Holocaust Stories Forgotten

Bet El synagogue, Casablanca

Last night I participated in an interfaith panel discussion at the National Cathedral, following a screening of the PBS documentary, Among the Righteous.  The film traces the efforts of Robert Satloff, a Near East expert who heads a think tank here in Washington, to find the story of any Arab Muslim who saved a Jew during the Holocaust.

After 9/11, Satloff came to believe that one of the major divides between Arab Muslims and the West is the attitude of Muslims toward the Holocaust, which ranges, he observes, from denial to "glorification."  He further notes that out of the more than 22,000 people recognized for saving Jews as "Righteous Among the Nations" by Yad Vashem, Israel's institution dedicated to Holocaust scholarship and commemoration, there are fewer than 100 Muslims and not a single Arab Muslim.  In order to present the Holocaust to the Arab world in a different light, Satloff began his search for righteous Arab Muslims who saved Jews.

His journey reveals a little-known part of Jewish and Holocaust history.  At the outset of World War II, there were more than 400,000 Jews living in Arab countries in North Africa (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya).  Though the experiences of these Jews were perhaps less extreme than those of the Jews of Europe, they nonetheless faced terrible persecution.  As a French colony, Algeria instituted many of the antisemitic policies of the collaborationist Vichy France.  Tunisia was actually occupied by the Germans, who brought their campaign of destruction with them.  There were over 100 concentration camps in North Africa, with ghastly, inhumane conditions similar to the camps of Europe.  Thousands of North African Jews were killed.

Why is this story forgotten?  Following the establishment of the State of Israel and the rise of Arab nationalism in the 1950s, the relationship of North African Jews to their longtime homes grew very strained.  Many left voluntarily for Israel, and many were forced out by antisemitism.  Arabs opposed to Israel did not wish to acknowledge their prewar and wartime friendship with their Jewish neighbors.  And Jewish memory of the Holocaust was dominated by the Jews of Europe, who had suffered by far the greatest magnitude of persecution and destruction.

So, did Satloff find any Arab Muslims to add to the Righteous Among the Nations?  He did.  He found living survivors, family members, and witnesses and was able to record their stories.  They are a heartening and important part of our history.

THE ENTIRE MOVIE CAN BE WATCHED HERE.  Satloff has also written a book, with a richer account of this history and his research.

During the panel discussion, Dr. Satloff spoke excitedly of his efforts to bring these stories to leaders, historians, and the public in the Arab world - particularly through his partnership with the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.  It is not easy work, but he has made wonderful progress.  As a Jewish community and as people who care about peace in our world, we should be grateful.

Photo by David Lisbona

Reform Judaism's Belief Problem

Theological Disputation, 1483

This week, the Forward published a thoughtful editorial by Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan, a Reform rabbi and scholar.  In it Kaplan argues that Reform Judaism has a major theological problem.  Our liberal theology, which embraces a wide diversity of beliefs and allows (I would rather say "requires") individuals to make their own decisions about religious living, prevents Reform leaders and institutions from establishing standards.  Without standards for belief, participation, and observance, Kaplan argues, identification and commitment will inevitably be low.

As a Reform rabbi--especially as a rabbi at a large synagogue--I feel very keenly the dilemma Rabbi Kaplan describes.  On one hand, my commitment to pluralism is strong; I honestly believe that there are many different way of leading an authentic and meaningful Jewish life.  I am also an advocate of theological humility.  The Jewish community has always embraced many ways of believing and speaking about God, and especially in the modern world, I am skeptical of most attempts to impose specific doctrines about God, prayer, etc. that must be accepted on faith.

But there are also many days when I wish our standards were higher.  What if being a member of a Reform synagogue came with the expectation of attending services every Shabbat?  What if Reform rabbis started teaching that to be a "good" Reform Jew, regular in-depth study is required?  If we agreed that belief in God (even in the most abstract sense) was a prerequisite--not just an option--for Reform Jews, would it make our community stronger?  Would it make our lives better?

(Personally, I would advocate at most two of the three standards above.  Leave a comment to debate which ones.)

Often, this conflict between openness and expectations is framed as a social or demographic challenge:  How will these approaches affect synagogue membership?  Kaplan identifies a deeper conflict that we talk about far less often:  What do we really believe about Judaism?  Do we believe that attending the High Holidays and an occasional life cycle event is enough for some Jews?  Do we even have any way to decide?

Kaplan does not choose sides in this debate, and that is a wise choice.  The subject is too complex to be treated adequately in an op-ed (or a blog post, for that matter).  But this is a major issue for the future of Reform Judaism.  It's a discussion we've been avoiding for decades, and I sincerely doubt we can avoid it much longer.

Shabbat Reading

Flickr user rubberpaw

When I decided to make Friday my regular blogging day, a number of people said to me--"So you're doing parashat hashavua?"  "Parashat hashavua" means "the weekly Torah portion."  It also describes weekly lessons or commentary on the Torah portion that many rabbis write or--more commonly now--post on the Internet.

So "no," I have not been doing "parashat hashavua" on this blog.  This is partly because I like the freedom of taking on all kinds of topics outside the weekly Torah portion.  But it is also because there is a wealth of high-quality, weekly Torah learning already available.  I would like to share some of my favorites.

1)  Reform Voices of Torah.  The Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) has a long-running weekly Torah commentary, featuring perspectives by two different Reform rabbis (or cantors or educators) each week.  Rabbi Shankman wrote a piece for them just last week.  They also have an archive of more than ten years of commentaries for each portion.

2)  Torah from JTS.  The Jewish Theological Seminary, the Conservative rabbinical school in New York, posts parashat hashavua commentary by faculty members.  This is the one I read every week.  This site also provides the complete text of the Torah portion and Haftarah portion in English, which is great for a quick review.

3)  Torah Sparks.  Very accessible, with lots of discussion questions.  This comes from the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (USCJ), the Conservative equivalent of the URJ.

4)  Bar Ilan University Parashat Hashavua Study Center.  Not for the faint of heart!  These essays are written by faculty members at Bar Ilan, an Orthodox university in Israel.  Some are accessible, some horrifically technical.  But if you want to make the effort, they make terrific connections between the Torah and later Rabbinic texts and Jewish thought. 

5)  Haaretz.  For an easier Israeli take, try Portion of the Week from Haaretz, one of Israel's major daily newspapers.  There's no permanent link for future weeks, but you can always go to their "Week's End" section and scroll down until you see the "Portion of the Week" article.  Can you believe this appears in a regular (secular) newspaper?  Only in Israel...

Of course, you probably aren't going to check out all of these every week.  (I don't.)  But taking a little time on Friday or Saturday to study parashat hashavua is a deeply traditional way to stay connected to the Torah cycle and a meaningful ritual that I highly recommend.

Shabbat shalom.

For Discussion:  Is there a weekly Torah commentary you read online that I missed?  Let us know in the comments.

Do Jews Have Horns?

Despite not being in the Superbowl this weekend ("Bashanah ha'ba-ah"...maybe next year), the Redskins continue to generate the top news stories in Washington sports.  This week the big story centers on Redskins owner Daniel Snyder, who has filed a $2 million lawsuit against the owners of the Washington City Paper.  (The full complaint is here.)  The suit alleges that Snyder was libeled and defamed in a November article.

One of the suit's most provocative claims is that an image of Snyder that accompanied the article (seen here...the top one)--with scribbled horns, mustache, etc.--is antisemitic.  In a letter on Snyder's behalf, the Redskins' general counsel writes, "How would you react if you were vilified by an anti-Semitic caricature of you?"

Without debating the merits of Snyder's claim, I thought it would be interesting to discuss the strange origins of the misconception and sometimes-accusation that Jews have horns.

It all starts with Moses.  In the Torah portion Ki Tissa, which we will read in two weeks, Moses returns to the people from his encounter with God on Sinai.  "And it was as Moses came down from Mount Sinai and the two tablets of the testimony were in the hand of Moses when he came down from the mountain and Moses was not aware that the skin of his face was beaming when he spoke with Him" (Exodus 34: 29).

"The skin of his face was beaming"--in Hebrew, "karan or panav."  "Or panav," "the skin of his face," is the easy part.  But what does the verb "karan" mean?  It's a little hard to tell, since it doesn't appear in this form anywhere else in the Bible.  What does appear is the related word "keren," a common noun that means "horns" or "antlers" of rams, gazelles, oxen, etc.  Early Jewish interpreters decided that "karan" was a metaphor, that rays of light emanated from Moses' face, just like horns appear from an animal's head.

Some Greek translators of the Bible thought that "karan" meant that Moses had literal "karnayim" ("horns," plural of "keren").  Following them, the Vulgate--the major Latin translation of the Bible--rendered the phrase, "cornuta esset facies sua"--"[Moses'] face was horned."  The horns of Moses became a standard image in the Christian world. Michelangelo's statue of Moses (pictured here...the bottom one) is perhaps the most famous of many examples.

Note: the idea that Moses had horns was not originally derogatory.  In the ancient world, horns were associated with power and authority.  During the Middle Ages, the image of the Jew with horns took on a more sinister meaning.  It was used to make Jews seem like animals, or worse, like the Devil.

This week's controversy over the Dan Snyder lawsuit shows that this particular Jewish stereotype remains a highly sensitive issue in the our community.  What a remarkable impact for a 2000-year-old confusion over a single Hebrew word.

Shabbat Shalom.

The Bright Side of Being in the Dark

Flickr user [F]oxymoron

Snow: here we go again.  Again this week, our schools and workplaces were delayed and closed.  #thundersnow became a trending topic on Twitter.  Local news revived last year's favorite portmanteaus, "snowpocalypse" and "snowmageddon."  And perhaps most vexing of all, many of us were left without electricity for hours or days.

Having no electricity is a strange experience.  For most of us, thankfully, it is not a major hazard.  It is certainly an inconvenience: no refrigerator, no clean clothes, no hot water.  But for those who haven't sought refuge with friends or family, it also poses a lifestyle challenge:  No television...no computer... What should we do with ourselves? 

Often, I think, how we respond to that question can make up for all the inconvenience.  Maybe you will have a real conversation with a spouse or a child.  Maybe you will play cards (or Monopoly or Scrabble) or do a crossword puzzle.  Maybe you will eat a meal by flashlight or break into the stash of Chanukah candles.  Without electricity, life slows down.  We are much more aware of the time we are spending with others.  We are more aware of the cycling of day into night, of the rising and setting of the sun.

Of course, in many Jewish households, this special kind of time is a weekly occurrence.  It is the character of Shabbat, the day of rest.   The Orthodox prohibition on using electricity on Shabbat helps families to focus on each other and to make space for reflection in our always-busy world.

When we are without electricity, we are forced to live a different kind of life.  And indeed, Shabbat is often described as an entirely different world.  Rabbi Irving Greenberg writes:

Shabbat is the temporary anti-reality of perfection.  For approximately twenty-five hours (Jews traditionally add some extra time to expand the realm of the good), all things are seen through the eyes of love, as if all of nature were perfect, in harmony with itself and with humanity.  Normally, all the world conspires to persuade people that business cannot function without their personal presence, that great opportunities are being missed, that catastrophe looms, that crisis has struck and demands immediate attentiveness.  For a day, Jews, dreaming, hear none of this.  On Shabbat, it is not really that one is forbidden to work, it is that all is perfect, there is nothing to do.  (The Jewish Way, p. 131)

Although the Reform observance of Shabbat is different from the Orthodox, we strive for the same measure of peace.  I suggest that being "unplugged" for a while–even against our will–can point us toward achieving it. 

Soon the Sabbath will begin, and I do hope that everyone's electricity has been restored.  But on our day of rest, let us try to recapture the stillness, the quiet, the patience, and the togetherness of a day in the snow and the dark.  Shabbat shalom.

For Discussion:  Do you have a GOOD memory from being without power this week or in the past?  Leave a comment and share it. (I'll go first–check the comments!)

Return to Haifa and History

Graffiti Tribute to Ghassan Kanafani

This past Wednesday night, many members of Washington Hebrew saw a performance of Return to Haifa, based on the novella by Palestinian author/activist Ghassan Kanafani, appearing until January 30 at Theater J at the DCJCC.  I will not summarize the play, since many reviewers have done the job already.  But as we saw Wednesday night at the panel discussion led by Rabbi Lustig, the play provokes strong reactions, controversy, and even protest.

Many thoughtful commentaries on Return to Haifa have been published online and are worth reading.  Leon Hadar writes about the cultural fusion the play represents, the relationship of the source novella to international "resistance literature," and the potential incompatibility of the play's perspective with any two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  These two articles discuss an Arabic version of the play that was performed in Beirut last month (courting different controversies).  This post on an Arabic literature blog talks about how the endings of both the Arabic and Hebrew versions of the play differ significantly from the ending of the original novella.  I also recommend the Theater J Blog, where Artistic Director Ari Roth is chronicling his experiences and many reactions to the play.

One aspect I wanted to address personally is the charge that the play's portrayal of history is "false."  In our panel discussion, this was the strongly-voiced objection of both Naomi Rosenblatt and the attaché from the Israeli consulate.

This argument over the historical events of 1948 is hardly surprising.  For more than 60 years, Israelis and Palestinians have maintained completely different, largely conflicting accounts.  For Israelis, it was "The War of Independence."  For Palestinians, it was "al-Nakba" ("The Catastrophe").

The historical narratives particularly conflict on the subject of Palestinian refugees.  According to the Zionist narrative (terribly oversimplified), Palestinians in the newly-declared State of Israel left their homes voluntarily.  Arab leaders used radio transmissions and public announcements to urge evacuation to Jordan and Lebanon, at least until the war was over and the Jews defeated.

The Palestinian story of these events is quite different.  They teach that the Jewish "colonists" used violence and the threat of violence to force Palestinians from their homes.  

Return to Haifa, by a Palestinian activist author, is clearly based on this Palestinian understanding of history.  This explains the heated reaction of many of those raised in the Israeli/Zionist tradition, who have been taught to view the Palestinian story as a pernicious lie, a tool of propaganda

But which version is the "true" history?  What really happened?  To the best of my knowledge, many questions remain unanswered.  Almost certainly, there are aspects of truth and propaganda in both the Israeli/Zionist and Palestinian versions.  The best resource I know on the subject is Benny Morris's book,  The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem.  Morris is the leading figure in a group of Israeli historians (called "New Historians," "post-Zionists," or "revisionists") who are critical of the heroic historical narratives crafted by the Zionist and Israeli establishments.

In the book, Morris finds many examples of Jews using violence and intimidation to force Arabs from their homes.  But he also finds examples of voluntary evacuation and of Palestinian refugees being used cynically by their leaders for politically ends.  Morris's scholarship has been strongly criticized by the Israeli right for undermining the ethical legitimacy of Israel's early history.  Intellectuals on the left criticize Morris for relying too much on Israeli archival documents, instead of Arabic sources.  Personally, I find it difficult to evaluate Morris's objectivity, but I consider being criticized by both sides to be a good sign.

It is true that little of this historical complexity is portrayed in Return to Haifa.  It chooses different complexities—questions of identity, parental legacy, home, and reconciliation.  To let our discomfort at the play's historical and political claims prevent us from appreciating the themes it does treat with nuance and insight would be a terrible missed opportunity.

For Discussion:  This is a perfect opportunity for a blog discussion.  If you've seen the play or read about it—what was your reaction?  Leave a comment!

Remembering Debbie Friedman

Earlier this week, Debbie Friedman passed away at the age of 59.  It is possible that you don't recognize her name.  But if you have been involved with WHC or any other liberal synagogue in the past 25 years, it is certain you have been touched by her music.  Debbie was, quite simply, the most influential Jewish composer and musician in the second half of the 20th century (at least).

You can find a complete obituary here, but I want to highlight a few aspects of Debbie's work that reflect her beautiful Jewish soul and help explain her unique influence.

1)  Debbie gave us "new" prayers.  Many musicians have written folk-style arrangements of traditional Jewish prayers.  Debbie's settings of prayers--Sh'ma, Mi Chamocha, Oseh Shalom, and countless others--are among our best-loved melodies.  But Debbie went further.  She wrote songs based on texts that were not commonly used in Reform Jewish prayer.  The most famous example of this, of course, is "Mi Shebeirach."  She took the prayer for healing--a minor part of the traditional Torah service--and gave it a melody and English text that gave voice to contemporary Jewish ideas about healing, strength, and blessing.  "Mi Shebeirach" is now an indispensable part of Jewish worship around the world, due in large part to Debbie Friedman's insight.  

And there are more examples.  Debbie's melody for the Havdallah blessings helped make the Havdallah service an essential aspect of the Jewish camp and youth group experience. Debbie's "Kaddish D'Rabanan" ("For our teachers, and their students, and the students of the students...") introduced to Reform Judaism, and especially to our children, the traditional Jewish prayer honoring teachers.  Her English version of "V'ahavta" ("And thou shalt love the Lord thy God...") helped us appreciate the true meaning of a prayer many knew in Hebrew only by rote.

2)  Debbie's songs advocated values.  Debbie Friedman was at the forefront of some of the most important cultural and intellectual movements in American Jewish life.  In particular, her music celebrated and helped shape Jewish feminism.   With "Miriam's Song" and "Devorah's Song," she argued for (and achieved) the recognition of female role models.  "L'chi Lach" (the feminine equivalent of God's command to Abraham, "Lech L'cha"), emphasized the divine calling that women receive.  She pioneered the "Women's Seder," which she led several times here at WHC.

Debbie was also a key figure in the Jewish healing movement.  In addition to "Mi Shebeirach," many of Debbie's songs speak to the power of spirit and community to create a sense of peace and wholeness in a person's life.  She helped create and lead meditative "healing services," which have become a staple of Reform prayer.

3)  Debbie's music spoke to all ages.  Some of Debbie's most popular songs were written for children.  Her call-and-response Hebrew alphabet ("Aleph, bet, vet... Aleph, bet, vet...") is universally known.  What Chanukah would be complete without "The Latke Song" ("I am a latke, I'm a latke...")?  The list goes on and on.

With teenagers, she was a rock star.  In camps and youth groups, songs like "The Youth Shall See Visions" and "Not By Might, Not By Power" became anthems, defining Jewish identity and spirituality for generations of young adults.

And of course, from Carnegie Hall to synagogues throughout the world, Debbie's melodies for prayer and inspiration were sung and appreciated by countless adults.

That range, that versatility and insight, is truly a rare blessing.  She will be deeply missed.

Tributes to Debbie Friedman have been written by the hundreds this week.  You might want to read this one by Rabbi Paul Kipnes or this page from Central Synagogue in New York.  A recording of her funeral service in California is also available. 

Washington Hebrew Congregation will honor the legacy of Debbie Friedman at Shabbat services on Friday, March 4, 2010.  Check the Temple bulletin and weekly e-mail for more information.