On October 18, I had the privilege to preach at the Church in Neumünster named after the great Protestant theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Bonhoeffer was a brilliant student who turned away from a promising career as Professor of Theology to live the teachings of Jesus’ life among everyday people as a pastor. He actively opposed Hitler even before he took office and through all the twelve years of his reign.

Opportunities to escape Hitler came to Bonhoeffer from prestigious institutions in New York and London, but like Moses at the Burning Bush, Bonhoeffer could not resist the call to return to Germany despite the danger he faced.

The Nazis executed Dietrich Bonhoeffer at the Flossenbürg concentration camp shortly before the end of the war.

One of his most famous teachings is: To be silent in the face of evil, is to be complicit in evil.

Near the church is a center welcoming and processing thousands of refugees from tyranny in Syria and several other countries. It was my great privilege during my sermon to welcome these Islamic and Christian refugees as my cousins through Abraham.

I noted that on display in the church was the exhibit about Vickie’s 94-year-old mother, Stefanie Steinberg, who fled Germany as a 14-year-old refugee in 1936.

“Though she experienced difficult times,” I said, addressing the refugees, “her story has a happy ending. I hope and pray that each of yours will too.”

Three wonderful pastors ably lead the Dietrich-Bonhoeffer Kirchegemeinde:

Pastor Tobias Gottesleben came to our Simchat Torah service in Bad Segeberg and hosted the study evening at which I spoke two weeks ago. When I preached there, though, he was visiting the church’s mission community in the Congo.

Pastorin Ulrike Wohlfahrt led yesterday’s service with warmth and deep spiritual feeling. It was a privilege to be there. She led the worship with inspiring respect of the Jewish roots of Christianity, saying, “We have so much to gain by listening to and learning from each other.”

Pastorin Isabel Frey-Ranck organizes and coordinates the church’s sacred mission of helping the waves of refugees that have come to Neumünster from Syria and several other countries acclimate to their new home.

I see each of these wonderful people as very worthy to lead a church that bears Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s name.

During my sermon I noted that Christians often ask me what do I think of Jesus? My answer: It depends on what his followers make of him.

If, as has been the case far too often over the past 2000 years Jesus name has been invoked as justification for persecuting Jews, forcing us to convert, exiling and killing us, then Jesus does not rate high with me.

Of course Jews will never see Jesus as God or as an object of worship as Christians do.

But when Jesus is the inspiration to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and do the things I see so many churches in Germany do today in his name, I look at him very positively.

And when—as in the case of Dietrich Bonhoeffer— Jesus’ example is the impetus to sacrifice position, comfort and even his life to oppose the scourge of Nazism, then I become an admirer of Jesus. In fact I become a very big fan indeed.

Vickie and I have just spent two very fulfilling days teaching at the Abraham Geiger Rabbinical College.

On Thursday I conducted a two and a half hour seminar on Preaching about Passover. I hope I was able to give these students, who come from five different countries, ideas and texts that will spread out across the borders to add depth and meaning to their teaching and preaching about our most observed religious celebration.

Yesterday morning after I led a short reflective worship—hat I chose to do without prayerbook—to emphasize the ideas that motivate and the context that underlies selected prayers.

We then spent another two and half hours discussing the Torah portion about Noah and the Tower of Babel. Again, I  hope our time together planted seeds that will sprout to expand the ways these soon-to-be rabbis understand and share lessons from these famous stories.

Last night the entire college community—students, professors and administrators—filled the chapel for a  service, followed by a delicious dinner, to welcome Shabbat. In all of my yeas of rabbinical studies I never experienced such a joyful community-wide celebration.

As I entered the building for the service, the student in charge of the worship said to me, “Oh we forgot to ask you earlier, but we are hoping you will deliver tonight’s sermon.” After getting over the shock of the request to prepare an instant sermon in my head,  I said yes.

Sure I would have liked more notice. But the privilege of addressing a congregation of professors, future rabbis and Cantors in the country where  my father was arrested on Kristallnacht and had to leave as a refugee because he was Jewish was too great to pass up

Honestly, the spirit of the service moved me so that when it was time for me to speak I felt like I had been preparing for the opportunity for years.

One of the challenges I imposed on myself was to speak about the Torah portion dealing with Noah without repeating any of the points I made to the students in the two and a half hour seminar we shared earlier in the day.

So I chose to speak about the Zohar—the mystical skylight that lit up the ark.

Was it necessary for God to have a skylight that would illumine the ark so the Eternal One could see what went on there? Of course not.

But the zohar was necessary to remind the people to be aware that God was aware of all that went on.

As rabbis and cantors—I told my soon-to-be colleagues—you will find that people are aware of what goes on with you. There will be those who see you as a target. They will pay scrupulous attention to you to an extent you cannot imagine. Let the skylight in the remind you never do or say anything—especially in this lightning media age—that you do not want to become known in the community.

Therefore remember, as Maya Angelou taught: Although people may in fact forget what you say. They may even forget what you do,

But they will never ever forget how you made them feel.

Der Midrasch ist ein Quelle lebhafter Diskussionen über Noah. Wenn die Tora ihn “rechtschaffen in seinem Zeitalter” (Genesis 6.9) nennt, ergreifen die Rabbinen Partei.

Meint der Text, dass er nur besser war als andere in einer Zeit, in der alle furchtbar waren, wie Rabbi Yohanan meint?

Oder bedeutet es, dass er so rechtschaffen war, wie Resh Lakish behauptet, dass er tatsächlich mit Gott lebte und vorbildlich war für alle Generationen? (Bereshit Rabbah 28,8)

Welcher Meinung wir auch zustimmen, die Flutgeschichte der Tora ist einzigartig im Vergleich zu vielen anderen Flutgeschichten in alten Texten. Warum?

Nur im biblischen Bericht ist ein guter, fürsorglicher Gott traurig über die Unfähigkeit oder Unwilligkeit der Menschheit rechtschaffen zu handeln.

Der Midrasch erzählt, dass Gott durch Noah die Generation zur Zeit der Flut bedrängt, von ihren bösen Wegen umzukehren. 120 Jahre hindurch appellierte Noah an die Menschen, aber sie wollten nicht hören. Erst dann sandte Gott die Flut. (Tanhuma, Noah, section 5)

Dieser Midrasch unterstreicht die wichtige Einsicht aus der Geschichte von Kain und Abel. Nachdem Gott Abels Opfer akzeptiert hat und nicht seines, ist Kain wütend und neidisch. Gott warnt Kain diesen Gefühlen nicht nachzugeben, aber Gott stoppt Kain nicht, als er seinen Bruder dennoch tötet.

Ähnlich hier: Vor der Flut warnt Gott die Völker der Erde ihre bösen Wege zu ändern, aber Gott zwingt sie nicht dazu.

Auch heute möchte Gott, dass wir unsere Talente für Gutes einsetzen, aber Gott zwingt uns nicht. Wir sind keine Puppen und Gott ist kein Puppenspieler.

Der freie Wille, den Gott Menschen zugesteht, gibt unserem Leben Sinn.

Wir, nicht Gott, müssen wählen, ob wir Gutes schaffen wollen oder Böses. Doch zu oft hinterlässt unsere Wahl einen trauernden Gott in Tränen.

Translation: with thanks to Pastor Ursula Sieg

The Midrash is a fertile debating ground for the character of Noah. When the Torah calls him “righteous in  his age (Genesis 6:9),” Sages take sides.

Does the text mean that he was just better than others in a time when everyone was horrible as Rabbi Yohanan argues? Or does it mean that he was so righteous, as Resh Lakish contends, that he truly walked with God in a way exemplary to all generations? (Bereshit Rabbah 28:8)

Whichever opinion one favors, the Torah’s flood story is unique among the many that proliferate in ancient texts. Why?

Only in the biblical account is a good, caring God grieved because of humanity’s inability or unwillingness to act righteously.

The Midrash recounts that God through Noah urged the Generation of the Flood to repent their evil ways. For 120 years, Noah persisted in his plea to the people, but they would not listen. Only then did God send the flood. (Tanhuma, Noah, section 5)

This Midrash underscores one of the vital messages of the story of Cain and Abel. After God accepts Abel’s offering and not his, Cain is angry and jealous. God warns Cain not to succumb to those feelings, but God does not stop Cain when he kills his brother anyway.

Similarly, God warns the people of the earth to change their wicked ways before the flood, but God does not make them do it.

Today too God wants us to use our talents for good, but God does not make us. We are not puppets, and God is not a puppeteer.

The free will God allows human beings is what makes our lives meaningful.

We not God must choose whether to act for good or for ill.. Too often, though, our choices leave a grieving God in tears.

 

Der Vers ist bekannt: “Und dein sexuelles Begehren soll deinem Mann gelten, und er soll über dich herrschen!” (Genesis 3,16) Ich möchte diese Übersetzung wegen der Jahrtausende, in denen sie Unterwerfung von Frauen befördert hat, ausrangieren.

Die hebräische Wurzel משל mashal bedeutet herrschen. Aber sie kann ebenso “Ähnlichkeit” bedeuten. Ein mashal ist in der rabbinischen Literatur ein Gleichnis. Es wir oft eingeleitet durch die Frage: “Mit was ist diese Sache zu vergleichen?”, oder einfach “Wem ähnelt es?”

Mit dieser Interpretation übersetze ich den Vers: “Dein sexuelles Begehren soll nach deinem Mann sein, und (in dieser Hinsicht) soll er wie du sein.”

Ein Hindernis für diese Übersetzung findet sich im nächsten Kapitel, wo das Wort תשוקה “sexuelles Begehren” zusammen mit der Wurzel משל erscheint (Genesis 4,7). Hier vergleicht Gott den starken Drang zum Sündigen mit sexuellem Begehren und erklärt Kain, dass wir die Kraft haben, es zu beherrschen.

Unsere Weisen lehren, dass sexuelles Begehren eine angeborene Eigenschaft ist, ohne die wir nie heiraten würden und Kinder bekommen (Genesis Rabbah 9,7).

Wie Feuer kann sexuelles Begehren unser Leben bereichern, aber unkontrolliert kann es großes Leid hervorrufen.

Somit können wir formulieren: Die Neigung zum Bösen ist “wie wir”, also ein natürlicher Teil von uns. Und Gott will, dass wir es annehmen und für gute Ziele nutzbar machen.

Unterstützung findet meine Übersetzung von משל mit “ähnlich sein” ganz sicher in dem einzigen weiteren Gebrauch von תשוקה im Tanach. Das ist im Hohe Lied der Liebe (7,11), wo die Frau bekennt, dass das sexuelle Begehren ihres Geliebten auf sie gerichtet ist – ein Gegengewicht zum Eden-Abschnitt.

All das zusammengenommen, denke ich, gibt es gute Gründe, die Übersetzung in Genesis 3,16 “er soll über dich herrschen” abzuschaffen und zu ersetzen durch “er soll dir ähnlich sein”.

Translation: with thanks to Pastor Ursula Sieg

 

When the German-Amerika Society in Bad Segeberg asked me to address them on the History of American Jewish Life and prospects for the future, I responded:

I can do a credible job of reviewing the history of Jewish life in America, but the future comes with a question mark.

The official outlook—as the widely publicized two-year-old Pew Study makes clear—is bleak.

While Orthodoxy is growing, and while Orthodox families are producing lots of babies to fuel that growth, non-Orthodox movements—with birthrates at or barely above replacement are shrinking.

The fastest growing “movement” among Americans born Jewish is the “nones,” those who claim no specific religious affiliation.

Change has marked Jewish life since biblical times. I would argue that our ability to change is what has allowed us to survive.

Rabbinic Judaism looked very different from biblical “Judaism” (if that word were even appropriate to describe biblical Israelite religion), Medieval Judaism was different than in the rabbinic period, and the modern period has seen sea changes in the ways Jews live and practice.

The Reform Jewish services that I have witnessed in the past four years in my visits to more than 70 communities in the United States and around the world bears very little resemblance to the Reform Jewish services I attended as a boy in New Jersey.

There is also no doubt that the pace of change is accelerating at comparative warp speed due to the Internet speed at which people can exchange ideas and adapt innovations.

The sociological changes in recent years in non-Orthodox Jewish movements have been huge as well.

The first female rabbi in the American Reform movement, Sally Priesand, was ordained in 1972. I remember not long thereafter a very prominent member of the Hebrew Union college faculty said to me, “No one will ever allow a female rabbi to conduct a funeral.” Now it will not be long before half of our spiritual leaders are female, and they occupy top positions of leadership in non-Orthodox movements and congregations.

The open embrace of gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender Jews into the community has been for me a very welcome development. The head of the Reconstructionist movement and the President of the (Reform) Central Conference of American Rabbis are both lesbians. At last we have proclaimed our understanding and acceptance of the fundamental principle on which all of Jewish life stands:

All of us are created ”in the image of God,” and that only our ability should determine our suitability for leadership roles.

Today most Reform Jews in the United States who marry, marry someone who was not born Jewish. In general people are marrying much later (My average first time bride over the last twenty years has been 31 years old) and having fewer children.

Outreach to attract and welcome non-Jewish partners to our synagogues has been very successful.

Still it is hard to deny (though some try) that the likelihood of raising a Jewish family is far less for a Jew and a non-Jew than it is for two Jews.

Recently the Reconstructionist movement opened its rabbinical school to Jews partnered with non-Jews. The Reform movement also considered this idea, but it has rejected it, at least for the time being. Only ten years ago, such a notion would have been unthinkable.

For the present, one thing is clear, non-Orthodox Jews are staying away from their synagogues.

High Holy Day attendance—once an almost universal given for American Jews—is down markedly nationwide.

Rabbis, Cantors, Educators and Program Directors are striving energetically to create enticing programs and activities. Despite the occasional “special event” that draws a crowd, attendance at “regular” services is far lower than it used to be. As a result many predict—some gleefully—that non-Orthodox Judaism is doomed.

I believe they are wrong.

Surely had their been a “Pew Study” at the time the Romans destroyed the Second Temple or at many junctures in Jewish history our future has looked very bleak.

As recently as the ‘60s LOOK Magazine predicted our demise. As many have noted LOOK is gone, but we have endured. True, the challenges we have overcome in the past are the challenges of oppression. The challenge we face today is one of assimilation and apathy. Everyone prays that it will not take a serious dose of anti-Semitism for us to shake off our lethargy.

What of the future? I have two predictions:

• The practice of Judaism 50 years from now will be very different than it is today for the reasons I have cited above. It may not be the Judaism that nurtured my peers, and me but we will no longer matter.
• Non-Orthodox Judaism will survive and thrive. I   believe that the creative minds so hard at work to find the direction for Jewish life that will attract the younger generation will eventually find formulae that work. The younger generation of Jewish leaders is too smart, too committed and too creative for Judaism to ultimately fail.

History is on our side.

On a fundamental level, I believe that the Eternal One still wants us around. The Covenant that launched the way of life that developed into what we now know as Judaism is 4000 years old. If we continue to do all we can to uphold our part, God will not let us down.

One of my fondest childhood memories is of my mother’s father being in synagogue with me on Simchat Torah. The rabbi always called the hakafot (processions around the synagogue with people carrying Torah scrolls) by age and my grandfather, Benjamin Goldstein, who was born in Russia, was in the first one. I don’t remember him as a particularly religious man (he died when I was 10), but I will never forget the joy on his face when he carried the Torah around the synagogue.

Simchat Torah was (as it still is in many places) the occasion for the Consecration ceremony for students beginning their religious school studies. We were all called up to the bimah for a blessing, and then we each received a miniature Torah. The small gold or blue boxes containing the small scrolls were piled up on the steps to the bimah.

When I was six, I must confess, I came back into the empty sanctuary after the service was over and helped myself to as many of the remaining miniature Torahs as I could carry. I cannot remember how I hid this larcenous deed from my parents, but I stashed the contraband in the bottom draw of my bedroom night table where they remained for many years.

When I pilfered those scrolls, Torah study was not what I had in mind as a professional pursuit (I planned to be the Catcher for the New York Yankees), but I hope the Almighty will consider my rabbinical career to be suitable penance.

The scrolls certainly came in handy in later years.

During the meal at the first communal Seder I conducted at my congregation in Columbia, MD, I remembered to my horror that I had forgotten (and no one on the committee had thought of it either) to buy a prize for the young person who found the afikomen (the piece of matzah hidden and looked for after the meal by the children present). While everyone ate, I quickly drove the mile to our house and grabbed a miniature scroll to give to the winner. I don’t think I have ever revealed that I was making a young boy or girl party to my trafficking in stolen goods.

On Simchat Torah we read the last verses of the book of Deuteronomy and then immediately begin again to read the opening lines of Genesis. Even when I was six the message came through: the study of Torah never ends.

As years have gone by I consider it increasingly remarkable that we have a special celebration just to honour study and learning!

While meeting to prepare for our celebration here in Bad Segeberg this year, the make up of the planning committee necessitated translating our respective ideas into German, Russian and English!

Much of our discussion revolved around how to honor members of the local Christian community who raised funds to purchase the Torah scroll from which we shall read and did so much in other ways to help the Bad Segeberg Reform congregation re-establish itself.

As we worship in freedom in the beautiful synagogue that sits proudly not far from the center of town, I will give thanks for the opportunity to help to replant the love and learning of Torah in the land of my father’s birth where evil forces sought to uproot our precious heritage.

I will also rejoice that a sizeable number of Russian Jews have found freedom here in Germany to practice our faith that the communists tried to stamp out.

Yes, a celebration conducted in Hebrew, English, German and Russian seems such a wonderful way to honor the Torah and all of the ideals for which it stands!