The post below ran at Chanukah-time three years ago. I look back with a mixture of nostalgia and amusement; enjoy.
I wrote an opinion article regarding my White House/Chanukah trip, and it ran in the Allentown Morning Call on Thursday, December 13. They edited it marginally, just enough to wreck some of the grammar. This is their version:
(Their title: White House Chanukah signals democratic health)
The phrase ''Only in America'' is trite, but apt for the occasion: On Monday evening Dec. 10, my wife Caren and I joined a few hundred other Jewish Americans for a Chanukah party in the White House. The hosts were President and Mrs. Bush, and all I could think was, ''Only in America.''
Cynics carp that such cultural celebrations, like the president's marking of Eid al-Fitr this past October, are essentially political tools, meant to appeal to minority voters.
But, I believe that the cynics are missing the point. The lesson of such occasions is that only in America, and in the societies America has inspired, can a minority gain this sort of political notice, this level of electoral significance.
If the motivation is to win the favor of a cultural minority, that's a good thing, a sign of our country's democratic health. The Chinese government doesn't need to worry about catering to a minority, and neither do Arab nations; only in America does the president have to pause to think about the feelings of each ethnic group. Only in America will the president's staff contact the Orthodox Union and offer it the chance to invite four rabbis to celebrate Chanukah at the White House.
And so, we marked Chanukah with a menorah from the family of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter brutally murdered by terrorists for the crime of being Jewish. Daniel Pearl's parents, wife and family were honored guests for the evening.
And so, we enjoyed kosher food, prepared in the White House kitchen with equipment that had been specially treated to render it kosher. Cookies bore the phrase, ''Happy Chanukah,'' and we munched on traditional Chanukah jelly doughnuts beneath the portraits of past presidents and first ladies.
And so, we heard the Jewish Zamir Chorale, as well as a military band, perform such Chanukah classics as ''Rock of Ages'' and ''I Had a Little Dreidel.'' Those big brass sections really add something to the traditional tunes.
And so, a rabbi and rebbetzin (rabbi's wife) from the third-largest city in Pennsylvania were honored by the Orthodox Union with the opportunity to meet the President of the United States and First Lady and stand beside them for a photograph. (We actually took two photographs; the President explained that he had blinked on the first one.)
And, to return to those cynics for a moment: The Chanukah celebration at the White House was not entirely politically inspired; the White House also marks Chanukah privately, more quietly, with a commemoration for its Jewish employees.In a nation of businesses who stage ''holiday parties'' meant to serve as catch-all celebrations for employees of all ethnicities, this White House holds separate parties for White House staff members on their own holidays. This means that Jewish staff members have their own Chanukah party, not as part of the public celebration and not as part of some generic ''holiday'' celebration, but as a commemoration of their own. Would that our nation's businesses were similarly sensitive!
America, after all of the constitutional legislation and all of the political debate, is culturally Christian. I walk the malls bemusedly staring at all of the red and green. I turn on the radio and hear holiday music, I drive down the street and see lone candles in the windows and chains of lights draped over shrubbery. The White House was filled with tinsel-decorated evergreen trees; even the invitation for the Chanukah party featured a picture of a festively decorated fir tree.
But none of this troubles me. The beauty of America, at least to me, is that the citizens of this great nation can celebrate their own festivities and simultaneously recognize the celebrations of others.
Showing posts with label Judaism: America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judaism: America. Show all posts
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thursday, December 25, 2008
"Bless this our country, the United States of America"
There is a near-universal practice, in traditional Orthodox synagogues, of blessing the local government and praying to Gd to provide it counsel and support. From East Asia to Russia to Europe to North and South America, in languages varied and with diverse texts, Jews call upon Gd to benefit the lands in which they live. (I'm not sure about Africa.) There are many motivations for this practice, including simple gratitude, a recognition that all citizens benefit from law and order, and a solicitous desire to demonstrate patriotism.
Our shul recites a version that appears in the siddur (prayer book) compiled by Rabbi David deSola Pool several decades ago. This prayer begins, “Heavenly Father, bless this our country, the United States of America.”
The “Heavenly Father” invocation is always jarring for first-timers, but it makes sense as a translation of Avinu sheBashamayim – and it is certainly less offensive to the Jewish ear than a more literal rendition: “Our Father who art in Heaven.”
The more jarring part of that opening line, for many, is the word our. If we term America “our country,” is that a demotion of Israel, and/or a rejection of the fundamental Jewish longing for the arrival of Mashiach and kibbutz galuyot, the ingathering of Jews to Israel?
I've mulled and debated this question for the past seven-plus years, and overall I have made my peace with this dubious “our.” The word describes a relationship, yes, but not in an exclusive sense. In my view, our accurately describes both our relationship with Israel and our relationship with America.
If "our" described ownership, I would reject this our; there is only one Jewish land. But, to my mind, “our” is less a statement of possession than a statement of loyalty and responsibility. Our families, our homes, our lives, our careers, our friends – these are ours which are less about owning than about being owned, more about fealty than about property. In this sense, both lands are “our” lands, for both lands may rightfully claim our hearts and our powers.
Israel is “our” country in the sense that it is the only land which is truly attached to a Jew. It is the land in which our genetic and spiritual ancestors lived, loved, worshipped, were born, died and were buried. As we have been taught for millenia, it is the true locus for all that is Judaism, the theater where mitzvot have their greatest meaning as well as application, the earthly soil where a Jew can most fully connect to the Divine. Israel has been promised to us, and we have been promised to it; this land lodges a claim upon our lives as great and as permanent as our own claim upon its soil.
But America is also “our” country, in the sense that it is the land which absorbed us, which afforded us the freedom to live as Jews when no other polity would do likewise; which came, over the course of centuries, to recognize Jews as worthy of education and position and political authority; which bucked the trend of human history and divested religion of government imprimatur and military enforcement; which provided social and economic support for the founding of some of the most vibrant Jewish communities and Torah yeshivot in the world.
More: American values heavily influenced the founders of the modern state of Israel, and American ideology yet recognizes the kinship between the two lands; this connection is another strand in this “our.”
Certainly, my heart - and, one day soon, Gd-willing, my body - is in Israel.
Certainly, the relationship between sectarian Jew and universalist United States, and between America and Israel, is perennially conflicted and inherently insecure.
Certainly, not every government and governor has been as generous of heart toward the descendants of Avraham and Sarah.
Indeed, I am penning this essay on a day when the vast majority of my neighbors celebrate the birth of a man whose ideology I declare anathema, and whose theological descendants have massacred millions of my kin over the past two thousand years.
Still, for all of the reasons above, there is little doubt in my mind that America, even on the twenty-fifth of December, is “our” land.
And so I continue to bless “this our country.” When new people enter our shul, I continue to explain to them, to the best of my ability, why I agree with “our.” And when I spend Shabbos in a different community, one which does not verbalize an “our” in its prayer for the government, in my own mind this expression of loyalty and responsibility still attaches itself to the name of that more perfect union, “our country, the United States of America.”
Our shul recites a version that appears in the siddur (prayer book) compiled by Rabbi David deSola Pool several decades ago. This prayer begins, “Heavenly Father, bless this our country, the United States of America.”
The “Heavenly Father” invocation is always jarring for first-timers, but it makes sense as a translation of Avinu sheBashamayim – and it is certainly less offensive to the Jewish ear than a more literal rendition: “Our Father who art in Heaven.”
The more jarring part of that opening line, for many, is the word our. If we term America “our country,” is that a demotion of Israel, and/or a rejection of the fundamental Jewish longing for the arrival of Mashiach and kibbutz galuyot, the ingathering of Jews to Israel?
I've mulled and debated this question for the past seven-plus years, and overall I have made my peace with this dubious “our.” The word describes a relationship, yes, but not in an exclusive sense. In my view, our accurately describes both our relationship with Israel and our relationship with America.
If "our" described ownership, I would reject this our; there is only one Jewish land. But, to my mind, “our” is less a statement of possession than a statement of loyalty and responsibility. Our families, our homes, our lives, our careers, our friends – these are ours which are less about owning than about being owned, more about fealty than about property. In this sense, both lands are “our” lands, for both lands may rightfully claim our hearts and our powers.
Israel is “our” country in the sense that it is the only land which is truly attached to a Jew. It is the land in which our genetic and spiritual ancestors lived, loved, worshipped, were born, died and were buried. As we have been taught for millenia, it is the true locus for all that is Judaism, the theater where mitzvot have their greatest meaning as well as application, the earthly soil where a Jew can most fully connect to the Divine. Israel has been promised to us, and we have been promised to it; this land lodges a claim upon our lives as great and as permanent as our own claim upon its soil.
But America is also “our” country, in the sense that it is the land which absorbed us, which afforded us the freedom to live as Jews when no other polity would do likewise; which came, over the course of centuries, to recognize Jews as worthy of education and position and political authority; which bucked the trend of human history and divested religion of government imprimatur and military enforcement; which provided social and economic support for the founding of some of the most vibrant Jewish communities and Torah yeshivot in the world.
More: American values heavily influenced the founders of the modern state of Israel, and American ideology yet recognizes the kinship between the two lands; this connection is another strand in this “our.”
Certainly, my heart - and, one day soon, Gd-willing, my body - is in Israel.
Certainly, the relationship between sectarian Jew and universalist United States, and between America and Israel, is perennially conflicted and inherently insecure.
Certainly, not every government and governor has been as generous of heart toward the descendants of Avraham and Sarah.
Indeed, I am penning this essay on a day when the vast majority of my neighbors celebrate the birth of a man whose ideology I declare anathema, and whose theological descendants have massacred millions of my kin over the past two thousand years.
Still, for all of the reasons above, there is little doubt in my mind that America, even on the twenty-fifth of December, is “our” land.
And so I continue to bless “this our country.” When new people enter our shul, I continue to explain to them, to the best of my ability, why I agree with “our.” And when I spend Shabbos in a different community, one which does not verbalize an “our” in its prayer for the government, in my own mind this expression of loyalty and responsibility still attaches itself to the name of that more perfect union, “our country, the United States of America.”
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Newsworthy tzniut?
[Haveil Havalim is here!]
This morning, while driving home from minyan, I heard a report on the radio (WKYW-Philadelphia) about a couple, both abstinence educators, who were married this weekend. The reporter observed, in tones of astonishment, that the couple had never mated, never kissed, never watched a movie lying down together, never even been alone in a house together.
Yes, apparently in a world of Mumbai terror attacks, a depressed economy, a presidency in transition, Thanksgiving celebrations, and trampled Wal-Mart workers, these topics - kiruv basar/yichud (non-marital physical contact/seclusion) - are still worthy of a headline.
I went on-line and found this report at the AP website:
CHICAGO (AP) — Won't kiss on the first date? How about waiting until marriage?
Chicagoans Melody LaLuz and Claudaniel Fabien shared their first kiss Saturday at the altar. The two teach abstinence at the city's public schools and practiced what they preached to their teenage students.
The Chicago Tribune reports that the couple had never kissed and that they had never been alone together in a house.
A friend of LaLuz says wedding guests cheered and stomped during the two-minute smooch between the 28-year-old bride and the 30-year-old groom.
LaLuz and Fabien say they have no worries about how they will spend their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
Technically, of course, this is not tzniut; Tzniut is privacy. A two-minute public smooch, not to mention the explicit declarations about their evening and honeymoon plans that made it into other reports of the happy occasion, do not qualify as private. [And don't get me started on the crude adages that made it into the radio report - "Try before you buy" on one side, and "You can't drive the car off the lot until you pay for it" on the other.]
Nonetheless, this happy couple did buck the cultural trend and observe some elements of the practices mandated by Judaism. For that I can salute them.
As to the reporter, well, perhaps he could use some time out of mainstream American and European culture to observe the way other societies do things.
This morning, while driving home from minyan, I heard a report on the radio (WKYW-Philadelphia) about a couple, both abstinence educators, who were married this weekend. The reporter observed, in tones of astonishment, that the couple had never mated, never kissed, never watched a movie lying down together, never even been alone in a house together.
Yes, apparently in a world of Mumbai terror attacks, a depressed economy, a presidency in transition, Thanksgiving celebrations, and trampled Wal-Mart workers, these topics - kiruv basar/yichud (non-marital physical contact/seclusion) - are still worthy of a headline.
I went on-line and found this report at the AP website:
CHICAGO (AP) — Won't kiss on the first date? How about waiting until marriage?
Chicagoans Melody LaLuz and Claudaniel Fabien shared their first kiss Saturday at the altar. The two teach abstinence at the city's public schools and practiced what they preached to their teenage students.
The Chicago Tribune reports that the couple had never kissed and that they had never been alone together in a house.
A friend of LaLuz says wedding guests cheered and stomped during the two-minute smooch between the 28-year-old bride and the 30-year-old groom.
LaLuz and Fabien say they have no worries about how they will spend their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
Technically, of course, this is not tzniut; Tzniut is privacy. A two-minute public smooch, not to mention the explicit declarations about their evening and honeymoon plans that made it into other reports of the happy occasion, do not qualify as private. [And don't get me started on the crude adages that made it into the radio report - "Try before you buy" on one side, and "You can't drive the car off the lot until you pay for it" on the other.]
Nonetheless, this happy couple did buck the cultural trend and observe some elements of the practices mandated by Judaism. For that I can salute them.
As to the reporter, well, perhaps he could use some time out of mainstream American and European culture to observe the way other societies do things.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Veterans Day vs. Memorial Day
The US Department of Veterans Affairs website has this to say about the difference between Veterans Day and Memorial Day:
Many people confuse Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Memorial Day is a day for remembering and honoring military personnel who died in the service of their country, particularly those who died in battle or as a result of wounds sustained in battle. While those who died are also remembered on Veterans Day, Veterans Day is the day set aside to thank and honor ALL those who served honorably in the military - in wartime or peacetime. In fact, Veterans Day is largely intended to thank LIVING veterans for their service, to acknowledge that their contributions to our national security are appreciated, and to underscore the fact that all those who served - not only those who died - have sacrificed and done their duty.
I would add another way in which Veterans Day is not Memorial Day: Living Veterans continue to serve our country even after they retire from duty, bringing their attitude and experience of dedicated service into their communities, into their jobs, into their families. America becomes a stronger nation when a veteran serves in elected office, when a veteran runs a corporation, when a veteran raises children, with a model of dedicated service.
So in a sense, to me, Memorial Day is the American equivalent of Pesach, a day to remember America's nation-shaping history, while Veterans Day is the American equivalent of Shavuot, a day to mark that which shapes our nation every day.
More: Veterans serve not only actively, but also passively, providing a visual reminder of what it means to risk your own for the sake of others.
Seeing a Veteran license plate or bumper sticker on the road reminds me of what they have given me, and makes me more thoughtful. Seeing a veteran wearing a military cap or fatigues makes me contemplate what it has taken, and what it continues to take, to keep this country free. (Lest anyone make the Bushian error of thinking that democracy is man’s natural state, look at the number of wars fought - as well as avoided - in the 20th century alone for the survival of this system of government. Our veterans have played a major role in guaranteeing these freedoms for each generation.)
This is an international phenomenon. Off and on over the years, our shul has honored American veterans on the Shabbos before Veterans Day, and each time our Russian contingent has been sure to remind us of the Russian version of Veterans Day. Countries may have unique ideals, but we share an emphasis on sovereignty, and gratitude toward those who have guaranteed that sovereignty.
I don’t have any red poppies to wear, but in the spirit of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein’s gratitude toward the USA, I salute the men and women – living and deceased - who guaranteed, and who continue to guarantee, the continued sovereignty of the USA.
Many people confuse Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Memorial Day is a day for remembering and honoring military personnel who died in the service of their country, particularly those who died in battle or as a result of wounds sustained in battle. While those who died are also remembered on Veterans Day, Veterans Day is the day set aside to thank and honor ALL those who served honorably in the military - in wartime or peacetime. In fact, Veterans Day is largely intended to thank LIVING veterans for their service, to acknowledge that their contributions to our national security are appreciated, and to underscore the fact that all those who served - not only those who died - have sacrificed and done their duty.
I would add another way in which Veterans Day is not Memorial Day: Living Veterans continue to serve our country even after they retire from duty, bringing their attitude and experience of dedicated service into their communities, into their jobs, into their families. America becomes a stronger nation when a veteran serves in elected office, when a veteran runs a corporation, when a veteran raises children, with a model of dedicated service.
So in a sense, to me, Memorial Day is the American equivalent of Pesach, a day to remember America's nation-shaping history, while Veterans Day is the American equivalent of Shavuot, a day to mark that which shapes our nation every day.
More: Veterans serve not only actively, but also passively, providing a visual reminder of what it means to risk your own for the sake of others.
Seeing a Veteran license plate or bumper sticker on the road reminds me of what they have given me, and makes me more thoughtful. Seeing a veteran wearing a military cap or fatigues makes me contemplate what it has taken, and what it continues to take, to keep this country free. (Lest anyone make the Bushian error of thinking that democracy is man’s natural state, look at the number of wars fought - as well as avoided - in the 20th century alone for the survival of this system of government. Our veterans have played a major role in guaranteeing these freedoms for each generation.)
This is an international phenomenon. Off and on over the years, our shul has honored American veterans on the Shabbos before Veterans Day, and each time our Russian contingent has been sure to remind us of the Russian version of Veterans Day. Countries may have unique ideals, but we share an emphasis on sovereignty, and gratitude toward those who have guaranteed that sovereignty.
I don’t have any red poppies to wear, but in the spirit of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein’s gratitude toward the USA, I salute the men and women – living and deceased - who guaranteed, and who continue to guarantee, the continued sovereignty of the USA.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Increasing Irrelevance of the American Jewish Community
In the past year I’ve watched three of my rabbinic peers, all in the 30-40 year old prime of their rabbinate, announce their aliyah. I’ve cheered on several congregants along their path of aliyah over the past few years. While much of the decision-making process for these olim has been individual, focusing on factors like children’s education or job situation or personal Zionism, I also see in it a sign of the increasing irrelevance of the American Jewish community. (Note: This isn’t a value judgment, just an observation.) Just as individual Jewish communities move their centers of gravity over time, so the world Jewish community is inexorably moving its center to Israel.
This is not a religious statement about the centrality of Israel for Torah observance, it’s not a Zionist statement about the future of Jewish life, it’s not a negation of everything American life has offered Jews for centuries. It’s just a recognition of a social shift which is already underway.
Certainly, the American Jewish community is currently the wealthiest and most politically connected in the world, but I’m looking at this community’s relevance for the future of the Jewish people, and I see three major signs of communal irrelevance: Satellitism, Entropy and Individualism.
Satellitism:
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because, religiously as well as politically, the American Jewish community functions increasingly as a satellite of Israeli Jewry.
For education of our children, for Birthright connections, for halachic guidance, for the leadership of institutions which address issues of modernity in the context of Judaism, we look to the Israeli Jewish community. Much of our political leadership is currently in America, and much of our philanthropic is as well, but this landscape is shifting.
Entropy:
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because its institutional infrastructure is decaying and is not being replaced.
This is true across the spectrum of religious observances. From schools to philanthropic umbrella organizations to synagogues, the problem of funding as well as communal participation (and even communal interest) is proving difficult to solve. Major challenges include the tuition crisis, the drift away from umbrella philanthropy, Jewish disaffiliation from JCCs, and the tendency of younger Americans not to affiliate with synagogues. Just look at the numbers at the Jewish Databank’s surveys; it’s all there in the community studies.
Much institutional time and energy is being devoted to finding solutions to these major problems.
Non-Orthodox movements have developed an approach of solving the problems by negating the questions. Example: Intermarriage is not a problem, because intermarrieds can now be members, are seen to be making a legitimate lifestyle decision, and are labelled as “on the cusp of Jewish confrontation with secular society.” The biggest question is how we can serve them. Another example: The choice of sports activities over religious school is not a problem, because one can engage in sports Jewishly, and religious schools can fit everything into one afternoon a week.
Orthodoxy has done no better in solving these problems. Schools are underfunded, JCCs and Umbrella philanthropies are ignored. Institutional dissolution is considered acceptable; we’ll just look elsewhere to meet our needs. Creative, effective solutions are few and far between.
Individualism
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because American Jews seem to be more committed to the welfare of the individual than the welfare of the community.
There just seems to be little interest in guaranteeing the future of Jewish life in America. Intermarriage rates are one indicator of this problem. Affiliation with institutions is another. A third indicator is the failure of the Jewish community to adopt any sense of sacrifice for the sake of the future. George Hanus’s “Five Percent for Jewish Education” plan is a program which could work, but I’d like to see it at 10% or 15%. It’s not going to happen, of course; too many of us are more interested in Caribbean vacations and building on to our homes and purchasing fancy cars. Think back to great-grandparents who had little to spend on food, and yet they gave money to Hebrew Loan Funds and to support mikvaos, and contributed their time to Jewish community infrastructure; today’s level of consumerism would have been unthinkable to them.
Ultimately, this may just be the natural evolution of a community, from its early growth to its institutional strength to its senescence. It may be a function of the failure of Jewish education for some, and the success of Jewish education for others, leading each group to abandon this community, whether to pursue Jewish oblivion or to pursue aliyah. Call it a Divinely orchestrated pattern of events, if you like.
As I see it: American Jewry will remain as a Jewish community, at least for the foreseeable non-Mashiach era, just as there are Jewish communities in South America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, the FSU and Hong Kong. However, it will be a community with decreasing potency and decreasing leadership. The strongest institutions will open branches elsewhere, particularly in Israel, and those branches will eventually become their centers. Our children and their children will increase their rates of aliyah. Kibbutz Galuyot will happen naturally. בעתה אחישנה.
This is not a religious statement about the centrality of Israel for Torah observance, it’s not a Zionist statement about the future of Jewish life, it’s not a negation of everything American life has offered Jews for centuries. It’s just a recognition of a social shift which is already underway.
Certainly, the American Jewish community is currently the wealthiest and most politically connected in the world, but I’m looking at this community’s relevance for the future of the Jewish people, and I see three major signs of communal irrelevance: Satellitism, Entropy and Individualism.
Satellitism:
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because, religiously as well as politically, the American Jewish community functions increasingly as a satellite of Israeli Jewry.
For education of our children, for Birthright connections, for halachic guidance, for the leadership of institutions which address issues of modernity in the context of Judaism, we look to the Israeli Jewish community. Much of our political leadership is currently in America, and much of our philanthropic is as well, but this landscape is shifting.
Entropy:
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because its institutional infrastructure is decaying and is not being replaced.
This is true across the spectrum of religious observances. From schools to philanthropic umbrella organizations to synagogues, the problem of funding as well as communal participation (and even communal interest) is proving difficult to solve. Major challenges include the tuition crisis, the drift away from umbrella philanthropy, Jewish disaffiliation from JCCs, and the tendency of younger Americans not to affiliate with synagogues. Just look at the numbers at the Jewish Databank’s surveys; it’s all there in the community studies.
Much institutional time and energy is being devoted to finding solutions to these major problems.
Non-Orthodox movements have developed an approach of solving the problems by negating the questions. Example: Intermarriage is not a problem, because intermarrieds can now be members, are seen to be making a legitimate lifestyle decision, and are labelled as “on the cusp of Jewish confrontation with secular society.” The biggest question is how we can serve them. Another example: The choice of sports activities over religious school is not a problem, because one can engage in sports Jewishly, and religious schools can fit everything into one afternoon a week.
Orthodoxy has done no better in solving these problems. Schools are underfunded, JCCs and Umbrella philanthropies are ignored. Institutional dissolution is considered acceptable; we’ll just look elsewhere to meet our needs. Creative, effective solutions are few and far between.
Individualism
The American Jewish community is losing its relevance because American Jews seem to be more committed to the welfare of the individual than the welfare of the community.
There just seems to be little interest in guaranteeing the future of Jewish life in America. Intermarriage rates are one indicator of this problem. Affiliation with institutions is another. A third indicator is the failure of the Jewish community to adopt any sense of sacrifice for the sake of the future. George Hanus’s “Five Percent for Jewish Education” plan is a program which could work, but I’d like to see it at 10% or 15%. It’s not going to happen, of course; too many of us are more interested in Caribbean vacations and building on to our homes and purchasing fancy cars. Think back to great-grandparents who had little to spend on food, and yet they gave money to Hebrew Loan Funds and to support mikvaos, and contributed their time to Jewish community infrastructure; today’s level of consumerism would have been unthinkable to them.
Ultimately, this may just be the natural evolution of a community, from its early growth to its institutional strength to its senescence. It may be a function of the failure of Jewish education for some, and the success of Jewish education for others, leading each group to abandon this community, whether to pursue Jewish oblivion or to pursue aliyah. Call it a Divinely orchestrated pattern of events, if you like.
As I see it: American Jewry will remain as a Jewish community, at least for the foreseeable non-Mashiach era, just as there are Jewish communities in South America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, the FSU and Hong Kong. However, it will be a community with decreasing potency and decreasing leadership. The strongest institutions will open branches elsewhere, particularly in Israel, and those branches will eventually become their centers. Our children and their children will increase their rates of aliyah. Kibbutz Galuyot will happen naturally. בעתה אחישנה.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Article from my White House Chanukah visit
I wrote an opinion article regarding my White House/Chanukah trip, and it ran in the Allentown Morning Call on Thursday, December 13. They edited it marginally, just enough to wreck some of the grammar. This is their version:
(Their title: White House Chanukah signals democratic health)
The phrase ''Only in America'' is trite, but apt for the occasion: On Monday evening Dec. 10, my wife Caren and I joined a few hundred other Jewish Americans for a Chanukah party in the White House. The hosts were President and Mrs. Bush, and all I could think was, ''Only in America.''
Cynics carp that such cultural celebrations, like the president's marking of Eid al-Fitr this past October, are essentially political tools, meant to appeal to minority voters.
But, I believe that the cynics are missing the point. The lesson of such occasions is that only in America, and in the societies America has inspired, can a minority gain this sort of political notice, this level of electoral significance.
If the motivation is to win the favor of a cultural minority, that's a good thing, a sign of our country's democratic health. The Chinese government doesn't need to worry about catering to a minority, and neither do Arab nations; only in America does the president have to pause to think about the feelings of each ethnic group. Only in America will the president's staff contact the Orthodox Union and offer it the chance to invite four rabbis to celebrate Chanukah at the White House.
And so, we marked Chanukah with a menorah from the family of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter brutally murdered by terrorists for the crime of being Jewish. Daniel Pearl's parents, wife and family were honored guests for the evening.
And so, we enjoyed kosher food, prepared in the White House kitchen with equipment that had been specially treated to render it kosher. Cookies bore the phrase, ''Happy Chanukah,'' and we munched on traditional Chanukah jelly doughnuts beneath the portraits of past presidents and first ladies.
And so, we heard the Jewish Zamir Chorale, as well as a military band, perform such Chanukah classics as ''Rock of Ages'' and ''I Had a Little Dreidel.'' Those big brass sections really add something to the traditional tunes.
And so, a rabbi and rebbetzin (rabbi's wife) from the third-largest city in Pennsylvania were honored by the Orthodox Union with the opportunity to meet the President of the United States and First Lady and stand beside them for a photograph. (We actually took two photographs; the President explained that he had blinked on the first one.)
And, to return to those cynics for a moment: The Chanukah celebration at the White House was not entirely politically inspired; the White House also marks Chanukah privately, more quietly, with a commemoration for its Jewish employees.In a nation of businesses who stage ''holiday parties'' meant to serve as catch-all celebrations for employees of all ethnicities, this White House holds separate parties for White House staff members on their own holidays. This means that Jewish staff members have their own Chanukah party, not as part of the public celebration and not as part of some generic ''holiday'' celebration, but as a commemoration of their own. Would that our nation's businesses were similarly sensitive!
America, after all of the constitutional legislation and all of the political debate, is culturally Christian. I walk the malls bemusedly staring at all of the red and green. I turn on the radio and hear holiday music, I drive down the street and see lone candles in the windows and chains of lights draped over shrubbery. The White House was filled with tinsel-decorated evergreen trees; even the invitation for the Chanukah party featured a picture of a festively decorated fir tree.
But none of this troubles me. The beauty of America, at least to me, is that the citizens of this great nation can celebrate their own festivities and simultaneously recognize the celebrations of others.
(Their title: White House Chanukah signals democratic health)
The phrase ''Only in America'' is trite, but apt for the occasion: On Monday evening Dec. 10, my wife Caren and I joined a few hundred other Jewish Americans for a Chanukah party in the White House. The hosts were President and Mrs. Bush, and all I could think was, ''Only in America.''
Cynics carp that such cultural celebrations, like the president's marking of Eid al-Fitr this past October, are essentially political tools, meant to appeal to minority voters.
But, I believe that the cynics are missing the point. The lesson of such occasions is that only in America, and in the societies America has inspired, can a minority gain this sort of political notice, this level of electoral significance.
If the motivation is to win the favor of a cultural minority, that's a good thing, a sign of our country's democratic health. The Chinese government doesn't need to worry about catering to a minority, and neither do Arab nations; only in America does the president have to pause to think about the feelings of each ethnic group. Only in America will the president's staff contact the Orthodox Union and offer it the chance to invite four rabbis to celebrate Chanukah at the White House.
And so, we marked Chanukah with a menorah from the family of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter brutally murdered by terrorists for the crime of being Jewish. Daniel Pearl's parents, wife and family were honored guests for the evening.
And so, we enjoyed kosher food, prepared in the White House kitchen with equipment that had been specially treated to render it kosher. Cookies bore the phrase, ''Happy Chanukah,'' and we munched on traditional Chanukah jelly doughnuts beneath the portraits of past presidents and first ladies.
And so, we heard the Jewish Zamir Chorale, as well as a military band, perform such Chanukah classics as ''Rock of Ages'' and ''I Had a Little Dreidel.'' Those big brass sections really add something to the traditional tunes.
And so, a rabbi and rebbetzin (rabbi's wife) from the third-largest city in Pennsylvania were honored by the Orthodox Union with the opportunity to meet the President of the United States and First Lady and stand beside them for a photograph. (We actually took two photographs; the President explained that he had blinked on the first one.)
And, to return to those cynics for a moment: The Chanukah celebration at the White House was not entirely politically inspired; the White House also marks Chanukah privately, more quietly, with a commemoration for its Jewish employees.In a nation of businesses who stage ''holiday parties'' meant to serve as catch-all celebrations for employees of all ethnicities, this White House holds separate parties for White House staff members on their own holidays. This means that Jewish staff members have their own Chanukah party, not as part of the public celebration and not as part of some generic ''holiday'' celebration, but as a commemoration of their own. Would that our nation's businesses were similarly sensitive!
America, after all of the constitutional legislation and all of the political debate, is culturally Christian. I walk the malls bemusedly staring at all of the red and green. I turn on the radio and hear holiday music, I drive down the street and see lone candles in the windows and chains of lights draped over shrubbery. The White House was filled with tinsel-decorated evergreen trees; even the invitation for the Chanukah party featured a picture of a festively decorated fir tree.
But none of this troubles me. The beauty of America, at least to me, is that the citizens of this great nation can celebrate their own festivities and simultaneously recognize the celebrations of others.
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