Category Archives: Stories

Israel’s Bright Lights #1

11 Thursday May 2017

Posted by in Ethics, Israel and Palestine, Israel/Zionism, Jewish History, Jewish Identity, Jewish-Islamic Relations, Social Justice, Stories, Women's Rights

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So much of media attention about Israel focuses on the negative. But there is overwhelming creativity, productivity, and goodness occurring daily that the world just does not see.

I have led five congregational missions over the past eighteen years and introduced two hundred individuals to Israel so as to understand Israeli lives, dreams, hopes, and aspirations.

I returned this week from the latest such trip and in this and the following entries, I will tell stories of people and projects that moved us deeply. I express gratitude to everyone we met and ARZAWorld Travel (i.e. Daat Travel in Israel) whose staff worked with me in putting this special itinerary together.

Our concerns transcended politics, though we met members of the Knesset, journalists, scholars, and activists who spoke to us about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Beyond them, we met leaders who are helping to create a shared society between Jews of all kinds and Israeli Jews and Israeli-Arabs. We visited schools for Jewish and Arab Israeli children studying together. We spent time with Orthodox women, Muslim Arabs, and Bedouin leaders striving to educate their community’s women so they can assume their rightful place in the workforce and lift them and their families out of poverty. We toured the seam-line on the Gaza border with kibbutzniks who have suffered thousands of mortar attacks. We met four extraordinary leaders of Israel’s Reform movement who are building communities all over the state and advocating a liberal, pluralistic, inclusive, and democratic society. We met with one significant Palestinian leader in Ramallah and with the head of the Yesha Council of Settlers over the Green Line in the occupied West Bank. We took a tour with the top expert in what is occurring in East Jerusalem.

To begin, in this blog I want to shine a light on two organizations that deeply inspired my group of synagogue leaders:

Yemin Orde Youth Village is located in the Carmel mountains and is named in memory of British Major General Orde Wingate who trained Palmach troops (the advanced striking force of the Haganah before the establishment of the State of Israel) including Moshe Dayan, Yitzhak Rabin, and Yigal Alon.

Established in 1953, Yemin Orde has welcomed thousands of children from North Africa, Iran, India, Yemen, Ethiopia, the nations of the former Soviet Union, Brazil, Argentina, Ukraine, and France.

Most of the children came to Israel on their own without family. Some are Israeli-born who grew up in tough drug-infected and violent neighborhoods in Tel Aviv and development towns. At Yemin Orde they learned that they could live differently. There they found a home and a family that cared about them and consequently have been able to chart their own positive and productive futures.

Yemin Orde graduates have succeeded in the elite units of the Israeli Defense Forces, as university graduates and leaders in hi-tech, as mayors of towns and villages and as  Members of the Knesset, in business, the arts, and education.

There are 465 students (ages between 14-18) living at Yemin Orde and the youth village has a waiting list of 100 children. The staff gives each child emotional and psychological support so they can build their sense of self-worth and self-esteem, achieve academically and be productive Israeli citizens and leaders.

Yemin Orde receives two-thirds of its budget from the Israeli government and the rest comes from foundations and individual fundraising.

The second is The Orchard of Abraham’s Children – I visited this Israeli Jewish and Israeli Palestinian Nursery School (ages 2-6) in Jaffa in February 2016 and blogged about it then. See https://rabbijohnrosove.wordpress.com/2016/02/29/the-orchard-of-abrahams-children-towards-the-creation-of-a-shared-society/.

The story of the beginnings of The Orchard of Abraham’s Children is among the most inspirational stories we heard. A fine fiction writer could not have made this up.

Ihab Balha (a 47-year-old Muslim Sufi Palestinian-Israeli) and his wife Ora, a mid-30s Israeli Jew, met in the Sinai, fell madly in love, married each other the next day, transformed their families, an entire community, and the future of thousands of Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews. Now in its 7th year, The Orchard has 80 Jewish and Palestinian children and families.

There are many more positive and uplifting stories to come. Stay tuned.

“Ivanka And Jared Are Spectacularly Unqualified — And Why That Matters” – Jane Eisner, Forward

21 Friday Apr 2017

Posted by in American Politics and Life, Ethics, Stories

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Rebbe Nachman of Breslov told a story about a kingdom in which the grain harvested in one particular year was so badly tainted that it was unfit to eat. Whoever ate of the grain would become insane.

The King didn’t know what to do. If the people didn’t eat the wheat, they’d starve; but if they ate it they’d go mad. So, he turned to one of his closest advisors and asked what wisdom the advisor had to offer.

At first, his advisor suggested setting aside some untainted grain that the King and his court would eat so, at the least, they could maintain their sanity and lead the kingdom wisely during the time in which the people had sunk into madness.

The King, however, replied that “If we do that, we’ll be considered crazy” by the people and no one will take what we say or do seriously.

The King considered the matter and finally decided that everyone, including him and his court, would eat the poisoned wheat, but he and his advisors would put a mark on their foreheads to remind themselves that they had become insane.

Jane Eisner, the Editor-in-Chief of the Jewish Forward, wrote this week an op-ed that could well serve as the “mark” we put on our foreheads to remind ourselves of the madness into which we’ve sunk as a nation in this era of President Trump.

Ms. Eisner describes how Jared and Ivanka Trump are perhaps the most unqualified people ever to take on leadership positions in our nation’s history, that their ignorance of what’s required in the work they’ve been assigned by the President is equivalent to  malpractice, and that their hubris is unprecedented in thinking that they can effectively perform in positions that require so much knowledge and experience that they do not have.

Do read Jane Eisner’s piece, save it and return to it from time to time to remind yourself  of the madness to which we’ve sunk in this Trumpian era: http://forward.com/opinion/politics/369414/ivanka-and-jared-are-spectacularly-unqualified-and-why-that-matters/

“Without Zionism, there is no Judaism!” Rabbi Dick Hirsch after the 1967 Six-Day War

25 Sunday Dec 2016

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Ethics, Israel/Zionism, Jewish History, Jewish Identity, Social Justice, Stories, Tributes

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Rabbi Richard (Dick) Hirsch turned 90 this past year. One would think that at that age Dick’s physical strength, sharp mind, and passion would be diminished.

Though he has his share of aches and pains, there is nothing diminished about Rabbi Dick Hirsch. He remains after more than half a century of activism the vital Zionist and social justice giant of the American and Israeli Reform movements.

Dick is the founding Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (RAC) in Washington, D.C. He is responsible for moving the World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ) offices from the United States to Jerusalem, raising the money and overseeing the construction of the WUPJ Center and Beit Shmuel that house the central offices of the Israeli Reform movement on King David Street only steps from the King David Hotel. And he is a founder of the Israel Religious Action Center (IRAC), the pre-eminent social justice advocacy organization in the State of Israel.

Dick argued before the leaders of American Reform Judaism in the late 1960s and early 1970s that for the Reform movement to earn its rightful place in Jewish history we would have to build an institutional and broadly-based presence in the State of Israel. This would include building synagogue centers all over the state, progressive Jewish schools, a rabbinic and cantorial seminary for Israeli-born leaders, kibbutzim, a youth movement, and a social justice movement that helps to grow and transform not only Israeli society but the character of world Jewry.

Fifty years ago Dick told the Board of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (now the Union for Reform Judaism) that for Jews “Jerusalem is Broadway and the United States is off-Broadway.” He also said to them soon after the ’67 war,  that “Without Zionism, there is no Judaism!” The reaction of the then American Reform leadership was strong and negative. But, Dick carried on, at times by himself, and succeeded in igniting and inspiring others to join him in transforming progressive Judaism in the State of Israel.

Dick didn’t just talk the talk. In 1972, he and his wife Bella picked up their four children and moved to Israel. I met him for the first time the following year when I was a first-year rabbinic student at HUC in Jerusalem.

Dick is a consummate storyteller, teacher, and Zionist leader. Jews and non-Jews alike are usually riveted when he speaks. Thankfully, earlier this month in a talk he delivered in Florida entitled “My Life and My Beliefs,” Dick was recorded. Now we can watch and listen on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6AsMvUBV-E

Jewish leaders like Rabbi Dick Hirsch come around very infrequently. Many have admired him and called him their friend including Dr. Martin Luther King, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, and Natan Sharansky.

I urge you to take the hour and watch.

For those who know me, I hope you will sense why Dick has had such a strong impact on me personally.

The acorn does not fall far from the tree. Dick’s son, Rabbi Ammi Hirsch, the Senior Rabbi of the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue on West 68th Street in Manhattan, is among my dearest friends. Ammi and I met when he served as the Executive Director of the Association of Reform Zionists of America (ARZA) in the 1990s. It was Ammi and then his father who drew me to the heart of Reform Zionism, and for that, I am forever in their debt.

A story of a Jewish soldier fighting in George Washington’s army during Hanukah

23 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Holidays, Jewish History, Stories

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I heard a knock on the door. …and incredibly, my General, George Washington is standing in the doorway.

It is Hanukah in the year of 1776. The winter is hard and the cold is fearsome. We are starving for bread. We have no clothes to warm our bodies and no shoes for our feet.

At these moments, I am reminded of my father in Poland. I recall how much he suffered at the hands of the cruel Baron. I remember I was but a youngster and saw my father dance before the Baron. How terrible was the sight. My father was made to dress up in the skin of a white bear and he danced for the sport of the Baron and his guests. How great are my pain and shame. Father dances as a bear and the Baron jests and revels. I affirm in my heart that I will never be so humiliated myself. At my first opportunity, I set sail to America.

It is now the first night of Hanukah. This very night, two years ago, I fled from my father’s home in Poland. My father gave me a Hanukah menorah and said, “When you will light, my son, these candles for Hanukah, they will illuminate the path for you.” From that day on, my menorah was as an amulet. Wherever I go, I take it with me.

Suddenly, I feel a soft, tender hand upon my head. I lift my eyes and behold it is him, in all his majesty, General George Washington standing upon me. He asks me, “Why soldier do you cry? Is it then so very cold?”

I forgot at that moment that I am a soldier in the presence of my superior, and spoke before him as a child to a parent. “My master the General,” I said. “I cry and pray for your victory. I am certain with the help of God, we shall prevail. Today, the enemy is strong; tomorrow they will surely fall, for justice is with us. We seek to be free in this land; we desire to build a country for all who flee from oppression and suffer abroad. The Barons will not rule here. The enemy will falter and you will succeed.”

The General shook my hand. “Thank you, soldier,” he said and sat at my side next to the menorah. “What is this?” asked the General. I told him I brought it from my parent’s home. Jews the world-over light this menorah to celebrate the great miracle of Hanukah and the miraculous salvation of the Jews.

The light of the Hanukah menorah danced in the eyes of General Washington as he called forth in joy: “You are a Jew from the children of prophets and you declared that we shall prevail.”

“Yes my master,” I answered with confidence. “We will be victorious as the Maccabees of old, for our own sake and the sake of all who follow us to build a new land and a new life.”

The General got up; his face was ablaze. He shook my hand and disappeared into the darkness. My faith was rewarded, victory was achieved, and peace reigned in the land. My General became the leader of our new country, and I became one of its citizens.

I quickly forgot those frightful days and nights at Valley Forge. However, that first night of Hanukah, with General Washington, I carried in my heart always as a precious dream.

The first night of Hanukah the following year of 1777, I was sitting in my house in New York on Broome Street, with the Hanukah light in my window. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I opened the door, and incredibly, my General, George Washington is standing in the doorway. “Behold, the wondrous flame, the flame of hope of all Jewry,” he called forth in joy as he gazed upon its light.

The General placed his hand upon my shoulder and said: “This light and your beautiful words lit a flame in my heart that night. Surely, you and your comrades will receive due recognition for all of your valor at Valley Forge. But this night, accept from me, this medallion.”

He hung the medallion of gold upon my chest and shook my hand. Tears came to my eyes; I couldn’t say a word. The General shook my hand once again and left the house.

I stirred as if coming from a beautiful dream. I then looked upon my medallion and saw a beautiful engraving of a Hanukah menorah with the first candle lit. Below was written, “As an expression of gratitude for the candle of your menorah.”

This medallion is part of the permanent collection in the Jewish Museum in New York.

Shabbat shalom and Hag Hanukah sameach!

Source: Ulpan Or Jerusalem

On visiting a young felon at Terminal Island

21 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by in Ethics, Stories

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I spent a night once in a minimum security prison 47 years ago after being arrested in Berkeley as part of the People’s Park controversy. I was eventually exonerated of all charges along with the other 481 students, faculty, and press who were taken to the Santa Rita Rehabilitation Center in Pleasanton, California (it was hardly “pleasant!”).

That was an experience I’ll never forget –brutal, traumatic, and terrifying. That’s a story for another time.

The second time was this past week when I visited a young man at Terminal Island Federal Penitentiary in San Pedro Harbor. He grew up in my congregation and is serving 2 years on a felony conviction. He admitted his crime, believes he deserves what he got, is deeply repentant, and is making the most of his time until his release this coming summer.

He and I became pen-pals earlier this year and eventually I asked if he’d like a visit. He was moved that I’d want to see him, as were his parents and grandparents.

Prison is prison. This young man’s mother gave me instructions when I went to see him – wear no belt, no watch, no wallet, no jewelry, no khaki clothing. All I needed was my driver’s license and car key, his ID number and my car tag plate number.

I arrived at 10:30 am, signed in, and waited in a bare-bones cement room until called. I was the only white person there. Everyone else was female, Hispanic, black, Middle Eastern, and/or Muslim visiting family, boyfriends, or friends.

There are 900 men incarcerated at Terminal Island. His prison friends include a brilliant Pakistani Yale MBA graduate who had worked as a Controller for a major American city and got caught by the FBI on bribery and profits skimming charges. Others were there for a variety of reasons, but the prison ethic is not to ask others what they did unless they choose to share their crime with friends.

When I passed through security I was stunned by the amount of barbed wire surrounding every potential escape route. We passed through 3 security doors and as I entered the visitors’ room I saw about 40 inmates dressed in khaki shirts and pants and wearing heavy functional shoes. They sat in plastic chairs marked with a red stripe. Visitors sat opposite them. I brought a baggy filled with quarters so I could buy him candy, food, or a drink from one of the dozen or so machines. The inmates were not permitted to get up from their chairs and buy anything themselves. We visitors did that for them. My young friend asked for a Diet Coke.

His days are tightly controlled and ritualized. He awakes, works out, eats breakfast, teaches 3 hours of algebra to two groups of inmates, has lunch, runs the track (he’s in great shape), sits on his bed in his dorm room with 60 other inmates, writes letters, and reads page-turning fiction so as to pass the time and escape from his reality into an imaginary world outside the prison walls. Then there’s dinner, more reading and writing letters.

He claimed he was no longer frightened on the inside. He had learned how to get along. He did what the guards told him to do, and he followed the rules – period!

We spent 90 minutes together talking about everything – life before his arrest, alcoholism, AA, family, his crime, trial, his life on the inside, books, politics,  women, and the election. He pointed out men who were serving for decades, and he confessed how grateful he was that he was given such a relatively light sentence. His friends asked him never to complain to them, for they all had it far worse.

I’ve known him since he was a boy, officiated at his bar mitzvah, and taught him in Confirmation class. He is smart, good-looking, articulate, friendly, thoughtful, and loving – but he committed a serious crime. He knows it, owns what he did, accepted his punishment, and now he’s paying the price.

He will always be a “felon.” Nevertheless, he’s hopeful about building a better future for himself, and he has plans to get back on his feet, get a job, and eventually start a hi-tech business. He is smart enough to succeed, but he will need to maintain focus and rely on the support and good will of others. I hope he succeeds.

The lights blinked at 12:50 PM warning visitors that unless we left immediately we’d be stuck there for two more hours while a change in shifts takes place among the guards.

As I left, we hugged and I wished him well.

My young friend has learned plenty in this nightmare he created for himself; but he is looking forward, thinking positively, still remorseful for what he did and how badly he hurt people, but looking on the bright side of his life.

Though I had not seen him in 10 years, I visited because his knowing that his Rabbi cares about him is important for his rehabilitation and reentry into life outside of prison. I also went for his parents, brother, and grandparents about whom I care deeply, who have suffered the shame of what their beloved son, brother, and grandson did.

Being on the inside of a prison is one experience everyone ought to have – but as a visitor.

Note: I received permission from this young man’s family to tell this story.

Celebrity sighting – “Who was that?”

07 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Stories

≈ 2 Comments

Wherever I travel (as I did last week to Israel) and people learn that I serve at Temple Israel of Hollywood, they ask excitedly – ‘and do you have celebrities in your synagogue?’

“Yes” I say. This is, after all LA, and LA’s big business is TV, film, music, and media. Movie and television stars are everywhere, as are writers, directors, producers, agents, publicists, and behind-the-camera professionals and technicians.

Though it seems childish to fawn over big stars, I confess that I can become star struck at times, depending on the celebrity.

Over many years, I’ve sighted celebrities everywhere, big names and people whose faces I recognize but can’t recall their names. I’ve met many and seen more on the street, in the market and in my synagogue.

I thought to write this blog after reading a wonderful piece in Roger Angell’s new book, “This Old Man – All in Pieces.” Angell is now in his mid-90s, and he compiled a group of his essays, fiction, humor, film and book reviews that he wrote over the decades mostly for “The New Yorker.” I loved his piece called “Who was that?” on celebrity sighting on the streets of New York.

He wrote the following after seeing Paul Newman one day outside his local Korean fruit store: “…the man just coming out – gray, trim, shockingly handsome – was Paul Newman.” When he got home his wife asked: “How’d he look?”

“Great!” Angell had told her. Then he reflected:

“…my mind, repeatedly and oddly returning to this non-event, has been telling me that celebrity-spotting, like other New York amenities, has actually been in a long decline…the old New York street-meet always had its own protocol of strict privacy; one looked and then looked again at the passing diva or statesman but did not speak. One smiled in recognition, and sometimes got back a tiny gleam or nod of acknowledgment. It was enough. We told our friends about the moment, and they said “No!” or “Wow! In the manner of an exchange between dedicated bird-watchers, and then we tucked the specimen and the circumstances away in some mental life list.”

I’ve lived most of my life in LA, except for 12 years in the SF Bay area, 2 years in NY, 2 years in Washington, D.C., and 1 year in Jerusalem.

On the plane home from Israel last week while reading Angell’s book, I made my own list of sightings that have provoked in me the “Wow!” factor. Here are the most notables:

Charlton Heston (spoke at a funeral I conducted – he was like God talking);

Frank Sinatra (yelled at my kids at his beach home after they woke him up one morning – great singer – nasty that morning!);

Lauren Bacall (at a funeral I conducted – she had disarmingly beautiful and piercing eyes, and as we passed each other it was as if she looked deeply into my soul – I was flattered);

Jimmy Stuart (he was very old and still very tall);

George Burns (old – at Hillcrest playing cards with a cigar in his mouth);

Nancy and Ronald Reagan (a year after leaving office I stood next to them as I delivered an invocation at a Hebrew University Scopus Awards dinner honoring Merv Griffin – Trump was there too, and I felt no awe for him then or now!);

Lucille Ball (as a kid with my Little League baseball team we were at a rodeo at the LA Coliseum. I was packed into a hollowed out VW bug with 20 other kids, a goat, a clown, and Lucy. We came out one at a time and extended half way around the track);

Gregory Peck (I introduced my wife to him at that same Scopus Award night – he is her dream man! No – I didn’t know him – but he was gracious and a gentleman);

Mel Wasserman (at a funeral – I overheard him telling Charleton Heston that life was short – they are both gone now);

Chick Hearn (sat next to us in a restaurant – thrilling! We told him how much we loved him – he was a mensch);

Vin Scully (he attended a funeral of a mutual friend – beyond thrilling! We exchanged letters. I framed his to me!);

Joe DiMaggio (saw him driving in SF – I was floored);

Sidney Poitier (I had a one-on-one lunch with him at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel – I’m still pinching myself – he’s a great story teller about his own life, and still handsome!!!!);

John Lennon and Yoko Ono (they came into a restaurant on the upper west side of NY – I was speechless);

Leonard Cohen (he came to Shabbat services with his grandson who is in our Day School – I was reduced to mush);

Buddy Hacket (he told me a dirty joke at a 90th birthday party – he was my father’s favorite comedian 60 years ago);

Don Rickles (he insulted the 90 year-old birthday boy at that same party – I always loved him for his heart and for calling out Frank Sinatra for his mob connections on Johnny Carson);

Angie Dickinson (at the market – an aging beauty);

Allison Janney (at the same market – different day – she is really tall);

Jay Leno (in that market’s parking lot – wearing cowboy boots – he smiled at me);

Dustin Hoffman (he told me a joke about a rabbi and a cantor – I don’t remember the joke, but his timing was perfect);

Jack Nicholson (at a funeral and at Laker games, of course! At the funeral, he wore sunglasses, as if no one could recognize him!);

Robert Di Niro (at a bat mitzvah – he scared the s_ _t out of me! But I know he is a kindhearted and good man);

Robert Wagner (at a bris – still handsome after all these years);

Hillary Clinton (my wife and I had a 10-minute conversation with her about forgiveness – She said she knew something about this theme – I said, “I bet you do!” I loved her then. Still do!);

Bill Clinton (we commiserated over the divorce of mutual friends – he is the most charismatic human I’ve ever seen or met);

Joe Biden (my son Daniel’s political idol – I love him too);

Denzel Washington (at the premiere of “He Got Game” – he apologized to me for all the cursing in the film – he seemed sincerely embarrassed);

Billy Crystal (at his grandchild’s TOT Shabbat at our synagogue – he didn’t want to converse – I left him alone);

Sarah Silverman (at our Temple fundraiser  – she wanted me to come up so she could make fun of me – I refused – in hindsight, I should have done it!);

Mandy Potemkin (came to Rosh Hashanah services – his agent is a good friend – Mandy loved my sermon – I am flattered);

Natalie Portman (I was in her home for a J Street event before she moved to Paris – my heart throbbed!);

The cast of Madmen (at two Temple b’nai mitzvah – Elizabeth Moss charmed me completely – January Jones is gorgeous – so is Jon Hamm);

The cast of Friends (at a Starbucks in my neighborhood – they were then on the top of the world – still are);

and many more.

In Israel too, I’ve sighted among our people’s historic leaders. Every sighting between 1973 and the present makes me feel proud to be a Jew and Zionist: Golda Meir, Moshe Dayan, Yitzhak Rabin (met him twice), Yitzhak Shamir, Ehud Barak, Arielle Sharon, Shimon Peres, Bibi Netanyahu (met him twice), Benny Begin (a dear friend’s cousin – I was thrilled to meet him), and Natan Sharansky (met him twice).

In Washington – politicians are everywhere.

What is it about celebrity sighting that so thrills us? I don’t know. I leave the answer to psychiatrists. All you therapists out there – please feel free to share!

In spite of the thrill, I’m reminded of the story of the Hassidic Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol who was seen crying one day by his Hassidim. They asked him what was wrong.

He said: “I learned the question that the angels will one day ask me about my life. They will not ask me, ‘Why weren’t you a Moses, leading your people out of slavery, nor a Joshua, leading your people into the promised land? They will say to me, ‘Zusya, why weren’t you Zusya?'” (Martin Buber, “Tales of the Hasidim”)

Make your own list – but remember Zusya.

You can never go back

30 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by in American Politics and Life, Stories

≈ 4 Comments

Last week on a quick trip to the San Francisco Bay area, my wife Barbara and I decided to visit our alma mater, UC Berkeley. I was there from 1968 to 1972 and she was there from 1970 to 1974.

I had not walked on campus since I graduated. Neither had she. So, with excitement we went to tour the campus and the south side along Bancroft and Telegraph Avenues.

Very little has changed in all these years. There’s one new building on campus, a new art museum on the west side of the University, and a few new businesses on the south side. The student body does look a bit different demographically – they’re all young, but we were then too, and when I was a student I didn’t think so much about the homogeneous demographics.

My years there were tumultuous, to say the least. Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated. The Vietnam War was raging. There was a Third World College strike that shut down the University  and People’s Park put me in jail.

People’s Park was located on a University owned vacant city block south of the campus and just east of Telegraph Avenue that had been taken over by community members who planted gardens, brought in playground equipment for children and created a community kitchen for homeless people and vagabonds. However, at 6 am on May 15, 1969, University police expelled the squatters and put up a fence to keep everyone out. Members of the community were enraged and the student body president, Daniel Siegel, a law student at Boalt Hall, called upon the crowd in Sproul Plaza to “go take the park.” The masses walked down Telegraph chanting and a riot resulted. One man, James Rector, was killed by police as he watched from the top of a building. Police reinforcements were called in from surrounding municipalities as well as the Alameda County Sheriffs Department who students called “Blue Meanies” because of their blue uniforms and Beatles influence. Things were getting out of hand and then Governor Ronald Reagan called out the national guard. A helicopter flew over campus and, contrary to Geneva Conventions rules against doing so on civilian populations, sprayed tear-gas over hundreds of unsuspecting students. A photograph of the helicopter appeared the next day  on the front page above the fold in the New York Times.

People’s Park was located on a University owned vacant city block south of the campus and just east of Telegraph Avenue that had been taken over by community members who planted gardens, brought in playground equipment for children, created a community kitchen for homeless people and vagabonds. However, at 6 am on May 15, 1969 University police expelled the squatters and put up a fence to keep everyone out. Members of the community were enraged and the student body president, Daniel Siegel, a law student at Boalt Hall, called upon the crowd in Sproul Plaza to “go take the park.” The masses walked down Telegraph chanting and a riot resulted. One man, James Rector, was killed by police as he watched from the top of a building. Police reinforcements were called in from surrounding municipalities as well as the Alameda County Sheriffs Department who students called “Blue Meanies” because of their blue uniforms and Beatles influence. Things were getting out of hand and then Governor Ronald Reagan called out the national guard. A helicopter flew over campus and, contrary to Geneva Conventions rules against doing so on civilian populations, sprayed tear-gas over hundreds of unsuspecting students. A photograph of the helicopter appeared the next day  on the front page above the fold in the New York Times.

Berkeley had become an armed camp. A week after Rector was killed, on Thursday, May 22nd, a peaceful march was called through downtown Berkeley to ask (politely) business owners to close down in protest to the killing and the occupation of the town. I participated as did hundreds of others who were shocked by what we believed was a massive overreaction by the authorities.

Police had blocked off streets and forced us eventually into an open parking lot at noon at the Bank of America off Shattuck – all 482 of us – and we were arrested and taken by police buses to the Santa Rita Rehabilitation Center in Pleasanton, California (what a name for a town with a prison), a minimum security prison. I was there overnight before being bailed out for the exorbitant sum at the time ($800). My mother heard that I had been busted and had called an attorney friend in LA who called a lawyer colleague in Oakland who got a bail bondsman who paid my bail. All charges were eventually dropped – by the way.

I was traumatized by that experience. As we descended from the police bus that afternoon, we were forced to lie for hours in a gravel courtyard with our heads turned to one side resembling a body count in Vietnam, until we were booked. Guards circulated with their clubs screaming at us at all times and beat anyone who dared to move  or lift their heads. The food they served was uneatable but we were forced to eat everything on our plates by more screaming guards who were ordered to do everything possible to intimidate us. They succeeded with me!

I recalled all this as I walked on campus. I remembered as well grassy knolls where I would read and study between classes on warm fall and spring days, routes I would take to and from my residence, friends who would congregate in Sproul Plaza to meet for coffee in the student union who I haven’t seen in 45 years, donuts I’d buy in a cart at the corner of Bancroft and Telegraph, the student union where I’d sign up for San Francisco Philharmonic ushering tickets, girlfriends and romances, and my many great professors in anthropology, art history, music, history, and politics that made my time at Berkeley so meaningful and enriching.

I asked Barbara as we drove to the airport , “Is there any period in your life that you would relive if you could?” She searched her memory and came to the same conclusion as I did: “No. I like my life now and I just want to continue to move forward. There’s no going back.”

 

The suicide of a former ultra-Orthodox mother of seven stuns Israel

31 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by in Health and Well-Being, Israel/Zionism, Life Cycle, Stories, Women's Rights

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“In this city I gave birth to my daughters – in this city I die because of my daughters….I understand that I am sick and needy, and I don’t want to continue to be a burden on you….Don’t make much effort for the ceremony, something modest with a lot of flowers, and remember that this is what I chose as best for me, and also if you say that I am selfish, I accept and understand your lack of understanding.”

So wrote Esti Weinstein, 50, in a suicide note found alongside her body in her car that was discovered four days after her death at a beach in the city of Ashdod, Israel.

I learned of Esti’s story not from the media, though her suicide was headline news in Israel at the end of June, but from one of my synagogue’s regular cantorial soloists a day after her body had been discovered.

Meni Philip was Esti’s friend. Like Esti, Meni had left the ultra-Orthodox Haredi world in Israel in which he was raised. Both Esti and Meni were disowned by their parents and community and were cut as if by a surgeon’s knife by their Haredi community away from everything and everyone they knew and loved.

Meni (47) is the second child of eleven siblings and the father of five children. His marriage had been arranged, but he never loved his wife. At 32 Meni asked his rabbi for a get (a religious divorce). He continued to live in the ultra-Orthodox Haredi community doing all that was expected of him religiously, though he had come to no longer believe in the God that had been taught to him by his rabbis. Four years after his divorce, though continuing regularly to see his parents and children, he could no longer keep up religious appearances, took off his kippah and began wearing western clothing. He didn’t anticipate, however, that he would become persona non grata. His family, rabbis and friends suddenly would have nothing to do with him. He was denied visiting his children. Yet, he persevered, built a new life, learned survivor skills, acquired work, and became a filmmaker.

Four of Meni’s siblings followed him out of the Haredi community. Today, he has reconciled with his parents and children.

Such was not the positive outcome for Esti Weinstein, the mother of seven daughters all of whom save one, Tami,  completely cut ties with her.

Esti comes from a prominent Gur Hasidic family, a stringent Haredi sect considered extreme even by others in ultra-Orthodox world. Husbands never address their wives by name. Sexual contact between them is considered a sacrilege and is engaged only for the purpose of procreation. Sex occurs rarely, quickly, while fully clothed, and devoid of emotion, intimacy, and joy. (http://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/gur-hasidim-and-sexual-separation-1.410811)

After leaving her community, Esti suffered. She wrote an autobiography (that Meni sent to me) in which she told her inside story in a 183-page book she called “Doing His Will.” Esti dedicated the volume to her daughter Tami who followed her out of the Gur sect and who remained close to her. She wrote as well of her marriage, the loss of her other six daughters and about a previous suicide attempt.

In a story reported by The Times of Israel one can view photos of Esti (see below). She was a natural beauty, but beneath the lovely smiling images was a profound sadness. She ended her book with these words:

“…my life of motherhood, the painful, that is smashed to pieces, sick and wounded….I thought it was a temporary matter, but the years are passing and time isn’t healing, and the pain doesn’t stop.” http://www.timesofisrael.com/before-suicide-woman-penned-book-about-her-ordeals-in-ultra-orthodox-world/ – see also http://forward.com/news/343780/ex-hasidic-womans-suicide-book-rattles-ultra-orthodox-world/

Meni told me that there are hundreds and perhaps thousands of former mostly young Haredim in their 20s living in Israel who have left their communities over the years. It is unclear what is causing the increasing number of suicides in this unique population, though it is clear that many had been disowned by their families. Some may have suffered depression before they left, and many experienced as children sexual abuse and later as adults spousal abuse.

Meni made a film called “Sinner” which won the “Best European Short Film” in the Venice Film Festival, Italy 2009. (the 27-minute film can be viewed here in its entirety – http://www.meniphilip.com/english/Sinner.html)

There is one underfunded organization in Israel called Hillel (not the same as the college organization) that offers help and support for ex-Haredim. Meni received such support as did Esti who had volunteered there and where Esti and Meni met and became friends. Additionally, there are two more small but important organizations that were established by Meni’s good friends after the deaths of two young “Yozim” (those who leave) a few years ago. One is called “Uvacharta-And Choose” (see https://www.facebook.com/uvacharta/?fref=ts) and the other called “Out for Change – Yozim l’shinuy” (https://www.facebook.com/yozimleshinuy/. The first focuses on social support, and the second focuses on educational assistance. Neither receives financial support from the government.

The Reform movement’s Israeli Religious Action Center (IRAC) assists individuals who leave Haredi communities through its social justice program Keren B’chavod. Israeli Reform Rabbis tell me that the Reform movement’s 45 synagogue communities around the country are open to any ex-Haredi Jew who seeks support and comfort.

May Esti’s memory be a blessing.

Elie Wiesel – Personal memories and a tribute

04 Monday Jul 2016

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Ethics, Jewish Identity, Social Justice, Stories, Tributes

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Elie Wiesel belonged to humanity. Though he was a Jew first, he transcended tribal and national boundaries and spoke on behalf of everyone who knows the despair that comes from cruelty and indifference.

I met Elie Wiesel twice. The first time was in 1972 at the Brandeis Camp Institute (now the Brandeis-Bardin Institute of the American Jewish University) while a senior at UC Berkeley. He and I spoke briefly then, but he wrote me a little hand-written note the following month that I cherish and that has motivated so much of what I do and believe as a rabbi. It reads simply “Remember to be a witness.”

I met him a second time in 1987 when I served as the Associate Rabbi at the Washington Hebrew Congregation in Washington, DC. My wife Barbara was serving then on the National Board of the Central American Refugee Center (CARECEN). Along with her on that board was Mary-Anne White, the wife of the former American Ambassador to El Salvador, Robert White (z’l – he died last year from complications of prostate cancer).

Ambassador White was the one who identified the four murdered American nuns. He was serving as well in El Salvador when Archbishop Romero was assassinated in his church.

Ambassador White, appointed by President Carter to stop a revolution in that tortured land, described Roberto D’Aubuisson, the leader of the death squads, as a “pathological killer.” When President Reagan took office, one of his first acts was to fire Ambassador White because of his public accusations against the Salvadoran regime that had tolerated and supported D’Aubuisson’s death squads. Unfortunately, this ended White’s diplomatic career, but he grew in the hearts and minds of the Salvadoran people because he spoke “truth to power” as Elie Wiesel did in the White House publicly to his friend President Reagan because the President was preparing to visit the graves of Nazis at Bitburg, Germany as a favor to the German leadership. He told President Reagan that his place was at the graves of the victims, not the murderers.

Together, Barbara and Mary-Anne White (who was then the President of the Girl Scouts of America) teamed up and brought Elie Wiesel to CARECEN’s cause. He became a significant supporter of their efforts.

As Elie Wiesel received the Nobel Peace Price he said – “No human being is illegal!” That quote became the tag-line of CARECEN in its efforts on behalf of El Salvadoran refugees seeking political asylum in the United States.

In light of the millions of refugees seeking safe shelter in the world today, Elie Wiesel was then, as always, prescient. His words, conscience and compassion as a witness has been lost tragically on millions of Americans spurred on by the hateful, hard-hearted and exclusionary rhetoric of one presidential candidate who would bar these tempest tossed human beings from ever coming into America and finding safe haven here.

May this Fourth of July celebrating American freedom remind us of the blessings of liberty and democracy that we enjoy, and of the conscience of this blessed man that graced and served humankind that is at the core of the American spirit.

Zecher tzadik livracha! May the memory of this righteous human being be a blessing for us all and for the generations to come. Amen!

Our nation of immigrants is a good thing!

26 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by in American Jewish Life, American Politics and Life, Jewish History, Jewish Identity, Stories

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I love people’s stories. They say not only much about them, of course, but also about the nature today of the liberal American Jewish community in all its diversity.

This past Shabbat was no exception. I officiated at the b’nai mitzvah of two outstanding young people; smart, curious, thoughtful, empathetic, and wise beyond their years. They not only chanted Torah and Haftarah beautifully, but they delivered divrei Torah (reflections on the Torah portion) that were sophisticated and poignant.

The bar mitzvah is a jazz and classical music trumpeter and trombonist, serious and witty, who not only is graced with a high IQ but has a high emotional IQ. His mother’s grandfather was a strong Zionist who was intimately involved in the establishment of the state of Israel. His father comes from Irish stock as well as from Mexican and native American heritage. His parents are comedy writers who met at Second City in Chicago.

The bat mitzvah reads everything she can get her hands on, is a creative, imaginative and thoughtful writer who has read publicly her work at Barnes and Noble and other book venues. Her father is a second generation American Jew who grew up in an orthodox family in Brooklyn, NY, and whose parents are Holocaust survivors from Polish and German background. Her mother is a first generation Armenian.

After the b’nai mitzvah read Torah and delivered their divrei Torah, I spoke openly to them about who they are as individuals and what becoming bar and bat mitzvah means today.

I first noted their family backgrounds saying:

“You represent the modern liberal Jewish community. Where else but here in the United States could your parents have found each other and then brought you into the world. You are together proof positive that immigration to America is good, that we are a nation of immigrants and that all this talk about the threat of the ‘other’ is nonsense. We benefit from the world wanting to live here and you are primary examples of why this is so.”

This was only the third time in my 37 years as a congregational rabbi that the congregation broke out into applause, clearly a reflection of how disturbed we are by the nativist, ethno-nationalist, exclusionary, bigoted, and hateful movement that has given rise to both Brexit and Donald Trump.

I was glad for our community’s response, and I pray that it may sweep over the dark side of the American psyche and bring this nation back to its fundamentally decent core in November.