Messages from Rabbi Emeritus

The Embrace of the Past and the Future

There was a time before the cloud, the iphone, Facebook and LinkedIn and texting…….it’s just that many people don’t remember it. Today we have libraries without books (they’re all digitized) and watches are no longer necessary (“I have my phone…”) One mother recently told me how, while explaining to her 11-year-old that when she got lost or couldn’t find her destination, she had to stop, find a phone booth and look up the number in the phone directory. The child had never heard of a phone booth or a directory. Her child’s response was, “why didn’t you just google it?” (Note: “google” is now both a noun and a verb!) Oh, how that world has changed, but I am not an orthodox Luddite enough to bemoan the changes.

Not only is change inevitable, but more often than not, life has been improved by the changes. While the anticipated leisure has not been realized, people are rushing more and more intensely, medicine, technology and science enable us to live longer and healthier lives. Happier is still an open question.)

As we here at Mishkan Israel approached our 175th anniversary, we began to think about how we should observe this rather unique occasion. What could we learn from the past that was very different from the present? Is it only the years that we should mark? For me, and perhaps for all of us, there is a great deal to celebrate. When we look at the struggles that our forebearers had in order to build and maintain this congregation, we should feel a sense of relief and gratitude that their challenges are not ours. First, was surviving the struggles of European oppression, and then the courage to flee to an unknown new land…… often a harrowing 6 week journey on a sailing ship, unstable and haltingly making it across the rough Atlantic. Some didn’t make it across, and some survived in the new land only for a brief time. Here, they had to learn a new language.
At first, to support themselves, they became involved in the most menial of labor. And while the persecutions in Europe may
not be comparable, nevertheless they faced discrimination here as well.

Despite the obstacles, they overcame them and rose above them. They continued to keep their tradition and faith alive. First meeting in
apartments, then purchasing and refurbishing a church. In a little more than half century they were finally able to build their own magnificent Temple in downtown New Haven. Sixty years later, in order to provide for their burgeoning community, they moved out to Hamden. At each step, from a German speaking orthodox congregation, to a more modern traditional one, to a liberal Reform with English as the language of prayer and sermons progress continued unabated. What began in a time of no electricity, or automobiles or phones or computers, we now live stream services on the internet. As the times changed, and the people changed, with more Jews from Eastern Europe, so did the music and liturgy and study. Today we are much more eclectic, and more connected.

Remembering all of this is imperative. It reminds of of our heritage, of courage and of the effort to keep our house of prayer alive. We are a living organism and we stand on the shoulders
of those who came before us. At the beginning of our history weekend
observance last month, Dr Gary Zola reminded us of what Ben Gurion had said in 1948. “We Jews must never live in the past, but the past
must live in us.” This year we are reminded of that truism as we recite the benediction, “Praised are you, Sovereign of the Universe who has kept us in life, sustained us, and brought us to this time.”

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American Jewry Today

On the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, January 27th, I watched the HBO showing of the making of Alfred Hitchcock’s documentary of the concentration camps. Viewing Russian, British and American photos and movies of what the soldiers found in Auschwitz, Belsen and Dachau, we became witnesses to the horror of the Holocaust. The haunting images reminded me of my own Sunday school experience of seeing the Nazi images of Night and Fog. We were a generation steeped in the tragedy of the 6 million. The Diary of Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel’s Night formed the seminal new Jewish scriptures for the second half of the 20th century. Jewish identity proclaimed a new “watchword of our faith”—“Never Again!”

And then there was Israel. The Movie, Exodus, stirred the imagination of that generation and the 6-Day-War sealed the deal. The American Jewish community had its Shema and v’ahavta—its statements of faith and its modus operandi. We had our claims on survival, our modern view of history, from tragedy to redemption. American Jews organized around these themes—we would collect money to support the nascent Jewish homeland and create defense organizations to defend against anti-Semitism. The administrators were the new high priests and the organizations the new places of worship.

By the end of the 20th century, it had become clear, however, that supporting the Jewish State and memorializing the 6 million so that the world would never forget, while worthy efforts certainly, were insufficient for maintaining a sustainable identity for American Jews.

The PEW studies and the demographic implications by the 1990’s underscored the reality that assimilation had taken its toll despite the Jewish community’s efforts. We were building our identity on Jewish experiences far from our own. Anti-Semitism, at least in America was not the experience of American Jews, and Israel, as a democratic/political nation was not an expression of our political will. While we felt (and still do, I hope feel) a tremendous loyalty to the Jewish State, its reality is different from ours. It is not the “spiritual center” the early Zionist founders had predicted. Israel is no longer the romantic kibbutz posters, or the land of Hava Nagila and the hora. It is a complex, sophisticated nation finding its way in the world. The place we all love has grown up and for many in this country, unfortunately, it has become the third rail, dividing us rather than uniting us. The claim “We Are One” is a hashtag for fundraising, but does not reflect reality.

Why? What can be done? I believe that American Jewry, while having the greatest opportunity ever to create a religious identity in an open, free, tolerant society has spent much of its resources and creative energy on matters other than its own survival. While memorializing our past and insuring that there is a safe refuge for Jews around the world, and succeeding at both, we have failed to develop a creative substantive theology out of our own unique experience in America. We have left theology to the ultra Orthodox. They have used the tools of modern technology and the freedoms we enjoy to present itself as if it represents the real/authentic faith of Judaism when, at its heart, it is an 18th century anachronism. The challenge for the modern liberal American Jew is for us to find the substance and fill our identities with it, a substance that celebrates–not negates–our lives here in America while keeping us uniquely Jewish.

There are moments of these. Abraham’s Tent is an example. A group of clergy were called together to discuss the increasing problem of homelessness. As the shelter director spoke, the image of Abraham sitting by his tent, flaps open, welcoming strangers came to mind. When I shared the image, Abraham’s Tent was born. Life is Delicious—its success is due to the fact that it is a synagogue centered activity. Feeding the hungry, while dependent on the dedication and incredible organization of its chairmen, nevertheless its essence comes right from the Torah. To miss that is to miss its essential sustaining ingredient. Peah, while depending on the good hearts of many people and their willing initiative, is in actuality, the fulfillment of the mitzvah we read every Yom Kippur. It is the work of the High Holy Days in real time.

Interfaith worship and breaking bread with people of other faith communities is grounded in the idea that we are to treat all people as divine, one law for all. Its not just tolerance, but we were created as one. It is this prophetic vision that informs our present. Even the Ben Shahn art of our Sanctuary reminds us that he was an American Jew. Yes, along with his mentor and friend Diego Rivera, there is a political patina to his work, clearly for Shahn he captured a Jewish spirit—-note well his Maimonides next time you in the sanctuary. His politics flowed out of the ethical Jewish tradition.

As we celebrate our 175th anniversary we must dedicate ourselves to the challenge of survival as American Jews, contributing to the larger community as we continue to develop and enhance our own American Jewish identity. That is the unique challenge of the 21st century synagogue.

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CMI Celebrates 175th Anniversary

In case you hadn’t heard, we are beginning our celebration of our 175th year. It makes a milestone not only in the history of the congregation, but it is no exaggeration to say, in the history of American Jewry. As we look back, we must not forget the environment of mid 19th century and how, over the years, remarkable progress has been made, particularly in the interfaith relations. It is something that this congregation has worked on all these years and how far we and our fellow New Haveners have come.

Consider how, upon our official dedication of the first synagogue building, the New Haven Register ran an editorial which read in part: “Whilst we have been busy converting the Jews in other lands, they have outflanked us here, and effected a footing in the very centre of our own fortress. Strange as it may sound, it is nonetheless true that a Jewish synagogue has been established in this city—-and their place of worship (in Grand Street, over the store of Heller and Mendelbaum) was dedicated on Friday afternoon. Yale College divinity deserves a Court-martial for bad generalship.”

Here we are, 175 years later and a sister congregation, Church of the Redeemer, has honored us by sharing their banner which publicly proclaimed their celebration two years ago. My colleague and friends at Redeemer, The Rev. Dr. Shelly Stackhouse and her Associate Pastor, Rev. Marilyn Kendrix, (a student of mine two years ago at the “bad generalship school—-Yale college divinity) presented us the banner on the shabbat when we observed the annual Robert E. Goldburg Peace and Justice Service. Dr. Stackhouse also serves on the faculty at YDS.

In addition 18 clergy of various denominations — two bishops, two imams, Protestant clergy, an Episcopal priest, a representative of Bahai, Yale Chaplains, and several Reform and Conservative rabbis—will join us for the CMI Interfaith service honoring the memory of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Indeed, such collegiality is one mark that we have clearly made over the years and for which we should be most proud.

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On Death and Mourning

In Dr. Sherwin Nuland’s (z”l) poignant and highly regarded book, “How We Die,” he described the physical process that human beings go through during their last struggles between life and death. With sensitivity, yet truthfulness, this man of science sought to expose how the human body, of which he held enormous respect and awe, descended into death.

What continues to challenge us is how those left behind are to deal with the aftermath of the process. Kubler-Ross wrote of the stages of grief — of grief and anger and finally acceptance. Later she retracted the formality of these human responses. People, it seems, are not machines whose reactions are always direct and quantifiable. People simply mourn differently.

Ever since the garden of Eden, humans have dealt with questions of death. A front page article in the Style section of New York Times was entitled “A Generation Redefines Mourning.” The author claimed, “Millennials have begun projecting their own digitalized sensibilities onto rituals and discussions surrounding death.”

While we do find on-line support groups, funerals that are live-streamed to family and friends absent from the service, and on-line shivah minyans (perhaps for families without 10 Jewish friends!) nevertheless, there is nothing new historically here. We know that mourning customs have changed over the centuries. In fact, what the customs became reflected the beliefs, fears and hopes of each generation.

For example, several hundred years ago, people experienced a loved one being pronounced “dead” only to be retrieved from the unconscious state in which they were in. It was later discovered in caskets that a hole had been made with a string that led above ground, to a bell, should the deceased awake and need to call attention to their plight! Just as in the Egyptian tombs, we found that family members, pets and even food had been buried along with the deceased since they expected the dead to live again. In the same way, to this day, traditionally Jews are buried facing East with dirt from Jerusalem in order to prepare their way to Israel upon the Messiah’s arrival.

These customs and traditions gave solace and comfort to those suffering a loss. And yet, they were not made out of whole cloth. For deep within the traditions were timeless and profound ideas about the nature of death and of mourning. The necessity for a grieving family member to require a religious quorum (minyan) in order to recite the mourner’s prayer (kaddish) emphasized the importance of a community’s obligation to be present in times of loss.

As a synagogue community, we will explore the changes that have occurred over the centuries and seek to discover, at the same time, the eternal verities that Judaism provides. Please join me for a discussion of these issues.

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Talk to Me, Please!

The flap over guidelines that the national college Hillel has developed over who can and cannot speak on campus under Hillel auspices opened a can of worms. On one hand, the Jewish community had strenuously objected to the American Studies Association’s (ASA) passage of a boycott of Israeli colleges and universities as well as their faculty since the boycott supporters see these institutions as the very ideological heart of the “apartheid” treatment of Palestinians in Israel and in the territories. The Jewish community’s response was that academic boycotts are not only counterproductive, but they go against what such institutions stand for, mainly the open and vigorous debate–the free flow of ideas–all in an attempt to discover solutions to the problems our society and our world face.

At the same time, the Jewish community, as represented by Hillel and supported by such organizations as AIPAC is arguing that some ideas, mainly Israel’s treatment of Palestinians and what is legitimate or illegitimate ways to counter the situation of Palestinians in the territories is out of bounds for the academic arena. After all, the Jewish community contends, at heart is really a smoldering anti-Israel which is simply a more socially acceptable formulation of anti-semitism. Calling for a boycott (BDS-boycott, disinvestment and sanctions) of Israel is a form of delegitimizing Israel’s right as a Jewish nation.

Make no mistake, there are certainly members of the BDS movement in Europe and here in the US (though less in my view) who are anti-semites. But some are not and here in the US, many are not. In fact, many of these same individuals and groups are allies of the Jewish community on so many progressive social and justice issues and remain so. They are not “ignorant” or “wolves in lamb’s clothing” and for the Jewish community to view them in these ways is unbecoming, self defeating and simply wrong.

I personally oppose BDS because I believe that in the end, the effect will be at least as punitive on Palestinian workers for Israeli companies in the territories as on the Israeli companies. Palestinian workers make 400% of what they can earn in their own West Bank companies. Israelis will simply move their production centers. What the free world needs to do is to find ways to invest in Palestinian productivity and make it a win-win all around.

Such solutions can only be sought in open and free environments. We Jews can’t have it both ways when it comes to Israel. Either academia is an avenue for the rigors of thought and speech or it is not. It would be hypocritical if it were otherwise. Just as the ASA suggested it stood for open debate, while providing only a one sided, pro Palestinian argument for affirming an academic boycott, so Jewish organizations which try to prohibit other voices from speaking at Hillel’s across the country. The absurdity of this was underscored when a former speaker of the Israeli Knesset was denied the right to appear at a Hillel House because of his pro peace positions.

Synagogues, our synagogue has, not only a right, but an obligation to bring voices from many different points of view. While many of you know what my positions are regarding Israel, as well as other moral issues of the day. What you should also know is that we learn from Jewish history is how we thrived after the Roman conquest of Judea because the rabbis, in searching for solutions were open to all points of view. Many of these can be found in their most important work over the centuries, the Talmud. Eilu v’eilu, divrei elohim chayim “These and these are the words of a living God.”

Our cause is just (the survival of a democratic, Jewish State). The time is short (negotiations are going on as we speak). We must make every effort to find and explore Darkei Shalom “the paths to peace.”

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Reflections on Pope Francis

In 2001, I had the privilege of studying at Gregorian University at the Vatican in Rome. Most of my work was with an order of nuns – the Sisters of Sion – who maintained the largest library of Jewish-Christian relations, mostly in Italian, Hebrew and English. (The Order was originally from French Canada and it made my work that much easier.)

Being in Rome and at the Vatican was a special privilege. I was constantly reminded of the difference a generation makes. The promulgation of Vatican II in 1965 was a radical departure from earlier church teachings. The section on the Jews was downright revolutionary. Since then, the relationship continues to grow. While the growth has been uneven at times, nonetheless we would have missed enormous positive changes. Eventually the Vatican, after many decades recognized the State of Israel, exchanging ambassadors – the Vatican is its own State – and in 1987, the Pope entered Tempio Majove – The Great Synagogue in Rome for the first time…ever! He acknowledged Rome’s chief rabbi, Elio Toaff, as ‘my elder brother.’ It was an extraordinary historical moment.

In the Middle Ages, a new Pope would meet the rabbi of Rome in the bridge over the Tiber. The rabbi would express words of tribute, turn around, bend over and the Pope would kick him in the rear end. It was symbolic of accepting the authority of the Holy See.

How different it is. The new Pope, Francis (real name Jorge Mario Bergoglio) is from Argentina. He is known to be a humble man of the people and ever since his election, he has shown over and over, a respect for all humanity. He has called for ‘renewal’ of Vatican II, for the Church to be of the world. And Pope Francis’ relationship with the Jews is an especially powerful and personal one. I recently was invited to meet with Rabbi Skorka, a colleague of the Pope from Buenos Aires. The rabbi and Father Bergoglio spent many days together and co-authored several books on interfaith dialogue and the importance dialogue plays in human understanding. The rabbi told how, after the vote by the College of Cardinals, electing him Pope, he telephoned the rabbi, “Help, I’m a prisoner in the Vatican. They won’t let me out. They elected me Pope!”

A warm engaging loving man – we all wish him well with his new responsibilities. The priests with whom I have spoken are universally enthusiastic about the new breath of fresh air he may bring and hopefully be a blessing, not only to his beloved church, but to all of humankind. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once observed, “There are moments when we all stand together and see our faces in the mirror: the anguish of humanity and its helplessness; the perplexity of the individual and the need of the divine guidance; being called to praise…”

We join with our Catholic brothers and sisters in praying for the success and well being of Pope Francis.

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“Revolutionizing” Bar/Bat Mitzvah Preparation

Despite the fact that some members of CMI think the New York Times is the modern equivalent of sacred scripture (gospel), I rarely respond to articles found there. But the day before Rosh Hashanah, an article appeared about the Union of Reform Judaism suggesting that the Reform movement was in the process of revolutionizing Bar/Bat Mitzvah preparation and its ceremony. Charging that Reform synagogues had become “Religious School Industrial Complexes” whose sole motivation was to enlarge membership and increase our “income stream,” the “new” focus, it was reported, would be on Tikkun Olam. Officials of the URJ wondered aloud why we would teach 13 year olds to study Hebrew and read from the Torah when they did not understand a word of either. Rather – despite anticipated objections from Cantors (!) we should spend our energies doing acts of social justice.

Several members of CMI asked me over the Holy Days if we were contemplating this “change.” My answer is a resounding “NO!” The charge that we have prepared students for Bar/Bat Mitzvah requiring at best 3 to 4 years of Hebrew School to enlarge our income is spurious, especially coming from an organization asking higher dues from us! Of course we hope that the ceremony will be an emotionally moving event. We hope that families will emerge feeling that they have marked an important Jewish stepping stone in their child’s life. Of course, 13 years of age is too young to end the progress of growing Jewishly, and some families do see it as an exit rather than entrance into adult Jewish life. But many also continue (50% of members have belonged to CMI longer than 25 years) and for those who don’t, we believe that once having had a meaningful Jewish experience, they will find their way back at some future time.

As for the focus on Hebrew and Torah reading, in my opinion it is those very symbolic acts that ground whatever else they do in Jewish tradition especially Tikkun Olam. To move away from the focus on Hebrew and Torah reading would be like cutting off a tree from its roots and expecting the branches to flourish on their own. We would become no different than ethical monotheists, and the early 20th century Jewish experience of many who tried this eventually lost their way completely.

Finally, the focus on ethical deeds – This is and has been in most congregations a major focus of the event marking what it is that makes a Bar/Bat Mitzvah – the doing of Mitzvot. There is nothing new here and the URJ should know better. “New” for the sake of different is poor policy. In our case it would be turning to the past not the future. That we could do a better job teaching Hebrew is a given. Let’s figure out ways to improve there and build upon the efforts and energies that continue to promote our community and the proud tradition we hope to grow.

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Too Much Cynicism

Secretary of State John Kerry recently called on members of the American Jewish community to push for and support his efforts to bring Palestinians and Israelis to the peace table. The silence of almost every major Jewish organization was deafening. Now, we are told, progress has been made and yet most of what we hear is “Here we go again.” There is just too much cynicism. Too many in our community think the status quo is just fine. Let the Arab-Muslim world worry about Egypt, Syria, Iran and Turkey. Maybe they won’t pay any attention to the Jewish State. But the absence of war is not peace. In fact, let me suggest that this maybe the best time to pursue peace.

In August, both the Jewish community and the Muslim community entered a sacred time in their yearly observances. For Muslims, the month of RAMADAN is the time when the prophet Mohammed began to hear the revelation of Quran. It is a time of fasting and turning one’s attention from the physical to the spiritual. It is a time to cleanse the soul of impurities. It is a time to listen to the Divine word and strive to help those in need and reach for justice.

For Jews, we began the Hebrew month of AV, when we observe the desecration and destruction of the Holy Temples in Jerusalem by the Babylonians followed by the Romans six centuries later. Yet our tradition reminds us that it was sinat chinam, senseless hatred that caused the Temples to fall and only ahavat chinam, love that will help repair and restore the Divine place on earth. It is therefore a time to listen to our brethren and reach for justice. And now is the time leading up to the New Year, when we focus on the good that is in us, and discard the negative.

Both Jews and Muslims thus share, in their unique ways, the hope for a time of restoration and peace. While the Middle East and much of the world is in turmoil, our common Abrahamic roots, as well as this season, beckons us to turn our spiritual attention toward a future that can be hopeful and different. We both look to a time when the hope for each of us will come true, RAMADAN MUBARECK, a blessed Ramadan, and a Shalom Bayit, a peaceful home that we build for ourselves and for all humankind.

Once again it appears – as of this writing – that Israelis and Palestinians will meet to begin what is hoped will lead to a period of reconciliation and peace. Most Jews (and Arabs) are skeptical. But there is no room for cynicism in our hearts – rather let this be a time for a serious search for the peace that we all long for and the lessons of our past, rather than leading us down the path of war and hate, rather instruct us in the ways of reconciliation and peace.

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“Go Down Moses”

“Go down Moses, way down in Egypt land…” A seder staple I remember from the time of my childhood and sung to this very day. Obviously a Jewish liturgical piece! Actually it turns out to be a “Black American Spiritual.”

This is the history as I understand it. The story of the song begins in the early days of the Civil War. In 1861, three slaves, Frank Baker, James Townsend and Sheppard Mallory were sent to the Confederate Army to help with construction. They escaped at night and rowed across the harbor from Norfolk, VA to Union-held Fort Monroe. They presented themselves to Union Gen. Benjamin Butler, risking being returned to their enslavers and facing horrible punishment, as dictated by the law in effect before the war. Butler refused to return them, classifying them as a “contraband of war.” Laws were soon passed prohibiting returning them to enslavers. The Contrabands at Fort Monroe built housing from burned ruins. Their community came to be known as Grand Contraband Camp. Defying a Virginia law against educating slaves, the African-American Mary Peake taught both adults and children to read and write. Inspired by this opportunity for freedom (albeit partial and haphazard) many escaped and made their way to Fort Monroe. By the end of the war, less than four year later, there were Contraband camps and thousands of Contrabands.

A song that some of the Contrabands sang when they arrived at Fort Monroe was recorded and published by a chaplain, the Rev. L.C. Lockwood, as “The Song of the Contrabands: O Let My People Go.” President Lincoln visited Contraband camps frequently and on one documented occasion joined a prayer meeting and sang along, often overcome with emotion, to “Go Down Moses” and other songs.

In a later celebration of the Emancipation Proclamation at a Contraband camp in Washington, D.C., a woman improvised the immediately popular verse “Go down/Abraham/Way down in Dixie’s land/Tell Jeff Davis to/Let my people go.”

So now you know the real story! Once again proof that the Torah is a living document generation after generation. And each year we celebrate it and keep alive an amazing tradition.

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Jew vs. Jew

There are many lessons that we might learn which arise out of the Jewish historical experience. One such lesson is, as our tradition teaches, Gam Zeh Ya’avor, “this too shall pass.” Over and over again, on the shadow of tragedy, Jews have managed to overcome their circumstances. “Never give up and never give in” – we are pursuers of hope. At the same time, when circumstances are good, “this too shall pass.” It is the height of folly to take the good for granted, to accept the good, but always with humility.

Another lesson is the importance, the necessity, of creativity, and a “go with the flow” attitude. Something rigid is soon and easily broken. When the Temples were destroyed and sacrifices came to an end, the community mourned and then wrote poems praising God as they gathered in houses of study. Their efforts were to keep the tradition alive through memorializing the tragedy and moving on. They created new institutions – the synagogue, for example, became the clew to survival.

And a third lesson is how sinat chinam, internal hatreds, led to the tragedy. The rabbis of old (Note: NOT old rabbis) taught that the destruction of the Temple was less attributable to the Babylonians and later the Romans, then to the dissension that arose between the Jews themselves. We are often defeated by our own inability to listen and work with others with whom we may not agree. It is as if it is all a zero score game – you either win or lose. Klal Yisrael, the “community” of Israel, implies its “unity.” This is not to insist on uniformity – but at its heart is the realization that we are dependent on one another. The House of Hillel and the House of Shammai argued over fundamental Jewish issues, but in our traditional accounting both sides are acknowledged. Based on the declaration of Eilu v’eilu divrei elohim chayim, “These and those are the words of the living God.”

Today our community is fractured. With bitter irony, it is over Israel where the conflict arises. Those who believe that Israel must do all in its power to defend itself first and foremost and that the land of Israel is held in sacred and absolute trust. Others believe that Israel must do all in its power to achieve peace for only then will it be secure and able to fulfill its eternal promise. This group suggests that for the sake of peace, no piece of God’s earth should be so important that others need to die for it.

On our congregational visit this year, the group from CMI saw the impact of 65 years of what could be accomplished. Cities rising out of sand dunes; hospitals, built over rocks, now places of healing; science centers that were once swamps and flowering farms once habitable only by jackals. Jews came together from the old world and the new, from the East and the West and in just 65 years created this phoenix nation. It was, for me, a reminder of what we can do together. Let it also be a warning, of what could be destroyed if we fail to continue the common dream. We must continue to reason and work together.

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Welcoming the Stranger

While it is said that Abraham was chosen as the first of the Patriarchs of Israel because he broke his father’s idols, none of this is found in the Torah. What we do learn about his virtues was that he welcomed the strangers that would pass by his tent. The rabbis will later note the importance of such an act. Literally scores of Biblical deeds emphasize how the Israelites were to treat the stranger, “…for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

It is clear that descendants of Abraham are to show hospitality to others. The very word, “hospitality” is derived from the Latin word for both stranger and shelter. Originally such places as hospitals and hospices were places where travelers could find rest, comfort, and safety.

For Jews, the stranger was to be offered the same rights as the “native.” It was this very idea that gave birth to the New Haven project known as Abraham’s Tent when four years ago, it became clear that the number of homeless, the “strangers” in our community, was growing while resources to provide for them was shrinking. Then members of the religious community and staff from the Columbus House met to seek some solutions – at least in the immediate sense. I shared with the group the story of Abraham and the lessons our rabbis derived from it. It was decided that focusing on the resources we did have, namely our buildings and the cadre of volunteer help in our congregations, we would undertake to house some of the overflow shelter. Abraham’s Tent was born.
It is estimated that 900 volunteers from 19 congregations from across the religious spectrum are involved. It is interfaith and interaction at its best.

Just as we did on that very first winter, we continue to house members of Abraham’s Tent for a week each winter.

This is but one contribution the CMI community is involved in. It is what we call, “practical theology.” While belief plays a role in Judaism, it is in the “doing” that we believe our success is recorded.

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