It’s not all bad
In my last column, I was tough on my MO community, both in Teaneck and beyond, as well as its leadership, institutions, and synagogues, including my own, Congregation Rinat Yisrael. No, I’m not retracting anything; I stand by what I wrote and appreciate the support expressed by those of my friends and readers whose bleak and depressing view of our community, country, and world is similar to mine. (I assume that my friends and readers who kept their disagreement to themselves, no doubt a much larger group, have concluded that since I’m a lost cause, their writing thoughtful emails explaining the fallacies of my arguments would just be barking at the moon.)
And yet, while I believe that my column was accurate, it didn’t tell the whole story about my shul. So let me fill in that lacuna in an attempt to paint a more nuanced and complete picture.
The day after I submitted last week’s column, an email from my shul’s president hit my inbox. It said that as a result of the government’s delay in providing SNAP benefits relied on by millions to alleviate hunger, the shul, in collaboration with the Teaneck police department and the Never Again food pantry, was participating in a food drive collecting both non-perishable food items and money to ensure that every family in Teaneck has food on its table. It was an admirable effort in looking outward, beyond Rinat’s literal and metaphorical four walls.
Switching gears, Rinat takes great pride in its adult education programming, and rightfully so. The adult ed committee, of which I’ve been a member for many years, works hard to ensure that all year around, in various formats and on a myriad of both expected and eclectic topics presented by shul clergy and members as well as by invited guests from near and far, we provide an educational experience that will bring pleasure to and open the minds and broaden the vistas of all those who participate. I would say it’s a major benefit of membership, except, of course, non-members are always welcome as well.
One of our more recent programs — introduced and moderated by the always able and articulate Sandee Brawarsky, known for her probing and incisive questions — was a talk by Ilana Kurshan on her new book, “Children of the Book: A Memoir of Reading Together.” Ilana, the Aaron Judge of reading books (everywhere and always, including, she told us, while in labor), is the author of the daf yomi themed “If All the Seas Were Ink,” which won the Sami Rohr prize for Jewish Literature (the Jewish Pulitzer book prize). Her erudition and eloquence, together with touches of humor, captivated the audience.
It’s hard to explain exactly what a book about reading books to children is — it’s not quite a memoir nor precisely a parenting manual. But what it does do, as did her talk, is transport its readers and her listeners, as Leah Sarna beautifully wrote, “into a dewy world that abides by the unlikely rule that all family woes great and small should be addressed by reading.” I read to my children all the time when they were young, including, as an Upper West Side parent, while waiting with my two oldest daughters at the morning bus stop, where all the kids gathered around to listen. How I wished I had Ilana’s book then. But thankfully I have it now as a resource for my reading to my grandchildren.
Another program, Rinat’s joint beit midrash with its neighbor, Congregation Beth Sholom, has been an annual event for more than a decade. Indeed, I discussed it in my third column in this space, written in March 2016. The program sounds pretty normal on its face; as I noted then, “two shuls co-sponsoring Torah learning? Happens all the time.” But, as I continued, “except not when one is Modern Orthodox and the other Conservative. That does not happen all the time. And having the rabbis of both shuls teach at the same event also is something rare in our unfortunately divided Jewish world.” And despite a (hopefully slight) lingering discomfort by some members of my shul, the program continues to provide a different type of Torah study both in content and format that is appreciated and attended by many from both shuls. Very special, indeed.
And distinctive programming continues. Just last Shabbat morning, we had a Veterans Day Recognition Program, not on the adult ed calendar but co-chaired by my good friends Kenny Hoffman and Rabbi Dr. J.J. Schacter, which Leah Adler beautifully portrayed in an article in the Standard two weeks ago — please read it to get the full description and impact of the event. Let me highlight, though, one aspect of the program that emphasizes again what makes Rinat special.
The guest of honor and major speaker that morning was Dirk Backen, brigadier general, German army (ret.). Yes, you read that right. A program at a MO synagogue, held in the sanctuary immediately after Shabbat morning services, with most of the men still wearing their tallitot, honored and had a presentation by a retired German army general. I don’t know if there were any Holocaust survivors in the audience, but there were certainly many second-generation survivors. Nonetheless, despite being a program that once might have been unthinkable, Gen. Backen’s thoughtful, eloquent, and moving talk captivated the packed shul, which responded with generous applause at its conclusion — also not a common display on Shabbat in that sanctuary. A truly gutsy program and a unique experience.
None of this offsets any aspect of my most recent cri de coeur that still causes me great distress and, sadly, a sense of alienation from much of what was once precious to me. But an important lesson I’ve learned over my almost eight decades is that very little in this world is all black and white, even if, at times, one color seems to predominate and overwhelm the other. It’s a lesson learned from experience, though it can sometimes be forgotten under the weight of depressing news, malevolent leadership, cruelty, hardship, sadness, and woe.
We cannot, as some do, simply concentrate on the white in an attempt to sweep the black under the rug. But we also should not ignore the white that brings light and joy into our lives and the world. A light and joy we can certainly use more of in these very difficult days.
