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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

Because We're Not Okay

 

I’ve been publishing weekly Torah thoughts for several decades, focusing on Torah insights I find relevant to our daily lives. I rarely address current events, or politics, because I figure people can find enough – or even too many – sources to opine on those.

But I’ve shifted since October 7. As things stand, I don’t feel that I can speak to the world without mentioning the horrors of that day and the ongoing captivity of innocents. Perhaps most all, I want to call out the immoral silence; perhaps even more than the active whitewashing of rapes and burnings, grotesquely masquerading as concern for human rights in in Gaza.

On October 6, many of us saw the Western world as progressing toward higher morality. But since October 7, we haven’t even seen basic decency. Can you imagine that the UN resolution condemning Hamas’ slaughter was rejected by the General Assembly? If that’s not passive complicity with - and support for - evil, what is?

No one of good conscience wants any non-combatant – man, woman or child – in Gaza to suffer (even if the overwhelming majority of Gazans support Hamas and its Oct 7 pogrom). That’s why the IDF drops millions of leaflets, and sends hundreds of thousands of texts, begging civilians to move out of the way. So, most of us are actually in agreement. But stubbornly sticking to that discussion-point becomes a wickedly manipulative red herring. We first need to all agree on condemnation of Hamas’ actions, and demand the hostages’ return.

But it’s not happening. The silence like people are ignoring the October 7 atrocities, hoping the images will fade. It feels like our raped women don’t qualify for Me Too, and Hamas’ many war crimes can be waved away with “well, they’re not like us”. 

If we find that immoral, we need to speak up. Loudly.

This week’s Torah portion describes the Holy regalia worn by the High Priest in the Holy Temple. The Scripture describes these majestic vestments as being ‘a remembrance before G-d.’ The High Priest was representing the Jewish people and their needs, one of which is memory - a mental and moral clarity as to events and their lessons. In Torah language, forgetfulness isn’t only about the timeworn blurring of recollections. It’s also about willful removal of the truth from one’s mind, while remembering is about ensuring that a lesson of life is properly acknowledged, for posterity.

So let’s be loud and clear: Our present dystopia isn’t about people who forgot something over time. Almost immediately after Oct. 7, people had the gall to deny Hamas’ self-recorded atrocities, or just blamed Israel for their actions. 

Just recently, the Palestinian Authority’s Prime Minister advised that “the world needs to stop focusing on October 7.” Mr. Prime Minister, the world hasn’t even begun to focus. They can’t forget a travesty they’ve never known or remembered.

That’s why our voices can’t stop.

Welcome Home

 

Why did G-d create us? It’s the existential question of questions.  

For insight, let’s look at the Jews’ journey from spiritual debasement and physical abuse in Egypt to national and individual self-actualization, through receiving the Torah and settling in the Promised Land.

When we stood at Mount Sinai, G-d told us how we could use our human liberty to lead meaningful lives. Our purpose in freedom, and in life itself, was to imbue our lives with the holiness of Higher living. In the words of our early Sages: G-d taught us that the purpose of existence is to make a ‘home’ for G-d in our lives.

G-d didn’t just give us a religion, a way for people to access holiness on regular occasions – annually, weekly or daily – through ritual practices. G-d gave us a way of life. G-d gave us the Torah which  enables us to sanctify our otherwise-mundane lives, our work, our play, our meals, etc. This approach guides us to elevate a mundane exercise by first considering – and adopting - its G-dly purpose.

G-d is always relevant, because strengthening our relationship with G-d is always at the core of our life pursuits. Even in our difficult moments, when we’re in the throes of our Egypts, G-d wants us to trust that He is with us, that we’re never alone. Maintaining that attitude is making G-d ‘at home’ in our lives.

Inviting G-d into life occasionally, even on frequent occasion, is having G-d as a [frequent] visitor. G-d wants more, because we can make G-d our consistent North Star, our trusted support.

Indeed, immediately after we received the Torah, G-d told the Jews to build a Tabernacle, a physical structure in which they could commune with the Divine. This was a place where they could palpably feel their ever-present connectedness to G-d, where they could make G-d at home within them.

In other words: G-d wants to dwell within each of us, and is only waiting for us to open the door of our hearts and minds.

Jews in Israel, and across the globe, are going through a particularly challenging time right now.

We should recognize that we are not alone. The IDF, G-d protect each one of them, is doing amazing work and Jewish communal organizations are standing up against Jew-hatred. Ultimately, we depend on G-d’s protection.

Let’s do our part in making G-d at home in our lives. Take a moment. Think about what G-d needs from you to today. And welcome G-d home.


The Stranger

“Love the stranger… Do not mistreat the stranger…”  The Torah repeats this lesson 36 times, twice in this week’s Parsha alone. This emphasis highlights a fundamental window into our humanity. A stranger is someone who is not ‘one of us.’ Maybe they look or behave differently. Maybe they have dissimilar values.

I’ve spent much of my life feeling ‘different’ when I’m in public. I grew up in a NJ town which had plenty of Jews but little overt Judaism, and I was one of very few kids who openly wore a Kippah. I got the stares. The occasional comments. I always knew I was different.

Even today, as I dress in classic chassidic garb with a black fedora and beard, I still get the stares, or averted eyes, when I enter a setting unfamiliar with Chassidim.

I understand it. My appearance is distinct, so why shouldn’t someone notice? Or be genuinely curious? It is only a problem when ‘dislike of the unlike’ kicks in. When curiosity becomes antipathy or - even worse - when we dehumanize the ‘stranger,’ we lose our own humanity. We’re actually dehumanizing ourselves.

It’s been said that convictions bind and blind. They binds us to our own like-minded group, and can blind us to the humanity of the ‘other’, ‘stranger.’ 

Hence the Torah’s repeated warning.

We can ALL use a reminder – especially as we enter an election season – on welcoming “the stranger,” making sure our convictions bind, but do not blind. 

What’s going on with radical Islamists is radically different. It’s not about passive dislike, or even nasty argumentation. That would be human frailty, which is in the range of the humanly expected.

I recently came across a NY Times article from 2008: “In Gaza, Hamas’ Insults To Jews Complicate Peace,” which gives examples of the deep Jew-hatred being taught in Gaza. The article reports that an average Mosque sermon spews words of incitement against Jews – and Christians – as a mortal enemy, dehumanizing us as “brothers of apes and pigs.” A popular Mickey Mouse-like TV cartoon presents cute animals teaching young minds that the Jews are objects to be hated and destroyed. This is how perfectly normal humans become comfortable acting abhorrently inhuman.

The five-year-olds watching cartoons in 2008 were twenty-one in 2023. Many came into Israel, and - with deeply-cultivated hatred - abducted, tortured, dismembered, raped, and murdered over 1500 innocents. The world saw humans acting inhumanly. And we know why.

People can live in peace with neighbors who see them as different. Or even dislike them. But not with those indoctrinated to dehumanize and murder them. That’s not living in peace.

Gaza’s deliberately-cultivated, murderous hatred should be the civilized world’s primary focus. Artificial cease-fires won’t address the root problem which brought - and will G-d forbid yet bring - terrible destruction to innocents on all sides.


Stand Strong

When the Jews stood at Mount Sinai, the newly-freed Hebrew people - whom the Egyptians had beaten and tortured for centuries - were transformed into a Nation. The Jewish Nation. 

Interestingly, the Talmud teaches us that G-d hard-wired Jew-hatred into the world at that very same event. We got our greatest gift, Jewish identity, together with a built-in challenge of the ages. It’s not that every non-Jew hates Jews, G-d forbid. But Jew-hatred is always out there, somewhere. 

Someone recently told me about a childhood friend, Jacob Goldstein. Jacob’s family was devoutly catholic (the Goldstein name came from a Jewish ancestor several generations back), he was quarterback of the high school team and dated the most popular cheerleader. But he still endured anti-Semitic taunts at their rural Pennsylvania school. 

No one thought he was Jewish. Why the hate?

When Haman wanted to exterminate all Jews in the Persian empire, he explained: “they are spread out through all the nations, and their customs are different than everyone else’s.” He hated us because Jews (ever since the Romans chased us from our homeland in Israel) are dispersed to communities throughout the world. In the 1930’s, US newspapers were criticizing Jews for being too clannish. Is it that we’re blended in other communities or that we stick to ourselves?  

Our traditions are different? True. But why do you hate Jacob Goldstein?

In 1989, I witnessed signs in Moscow saying ‘kill the communists and the Jews,” and then signs in Minsk: “kill the capitalists and the Jews.”

At its core, Jew-hatred has no rationality. It just is.

We live in a benevolent, tolerant country – the Rebbe used to call it a ‘kingdom of kindness’ – where we are free to live as Jews. This, in the scope of our painful history, is simply amazing. The USA has also been a beacon of light, shining the beauty of religious freedom to other countries across the world.

But Jew-hatred lives here too. Not in governmental policy. Not in every non-Jew walking the street. But it’s here. Just because.

The Rebbe taught us that strengthening our Jewish identity, never cowing, never bending before haters is our powerful response. Haters will hate, and do what they do. You can’t control them. But we can control ourselves. And standing up with continued Jewish pride is critical.

Remember who you are, the heritage you carry and what you stand for. And stand tall. We’ve survived for 3300 years, and we’re not going anywhere.


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