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Sermon 9-28-11

Paying Attention and the Process of Forgiveness
Rosh Hashanah Evening Service, 5772
Rabbi Anne Landowne
Temple Beth El
September 28, 2011

We begin our celebration of Rosh Hashanah in the evening because the Jewish day begins not in the moment following 12 midnight but at sundown. There’s a certain natural logic to this. When the sun sets a new day begins, rather than at an arbitrary time in the middle of the night. There is also a biblical reason for Jewish time. Tomorrow in the Torah service we will read about creation, in honor of Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the world, hayom horat haolam. The creation story tells of the separation of the light from the darkness. “ God called the light Day, and the darkness Night. And there was evening and there was morning, one day.” Because evening is mentioned first, in the Jewish calendar the day begins with sundown. This is why Shabbat begins on Friday night, for example. in Jewish tradition the evening is understood to be a time of new beginnings. We don’t need to wait until the sunrise in the morning to begin a new day.Even in the darkness, often a time of anxiety, we feel a sense of anticipation and renewal.

Tonight we gather as Jews and as those who are interested in Judaism, to join in prayer, song and reflection, or simply to be present. It may be a well-established routine to come to this service with friends, family, or by yourself or it may be your first time at a Rosh Hashanah service. We come together here as a prayer community, a kahal, at this especially holy and important time in the cycle of the Jewish year, and I am so honored to be joining you as your rabbi.

Jewish tradition recognizes the importance of designating time to reflect on the big questions of life on a yearly basis. During the period known as the Aseret Yamei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance, beginning tonight with Rosh Hashanah and ending as the sun sets on Yom Kippur, our task is to search our souls and take an accounting, a heshbon nefesh. We try to pay attention to our faults and the wrongs we have committed and to make amends to people we have hurt. This is the process of teshuvah, translated as repentance, but more literally translated as the process of returning. Somehow we strayed off the path we meant to follow. We forgot about our true values and our best intentions. These holy days give us the opportunity to reflect on our behavior and attitudes towards our loved ones, our friends, our colleagues, and also think about the general condition of our local and national community, the Jewish community, and people throughout the world. We have the chance to ask ourselves if our actions are consonant with our beliefs. Are we showing love to our family members, are we doing acts of kindness, are we pursuing justice, are we taking responsibility for our mistakes, and attempting to fulfill our promises to others?

The first step in a teshuvah process is to be aware of ourselves, and those around us. According to Maimonides, the great 12th century scholar, the sound of the shofar, was to awaken and arouse inner consciousness, like an alarm clock for the soul. Wake up sleepy ones from your slumbers, seek out your deeds, rethink and return and remember.

While thinking about the process of teshuvah in contemporary terms I happened to stumble upon an article in the Wall Street Journal from July 26th called the Delicate Art of Fixing a Broken Friendship, subtitled Forgiving is Good for you, Researchers Say, But Take It Slow; You May Be Ready to Start Over, But Your Friend May Not.
I really loved this article because it emphasized how difficult it can be to repair a relationship once the sense of trust has been damaged.

There was an example given about Wendy Knight a 46-year-old publicist in Panton, Vermont. She had accused a good friend of flirting with her boyfriend. Her friend was speechless and told Wendy that she would never do something like that. The next day Wendy’s friend sent her an e-mail breaking off their friendship because she was so insulted by the accusation. Over time Ms. Knight began to realize how much she missed this particular friend and finally after many months sent her a hand written letter of apology expressing her regret for causing so much pain and taking out her own insecurities regarding her relationship with her boyfriend on her friend. She also said how much she missed her. This sensitive act of teshuvah allowed their friendship to slowly resume and they are now closer than ever.
In the same article Fredric Luskin, a psychologist and director of the Forgiveness Project at Stanford University, which researches how forgiveness is good for mental and physical health, is quoted. “You need to pay attention and not just be wrapped up in what you need to say. If you have an argument, address the situation right away. Acknowledge your friend’s feelings. Ask him to tell you how he feels. Apologize.” The article goes on to say, “ find a way to make peace – even if you feel you weren’t at fault or the forgiving isn’t mutual. Forgiveness – asking for it and granting it- is good for your health. Research shows it lowers your blood pressure, decreases depression and has a positive effect on your nervous system.”

So our tradition was on to something when we are reminded that asking for forgiveness on the High Holy Days in our hearts and minds and in relationship to God is important, but it doesn’t work, if we haven’t taken the step of asking for forgiveness directly from the person we have hurt, or offended. The act of taking note of our actions and then correcting our mistakes and deficiencies is not only good for our overall society but is also good for us as individuals.

The idea of taking note and paying attention is also found in the Torah portion traditionally read on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, from Chapter 21 of Genesis. In fact this is probably why this Torah portion was selected for Rosh Hashanah. God takes note of Sarah, adonai pakad et sara, and remembers to fulfill the promise of a child and future descendants for Sarah and Abraham. A midrash or commentary, from the Talmud (RH 11a), recounts, that it was on the actual day of Rosh Hashanah, also known asYom Hazikaron, the Day of Remembering, that God visited Sarah and she became pregnant with Isaac. In our sacred story, even God needs to take note, remember, and act to fulfill promises.

In many instances, in the Book of Genesis, God pays close attention to our ancestors. God visits them. God speaks to them. God knows the intimate details of their lives and their bodies. Circumcision, a mark in the sensitive flesh is a sign of the covenant between God and Abraham. Sarah’s infertility and the miraculous birth of Isaac, in Sarah’s old age, are proof that God is present and paying attention to the fate of Sarah and her descendants. But later in the Bible, the relationship between God and individuals becomes more distant.

If we fast-forward in the scriptures, to the Book of Job, we can see how God’s relationship with people has undergone a change. Jack Miles, in God: A Biography, creatively imagined God as a literary character. He traced God’s personal development throughout the Bible. He notes that God stops speaking directly to human beings after the book of Job.

God’s last words are those spoken to Job, … God never speaks again. God does not die, but never again intervenes in human affairs.

How different this is from V’adonai Pakad et Sarah, the Eternal took note of Sarah, in a direct and personal way and intervened in her life.

This issue is relevant for us as well. Some people experience God directly in their lives, others do not. Many feel God’s presence at particular moments and then the awareness passes and doubt returns. Within the Jewish tradition there is room for a variety of beliefs. God can be understood as the powerful force responsible for ordering the universe, or a still small voice that arises within us.

Over the High Holy days we may feel or long for God’s presence even more. We may pray to be blessed with another year of life. We may pray for the health of a friend or loved one. We may long for a child, like Sarah. We may pray for an elusive job, a fulfilling relationship or anything else missing in our lives. We may pray for the world around us, so broken and in need of repair.

But for many, such prayer is not consistent with their beliefs and experience. The idea of a personal God who answers prayers does not seem possible. If God does not take note of us, then what is the purpose of our prayer here today? Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel a 20th century theologian and civil rights activist stated simply that we pray not to change God but to change ourselves. In the act of praying we reflect on ourselves and our relationships with others. We can emerge from prayer with greater clarity and self-awareness.

For those of us who do not believe in a God who answers prayers, there is still meaning and purpose to our joining together today. Everyone in this room has made a commitment to celebrate the holidays together. At this moment we are spiritually joined as a kahal, a community. This will be our time to listen to prayers and melodies, sing, read and reflect. It will also be our time to take note of challenges we face and remember our true priorities and values as we face the new year of 5772.

475 West Locust St | Dubuque, Iowa
(563) 583-3483

Sermon 9-29-11

Tzedakah – Dilemmas in Helping
Rosh Hashanah Morning Service, 5772
Rabbi Anne Landowne
Temple Beth El
September 29, 2011

The Talmud (Bava Metzia 62a) discusses the case of two people who are traveling in the desert far from civilization and only one of them has enough water in their canteen to survive the journey. A scholar Ben Petura decides that it is better that they share the water and both die, rather than have one watch the death of the other. Rabbi Akiva, one of the greatest Tanna’s, the first generation of scholars who shaped the traditions of rabbinic Judaism in the Mishnah, disagrees. The person who brought the water is obligated to drink all the water, if that is what is necessary to live, even though the other person will die. Rabbi Akiva has a reputation for great compassion. He is known for citing the verse in Leviticus 19 “ Love your neighbor as yourself.” as the principle teaching in the Torah. But in this case of self-preservation, he rules that people are obligated to save their own life first.

I studied this in rabbinical school and I thought that it was an interesting theoretical argument and had many important applications but I believed that the actual example was not one that was likely to occur in reality.

On the Friday before Labor Day weekend I was skimming through the New York Times and I came across an article “ A Hiker’s Plight: How to Help When Water Runs Low.” To my surprise this article portrayed the dilemma from the Talmud to the T. The article describes how hikers frequently encounter strangers “ gasping trailside from the heat.” They quote Laura Craig a Phoenix businesswoman who shared some of her extra water with distressed hikers. “ If it came down to having enough for myself or helping someone, I’d have to drink my own water.” Her intuitive opinion was right in line with Rabbi Akiva.

Tyler Shean, a 22 year old young man from Manor, Texas had a slightly different take on the situation.“ As long as you don’t trade positions completely and put yourself in danger, you usually look out for your neighbor.” He described giving his water to a friend who needed it more than he did. “ I would do everything in my power, without sacrificing myself.” Shannan Marcak a spokesperson for Grand Canyon National Park reported at least one case where someone died “ trying to provide more help than they could physically afford to provide.” similar to the position of the scholar Ben Petura.

In our daily lives we rarely confront such stark choices. We know that there are people in great need throughout the world who are lacking in the basic necessities required to sustain life but yet we don’t feel the ethical demand as acutely. Our own needs come first. We have good reasons not to impoverish ourselves in an attempt to save as many lives as possible. If we don’t take care of our own needs and obligations then we are also not able to help those who depend upon us in our families and our local communities. This being said, there is some relevance in thinking about the giving and sharing of our resources as life and death decisions.

The Hebrew word for giving to others in need is tzedakah. Although translated into English as the word charity in actuality the meaning is closer to the word “ justice.” Giving of tzedakah is doing what is the fair and right thing to do. We have an obligation to give to others in need. Because the standard is related to justice, not only to being generous, charitable, kind or even self sacrificing, we can better evaluate what are the limits and expectations related to giving. Knowing that others are suffering and are in mortal danger helps highlight the necessity of giving tzedakah to people in need and to organizations that can effectively intervene to save lives.

Thinking of the example of the water, I am reminded that I am required to care for myself and value my own needs above the needs of others but at the same time realize that my withholding of resources has real consequences in the world. The water may sustain my life but the lack of water can lead to the death of my neighbor.

I came upon a heartbreaking picture of a child suffering from the effects of the famine in Somalia on the OP-ED page of the NY Times on Sept . 23rd. It is entitled “ Fall” by Shirin Neshat and can be found at nytimes.com/opinion. To quote Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Few are guilty, but all are responsible. When we see the effects of starvation on individuals who are not to blame but live in parts of the world where violence and corruption prevail, we must shake ourselves out of our comfort zone and ask how can we help. If we were in the desert and we had extra water we would not withhold it from the person dying of thirst. By the same token, although we may struggle to pay our bills and provide for the needs of those who rely on us we must also remember those suffering from the effect of catastrophic famine in East Africa. Nicholas Kristof’s Sunday column from Sept. 17th at the same website has links to lists of organizations including American Jewish World Services that are actively working to alleviate suffering despite the political difficulties and instabilities.

During the Yomim Noraim, the Days Of Awe we are frequently reminded in our liturgy of the value of tzedakah.In Unatana tokef, we speak of our vulnerability as humans and our fears and hopes for the coming year. “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed. Who shall live and who shall die. Who shall perish by fire and who by water; who by sword and who by beast; who by hunger and who by thirst? ”Repentance, Prayer and Charity are the remedies offered by the liturgy to lessen the bad decree. Many of us do not accept a theology that considers continued life in the coming year as a sign of forgiveness, and death as God’s punishment. But the remedies, repentance, prayer and charity are in themselves worthwhile values to live by. And our acts of tzedaka can at times have a God like effect on the lives of others, saving them from the fate of death by hunger and thirst. This morning as we focus on Tzedakah, Justice, let us recommit ourselves to giving what we can to the people and causes that alleviate suffering, spread knowledge, increase happiness and make the world a better, more just place.

475 West Locust St | Dubuque, Iowa
(563) 583-3483

Sermon 10-07-11

Forgiveness and Modern Germany
Kol Nidre Yom Kippur Service, 5772
Rabbi Anne Landowne
Temple Beth El
October 7, 2011

Kol Nidre , all promises and vows, null and void. What about promises to never forgive. I think that most of us agree that it is permissible to stop hating, and certainly we all agree that it is important to never forget. Yet when it comes to terrible injustices are we allowed to forgive? Is complete forgiveness in the face of extreme injustice permitted? This question of forgiveness is grappled with in The Sunflower, a book by Simon Wisenthal, the famous Austrian Holocaust survivor who pursued fugitive Nazis. In the parable of The Sunflower, based on his experiences, he writes about an unimaginable scenario.

Simon is a prisoner in a concentration camp. He is brought to the deathbed of another young man, an SS officer. This dying man is tortured by a guilty conscience. He witnessed the brutal killing of innocent Jews locked in a burning building. He knew it was wrong but he did not intervene and participated in the murders. The SS officer asks the young Jewish prisoner for forgiveness. The young prisoner is present for the dying man. He brushes away flies from his face and listens to his deathbed confession but he does not offer forgiveness. When he returns to his fellow prisoners he talks with them about what happened. His friend Josek said. “I feared at first, that you had really forgiven him. You would have had no right to do this in the name of people who had not authorized you to do so. What people have done to you yourself, you can, if you like, forgive and forget. That is your own affair. But it would have been a terrible sin to burden your conscience with other people’s suffering.”
Another inmate, Bolek, a man who had been studying to be a Catholic priest, had a different opinion.“ In our religion repentance is the most important element in seeking forgiveness and he certainly repented. You ought to have thought of something: here was a dying man and you failed to grant his last request.”

The young Simon concludes with these observations: “Today the world demands that we forgive and forget the heinous crimes committed against us. It urges that we draw a line, and close the account as if nothing had happened. We who suffered in those dreadful days, we who cannot obliterate the hell we endured, are forever being advised to keep silent.Well I kept silent when a young Nazi, on his deathbed, begged me to be his confessor. And later when I met his mother I again kept silent rather than shatter her illusions about her dead son’s inherent goodness.”
So Wisenthal could not offer forgiveness but he could offer compassion.

The Sunflower also contains essays from a symposium where many writers, philosophers, theologians and politicians were invited to share a brief response to the following dilemma.

“Was my silence at the bedside of the dying Nazi right or wrong? This is a profound moral question that challenges the conscience of the reader of this episode. There are those who can appreciate my dilemma, and so endorse my attitude, and there are others who will be ready to condemn me for refusing to ease the last moment of a repentant murderer.” He continues: “The crux of the matter is, of course, the question of forgiveness. Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is an act of volition, and only the sufferer is qualified to make the decision. You who have just read this sad and tragic episode in my life, can mentally change places with me and ask yourself the crucial question “ What would I have done.?”

The responses to this question run the gamut of possible opinions and I will give a small sampling of some of the reactions to this dilemma.
Like Yosek, Alan Berger, a scholar who has extensively studied the Holocaust, concludes, “ Do not forgive someone for whom forgiveness is forbidden. I may not forgive one who has taken the life of another.”

And like Bolek, the Dali Lama states, “- I believe one should forgive the person or persons who have committed atrocities against oneself and mankind. But this does not necessarily mean that one should forget about the atrocities committed. In fact, one should be aware and remember these experiences so that efforts can be made to check the reoccurrence of such atrocities in the future.”
Similar to the Dali Lama, Edward Fannery, a Roman Catholic priest who opposed anti- Semitism says,

“ I would have- I do hope- forgiven him and as an obstinate believer, suggested to him that he make his peace with God by asking for his forgiveness, and, taking full advantage of the situation, uttered a prayer for the repose of his soul and those of the victims of his inhuman behavior.”

Eva Fleischner, a Catholic theologian and Holocaust scholar, makes an interesting observation. “Over the past twenty years I have frequently used The Sunflower as a text in my Holocaust course…One striking feature of this has been that almost without exception, the Christian students come out in favor of forgiveness, while the Jewish students feel that Simon did the right thing by not granting the dying man’s wish.”

Eugene J. Fisher, a Catholic theologian and expert in Catholic – Jewish relations, touches on the Christian Jewish divide. “I believe it is the height of arrogance for Christians to ask Jews to forgive them. On what grounds? We can, as established by evidence of changed teachings and changed behavior, repent and work towards mutual reconciliation with Jews. But we have no right to put Jewish survivors in the impossible moral position of offering forgiveness, implicitly, in the name of the six million. Placing a Jew in this anguished position further victimizes him or her. This, in my reading, was the final sin of the dying Nazi.”

Rebecca Goldstein, a Jewish novelist and philosopher, and Mary Gordon, an Irish – American writer, and professor, elaborate on the reasons why forgiveness is impossible in this situation, from their perspectives.
First Goldstein, “For had he understood the enormity of his crimes, he would never have dared to ask for forgiveness. Never. It would have been to know himself as having forfeited forever any questionable right to “die in peace.”
And Gordon, “Perhaps he imagines that forgiveness is a kind of magic eraser, a way of undoing what cannot temporally be undone, a way of saying “it never happened.” It becomes then a narcissistic rather than a moral act because it places the perpetrator’s need to be purged of guilt ahead of the victim’s need for restitution or simple recognition of having been harmed.”

And as an aside, this dynamic, the perpetrator’s need to be purged of guilt, is still one of the dilemmas underlying the relationship between Jews and Germans in Modern Germany.

Some final thoughts about this dilemma:
Hans Habe, an Austrian writer, said “Atonement is the prerequisite for forgiveness. Exercised with love and justice, atonement and forgiveness serve the same end: life without hatred. That is our goal. I see no other.”

Abraham Joshua Heschel – “According to Jewish tradition even God can only forgive sins committed against God, not against another human being.” In Hebrew referred to as bein adamh l’makom ve loh bein adamh l’havero
Susannah Heschel – “Unlike South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Germany never established a public forum at which crimes against the Jews were publicly confessed. Perhaps the issue is not forgiveness but rather how the victims and their descendants can live without bitterness or vengeance, without losing their own humanity, when they hear the cry of the blood of their families.”

I had pretty much completed this sermon, when I saw an article in yesterday’s NY Times, “Germans Weigh More Charges For Nazi Guards, “ which began to address Susannah Heschel’s concern that there was no accountability for the crimes committed. This article describes how in the wake of a novel tactic at the recent trial of John Demjanjuk, a former death camp guard, prosecutors are “ busy scouring hundreds of cold case files, raising the prospect of an 11th hour reckoning for former Nazis, now in their eighties and nineties.” The prosecutors argued that it was not necessary to submit evidence that Mr. Demjanjuk had committed a particular crime, just the fact that he was working as a guard at an extermination camp made him an accessory to the murders committed there. The court in Munich accepted this argument and now there is the potential to try hundred of others with the same legal strategy.
These questions about forgiveness and the Holocaust were heightened for me last spring when I had the opportunity to visit Germany as a participant in a Hebrew Union course taught by Professor Leah Hochman from the Los Angeles campus. The main focus of the class was current Jewish life in Germany, but thoughts of the Holocaust were on everyone’s mind as we prepared for the trip. Although we would be visiting Sachsenhausen , a concentration camp near Berlin, and the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe, the purpose of the trip was to experience modern Germany. To that end, the sponsor of our trip was an organization called Germany Close Up. This organization brings groups of Jewish American students and young professionals to visit Germany and participate in dialogs with academics, politicians, artists and representatives from a wide variety of German society. This is in an effort to expose American Jews to the transformation of Germany over the last fifty years into a unified, democratic country with a growing Jewish community.
I had apprehensions about the trip. How would I feel traveling in the country that was responsible for the Shoah? How would I feel interacting with people whose parents and grandparents may have been actively responsible for the killing of Jews?

What I discovered was a country that has made a commitment to remember and teach about the Nazi era and is committed to democracy. Many of the people I met who were teaching about and preserving Jewish sites and heritage were not Jewish. Their motivations varied but in many cases there was a genuine desire to make amends.

Until this trip I believed that there was no teshuvah, repentance, for the crimes committed against the Jews. So many of the perpetrators were unpunished and had lived out their lives in peace while their victims lost everything. After the trip I had a different perspective. The German government and many individuals in Germany are committed to ongoing teshuvah for the crimes of the Shoah. Monica Meyer a rabbinical student from Cincinnati introduced me to Ernst and Brigitte Klein during our trip. Two ordinary Germans who have devoted their lives to creating an organization Building Bridges to reconnect with and support Jews from their town who were harmed by the Nazis. They feel a sense of personal and national responsibility for the crimes committed against the Jews. Their organization funded trips for German Jews to return and visit Germany and to offer whatever help and support possible. Monica’s grandparents returned to Germany to visit their hometown, something they never expected to do, because of the Kleins. Ernst is still investigating the circumstances surrounding the arrest imprisonment and death of Monica’s great grandparent’s. Individual and governmental acts of remembering, commemorating and seeking to repair the damage done by the German people and their government during the 13 years of the National Socialist regime are a characteristic of modern Germany.

In the middle of Berlin on an open public square, a block away from the Brandenburg Gate is the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe. This stark monument designed by architect Peter Eisenman and engineer Buro Happold is an almost 5 acre site covered with 2,711 concrete slabs of varying heights from 8 inches to over 15 feet. On May 11th, 2005 when the memorial was dedicated

Sabina van der Linden told how she became her family's sole survivor of the Holocaust when German troops swept into her town of Borislaw, Poland, when she was 11.

She said she does not believe in collective guilt, adding that today's German youth cannot be blamed for the sins of their elders. "But," she said, "You can hold them responsible for what they do with the memories of their ancestors' crimes."
This memorial is an attempt to keep the experience of the Holocaust forever present in the heart of Berlin. The slabs have been compared to tombstones. Peter Eisenman described his effort to create disorientation in the visitor walking through the narrow passages between the stele. The memorial appears to be a rationally laid out grid structure but ‘the illusion of the order and security in the internal grid are destroyed.’

Throughout Berlin there are constant reminders of the Shoah. Outside of the main train station is a large sign listing the concentration camps that were destinations for prisoners who were transported by train. As you walk along the street you come upon ‘stumble stones’ embedded in the sidewalk. These are small metal plaques that commemorate specific individuals. They are located on the sidewalks outside of the homes of victims of the Nazis and are inscribed with short biographies of the person who was murdered or exiled. There are over 26,000 of these “ stolpersteine’” created by the artist Gunter Demnig of Cologne, throughout Germany. The project of commemoration continues.

In addition to the memorializing there is an active attempt to support the return of Jewish communities, and culture. There is a College of Jewish Studies, at the University of Heidelberg. Its purpose is to pursue serious academic research and study of Jewish culture, history and religion in the university setting. We visited the program housed in a beautiful new building that contains a library and archive. The program is jointly affiliated with the Central Council of Jews in Germany and the University of Heidelberg. Jewish and non- Jewish students study together, and there is also the opportunity for Jewish students to continue religious studies and become Jewish educators, and rabbis. There are also two rabbinical seminaries in Germany. The Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin, which is Orthodox, and the Reform, Geiger College in Potsdam. We realized that the reemergence of Jewish life and culture is in its infancy. But the trip at least allowed us to begin to question whether the Shoah was an end to over a thousand years of rich German Jewish life or a terrible trauma and wrong against the German Jewish community, but not an end. Is there a possibility that over time there can be healing, allowing a Jewish community to again grow, thrive and claim the deeply interwoven German- Jewish heritage?

Returning to the question of teshuvah, forgiveness, I wonder about the Christian -Jewish divide. Is it because of different theological approaches? Is the Jew more influenced by the law? Therefore, unable to offer forgiveness for a crime committed against another human being despite the heartfelt repentance. Or is it more personal. Although there were many, many non – Jewish victims of the Holocaust, the intention of the Nazi regime was genocide against the Jews. When the intention of the attacker was the complete destruction of a person’s entire, self, and identity, past and future, forgiveness may also be impossible. I asked Lou Landau, a holocaust survivor and long time congregant at our Temple Beth El in Dubuque, about this question of forgiveness. His emphatic answer was. “I can’t forgive the Nazis. That’s it!!” But now with the second, third and fourth generations, children, grand children, and great grandchildren of the perpetrators we must ask ourselves if we can differentiate between Nazis and Germany as a whole. Simon could not forgive a crime committed against others; can these subsequent generations offer repentance for crimes they did not commit? Sabina Van Linden thought that subsequent generations could be held responsible for how they dealt with the memory of their ancestor’s atrocities. Establishing teshuvah, sincere repentance as a fabric of German society, is a way of honoring the memory of the Jews who were murdered. The perpetrators cannot be forgiven. The descendants of the perpetrators are not guilty of the crimes. But the societal act of remembering, asking forgiveness, offering reparations, and creating a transparent democracy that is committed to protection of Jews and victims of oppression are acts of worth and significance. We do not forgive the Nazis, but we can consider supporting the resurrection of Jewish life in a transformed Germany.

475 West Locust St | Dubuque, Iowa
(563) 583-3483

Sermon 10-08-11

The Covenant and the Blessing of the Land
Yom Kippur Morning Service, 5772
Rabbi Anne Landowne
Temple Beth El
October 8, 2011

Soon we will read our Torah portion, Nitzavim, in Deuteronomy, chapters 29 and 30. This parasha describes the solemn covenantal commitment made between God and Israel. “You stand this day, all of you, before your Eternal God, every one in Israel, men, women, and children to enter into the sworn covenant as the people whose only God is the Eternal. “This first statement is very inclusive. All people from the leaders to the guest workers, adults and children, male and female are included.

Now the portion takes an unusual turn. “And it is not with you alone that I make this sworn covenant. I make it with those who are standing here with us today and equally with all who are not here with us today. “Now what does that mean? Is this a contractual agreement, a covenant, with people who are not present? This is understood by the rabbis to mean that all future generations are included and bound to God by this original agreement.

In our individualistic society it can be hard to accept this definition of covenant. We had no choice, as Jews, we are automatically included. Dr. Ellen Umansky has written about a related idea. In her words,“ I would suggest that the Jewish self exists in covenant not as ‘a single soul in its full individuality’ but as a relational soul in community with others. Rather than beginning with the autonomous self who chooses to become a Jewish self, I would suggest that we begin by recognizing that no self is fully autonomous, that as Martin Buber wrote long ago, we always exist in relationship to others and to the world in which we live.” This sense of community, shared destiny and values are present in our portion, Nitzavim, which I will elaborate on as “ Here we stand, here we are grounded, and these are our core values.

To quote from our parasha:
“For this commandment which I command you this day is not too hard for you, nor too remote. It is not in heaven that you should say: Who will go up for us to heaven and bring it down to us. Nor is it beyond the sea. No it is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, you can do it.”We as the Jewish people are inheritors of this ancient covenant. We have a path for life and goodness.
“ For I command you this day to love the Eternal, to walk in the ways and to keep the commandments laws and teachings, that you may live and increase and that your God may bless you in the land that you occupy.”

The blessing of land is very important to the establishment of a people with a shared destiny. But today we are in a quandary. After two thousand years of exile from the Land of Israel, following the Shoah and the devastation of European Jewry the blessing of the covenant has been fulfilled again. The Jewish people have their own land, Eretz Yisrael. Residing in this land is the largest Jewish community in the world. So what is the quandary?

The Palestinian people also consider this their land. Although their history probably does not span the millennium, by our usual way of understanding ownership, there are disputes over who is entitled to what parts of the land. How do we as Jews relate to the current political situation where the Palestinian people are striving to be recognized as an independent nation?

In difficult situations such as these people tend to become polarized and express strong opinions. The spectrum ranges from a belief in the God given right for Jews to possess the entire land of Israel including the territories known by their biblical names of Judea and Samaria. This group is roughly identified as religious Zionists.

The polar opposite often identified with the extreme left, tends to see the Jews as white European colonialists acting in a repressive way and depriving the native born population of their right to live in their ancestral homes.

Where are we as Jews along this continuum? The Reform movement, which was historically opposed to Zionism, became a strong supporter of Israel in the early years of the state. Hebrew Union College’s Jerusalem campus is right within the Green Line. Prior to the Six Day War, the building adjoined no man’s land. This unwavering support continues despite the difficulties created by the religious authorities in Israel. Reform Jews, rabbis, and cantors are not fully recognized and there are obstacles to our freedom to practice Judaism within the State of Israel.

Fellow Reform rabbis attacked the future head of the URJ, Rabbi Rick Jacobs, Rabbi Eric Yoffie’s successor in a very public way in the media. They were criticizing his stand on Israel and condemned him for not being a strong enough proponent. Rabbi Jacobs who has an apartment in Jerusalem and is deeply committed to Eretz Yisrael was attacked for meeting with organizations like J Street. In his attempt to build bridges and find common ground with Jews who have misgivings about Israel he became a target himself for harsh and painful criticism and character assassination.

As we all know there are no easy answers, to these divisions between Jews let alone the divisions between Israeli’s and Palestinians. But the purpose of discussing this today is not to enter into a political discussion. Today is a day for reflection and unity. As your new rabbi I wanted to let you know that the question of Israel’s existential survival and its moral and spiritual health are deeply important to me. Kol Yisrael aravim zeh b’zeh. All Jews are responsible for one another.

During the year of 5772 I hope to have conversations about Israel with you. I am interested in hearing your thoughts and feelings. Here in Dubuque, where many of you interact with young people in a variety of university settings, it is essential to carefully think through your opinions so that you are prepared to answer questions and respond to the opinions and questions posed by students. We are all responsible and therefore required to care. Kol Yisrael aravim zeh b’zeh.

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Temple Beth El

Services

Temple Family

Rabbi Landowne

Seder, 4-13-12

Sermon 9-28-11

Sermon 9-29-11

Sermon 10-07-11

Sermon 10-08-11