Muslim Atheist Christian Jew and African American Living and playing Together For Humanity (Not in) Retreat

The setting was a cottage in the Blue Mountains, complete with a wood fireplace in the lounge room. The cast of characters included; a 21 year old female African American, a student of criminal justice; a 26 year old Australian, a Muslim man of Lebanese heritage; myself, a Jewish man more than twice their age; three women with young children including a Catholic teacher, of Croatian heritage; an atheist social worker of Hungarian heritage; and a Hijab wearing Muslim of Cocos Island and Anglo heritage; as well as another male teacher, of German and Peruvian heritage. This was the Interfaith, Intercultural Together for Humanity retreat.

Instead of talking about our work, we lived and played our message of building inclusive diverse community. Not only are there foods that the Muslim participants and I are forbidden to eat; for me, even the cooking utensils need to be Kosher. So I used a sandwich-maker to cook Kosher and Halal pumpkin and eggplant, lentil burgers and scrambled eggs. The three males cooked dinner one night, with the youngest, a newly married man, cooking a delicious pumpkin soup. As is so often the case, despite the men’s efforts to clean up during and after cooking, the women unfortunately ended up with the lion’s share of the cleaning up.    

Prayers were done quietly in another room, with people disappearing at various times. Otherwise, religion came up informally. We played a game together called ‘Apples to Apples -Jewish Children’s edition’ that I sometimes play with my kids on a Saturday afternoon. Each participant got 5 red cards that had a word on them that is part of the world of a Jewish child. The play involved selecting one of these cards to match with a green card that contained an adjective. I wondered if the unfamiliar cultural references would make the game fail or provide a glimpse into my world and spark cross-cultural conversation. Fortunately, it certainly turned out to be the latter.

In our game, one of the red cards referred to the festival of Shavuot. The card sparked a conversation about how my family celebrates Shavuot, with a dairy meal with blintzes with mushrooms and cheese, and lots of ice cream. Often, Shavuot afternoon is spent in front of a live wood fire, just as we did in our mountain cottage. Another card referred to queen Vashti, who refused to appear naked before her husband’s drunken friends to show off her beauty. This led to sharing perspectives on women standing up to unreasonable men. Perspectives on gender politics were exchanged, along with personal and family stories, late into the night. We learned a lot about each other’s’ families. Some of it was funny, some of it was sad. While I sensibly went to bed at 11, others talked till 1 am.

Names were the topic of another conversation. One man’s migrant German father was insistent on assimilating his family into Australian culture. Rosario became Sharon or Shazza. And a ‘fat lot of good’ it did for the high school aged son, who was emphatically told he was a ‘wog’, and not Australian. Worse still, despite his grandfather having been a partisan who fought Hitler, the bullying of the grandson included giving him the nickname Nazi! It was even printed on the back of his year 12 jersey.

We had a great bushwalk in the mountains together. But I also went back into the forest alone. My heart was filled with a feeling of connectedness, and my mind was mulling over a disturbing story from the weekly Torah reading, about a man who was put to death for collecting firewood on the Sabbath (1). Like the altruistic bunch in the cottage, according to the sages, this man was an idealist (2). The context of his collecting these sticks was that he was 'in the desert' (3). His people had failed to have faith in God’s Promised Land, so they were condemned to never leave the bleak desert and see the realization of their dreams (4). In that case, they reasoned, there was little point in continuing the practices that lead to a better world. Just throw in the towel and forget about the Sabbath. One man, our wood collector, wanted to be test case for the Sabbath, to show that the practices must continue and he was prepared to die to demonstrate that the Sabbath was still to be taken seriously. He is praised for his effort (5).

There are reasons to be pessimistic about the degree to which the human family is ever going to achieve the “Promised land”, of true acceptance and affirmation of all people, in all our diversity. It often feels more like a long term stay in the desert than an imminent arrival in the lush forests of the Blue Mountains. However, regardless of where we are right now, or what the short term prospects are for achieving our dreams, we can and indeed we must continue to live and play this vision. 

Notes

1)    Numbers 15:32-36.

2)    Midrash, cited in Tosafot, on Bava Basra 119b, Dibbur Hamaschil Afilu.

3)    Numbers 15:32.The fact that the text mentions their presence explicitly despite this being obvious is pointed out by the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, p. 91.

4)    Numbers 13:1-14:35.

5)    This interpretation is based on the Midrash above and the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, 71, 72 p. 91-93.

Religious Texts divide us? & sky-high and deep conversations with Sheiks - Chayeh Sarah

Sitting on a plane to Perth with an Aboriginal elder on my right, and a Muslim Sheikh on my left, it was only natural that my thoughts turned to coexistence. One of the oft repeated comments about Muslim-Jewish relations (and the relationship between Muslims and others in general), is that although Muslims and Jews got along well in the past, this was only the case when the Muslims had higher status and the Jews were subservient, or “Dimhi”. This argument dismisses the golden age of Spain as being irrelevant to coexistence in the West today.

Good intercultural understanding practice requires finding out what Muslims think about these assertions. Ideally, by talking to an actual Muslim person directly, rather than by performing a Google search. My own community, in St Ives, was recently maligned based on some of my neighbours’ findings on the internet in the recent Eruv controversy (1).

Fortunately, I was sitting next to a learned Sheikh on this flight to Perth. He explained to me that the word “Dimhi” means “under protection”. He told me that: “one statement of the prophet Muhammad (in the Hadith) declared that a person who harms a Dimhi will not smell the fragrance of paradise” and that protection of religion/s was a core purpose of Sharia. The Sheikh acknowledged that he is not surprised by the alternative interpretation of “Dimhi” by people like ISIS, but such groups don't just have a problem in their attitude to non-Muslims but with anyone, including Muslims, who thinks differently to them. They regard everyone unlike them as not being ‘rightly guided’.  

Another useful approach is to explore this notion of acceptance as being conditional on subservience in my own Faith. Abraham's son Ishmael is said to have become a good man later in life. We know this because in the report about Abraham's burial, Ishmael is mentioned after Isaac (2). This sequence is taken as proof that Ishmael, father of the Arabs, honoured Isaac by allowing him to go first (3). Hmm. Something about people in glass houses comes to mind.

My first inclination was to look for alternative interpretations. I found one that highlights the fact that the Torah mentioned the obvious fact that Isaac and Ishmael were Abraham's sons, in this context, in order to hint that they were both equal in their honoring him [Abraham] (4). I was happy to find this interpretation that emphasises equality rather than superiority.

This second interpretation does not cancel out the first. I slept on this matter and my discussion with the Sheikh. It occurred to me, lying in bed after midnight, that perhaps it didn't make sense to impose secular literary political analysis on a religious text. The text is working from the assumption that it is a matter of absolute fact that Isaac was profoundly righteous. Ishmael honoring him is evidence of him humbly disregarding his status as an older brother, which serves as a lesson in humility for us. In fact it is written that Ishmael’s humble gesture earned Ishmael the merit to enjoy a place in heaven (5).

It was something the Sheikh said on the plane the previous day that inspired me to step back and question my critical approach. We were discussing portrayals of the Jews in Islamic stories. I asked if he could tell me the ratio between positive and negative portrayals. He told me that this kind of analysis had not been done. Instead he shared one story with me about a very pious Jew who met an outcast Jew. The outcast noticed that the pious man was enjoying the shade cast by a cloud hovering just above him. The outcast sat down near the pious man but was arrogantly sent away. God then forgave the outcast and canceled the pious Jew’s merit so both were at square one (6). On reflection this Muslim story is primarily a lesson for Muslims about humility rather than a commentary on Jews. It was more useful to understand what the story means to those who are guided by it than to impose an external lens to view it through.

On my return to Sydney, I had a chat with another Sheikh to plan an activity to foster interfaith understanding. Our conversations followed media articles sparked by references to another Muslim story also involving Jews, which were made during a lecture presented by this Sheikh. In this story, a murdered wealthy man was temporarily miraculously brought back to life by Moses  to identify his killer: a greedy nephew. Jewish villagers who were relieved of suspicion by this miracle still failed to believe in Moses despite his performance of this amazing miracle. The punishment meted out to the Jewish villagers 3000 years ago for their lack of belief was that God hardened their hearts (7). None of the context of the 3000 year old story was clear to those who viewed a YouTube video of the lecture. To them the Sheik appeared to be saying that “the Jewish [people- presumably in any time and place] have hard hearts] with no mercy, only envy and hatred”. There is no way to know for sure if even some of the members of the original audience also failed to understand the strictly contextual nature of the remarks. Sacred text is read by imperfect humans with various opinions and possibly, prejudices.

In conclusion. Curiosity and dialogue is crucial. There is value in resisting the temptation to rush to judgement. On the contrary, we are taught to be patient in judgement (8). Some traditional teachings might not appear compatible with modern principles of equality and embracing diversity. Let us continue to grapple with these.

1. See my blog post….
2. Genesis 25:9
3. Talmud Bava Basra 16a
4. Yalkut Ner Haschalim, manuscript, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 2, p.998, note 34
5. Midrash Hagadol, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 2, p.998, note 34
6. Imam Ghazali, in revival of the religious sciences
7. This kind of punishment is also found in the Torah, in Exodus, in the case of Pharaoh whose heart was hardened after he chose the path of defiance instead of letting the Hebrews go free.
8. Ethics of the Fathers

Eruv, An Angry Intercultural Misunderstanding And A Democratic Contest

It's the morning after a big night of democracy and I was still quite emotional about it. Two hundred of my neighbors attended a meeting at my local council to be part of a tense and dramatic debate about the “St Ives Eruv". “What is that?” many would wonder.  Apparently the answer to that question was hotly contested.

For some of my neighbors it is a highly divisive threat to the community, for others it's offensive infrastructure. For me, and for many Jewish members of the community, it's a technical religious solution to a practical problem, particularly for young Jewish mothers and their families. According to Jewish law, one should not carry anything in public areas on the Sabbath. For centuries this has meant that men and children went to the synagogue on Saturday morning for several hours of prayer and community while mothers of young children and babies stayed home, as pushing a pram or carrying a baby in public on the Sabbath is not permitted. Today's young women think of themselves as full members of the community and they are not happy to stay home, they also want to visit family and friends and to be included in community prayers on the Sabbath.

The solution to this problem has been the creation of a symbolic set of doorways, called an “Eruv” which would mean that the area encircled by these symbolic doorways would be deemed a great big courtyard, allowing them to push their prams and carry children. With the abundance of power poles in the area and the wires between them the simple addition of plastic conduits on the side of the poles completes the Eruv.

A few years ago an Eruv was proposed to the council, our local government authority. A website was created that referred to the Eruv simply as a wall. The council refused permission. I respect the democratic process and accepted the decision of our elected officials at the time. The organisers of the Eruv pursued the legal process further but eventually received legal advice that they didn't need council permission to proceed. The Eruv went up, allowing women to join their communities for prayers on the Sabbath..

Recently, the Eruv saga took a wild turn. A new application was lodged with council and some residents framed their opposition to it a leaflet. They claimed there was a real “risk of an Eruv morphing into a religious enclave”  Furthermore, “By the very nature of an Eruv, the process of segregation, as opposed to integration must take place.” And it was “establishing a modern version of the ghetto...and eventual expulsion of secular people who live within the Eruv.” These claims were essentially repeated to the packed meeting at Council.

The original translation of Eruv as a wall probably contributed to this misunderstanding. However, a big part of the problem was that opponents of the Eruv relied on internet research to understand their own neighbours’ religion and culture, rather than talking to them directly. One local Rabbi has challenged his congregation to reflect on how much or how little effort we as a Jewish community make  to connect with our neighbors. On the other hand, we heard at the meeting from a warm-hearted Jewish teacher and mother named Megan who actually knew the names of all the diverse people who live on her street.. She talked passionately about how the Eruv helps her connect with the wider community, rather than being divisive. A young lady who was not Jewish passionately echoed Megan’s sentiments.

It was hard to tell which way the tense meeting would go. One opponent argued that the original refusal was the decision of the umpire and must be respected. One councillor argued that this was all about human rights. An Anglican minister argued this was about religious freedom. Another councillor argued this was not about tolerance or rights, it was about plastic conduits! I think asserting that “the issue is categorically not what the other person is saying", is one of the most annoying tactics to use in a conflict, cross cultural or otherwise. Clearly for the 200 people in the room is was about needs, process and principles, not just plastic.

A stand out comment was made by a councillor who had lived near a mosque in the inner city. He talked about how he made friends with the people at the Mosque and there were no problems. In response to the concerns about a religious enclave and objections to the plastic conduits, he asked rhetorically, “really?!”

In the end, the vote was eight for the Eruv and two against. There was a great feeling of joy in the room for those who won.

I approached an elderly Jewish woman who had spoken against the Eruv on the ground that it would create a Ghetto. I listened to her politely. She told me to get with the times, and embrace the modern idea of assimilation. I held my tongue. I wanted to say that in fact in these times, we longer expect people to hide their differences. This conversation was on Tuesday night, Australian time. By the next morning the results of the US election were known and it seemed she was up to date with the Trump era while I stuck in the past age of Multiculturalism. I don’t accept that this is the case. Trump’s attitudes to women and certain non-whites, in my view, represents a fading (yet substantial) relic, still putting up one last fight. Practically all the speakers against the Eruv were angry, people of advanced age. The world has changed to embrace difference, but we need to fight to keep the change and foster greater acceptance of diversity or at least tolerance. On Tuesday night on the North Shore of Sydney, we had one very sweet small victory. More to come!   

Being Jewish: Dissent, Self-Criticism and Self-Doubt (Lech Lecha)

I have been reading the often funny, interesting and nasty observations of Tuvia Tennenbom in his book ‘Catch the Jew’.1 Central to his story and argument are a few key caricatures. These include the ‘idiotic, fanatical, but sometimes interesting Haredi Jews’, the ‘self-critical, self-doubting, self-hating, incoherent, hypocritical, humourless leftist Jews’, alongside various non-Jewish villains. It got me thinking about the nature of being Jewish and the Jewish attitude to dissent and self-doubt.

Abraham, considered to be the first Jew, discovered God through his own logic and then defiantly destroyed idols to demonstrate their powerlessness, according to oral Jewish tradition2 (and also found in Islamic traditions). Abraham then miraculously survived the punishment of being thrown into a fiery furnace.3  This story suggests that part of being Jewish involves questioning established views and tearing down conventionally ‘worshipped but false symbols’. As attractive as the story is, it is not recorded in the text of the Torah, which arguably diminishes its significance somewhat. 4  Still, although some Jews in positions of authority might find it convenient to have all dissenters fall into line, the right kind of Chutzpa is clearly an important part of being Jewish.    

Being Jewish and a non-conformist5 also sometimes demands sacrifices in terms of relationships. The very first instruction from God to a Jew made him tear himself away from his land, his birthplace and his father’s house.6 7  The dislocation caused by “being removed is considered to be more difficult for people than all (other difficulties)”.8 but Abraham had to abandon friends and family for the sake of his love of God.9 Moving away is also understood in a symbolic and metaphoric sense “as the thinking spirit abandoning material things…in order to occupy oneself with achieving completeness”.10 The quest for completeness can also be linked to the ritual of circumcision11, which at its most basic level is a physical symbol of a close exclusive bond with God, called a covenant.

Someone on a mission for, and in relationship with, God one might be forgiven for exhibiting some hubris. Yet we find the opposite in Abraham, the archetypal Jew. When there is a famine in the land he does not rely on a miracle to save him, instead he travels to Egypt. When God promises Abraham the land of Canaan, he questions God: “With what (personal merit12) will I know that I will (in fact) inherit it?”13 After Abraham had rescued his nephew and his fellow Sodomites in battle, he was afraid in case perhaps just one of the people he had killed in battle may have been righteous.14 Abraham’s fear is linked to the proverb “fortunate is the person who is always afraid, but the one who hardens his heart will fall into evil”.15”  And Abraham himself is criticised by one authority for complicity in his wife Sarah’s mistreatment of his second wife, Hagar, conduct seen as a ‘karmic’ origin of conflict between Jews and Arabs in later times.16 Self-criticism and self-doubt are both very Jewish.      

So I say to Mr. Tenenbaum and to some who criticise me as a “dissenter”: I make no apologies for thinking deeply about how Jews can do better and how we get it wrong sometimes. This is my obligation as a Jew. If someone doesn’t like Jewish self-doubt or criticism, the Jewish response is to “be bold like a leopard in the face of those who mock him”.17


1.    Tenenbom, T (2015), Catch the Jew, Gefen Publishing
2.    Bereshit Rabba 38
3.    Bereshit Rabba 38. Whether Abraham miraculously survived being inside the fire or a miracle happened to change the Kings mind and free him is discussed by some of the commentaries. Abarbanel on Lech Lcha and Ramban on Genesis 11:28 mention the alternative view that a hidden miracle occurred that the thought to free Abraham was put into the kings heart to free him from prison. 
4.    Abarbanel, argues that whatever Abraham accomplished out of his own thinking and mind is less significant and worthy of being recorded in the Torah than what happened as a result of God speaking to him through prophecy.
5.    See Likutei Diburim of the 6th Lubavitcher Rebbe, who links the meaning of the word Ivri/Hebrew to “one from the other side of the river” representing taking a different path to those around oneself.
6.    I wonder why only the father rather than the mother is mentioned here. In the same vein, the name of Abraham’s father, Terach, is given in the Torah while the name of his mother is not stated. A Midrash (Pirkey D’Rabbi Eliezer, cited in Torah Shlaima vol.1 p.542, note 4) states that his mother’s name was Amaslah, Amaslai.
7.    Genesis 12:1
8.    Pirkey D’Rabbi Eliezer, cited in Torah Shlaima vol.1 p.542, note 4
9.    Ramban
10.    Abarbanel, see also Likutei Sichos vol. 1 by the Lubavitcher Rebbe
11.    Genesis 17:10-14
12.    Bereshit Rabba 44
13.    Genesis 15:8
14.    Bereshit Rabba 44
15.    Proverbs 28:14
16.    Ramban on Genesis 16:6
17.    Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, opening paragraph

Who will Rest and who shall wander? Rosh Hashanah

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At a time that terrible suffering afflicts millions in the Middle East and continues to traumatize those who have escaped, Jews prepare for our New Year and day of judgement: Rosh Hashanah.  In the synagogue the solemn words will ring out: “Who will live and who will die? Who will die in their time and who before their time? Who by fire? Who by the sword? Who by hunger? Who by thirst? Who will find rest and who shall wander?  Who shall be at peace and who shall be pursued? …who shall be tormented?” This prayer talks about these decisions as being made by God alone. Yet, you and I are also making choices as citizens that might have some influence on these terrible questions.

This week’s decision by the Australian Government to resettle 12,000 refugees fleeing the conflict in Syria and Iraq, with a focus “on those most in need – the women, children and families of persecuted minorities”, 1 followed pleas by citizens as well as politicians. Last year I heard a representative of the Assyrian community describe the killing and devastation inflicted on his community by Daesh/IS. I connected with their pain and deeply wished this evil would stop! Now, thankfully, at least Assyrians will likely get some relief and be shown some compassion. 

On the other hand, one Australian Muslim who I respect and trust had a different perspective on the government’s announcement. “Muslims will forever remember a time that Australia turned its back on them, or planned too, when they are at their most vulnerable.  This is what radicalises people. Do you see why I say that this government doesn't really care about true de-radicalisation? This is the beginning of the end. Remember this moment! It's when we sacrificed our security, humanity and self-worth for political manoeuvring”. This perspective must be taken into account.

The decisions about who should be resettled and who will continue to suffer and “find nowhere to rest their feet” should be, and should be seen to be, based on need rather than ethnicity or religion. The right to save this one and leave another to suffer could only be claimed by God. Human justice must be procedural and impartial. The NSW Jewish community 2013 policy statement asserts that government should “not adopt any policy that arbitrarily limits or excludes from refugee protection any category of people with a genuine and well-founded fear of persecution in their homeland”. 2

The argument that a non-sectarian policy is necessary for social cohesion is consistent with an article written this week by former UK Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. It should be noted that Sacks is not on some kind of left-wing politically correct bandwagon. In fact in 2007, he wrote that “Multiculturalism has led not to integration but to segregation…societies more abrasive, fractured and intolerant…”.  3 This week he wrote that it “is hard is to love the stranger, one whose colour, culture or creed is different from yours. That is why the command, “Love the stranger because you were once strangers”, resonates so often throughout the Bible. It is summoning us now. A bold act of collective generosity will show that the world, particularly Europe, (or the west) has learned the lesson of its own dark past and is willing to take a global lead in building a more hopeful future. Wars that cannot be won by weapons can sometimes be won by the sheer power of acts of humanitarian generosity to inspire the young to choose the way of peace instead of holy war”. 4 As my respected Muslim correspondent quoted above points out, the opposite is also true.


We must be hard on the problems and refuse to accept the avoidable suffering of our fellow humans, regardless of ethnicity or religion.  On Rosh Hashanah, I will pray that ‘God reign over the world in a way that will be known to all’. To me, this means that principles of justice and mercy prevail rather than the interests of the rich and powerful or the short term political interests of politicians. At the same time, let us treat each other with understanding and grace. A beautiful Rosh Hashanah prayer asserts that humans are “like a fading flower, like a broken shard of earthenware, and a dream that flies away”. This is a challenging time for those who are suffering and for the preservation of the fragile fabric of our still largely cohesive society. I pray for wise, responsible and compassionate choices by all concerned. 

Notes:
1.    https://www.pm.gov.au/media/2015-09-09/syrian-and-iraqi-humanitarian-crisis
2.    http://www.nswjbd.org/Our-Policies-/default.aspx, policy last updated (according to the website at 11 am on  10.09.2015) on 17.9.2013
3.    Sacks, J, (2007), the Home We Build Together, p.3, Continuum, London.
4.    http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/sep/06/refugee-crisis-jonathan-sacks-humanitarian-generosity accessed 10.09.15

Extremism: Sacred and Secular Approaches to Prevention

This post argues for both religious and secular approaches to preventing extremism. I am writing this against the backdrop of two incidents of Jewish violent extremism. In recent days a Palestinian home was firebombed: an 18-month-old Palestinian baby Ali Dawabsheh and his father were killed. Shira Banki, a 16 year old girl, who attended a gay pride parade in Jerusalem in support of social justice was stabbed and murdered by a man clearly identifiable as a devout religious Jew.

One response to this is that we need face up to “the contradiction of trying to live in the progressive modern world with a set of rules created by religious-political leaders thousands of years ago… we see rabbis trying to make the Torah fit a modern world. It just doesn't. It can't (1)” In this week’s Torah reading we have references to the Jewish people being the “chosen ones…out of all the nations that are upon the earth (2)”, disobedience of God’s law is equated with “the curse (3)”, and a command to “utterly destroy all the places where the nations, that you shall possess, worshipped their gods (4)”. 

Yesterday I spoke about Torah and tolerance to a group of teachers at my children’s school. I noted that the same religious books that the extremists use to justify their deplorable views and evil actions are read by many other people who reach completely different conclusions. 

Why do so many people reject the hateful conclusions that these texts in Judaism or in other faiths ostensibly call for? As I listened to prominent counter terrorism scholar, Boaz Ganor, at the 2015 Shalom College Graf Oration recently, it occurred to me that this question might not be a focus for leaders who ponder extremism.  In an Op-Ed in the Australian Jewish News (5) I quoted Professor Ganor assertion that counter-terrorism is essentially about ensuring that people who might commit a terrorist act, have neither the capability nor the motivation to do so. Yet, in an hour's presentation, Ganor, offered little more than one sentence on how to prevent the motivation for extremist violence.

I argued in my Op-Ed, that the absence of a clear direction to prevent this motivation for extremism, in Ganor’s talk confirms what I have learned working in this field. Ghaith Krayem, the current president of the Islamic Council of Victoria, was in the process of preparing a strategic plan for countering violent extremism when he confided in me that his discussions with academics had turned up little empirical data to guide communities in this task.

My conversations with Muslim religious leaders and youth, and my grappling with my own faith, suggest to me that there are religious solutions to the multi-faceted problem of extremism (which is not to suggest that extremism is simply a religious problem, it is not).

One approach is to examine texts that some claim legitimises violent extremism and consider the (multiple (6) ways that these have been understood traditionally. What are traditional approaches to interpretation of text and law? Ignorance of methodology of interpretation makes a person, with other social factors at play, vulnerable to being easily led (7).

A second approach is not just to look at one verse whose interpretation is being argued about but to consider it in the context of other relevant texts.  Discrimination in Judaism cannot be considered without the emphatic and repetitive calls not to mistreat the stranger (8).  

A third is to look at the motivations to do the right thing. One surprising motivation I heard from Muslim teenage boys was their fear of their mothers. Muslim leader Maha Abdo, told me that “there are only two factors these boys fear, God and their mothers (9)”. Judaism also demands fear of one’s mother, but western influences or ego seems to have dulled this for many young Jews, but it is apparently less so for the young Muslim I spoke to. Is the influence of mothers being considered by policy makers? My conversation with the NSW attorney general in Bondi last night confirmed that she was a surprised as I was about this phenomenon. 

In a Jewish context, I argued to the teachers at my children’s school I spoke to, for a role for secular knowledge and mores. I told them that this does not contradict the Torah. In fact the opposite is true. One verse in our reading calls the Jew to do “what is good and proper in the eyes of the Lord, your God (10)”. “Good” is interpreted as that which is objectively (11) good in the eyes of God, while “Proper” is defined subjectively, by the “eyes of man (12)”. This surprising traditional interpretation suggests that what is good in the “eyes of God”, (the words at the end of our verse), must include accountability to human (13) notions of ethics. If humans deem bigotry against Palestinians or gays as repugnant then God doesn’t approve of it either. 

A synthesis of religious and secular wisdom might be the best protection against hate and extremism.

1)    Facebook post by David Langsam, on 5/8/2015 https://www.facebook.com/zalman.kastel/posts/10153416053210470?comment_id=10153449411440470&notif_t=feed_comment
2)    Deuteronomy 14:2
3)    Deuteronomy 11:28
4)    Deuteronomy 12:2
5)    Australian Jewish News 07.08.2015
6)    I use the word multiple to refer to the diversity of interpretations within Jewish tradition which states that there are 70 faces in the Torah, I cannot speak for other faiths
7)    Conversation with Sheikh Ahmed Abdo at Sydney University 5.08.2015
8)    Exodus 22:20, and Exodus 23:9, this translation is from chabad.org. There are traditional sources that interpret the Hebrew word Ger,  גרwhich literally means stranger, as convert and focus their commentary on the particular situation of a convert, the commentary cited above relates as much to a newcomer to a religious community as it would to any marginalised person.  One beautiful thing I learned from my son’s teacher Rabbi Benji Simons after my talk, is the etymological roots of the word Ger גר , is גור, “Gur” which means fear. This is an allusion to the fear the stranger might experience without their previous networks that now make them more vulnerable in their new country. Alternatively the fear is xenophobia on the part of the locals.
9)    Conversation with Mrs. Maha Abdo at Bass Hill, 12.08.2015
10)    Deuteronomy 12:28
11)    Gur Arye, super-commentary on Rashi on Deuteronomy 12:28, explaining why Good is related to God’s perspective while straight or proper is linked to human perspectives
12)    Sifre, quoted in Rashi on Deuteronomy 12:28
13)    Yeriot Shlomo, super-commentary on Rashi on Deuteronomy 12:28, citing Pesikta for this parsha (Reay), Sifri and Yalkut

Cross-cultural generosity, not mean-spiritedness

Cooking Kosher dinner,
vegetables and veggie
burgers on a sandwich maker
at the Aly home.

Last week I posted an impassioned grave side sermon by Mohammad Hoblos, a Lebanese Muslim preacher (i) on Facebook Hoblos told the mourners at the funeral of Hedi Ayoub: "there are no gangsters in paradise", "...twenty-two years old, built like a tank... (a) one dollar (bullet) brought him to the ground" and quoted a line from a rap song: "Why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and me?". He spoke against glorifying violence and materialism and stated that a Muslim who kills another Muslim will never get to heaven.  One Facebook comment, however, got caught up on the inward focus of the talk - “Why doesn’t he talk about the real issues, such as ISIS and violence against non-Muslims?”! 

It is wrong to look at Muslims in general through the lens of ISIS and terrorism. Hoblos was certainly talking about issues that are very real to people he actually knows.   A generous approach would be to look at the merit of what he was saying, at an open grave no less, rather than seeking faults in what he didn’t say.  In fact, many of my Facebook friends of Jewish and other backgrounds did make positive

and appreciative comments afterwards about Hoblos’ sermon, e.g. “that was a great post yesterday of the speech at funeral...”.

Last week I myself experienced the cross-cultural generosity of a Muslim family.  Zohra and Abbas Aly had invited me for dinner at their home, which is difficult for me because of the way I practice Kosher. I can’t eat anything cooked in pots used for non-Kosher, for example. They generously agreed to allow me to cook my meal on a sandwich maker in their own kitchen!

The theme of generosity can also be found, if one looks for it, in the Torah reading this past week. God commanded the Jews to take revenge against Midyan (ii). While a critical approach would, reasonably, focus on the revenge, a more generous approach will probe further.

The crime that Midyan was to be punished for, according to our oral tradition, was that the Midyanites and Moabites used sex as a weapon of war. Not by raping the enemies’ women, as still happens today, but as a way to spiritually destroy the Jews by having their own daughters seduce Jewish men and then pressure them to worship the gods of their enemies. 

In this context, spiritual strength or weakness was everything. The Moabites and Midyanites had sought to destroy the Jews through the curses of the sorcerer Balaam.  Balaam had let them down by blessing the Jews instead of cursing them, yet he also provided a clue to their vulnerability (iii).  He asserted that God “did not look at evil in Jacob (iv)”. Balaam went on to advise his clients that if the Jews could be led to sin this will result in their destruction (v). This plan was implemented although the Torah places responsibility (vi), at least initially, on the Jewish men who we are told “began to commit harlotry with the daughters of the Moabites. They (the Moabite daughters) invited the people to the sacrifices of their gods, and the people ate and prostrated themselves to their gods (vii)”.

Despite the Moabites participation in this bizarre sin, they are not included in Gods planned vengeance, which is restricted to Midyan. This is for two reasons involving generous thinking. One is the fact that the Moabites legitimately feared attack by the Jews (viii).  A second is that although, technically speaking the Jews had done nothing against the Moabites, they had possession of land that had been traditionally Moabite. The Jews had conquered that land in a war with the Emorites who had themselves taken the land from the Moabites. This legitimate grievance is seen as a significant mitigating factor (ix). 

My thoughts and prayers are with the Hedi Ayoub, his family, friends and community. Just as, when I was grieving over the violent loss of my brothers’ friend, the late Gabi Holzberg, in the Mumbai terrorist attack in 2008, many of my Muslim friends sent me messages of condolence. Let us respond to each other, in good times and bad, with cross-cultural compassion and generosity.

Notes:
i.    https://www.facebook.com/theaustralianmuslim?ref=ts&fref=ts, also available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fGEwzptQew in full, or edited version at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ROpW9ygp5Y
ii.    Numbers 25:18
iii.    Chizkuni
iv.    Numbers 23:21
v.    Talmud Sanhedrin 105, also see allusion to Balaam in Number 31:16
vi.    Lebovitz, N, New Studies in Bamidbar
vii.    Numbers 25:1-2
viii.    Ralbag
ix.    Chizkuni

Oslo Synagogue Muslim Peace Ring - Gestures and Garments - Tetzaveh

The shame of some Muslims’ hate, it has been disapprovingly claimed, ‘was being covered up this week by inspiring media reports of a circle of Muslims protecting a synagogue in Oslo’ (1). This heart-warming and graceful gesture followed the murder of a Jewish volunteer guard in Copenhagen by a Muslim extremist. An eye witness account by a Rabbi who participated in this event described his moving experience of the circle of peace. It was “initiated by Muslim teenagers to convey the message to terrorists that if they want to harm the Jewish community in Oslo, they would have to go through them first (2)”. However, initial glowing reports were followed by articles and comments that questioned the number of Muslims and the value of the gesture.

The critics are wrong. Three different first person accounts confirm that Muslims turned out in very large numbers for this event (3). The critics also fail to account for the power of ‘gracious spectacles’ to create reality, or what might be termed the spiritual qualities of mere garments.

The backlash against the Oslo ring of Muslims who stood around a Synagogue is ironic. Late last year
I joined Christians and a small group of Jews from the inner-West Chavura in a gesture of solidarity with Muslims on the steps of Lakemba Mosque. One critical Jewish leader asked when Muslims would come to a Synagogue to reciprocate the gesture. Now that it has happened, it is not considered good enough. The fact that one of the organisers, Ali Chishti, had expressed anti-Jewish sentiments some years earlier, in 2008, was trotted out.  However, at the peace ring event, Chishti apologised for his hateful words against Jews demonstrating the potential for haters to change.

These gestures are more than a commitment to coexistence - they also contribute to the construction of a reality of togetherness. This reinforced reality counters the extremist narrative of hate and the broader “us & them” perspective. It is not good enough to be peace loving in our hearts, although that is ultimately what matters. Yet, there is power in the spectacles of peace in the long hard battle for hearts and minds to embrace diversity and reject hate.

External appearances matter. Adam and Eve’s dignity was restored after they ate forbidden fruit, having been provided with clothing by God himself (4). The text speaks of clothing made of hide (Or,- עורin Hebrew), perhaps that of the serpent (5), however, the Midrash renders it as clothing of light (אור Also pronounced Or, but spelled with the letter Alef instead of an Ayin) (6). The word “naked”, carries connotations of shame and is used figuratively to refer to the feeling of being emotionally exposed.

In the Torah reading this week we have specific divine instructions relating to garments of “honour and glory” (7) to be worn by the priests. These garments are to be made in order to sanctify Aaron and to turn him into a priest (8). The garments themselves brought atonement for sins, the hat for arrogance, etc. (9). Our sages go so far as to say that “for all the time that their garments are upon them, their priesthood is upon them and their holiness endures in them, (but if) their garments are not on them, their priesthood is not upon them (either) (10).  Appearances can create reality!

The importance of “clothes” in its various forms is contested. One scholar suggests that “in truth” the clothes of the priests merely point to the “inner garments that the priests of God need to dress their souls with, that is the ideas, emotions and good dispositions which are the garments of the soul” (11). Perhaps the interplay between the external garment or gesture and the inner reality it relates to reinforce each other (12). A gesture is meaningless if there is nothing in the heart for it to express, a fancy tie only helps express the gravitas of a person of some accomplishment; however positive sentiments and integrity are reinforced by an elegant expression. This has been accomplished in Oslo and has been rightly celebrated as one significant step on the long journey to peace. 


Footnotes:

1) http://www.breitbart.com/national-security/2015/02/22/media-hoax-20-muslims-holding-hands-become-1000-strong-ring-of-peace-at-oslo-synagogue/ is one example of the negative commentary, whose assumptions about attendance and interpretation of the event vary greatly with three eye witness accounts I have reach such as the one in footnote 2.
(2) Here is an abbreviated first person account by Rabbi Michael Melichior who participated in this event, shared by him on Facebook 23.02.2015, https://www.facebook.com/rabbi.melchior/posts/1019753274719893 Circle of Peace:  As Shabbat ended yesterday evening, all us attending synagogue in Oslo that day had a very moving experience. A group of eight Muslim teenagers decided to ignore their fears, to show contempt for prejudice, to put aside all the pressures and previous notions they may have held and to take action following the terror attack in Copenhagen.

The young Muslims encircled the synagogue, in which we were praying with a human chain in order to convey the message to terrorists that if they want to harm the Jewish community in Oslo, they would have to go through them first. These young people created a Facebook group entitled, "Circle of Peace" in which they invited Muslims to join the initiative. Contrary to the expectations of all the skeptics and people "in the know", their Facebook call was shared by hundreds of Muslims, and as I left the house and was walking to evening prayers at the synagogue, some 1,400 Muslims, mostly young people, had already collected along the narrow street….

… I explained to those gathered that we want to spread the scent of Shabbat, the day of rest and peace, into the remainder of the week and to also spread the special scent of this historic moment in order to establish a new reality together.

One after another, in the freezing cold, the youngsters from the organizing group stood up and called on their brethren to take back ownership of Islam. That out of faithfulness to Islam, they are saying NO to anti-Semitism, as well as NO to Islamophobia and YES to building a shared society. Such a simple, accurate and true message. Each and every one spoke in the name of Allah the Merciful and Compassionate and it was clear they really meant it.

I had the honor of addressing the participants and of providing the closing remarks...

“Exactly one week earlier, Oslo's sister community in Copenhagen was gathered to celebrate the Bat Mitzvah of the young girl, Hannah Bentov. The murderous perpetrator, who intended to create a bloodbath, managed to murder only the guard at the gate, Dan Uzan. After the funeral, I visited the parents of Dan and told them about the planned initiative of the young Muslims in Norway. With tears streaming down his face, Mordechai, Dan's father stood, embraced me in a tight hug and told me that this was the first time he had managed to find meaning in the brutal death of his son. Perhaps because of young Muslims in Norway, Dan's death would not be in vain. Maybe we'll be able to isolate the evil and we can join hands to build a better world. I promised to pass Mordechai's message to the young Muslims and so I did.

…Their circle is a circle of peace, brotherhood, love and solidarity, formed to protect a house of prayer, a Jewish kindergarten and a Jewish nursing home. Their circle is actually breaking a different circle, which is a cycle of fear and hatred that leads to bloodshed and murder.

I concluded, to the sound of their applause, that as a believer, I share their belief in Allahu Akbar - that G-d, in His Greatness alone, is present in every space throughout the world. And that in particular, He is present in the space between their moving circle and us Jews. For, where there is humanity, Allah wants to be more than anywhere else in the world.

(3) Part of the controversy was fuelled by photos in the media of a small number of Muslims standing holding hands.  This was used as proof that only a small number of Muslims actually attended. The real story is as follows:
a) The Synagogue is part of city block. It was impractical to circle the synagogue which is why a few people stood in front of it to symbolise the ring of peace. https://martingrunerlarsen.wordpress.com/2015/02/23/emailing-breitbart/ 
b) As witness Jude Rose stated “At the behest of the Synagogue's security people, the organisers of the event agreed that they would let about 20 mainly young Muslims inside the Synagogue's security perimeter. Those 20 symbolised the other 1300 attendants who filled the street. Look at the Rabbi's picture, taken from the Synagogue's forecourt..” https://www.facebook.com/rabbi.melchior/posts/1019753274719893
c) See previous footnote
(4) Genesis 3:21,
(5) Pirkey DRabbi Eliezer 20, cited in Torah Shlaima Bereshis Chapter 3, p.286, note 183
(6)  Beresheer Rabba 20, highlighted by Benno Jacobs, cited in Leibovitz, N., New Studies in the weekly Sidra, Shemot, Exodus, p. 529
(7)  Exodus 28:2
(8)  Exodus 28:3, see Rashi, “to sanctify him, to bring him into the priesthood through the garments that he should become a Cohen/Priest”
(9)  Chizkuni, the trousers bring atonement for sexual sins, the tunic with its noisy bells for evil speech or gossip, the plate on the forehead atones for brazenness etc. 
(10)  Midrash Hagadol, cited in Torah Shlaima Exdodus, Tetzave, p.157, note 24

(11)  Malbim Exodus on 28:2, Malbim differentiates between the physical clothing made by the craftsmen and the inner garments that Moses himself is commanded to make for Aaron his brother in this verse
(12)  The Lubavticher Rebbe Likutei Sichos vol. 36, p. 159, comments on the symbolism of the very long belt that the Kohanim would wear. He sees its purpose as the Kohen following the principle of “prepare yourself toward your God, oh Israel” (Amos 4:12), as a finishing touch to the garments. He links this to our own service of God and the need to prepare ourselves more generally through being humble (or more specifically the concept of Bittul which is translated as “nullifying ourselves”) before God. The belt was 32 cubits or arms lengths long, it was tied around and around the Kohen’s body, this process is symbolic of the need to humble ourselves before and give ourselves to God is a an on-going process rather than a once off. Chasidic texts link the belt to the level of the soul known  as Yechida, unity or unified, linked to  becoming one with God.

Jews Muslim and Hate Realistic Responses and Korach

Ibrahim Abdo, Donna Jacobs Sife, Mohamed Taha and
Kastel present Jews Muslim and Hate Realistic Responses at
Yom Limmud, Sydney June 2014

Two young Muslims, Mohamed Taha and Ibrahim Abdo, joined Donna Jacobs Sife and me on a panel at Yom Limmud (Jewish learning festival) last Sunday. Our topic: Jews, Muslims and hate - realistic responses.

Ibrahim and I reflected on the way that hatred is often masked; ostensibly it is about one thing but, in reality, it is driven by other factors. This plays out in the story of Korah’s rebellion and animosity  against Moses. Korah talks about equality  but, according to tradition, he was less motivated by an aspiration for anarchy than by personal ambition,  hurt  and a desire for the position of high priest .

While the causes of hate are murky, the impact is unmistakable. Here is a first person account from a teacher  about some of her Muslim students:
…I live in fear that the students will find out that I am Jewish. I do. I am terrified that the students will find out that I am Jewish. I am very ashamed to say this and I have never said this to anybody [teacher almost in tears as s/he relates this incident]. A few years ago, while stopping students etching swastikas onto a desk, one of the students yelled at me, ‘Why Miss, are you a Jew?’ And I said, ‘No, I am not. That is incorrect behaviour’. This is the only time in my life that I have lied about being a Jew, and I am not an observant Jew; I am not a religious Jew; but I have never considered lying or hiding the fact that I am a Jew. But this time, I know, for my survival, that I did not want my tyres slashed... I did not want – what scared me the most, more than offence on my private property, was public graffiti in the school playground stating that I was a Jew... and I was aware that, in that moment,  it was pure fear that I lied and said I was not a Jew.

Then, there is the hatred directed against Muslims. A very strong Muslim woman I know and respect, has recently stopped using public transport in Sydney after increased harassment of Muslim women on trains. This is absolutely unacceptable. My own Jewish community is not immune. There are the familiar moral panic emails about “the Muslims this and the Muslims that”. There are comments made by some, that generalise about “the Muslims”.

The fact that Ibrahim, Mohamed, Donna Jacobs Sife and I presented to a packed room of mostly Jewish people, with Muslims attending as well, speaks volumes. It reflects a thirst for coexistence on the part of the audience and the fact that our aspirations for coexistence are very realistic, as demonstrated by the goodwill of the panellists towards each other. We offered our audience a realistic response - members of different communities can come together with a common purpose, such as, opposing hatred.

Perhaps, what we need is our own version of a serious smoking ceremony. I recently learned from our Aboriginal brothers and sisters how smoke is used to cleanse unwanted energy. I later discovered that, in Judaism, the Hebrew word for smoke,עשן , consists of the first three letters of words that cover the three dimensions of reality - עולם  world or space, שנה year or time, and נפש  soul or spirit. The smoke rising from the incense ritual, elevates and heals all three aspects . Perhaps, this is why, in the aftermath of the Korah controversy, Aaron is instructed to go out among the people carrying incense . At first, he merely restrains the carnage resulting from all the fighting, but then the spiritual force of destruction itself acquiesces and the destruction stops . 

Conclusion: Hate is a powerful, consuming force. I feel it in my stomach when I see it or experience it. Thankfully, I don’t experience it often. More often, I experience the absolute delight of having made a friend, who might have been a potential enemy. This joy and goodwill is reciprocated by my many Muslim friends and by bridge- builders of many backgrounds around the world. Can it continue to be replicated? Yes!




Notes

1. The Torah tells us that Dathan and Aviram reject Moses' invitation to talk. “The eyes of those people will be put out we will still not go up” (16:14); they chose to have their eyes gouged out rather than the ascent Moses might promise them. In this, they revealed the intensity of their hatred towards the righteous Moses and what he represented: this angered Moses greatly (Ohr Hachayim)
2.  Numbers 16:3
3.  Midrash Tanchuma, the appointment of Elitzafan Ben Uziel, the son of Korah’s father’s younger brother, in Numbers 3:30 offends Korah.
4.  See Numbers 16:10, many commentaries
5.  Rutland, S. (2010) Creating effective Holocaust education programmes for government schools with large Muslim populations in Sydney, Prospects (2010) 40:75–91, Springer Press. 
6. Ohr Hatora, Shemot, Vol 3, pp. 103, 106, cited in The Siddur Illuminated by Chassidus, Merkos L’Inyonei Chinuch 2013.
7.  Numbers 17:11
8.  There were two stages in Aaron’s stopping the carnage of the plague that G-d had initiated in the aftermath of Korah’s rebellion. First we are told that וַתֵּעָצַר הַמַּגֵּפָה  “the plague ceased”, when Aaron stands between the dead and the living holding the incense (Numbers 17:13). Two verses later we are told again that the plague ceased וְהַמַּגֵּפָה נֶעֱצָרָה.  The commentary Ohr Hachayim explains that the word “plague” refers to the angel of death administering the plague. The first time the text tells us the plague ceases it means that the angel was merely checked or restrained by Aaron and the power of the incense, but from the angels point of view he was still keen on continuing the plague as this was his mission from God. The second time is different.  Despite the fact that Aaron returned to Moses and that he put away the incense, the plague itself had agreed to cease.