Rabbi's Column: May 2025

Dear Friends,

You may not have heard the name Omelian Kovch. I hadn’t, either, until I learned about him in a moving tribute to Pope Francis, z”l. Father Kovch was a Greek Catholic Priest, a righteous man among the nations. When the Nazis firebombed a synagogue in 1941, Kovch immediately ran to help, ordering the police to desist. Miraculously, they obeyed him, and he began pulling victims from the flames. He was arrested in 1942, and deported to the Majdanek concentration camp, where he later died. While in Majdanek, he wrote:

“Do not be troubled, and do not lose faith on my part. Instead, rejoice with me. Pray for those who created this concentration camp and this system. They are the only ones that need prayers…May God have mercy on them.”

In honor of Father Omelian’s heroism, Pope Francis bestowed an award for courage in ecumenical understanding. After reading the moving story, I was confronted with the implicit question: if I were in Father Omelian’s place, would I have had the courage to do what he did? If I’m honest, probably not. But I hope I would have done something.

Exceptionally dark times demand exceptional acts of humanity. We all must ask ourselves: what would we be willing to do, to save the innocent?

As I write these words, the Jewish people stands on the cusp of three modern holidays: Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day), Yom HaZikaron, and Yom HaAtzma’ut (Israel’s Memorial and Independence Days). These days fall within just a week of one another, making for a roller coaster of emotions — especially this year. Our hostages are not yet free; the war rages on; and the suffering of innocent people is vast. Here at home, antisemitism reached a new record high. Despite many bright spots, Jewish safety on many college campuses is still a major concern. Moreover, our very constitutional order is in question, as people are deported to foreign prisons absent the due process of law. The warning bells of Jewish History are ringing.

In the wake of the Shoah, many of us were raised with the rallying cry, “never again!” Friends, we are living through this generation’s “never again” moment. And for me, never again means many things. It means I won’t stand for attacks on Israel. I won’t stand for hateful vitriol hurled at our children. And I won’t stand for the erosion of civil liberties in the interest of security.

You may have heard that, following the first seder, a domestic terrorist firebombed the home of Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro. The motive appears unambiguously antisemitic. Among the charred wreckage was a burnt and shredded haggadah page that, remarkably, contains the closing of HaTikvah, ‘our hope is not yet lost.’

The hope of over 3000 years courses within our veins. We are burnt, bruised, and bullied. We are weary and discouraged. But, as the Haggadah reminds us:

Not only one tyrant has risen up against us; rather, in every generation, a Pharaoh or a Hitler will arise. Yet, we’re still here. Let this be our anthem and our commitment in days to come. Each of us has a role to play.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - April 2025

Dear Friends,

What does it mean to be free? This is the question at the heart of Pesach (Passover). The ancient rabbis call it zman cheiruteinu — the season of our liberation. Freedom is a universal human aspiration. Of course, it’s central to the American story, too. And that’s probably why Pesach is the most celebrated Jewish holiday. A climactic moment of the seder is when we read in the hagaddah:

B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza mi-mitzraim.

In each generation, it is incumbent upon each of us to view ourselves as though we went out from Egypt.

Each year, then, we’re asked to put ourselves in the shoes of a newly freed slave. What does that mean in 2025? It may be helpful to start with where we came from. My great-grandfather Max came to America at the age of 14, traveling alone. His parents stayed behind in Belarus; they were later killed in a pogrom. His brother, with whom he lived in Wisconsin, was then killed in a freak accident. I never got to meet my great-grandfather; I never learned of his suffering, or how it impacted his life. But whether he knew it or not, he turned that suffering into a bridge: to allow a life of freedom and opportunity for my grandmother, my mother, and me. That gift comes with a responsibility I hope I will never squander.

Perhaps your family has a similar story. Our ancestors sacrificed for our freedom. It’s one of the things I think about when we pass the Torah from the arms of grandparents, to parents, to children in our B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies. This is an incredible gift; a rare gift; a gift that for most of Jewish history would have seemed impossible. It wasn’t easy for us to integrate into American society, but we have somehow gone from a hated minority to the most positively-viewed religious group. Despite the widespread and growing antisemitism in our country, we still live as comfortable and integrated a life as any Jewish community has in 2500+ years. That alone is cause for celebration.

We are fortunate to have the sanction of the court of opinion. And I give thanks every day that we still have the sanction of the court of law, too — equal as citizens with any other. Every previous time in history we have enjoyed similar protections, they have eventually been taken away. Around the world — from Turkey, to Sweden, to France, and beyond— these twin protections are diminishing and disappearing for Jews. France used to have the largest Jewish population in Europe. In recent years, they have been making aliyah in huge numbers.

Our American freedom is a gift, not a guarantee. As we gather with our families around the Seder table, let us express gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy. They can disappear if we do not protect them. Maybe this is why we are asked at each seder to see ourselves as crossing that bridge, from shackled in servitude, to the promise of freedom.

Chag Kasher V’Sameach — Happy Passover,

Rabbi Moss

RABBI'S COLUMN - FEBRUARY 2025

רַבָּן שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן גַּמְלִיאֵל אוֹמֵר, עַל שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הָעוֹלָם עוֹמֵד, 

עַל הַדִּין וְעַל הָאֱמֶת וְעַל הַשָּׁלוֹם

Rabban Shimon Ben Gamliel says: The world stands on three things: on justice, and on truth and on peace. (Mishnah Avot 1.18)

Dear Friends,

I will not soon forget the poignant image of Romi Gonen, Doron Steinbrecher, and Emily Damari in their families’ embrace —  home at long last. I hope that by the time you are reading this, many more Israeli hostages have returned to their families. At the same time, our hearts are riven– we know that not every reunion will be a happy one. The emotional roller coaster of hope, elation, and dread tears at the Jewish soul. This devastating war has changed the Middle East. It has changed us.

One of the most important mitzvot is the redemption of captives. That is why our community has prayed for this moment every Shabbat since October 7th, 2023. But the deal is fragile. It can quickly be derailed by Hamas or another proxy of Iran. On the Israeli side, extremist ministers Betzalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir may torpedo the governing coalition over the deal, which they have repeatedly foiled —  and bragged about. Ben-Gvir is an acolyte of the Jewish Supremacist Meir Kehane, whose organization was banned in the US as a terrorist group, and whose followers have been convicted of gruesome crimes. Every day that such extremists are included in a governing coalition is another step toward the normalization of hatred in Israel’s society. We must oppose this with every fiber of our being. 

These are turbulent times. The global ascendency of nativist worldviews poses a danger in our country, too. No matter who is in the White House or the K’nesset, we must remain vigilant of the dangers of nativist populism. That is why I was deeply troubled to see our President pardon 1500 people involved in the January 6th attack against the US Capitol. This pardon extends to those convicted of violent crimes, including seditious conspiracy. (See this briefing from the ADL to learn more.) Surely we have not forgotten January 6th, 2021 – but has our country forgotten? These rioters destroyed property and defiled the halls of congress.  Members of congress of every political affiliation were forced to evacuate,  fearful  for their lives. Police officers died. It was a terrible day for our country —  one that I was horrified to witness and pray will never occur again.

The presidential pardon is a controversial instrument. I feel ambivalent whenever I see it deployed, whether by team “D” or team “R”. While it can rectify injustices, it seems to me that the pardon undermines the due process of law which is the bedrock of our republic. This particular pardon, which amounts to a nullification of the largest criminal investigation and prosecution in US History, broadcasts the message that law and order apply selectively; that “truth” need not correspond to reality; that political violence is acceptable; that election results can be overturned by force; and that the legislative branch serves at the pleasure of the executive. These are characteristics not of a republic, but of a banana republic. I am saddened and a little scared that we are living through such times.

Complex times do not eliminate the need for moral clarity; they demand it more urgently.

For me, one of the more disturbing moments of the recent weeks came when the President referred to the convicted criminals of January 6th, 2021 as “hostages.” He did this while actual Israeli hostages taken captive by Hamas sat on the stage with their family members behind him. Beyond the disgust I felt at this insult to all they had endured, it was yet another moment of clarity. Morality is complex, but right and wrong still matter. Truth is nuanced, but facts are still facts. People may disagree on matters of policy, but there should be no disagreement on matters of fact.  In his recent book Nexus, the modern sociologist Noah Yuval Harari explains the trend we are seeing this way:

In its more extreme versions, populism posits that there is no objective truth at all and that everyone has “their own truth,” which they wield to vanquish rivals. According to this worldview, power is the only reality…The claim to be interested in something else—like truth or justice—is nothing more than a ploy to gain power. Whenever and wherever populism succeeds in disseminating the view of information as a weapon, language itself is undermined. Nouns like “facts” and adjectives like “accurate” and “truthful” become elusive. Such words are not taken as pointing to a common objective reality. Rather, any talk of “facts” or “truth” is bound to prompt at least some people to ask, “Whose facts and whose truth are you referring to?” (pp. xxiv-xxv)

This cynical worldview is the stuff of strongmen and dictators. Populism is, unsurprisingly, highly compatible with conspiratorial thinking. And inevitably, where conspiracy theories thrive, so does the hatred of Jews. Blatant Antisemitism has come from the likes of Marjorie Taylor Greene, Nick Fuentes, and billionaire Elon Musk, who now occupies the President’s inner circle. He and a handful of other billionaires exercise tremendous power over the flow of information in our society. People of goodwill of all political persuasions must come together to fight conspiracy theories and hate from becoming the new “truth.”

Later this month, our ninth grade class will travel to Washington, DC together with teens from across our country. They will prepare diligently,will dress professionally, and engage respectfully with our legislators in the halls of Congress. They will advocate passionately for their values as young Jewish people helping to shape a More Perfect Union. They will engage, in short, in the democratic process. So must we all. Education, attention, and action—  these are required in order for democracy to work. Compassion in our politics will increase compassion in our society. As Rabban Shimon Ben Gamliel reminded us 2000 years ago, truth is one of the pillars of our world. It is up to all of us to fight for the truth to prevail.

Throughout history, we Jews have lived and died at the whim of tyrants. In America, we all have a voice in shaping the future of our country. We must never take that privilege for granted.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - January 2025

Dear Friends,

In the days and weeks since Haviv Rettig Gur’s visit as our Scholar-inResidence, my mind has been spinning with so many new ideas. I learned a great deal from Haviv’s visit, which I found highly educational, stimulating, and sometimes very challenging. I hope you enjoyed him as much as I did. As I reflect on all Haviv shared with us, a few points stand out. I thought I’d share my top take-aways with you, as he offered a lot of insight to bridge divides: between generational perspectives; between Israelis and diaspora Jewry; and between our current knowledge and where we all want to be. Because truly, we could be better informed (myself included)

1. Israeli Democracy endures as a function of its dialectic. In Israel, there is no distinction between the executive and legislature. Furthermore, parties with wildly divergent interests such as the Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox) UTJ and the Joint List (majority Arab parties) have sometimes even supported one another’s legislative priorities. Israel’s parties range from ultra-religious to secular; from socialist to communist. They reflect the ideological, ethnic, and religious diversity of the country as a whole. And like the proverbial “two Jews and three opinions,” the discussions on the floor of the k’nesset are often vigorous. They also serve as a sort of check on the society as a whole. Israel has no constitution or formal separation of powers as in the United States. Haviv argued that the inherent dialectic within this parliamentary system is one of Israel’s most important safeguards on democracy, as it presently stands.

2. Israelis want Israel to be moral. But first and foremost, they want their children to be safe. It is difficult for most Americans to understand the sense of existential threat that Israelis experience regularly — surrounded by falling rockets with a dearth of geographic buffers. Thank God we in the United States do not have to build bomb shelters under our kindergartens. Many Israelis, looking back at the failure of the Oslo peace process and the second Intifada, are skeptical that any Palestinian leader can be a true partner for peace. Ariel Sharon’s withdrawal from Gaza in 2005 similarly led to the armament and entrenchment of Hamas. Withdrawal from land in the absence of a peace process has only led to further bloodshed.

3. Israeli Jews don’t know much about diaspora Jews. American Jews don’t know much about Israelis. We used to have shlichim (young Israel emissaries) in our communities, to help build these bridges. We should bring that program back. We should send our kids to Israel, too. Israel should include diaspora relations among its educational priorities. And as Haviv accurately summarized, far too many American Jewish youngsters are unaware of their own story. Our Temple Educator, Ira Wise, and I, are committed to addressing this, with your partnership.

4. Israel’s Right has oftentimes fulfilled the promises of the Left. We’ve discussed this truism of Israeli politics in our Israel reading group and other classes here at TBT. Here are just a few examples:

• Prime Minister Menachem Begin, an icon of the revisionist Zionist camp, signed a peace treaty with Egypt in 1978 that returned the entirety of the Sinai Peninsula. Many in his Likud party criticized him for this, but history has vindicated the decision.

• Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, another stalwart of the right, unilaterally withdrew all Israeli settlers from Gaza. At the time, this was a popular decision, but very few would have expected Sharon to initiate it.

• As part of the Annapolis Conference of 2007, Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, another Likud leader, engaged in intensive negotiations with the Palestinians. He was willing to consider territorial concessions based around the 1967 borders. Unfortunately, these negotiations failed.

Israel’s current government is the most extreme in its history. The current Palestinian leadership is in no position to care for its own people, let alone negotiate for peace. Rather than fall into despair, it is helpful for me to remember that progress toward peace tends to come at unexpected times and in unlikely ways. Just consider the recent Abraham Accords. Normalization with Israel’s neighbors is achievable. There may even be a role for Saudi Arabia to play in the rebuilding of Gaza, as the Saudis and the Israelis inch closer toward diplomatic relations. As Jews, we pray for peace in every service, multiple times each day. We will never give up on peace.

If you didn’t have the chance to learn with Haviv last month, you can find him discussing many of the topics he addressed at TBT on these podcasts: What Matters Now or Call me Back. Finally, I want to exuberantly thank our Programming Committee leaders, Nancy Rosen, David Rosen, and Karen Rabinovici – as well as Temple Educator Ira Wise and our many dedicated volunteers – for making it such a successful weekend. It was a privilege to learn with all of you.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - December 2024

Dear Friends,

In the days and weeks since Haviv Rettig Gur’s visit as our Scholar-in-Residence, my mind has been spinning with so many new ideas. I learned a great deal from Haviv’s visit, which I found highly educational, stimulating, and sometimes very challenging. I hope you enjoyed him as much as I did.

As I reflect on all Haviv shared with us, a few points stand out. I thought

I’d share my top take-aways with you, as he offered a lot of insight to bridge

divides: between generational perspectives; between Israelis and diaspora Jewry;

and between our current knowledge and where we all want to be. Because truly, we could be better informed (myself included)!

Rabbi's Column - November 2024

Dear Friends,

It’s time to vote! I hope all of us will make our voices heard at the polls.

I also realize that this election comes with no small measure of anxiety. If that’s so, perhaps we can uncover other feelings at the polls, too: hope, patriotism, and gratitude for this extraordinary and flawed place we call home.

Does that sound hard? Harder still is the family Thanksgiving Table. Uncle Leo always votes the same way, and needs everyone else to know why. Oy vey

I recently officiated a funeral for a man who was passionate about a certain side of the political aisle. On Thanksgiving he would turn on the TV and get into it with those who disagreed. But then everyone would sit down to break bread together, and they’d stop arguing. They remembered they were friends.

Let’s remember that we’re all friends.

Here’s some Torah to help with perspective: During Sukkot, our Torah Study group studied Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), the sacred book associated with the holiday. The book opens like this:

Utter futility!—said Koheleth—
Utter futility! All is futile!
What real value is there for a man
In all the gains he makes beneath the sun? 
One generation goes, another comes,
But the earth remains the same forever. 
The sun rises, and the sun sets—
And glides back to where it rises. 
Southward blowing,
Turning northward,
Ever turning blows the wind;
On its rounds the wind returns. 
All streams flow into the sea,
Yet the sea is never full;
To the place [from] which they flow
The streams flow back again. […]
Only that shall happen
Which has happened,
Only that occur
Which has occurred;
There is nothing new
Beneath the sun!

דִּבְרֵי֙ קֹהֶ֣לֶת בֶּן־דָּוִ֔ד מֶ֖לֶךְ בִּירוּשָׁלָֽ͏ִם׃

הֲבֵ֤ל הֲבָלִים֙ אָמַ֣ר קֹהֶ֔לֶת הֲבֵ֥ל הֲבָלִ֖ים הַכֹּ֥ל הָֽבֶל׃

מַה־יִּתְר֖וֹן לָֽאָדָ֑ם בְּכׇ֨ל־עֲמָל֔וֹ שֶֽׁיַּעֲמֹ֖ל תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃

דּ֤וֹר הֹלֵךְ֙ וְד֣וֹר בָּ֔א וְהָאָ֖רֶץ לְעוֹלָ֥ם עֹמָֽדֶת׃

וְזָרַ֥ח הַשֶּׁ֖מֶשׁ וּבָ֣א הַשָּׁ֑מֶשׁ וְאֶ֨ל־מְקוֹמ֔וֹ שׁוֹאֵ֛ף זוֹרֵ֥חַֽ ה֖וּא שָֽׁם׃

הוֹלֵךְ֙ אֶל־דָּר֔וֹם וְסוֹבֵ֖ב אֶל־צָפ֑וֹן סוֹבֵ֤ב ׀ סֹבֵב֙ הוֹלֵ֣ךְ הָר֔וּחַ וְעַל־סְבִיבֹתָ֖יו שָׁ֥ב הָרֽוּחַ׃

כׇּל־הַנְּחָלִים֙ הֹלְכִ֣ים אֶל־הַיָּ֔ם וְהַיָּ֖ם אֵינֶ֣נּוּ מָלֵ֑א אֶל־מְק֗וֹם שֶׁ֤הַנְּחָלִים֙ הֹֽלְכִ֔ים שָׁ֛ם הֵ֥ם שָׁבִ֖ים לָלָֽכֶת׃

כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֣ים יְגֵעִ֔ים לֹא־יוּכַ֥ל אִ֖ישׁ לְדַבֵּ֑ר לֹא־תִשְׂבַּ֥ע עַ֙יִן֙ לִרְא֔וֹת וְלֹא־תִמָּלֵ֥א אֹ֖זֶן מִשְּׁמֹֽעַ׃

מַה־שֶּֽׁהָיָה֙ ה֣וּא שֶׁיִּהְיֶ֔ה וּמַה־שֶּׁנַּֽעֲשָׂ֔ה ה֖וּא שֶׁיֵּעָשֶׂ֑ה וְאֵ֥ין כׇּל־חָדָ֖שׁ תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ!

Kohelet offers a very different philosophy than we find elsewhere in the Bible. Some might call it cynical or fatalistic. There is some truth there, but it is not, I think, pessimistic. When life is getting us down, Kohelet helps us take the long view. One empire falls, and another rises. Suffering gives way to joy — each in its season turns and returns. Life goes on. This may not give us great comfort about the worries of tomorrow, but it helps us to consider our role in the many tomorrows to come. When we are overwhelmed, Kohelet reminds us that today’s woes are but a drop in the cosmic bucket. When we feel insignificant, he reminds us that life is to be lived with intention and gratitude:

Go, eat your bread in gladness, and drink your wine in joy; for your action was long ago approved by God. Let your clothes always be freshly washed, and your head never lack ointment.
Enjoy happiness with the one you love all the fleeting days of life that have been granted to you under the sun—all your fleeting days. (9.7-9)

The great writer Isaac Babel describes the modern Jew as someone with “spectacles on his nose and autumn in his heart.” I love this turn of phrase. I love its poetic brevity. I love it because autumn is by far my favorite season, and I always have spectacles on my nose. I love our Holy Days, rich as they are with hope, honesty, unity, and the humble bow-of-the-head in the face of mortality. Autumn aligns with the Jewish condition because, for me, anyway, it underscores these truths:

We are a spiritually connected people, not just a religion;
We are a people of action first; and belief second;
We are a people of the land, not just people living in a given land; and
Autumn’s melancholy anticipates winter, but its pragmatism starts in abundance.

At this time of year I think back to a stirring essay by Adam Wilson. He likens Babel's assertion of Jewishness to the experience of a new parent: a condition “of anxiety, of omnipresent awareness of the soft spot on the infant’s skull.” 

The other side of that awareness, of course, is the beauty of new beginnings and unknown possibilities. If we can open our hearts to these mirror-image truths — both life’s discontents and its unexpected delights — we are most likely to be happier, healthier, and more resilient. That’s an attitude of abundance we can all take to our Thanksgiving Table.

All streams flow into the sea,
Yet the sea is never full;
To the place from which they flow
The streams flow back again.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - October 2024

Dear Friends,

This month marks one year since Hamas’ brutal attack on Israel. The hostages are still held captive. As I write these words, it looks as though a full-scale war may erupt in Lebanon. Susan’s friend in Israel’s north has been texting her from a bomb shelter. Any hope of a speedy resolution has long since evaporated. Israel’s suffering is great. The suffering of the Palestinians, too, is great. Our hearts break again and again as we confront the human toll and fading prospects for peace.

It pains us to see a country we love in such straits.
It pains us to witness the suffering of our Jewish siblings.
It pains us to know that our people remain implicated in a cycle of violence and reprisal that Israel’s existence was mean to end forever.

In the words of Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin z”l:

There is a lullaby that says your mother will cry a thousand tears before you grow to be a man.
I have cried a million tears in the last 67 days.
We all have.
And I know that way over there there’s another woman who looks just like me
because we are all so very similar
and she has also been crying.
All those tears, a sea of tears,
they all taste the same…

It didn’t have to be this way. Last Rosh HaShanah, I shared my concern that Israel’s extremist government threatened its Jewish and democratic character, and obstructed the road to peace. Then came October 7th. A systemic failure of Israel’s security apparatus evolved into a war in Gaza that, over time, felt motivated more by vengeance than by any coherent strategy. Prime Minister Netanyahu has clashed publicly with his own defense minister, Yoav Gallant, over that very point. The centrist MK Benny Gantz resigned from the war cabinet earlier this year in protest. He claimed that Netanyahu was more interested in retaining power than reaching a planful resolution and freeing the hostages. And it’s not just Gantz: for months, hundreds of thousands of Israelis — including the families of many hostages — have protested his intransigence. Of course, none of this comes as a surprise: for years, Netanyahu has repeatedly, publicly, opposed peace. His support of violent extremists and immoral settlement policies in the West Bank is a stain on Israel’s conscience, and I believe it makes Jews around the world less safe. Most Israelis want Netanyahu out of office, but his coalition is still hanging on — for now.

On a different front, world Jewry has confronted an explosion of antisemitism. (Let's call it what it really is: Jew-hatred.) As you know, the numbers were already trending in the wrong direction before the war, but this year things have reached a new low.

▪ When I read the text messages exchanged among Columbia University deans;

▪ When I studied the Stanford University report detailing not merely discrete incidents, but rather a pernicious culture of hate;

▪ When I have had to console TBT students who have been taunted, followed, and harassed;

▪ When I confronted all this and more, I knew that the floodgates had burst open on both sides.

The rise of antisemitism on the left mirrors its long history on the right. Surely it cannot be out of bounds to criticize a government. But to blame Jews around the world for the actions of that government is unbridled antisemitism. To exclude people from bookstores or restaurants if they support Israel, is hatred. To hurl the word “Zionist” as an epithet, is bigotry.

Many of us feel we must walk an impossible tightrope: we support Israel’s safety, while we may have real qualms about its leaders and policies. Meanwhile the world seems to hate us no matter where we stand. To be sure, this is not a comfortable place to be.

As you might imagine, the High Holy Days will feel different this year. We need to mark this time as a community in solidarity with our Jewish siblings around the world. We need a place to process our grief. We need to draw strength from one another. Throughout the Days of Awe, you will find special sermons, music, and communal rituals. Between the holidays, we will gather at TBT to mark one year since the war began on Sunday October 6th, 12 pm. The following evening, on October 7th, there will be a ceremony of remembrance and solidarity with Israel, for the broader Jewish Community. All are welcome.

Finally, I urge you to please save the date for the weekend of December 6th-8th, when TBT will be privileged to welcome Times of Israel Senior Analyst Haviv Rettig Gur. Haviv is a remarkable thought leader. His visit to our community marks a truly special opportunity to learn and reflect. It is not every day TBT can welcome a speaker of his caliber, let alone for an entire weekend.

When I am feeling distraught, I remember that the pain of the Jewish people has often presaged new growth. Perhaps that is why Rachel Goldberg Polin concludes her poem with a hope that I would like to share with you. And so, I cite her poem again, this time in full:

All those tears, a sea of tears
they all taste the same.
Can we take them/ gather them up,
remove the salt/ and pour them over our desert of despair
and plant one tiny seed.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - Summer 2024

Dear Friends,

In these days of division and strife, I’d like to share with you something that gives me tremendous hope: our young people.

Many of you joined us recently for a conversation with Yale Hillel’s executive director Uri Cohen. Uri is professional, insightful, and strategic. He reflected on this spring’s tumult on college campuses, explaining his journey to being a trusted partner and voice for Yale’s Jewish students in the highest levels of the university’s administration.

But most impressive of all were our college students (who attend schools around the country). They spoke with honesty and passion about experiencing a challenging year on campus. Each of these six young people eloquently conveyed their Jewish pride and their standing up to antisemitism. Like many Jews in their generational cohort, they do not believe that they have to choose between safety for Israelis and justice for Palestinians. This is all the more impressive given that campus culture so often screams the opposite message in their faces. Their ability to hold many difficult emotions and truths while still being confident in who they are is a total inspiration. Kol HaKavod — well done. Thank you to Kulanu for organizing this deeply meaningful evening.

Just a few days later came Shavuot, and we celebrated the confirmation of three special 10th-graders. They were called to the Torah to read the ten commandments, and each of them shared reflections on the year of learning. Unsurprisingly, they all spoke about the Israel-Hamas war, since Israel’s history has been the main focus of our year of study. They, too, conveyed their Jewish pride and their commitment to proceed into the next chapter of their lives with critical thought, conscience, and confidence and who they are. They spoke about BBYO, the international youth movement of which SALTY is part. They spoke about their special experience in our religious school. They are positioned to be leaders and builders of the Jewish future. As a rabbi, there’s nothing that makes me prouder.

By now it should be abundantly clear that we have some special young people here at TBT, and of course that is because we have special families. Families who choose to opt-in to Judaism in spite of the societal forces that challenge that decision. Families who choose learning and dialogue over the need to ‘be right.’ I love about our congregation that we can listen to one another and engage in difficult decisions with civility and curiosity. Throughout the last several years of my serving TBT, I have seen our teens model this time and time again.

My year serving as teacher to our teens is also a reminder that what’s going on in the news is not necessarily all that’s going on in the world. Headlines, whether about events in the middle east or on domestic college campuses, tend to be driven by all that is ugly. This is the most basic way that bias can creep into news coverage. But behind the headlines, there is a lot of unreported goodness and basic decency. There are the actions of rodfei shalom (Psalms 43.15) — pursuers of peace. Our young people are pursuers of peace. We should listen to them. They are leading us.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - June 2024

Dear Friends,

I invite all my B'nai Mitzvah students to ask me a "big question" that would be hard for ChatGPT to answer. Recently, Levi A. asked, "What do you think would happen if the Jews were to lose Israel?" This is a sad, difficult, and very important question. I told Levi as much, and so I'm sharing a few reflections here, too.

Over its 76-year history, Israel has faced numerous threats. Every war triggers existential fears. Israel's existence has never been assured, which is why it has built one of the strongest armies in the world.

Israel is still a young country. If we look back 3000 years to King Solomon and the first Temple in Jerusalem, 1948 to 2024 constitutes only about 2% of Jewish history. We lost control of Israel when the Romans destroyed the Temple 2000 years ago, leading to centuries of exile.

Exile wasn't just a geographical reality; it was a profound sorrow we carried for centuries. The book of Psalms reflects this in a poem from the first exile to Babylonia: "By the Waters of Babylon/There we sat down/And we wept/As we remembered Zion….If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my hand wither…” (Psalms 137).

Later Jewish texts also reflect this yearning. One Midrash explains that when the Temple was destroyed, God went into exile too, departing Jerusalem and the presence of our people.

For almost 2000 years, Jews dreamed of returning to our homeland. This longing was embedded in daily life: in prayers for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, in facing East during prayer, in breaking a glass at weddings to recall the Temple's destruction. The land of Israel is central to Jewish history and identity.

Can you imagine if your home, livelihood, and every routine disappeared in an instant? It's hard to relate to this feeling today, which is a good thing: it shows how comfortable we have been in the United States.

At my summer camp, we had an activity on Tisha Ba’av, the saddest Jewish holiday when we mourn the destruction of the Temples and other catastrophes. Campers spent an hour building intricate gingerbread houses, which the counselor suddenly trampled to the ground. It was an attempt to invite us to consider the feelings that accompany the loss of home, identity, and way of life. (However misguided from a 2024 perspective…)

In exile, Jews lived at the whim of mercurial leaders. The Purim story dramatizes this: an evil minister plots to destroy the Jews by manipulating the king. While likely a work of fiction, the story reflects the reality of how quickly fortunes could change for Jews.

Our  ancestors  were  exiled  from  many  lands:  Italy,  Egypt,  Spain,  Portugal,  England,  Russia, Switzerland, North Africa...the list goes on and on.  By the 1800s, Jews became citizens of modern nation-states like France and Germany, finally gaining equal rights. Many believed our tragic history was over.

Then came Hitler. Germany, the paradigm of a modern, civilized society, proved that modernity did not guarantee safety. To the contrary: it guaranteed that the dangers we faced were greater than ever before.

This context is the backdrop of Levi's question. Throughout history, Jews have faced discrimination, draconian restrictions, expulsions, forced conversions, and murder. Facing blood libels, pogroms, and unending antisemitic conspiracies, Jewish dreamers across Europe came to believe that returning to our homeland was the only solution. The State of Israel was conceived as a safe haven for Jews worldwide, a modern political solution to an ancient problem. That, simply stated, is Zionism. Israel has done remarkable things to follow through on this promise, including daring rescues in Entebbe, Uganda, and absorbing Jews from Ethiopia and the Former Soviet Union.

So, what if Israel ceased to exist? With nine million people living there, where would they go? Some propose a multinational state for Jews and Arabs, but it’s unclear how Jews would fare absent the ability to protect themselves. (On the other hand, life for Palestinian Arabs in Israel is complex, but generally safe and even prosperous). It seems naive in the extreme to imagine that such a state is a pragmatic possibility.

The other option is that seven million or so Jews would have to leave. Where would they go? Here? Canada? Argentina? Either outcome would involve terrible violence to Jewish safety and identity. The elimination of the Jewish state would be a catastrophe akin to the destruction of the ancient Temples or the Holocaust. We would eventually survive and adapt, as we always have, but our people would never be the same. Over the last 2000 years, we accepted exile temporarily, thrived and persevered, but never gave up the dream of return. So, we would go back to dreaming.

Israel's national anthem expresses the longing for our homeland with the phrase - nefesh Yehudi Homiyah - the Jewish soul murmurs a yearning… In the scenario Levi asks about, we would resume hoping and praying, as our ancestors did, to once again realize our dream of self-determination - l’hiot am chofshi b’artzeinu - to be a free people in our homeland. As students of history, we know that this is required to bring true safety to Jews everywhere. Israel has already fulfilled this dream in so many respects. The next step is to fulfill our people's mandate as makers of peace. (The recent Abraham Accords indicate that progress is always possible, distant though it may feel.)

Every conflict is only a conflict until it isn’t.

Please God, let us build a world where Israel is secure and at peace with its neighbors.

I appreciate Levi’s question, and hope ardently that one day, no student will ever feel the need to ask it again.

Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - May 2024

Dear Friends,

During my college days, there was a slogan all over campus: “think one person can change the world? We do.” I loved these words because they reflected my institution’s history at the forefront of social change. In fact, college students have always made headlines for protests, marches, and civil disobedience. This

is how it should be. They are exploring their sense of right and wrong. They are expressing their voices as change agents.

Undoubtedly, there are many compassionate young people protesting in the tent encampments that have sprung up at universities throughout the United States. They are demonstrating for an end to the war in Gaza and for justice for Palestinians. And what decent person doesn’t want both of those things? They have seen the terrible images and grim statistics that we have all seen. We all want an

end to the suffering.

Unfortunately, these rallies are not always benign. My colleague Rabbi Ari Hart recently took a walk through the encampment at Northwestern University. Some of the signs and chants he encountered called for peace and an end to the fighting. Others were downright chilling: “Long live the Intifada!” “Hey hey, ho ho - Zionists have got to go.” And then there’s the ubiquitous slogan heard around the world, “from the river to the sea Palestine will be free.”

I wonder how many of these students know what river and what sea they are chanting about? If they do, do they think that the seven million Jews living there will simply pack up and leave? And what about the word ‘intifada’ — which means ‘shaking off ’ or ‘uprising’ — do they know that the second intifada consisted of hundreds of suicide bombings, sowing terror throughout Israel’s civilian centers? Do they know that that uprising began after Palestinian leadership rejected a two state peace deal that Israel agreed to?

Perhaps the most disturbing recent statement came from Khymani James, the organizer of the Columbia encampment, who said that “Zionists don’t have a right to live.”

Just let that sink in.

Zionism is simply the political movement for the freedom of the Jewish people. To reject that movement is to deny the Jewish right to safety and self-determination. It is a form of hatred. I wish I could comfortably advise our young people to speak up for the safety and self-determination of both Palestinians and Israelis in these protest spaces. But I do not know of any protest where such nuance would be accepted. Tragically, the protests have been poisoned by forces that would not end the war, but rather declare it anew— on the entire Jewish people. (“Globalize the Intifada?” The nefarious intent is hiding in plain sight.)

This messy morass reveals a failure of the American left. Intersectional justice work dictates that none can be free unless all are free. In too many of these protest spaces, that applies to everyone except for Jews.

(And by the way, how many of these students showed up to protest the brutality of the Rohingya Genocide or Syrian strongman Assad’s murder of thousands of Palestinians in his civil war? We could name dozens of other geopolitical conflicts that haven’t risen to encampment-protest-worthiness. That alone is reason for deep reflection.)

Many well-meaning young people attend these events because of the images in the news or an invitation from a friend. Many have absolutely no knowledge of this conflict or its history. Most are well-meaning.

Undoubtedly, some of these protesters are Jewish. I suspect that some of our own college students from TBT may be involved. We should listen to them. Many of them are driven by conscience. We should respect their right to free expression. But mass protests devoid of critical thinking are morally bankrupt and potentially very dangerous. The movement we are seeing today is not about peace. It is tainted by a zero-sum worldview that requires Palestinian liberation at the expense of Jewish safety. That is a false choice and one that makes Jews around the world less safe.

Oseh Shalom bimromav, hu ya’eseh shalom aleinu - v’al kol yoshvei teivel.

May peace yet prevail in our world.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss