I asked him what Wiesel was really like. I said that Wiesel seemed to me to have a rather depressive affect, and I asked the rabbi if he thought that Wiesel actually had the capacity to live a happy life. He told me that he understood my reaction to Wiesel’s affect, but that Wiesel did, indeed, enjoy great fulfillment from his wife and family, his writing, his teaching, and his work in the world.
In this light, I was particularly struck by a portion of an interview that Oprah Winfrey did with Elie Wiesel a few years ago, after Wiesel took her to Auschwitz. . . .
“You can’t hear Elie’s story without wondering: ‘Can he live through that kind of hate and not become a hater? Can he still be capable of love? Can he find any reason to be grateful?’ When I talk with Elie about these things, he tells me that he has few answers and many, many questions – yet even in his questions I hear hope that the human spirit can survive anything. Anything.”
Of all that Elie Wiesel taught us in his words and in his deeds, perhaps it was his bearing witness to the human capacity to love, and to hope, that was the most important of all. Zecher Tzaddik Liv’rachah – may the memory of the righteous be for a blessing.
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