As I wrote last week, in the months to come I plan to share some memories of the year that I spent in Israel as a rabbinical school student. Some of these postings will address weighty issues of politics and philosophy. But, some will be much lighter and less serious reminiscences of Israel in the late 70s and very early 80s. These latter postings will, I hope, bring back some memories for those who spent some of those years in Israel and provide a contrast for the Israel of today. I’d love to hear your feedback about these memories if you lived in Israel at the time.

Since we are now in the intermediate days of Sukkot, it would seem appropriate to post some memory regarding the holiday, my first spent in Israel. But, while my story today begins with an experience over Sukkot, it has nothing to do with the holiday itself and fits more clearly into the second category I mentioned above but as I thought about this rather mundane issue, it reminded me once again of the question that I wrestled with during my entire year in Israel.

One of the things that I brought with me to Israel that year was a transistor radio (remember them)? Those who read my posts regularly know that I write a great deal about my love for classic TV but I also have been a regular radio listener through the years. Whether the top 40 station I listened to as a teenager of the more “grown up” stations I gravitated towards later, I always had the radio on and so it was natural to bring a radio with me to Israel.

But, the first days being as hectic as they were, it wasn’t until I took my first bus ride a few days after arriving that I actually heard a radio broadcast. The connection between a bus ride and the radio should be fairly clear to anyone who traveled on the public busses in Israel in the years before smart phones. The bus driver always had a radio on with the volume rather low until just before the “top of the hour” when he would turn up the radio and connect it to the PA system on the bus.

Everyone would grow quiet as they waited to hear the 5 beeps signifying the time and then would listen carefully to the latest hourly news bulletin. It may be a bit of an exaggeration but I remember how people would dramatically “shush” someone who was making too much noise during the news broadcast. It was a ritual that I experienced over and over again during my travels that year and one which reflects the tenuous reality of life in Israel in those days. People would listen to make sure they were aware of any security or economic issue which would clearly affect their lives.

Believe it or not, I actually remember something from that first broadcast that I heard 40 years ago. I don’t remember the news but I do remember the commercial that came on just before the news report. I think I only heard it once but I can remember part of it very clearly.

It was a jingle which contained these words:

Heenay hegeyu hachagim, hamishpacha bitiyulim, hamtzlema k’var muchanah: “The holidays have arrived, the family is taking a vacation, the camera is ready … Haolam mitzalaym bikodak, the world takes pictures with Kodak.

I heard that commercial once and it has stuck in my mind all these years. I was absolutely enthralled. I was glad I understood the Hebrew and realized that I could listen to the equivalent of catchy American commercials in Israel.

So, when I got back to my dorm room after that trip, I turned on the radio for the first time and became a real fan of Kol Yisrael, the Israel Broadcasting authority.

I listened to the Hebrew news and I loved the commercials, mostly for beer, banks and color TVs as I recall. But, I liked the programs too, particularly those on “Reshet Gimel”, the “third network” which played popular music and variety shows. One of my favorites was on from 8-9 a.m., a time I usually could find a few minutes to listen before class. It was called “Rock Etmol”, which is a nice Hebrew pun. The words Rak Etmol mean “only yesterday” and the DJ would play “oldies” from the rock era, a touch of “top 40” thousands of miles from home.

Then, there were the other programs: overnight call-in shows which featured opportunities for lonely people to share their problems with someone and shows which featured hokey contests- such as one which I taped and still have now on cd in which contestants had to read a column of names and numbers from the Tel Aviv telephone book as quickly as they could. Whoever read the most in 30 seconds won a prize. What memories!

And, I would listen to the news in English just to make sure I didn’t miss anything and occasionally would listen to Arabic music whether on the Kol Yisrael Arabic station or from Jordan. Occasionally, I would hear the unmistakeable sound of the chanting of the Quran from someplace far away.

The radio was my companion for some of the lonely times.

But, what I will never forget and still, to this day, listen to on youtube every once in a while was the opening of the broadcast day. The broadcast would start at 6 a.m. each morning with the recitation of the Shema and the V’ahavta (the central declaration of faith from Deuteronomy chapter 6) in the most beautifully pronounced Hebrew. The announcer would then read the first verse of the traditional psalm for each day of the week : Hayom yom…. This is the ___ day of the week on which the Levites would say…

It seemed odd to me that the radio broadcasts would begin with the recitation of a prayer as one of my observations about life in Israel that year which should have been obvious but surprised me was that not everyone in Israel was “religious”, according to my definition. I struggled through the year to figure out what was “Jewish” about some of what I experienced in Israel and the more I listened to the extremely “secular” broadcasts on the radio that followed each day, the more I struggled with that question.

But, two aspects of the radio in Israel that I have mentioned helped me understand it a bit more.

First, Hebrew. To me, the connection between Israel and all that I believed and felt as a Jew often came down to listening to and conversing in the Hebrew language and becoming more proficient in it as the year went along. I found a much deeper connection with Hebrew than I expected and find myself often listening to Israel TV and radio today online to keep that feeling fresh. Those times listening to the radio helped me practice my Hebrew listening skills but also reminded me of where I was and how living in Israel addressed a different part of who I am.

The second was the recitation of the Shema each morning. Even if what I saw in my day to day life out on the streets of Israel didn’t always reflect the faith that was at the core of my connection with Judaism and Jewish identity, the day had started with a clear, and public, statement of connection with our ancient tradition. I am an early riser anyway but I found myself making sure I woke up early enough to hear it. Even though I knew that I would be saying the Shema for myself later in the morning, hearing it publicly made such a strong statement for me and I loved it.

So, those are memories of listening to the radio in Israel. I’d love to hear other’s recollections!

It is difficult for me to believe but today marks the 40th anniversary of a very significant day in my life: my arrival in Israel for the first time.

On October 3, 1979 at about 6 p.m., I stepped off a plane at Ben Gurion Airport and onto the soil (or at least the tarmac) of the land of Israel to begin my year of rabbinical studies in Jerusalem.

I remember my first moments in Israel distinctly. I can still recall sitting with out luggage as my two friends, return travelers to Israel, arranged transportation to Jerusalem. I had never been in a tropical climate before and noted in a journal that I was seeing palm trees for the first time. I eavesdropped on conversations in Hebrew including listening to two children greeting their grandparents with the words (in Hebrew): “Guess what? It’s already rained”. Only later did I realize how significant it was that Israel had already seen rain even though Sukkot had not arrived. I felt strangely comfortable even though I felt so distant from everything I knew.

I did not continue writing in that journal after the first entry but the memories of that year are still so vivid. I remember much more from that one year than any other year of school. In the months to come, I want to share some of those memories on this blog. They are memories of a time when I- and Israel- were younger and I hope these memories, especially memories of Israel in the late 70’s will be interesting to those who have spent time in the country.

Israel was a simpler place back then and Jerusalem was certainly a smaller city. I remember distinctly the trip from the airport to Jerusalem and being truly shocked at the dark emptiness around me. Night had fallen and, unlike today, the view from the road to Jerusalem was not of billboards, malls and signs for fast food restaurants but was truly dark except for the flickering lights of villages along the route. Arriving in Jerusalem, there were no large hotels at the entrance to the city and the building that stood out was the Central Bus Station which one of my friends told me would be the most important place in the city as it offered a chance to get out of Jerusalem and see the country.

He was partially right. I enjoyed traveling around the country but I also found Jerusalem itself to be fascinating and almost from my first day living in the city, I loved walking through the neighborhoods, visiting the Old City both for the spiritual significance of the holy sites and for the bustling shuk, the market, which I never tired of exploring.

To this day, it is those trips around Jerusalem that I hold as one of my fondest memories of a very emotional year. I truly fell in love with the city and while I know it is completely unfair for me to say this, seeing Jerusalem grow and become more hectic and more devoted to tourism in my subsequent visits made me wish for one more opportunity to eat at the simple hummus stand we frequented which today has been swallowed up by the pedestrian mall of Ben Yehuda Street. It’s progress and makes the city more exciting but I still yearn for the “good old days”.

In my future postings, I’ll recall specific memories from that year. For now, though, I’ll share just one memory of a ritual I performed every Shabbat I was in Jerusalem.

Each Friday afternoon, I would go out to the balcony outside my dormitory room at the Jewish Theological Seminary campus behind the Israel Museum and overlooking the “Valley of the Cross” just before the sounding of the sirens indicating the beginning of Shabbat. I would turn on a cassette tape of one favorite American song or another. Then, I would stand looking out over the city and try to figure out how to balance the conflicting feelings of being so far, far away from home and yet recognizing the privilege I had to live in the city my ancestors had only dreamed of. It was a conflict I never really settled completely but it was- and is- a beautiful conflict to struggle with.

I have written a d’var Torah for T’ruah: the Rabbinic Call for Human Rights which was posted today. Below you will find the D’var Torah preceded by an introduction that I gave at Beth Israel before reading it this past Shabbat.

Each year it seems I discover that a somewhat “contemporary” song inspires me for the holy day season and I find a way to work it into a sermon or teaching around the holidays. I heard a song for the first time a few months ago and I immediately loved it. The song, called Roll Me Away, was written and performed by Ann Arbor’s own Bob Seger. It describes a motorcycle rider who decides to take off down the road in an attempt to be free of responsibilities towards thinking about what is right.

After hearing the song a few times, I realized that the final verse was perfect for the High Holy Day season.

Here is the first part of that verse:  
“Stood alone on a mountain top
Starin’ out at the Great Divide
I could go east, I could go west
It was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw a young hawk flyin’
And my soul began to rise
And pretty soon
My heart was singin’
Roll, roll me away
I’m gonna roll me away tonight
Gotta keep rollin’, gotta keep ridin’
Keep searchin’ till I find what’s right”

This is the essence of the High Holy Days. We stare at the great divide between last year and this year and realize we have choices to make. But, as important as it is to make the right choice between right and wrong, we must make choices which help our souls to rise l’ayla u’layla (higher and higher.

The song ends with these words which I used as the introduction to the T’ruah D’var Torah which follows:

As the sunset faded I spoke
To the faintest first starlight 
And I said: “Next time, Next time 
We’ll get it right.” 

Several years ago, while I was studying Parashat Kedoshim with my daughter for her bat mitzvah, she asked me an insightful question: “Why did the Torah command us not to put a stumbling block before a blind person? Couldn’t we have figured that one out on our own?” 

The rabbis obviously had the same question as they expanded the prohibition to include giving inappropriate advice and taking advantage of another’s weakness. 

This teaches us that when a Jewish text seems too obvious, we have to find another explanation. 

In this context, consider the statement in the Mishnah concerning teshuvah/repentance. The Mishnah warns us against saying: “Echteh v’ashuv, Echteh v’Ashuv”; “I will sin and repent, I will sin and repent”, teaching that teshuvah in that case would not be successful.

Clearly, this is meant to teach us that using teshuvah as an “escape clause” in order to justify pre-meditated sin doesn’t work. 

But, I think that should strike us as self-evident and too obvious to be the whole story. 

So, I have begun to think of this text differently. Why does the Mishnah repeat the phrase “I will sin and repent” when once would have been sufficient? 

The Mishnah could be describing a person who approaches the season of teshuvah with frustration, wondering what the point to repentance is since he or she would be right back in the same position the next year and every year after that: sinning and repenting over and over again. That person believes we are trapped in a cycle of disappointment that we can never escape. 

Seen this way, the Mishnah is warning us against believing that teshuvah is futile simply because we know that each year will bring some failure. If that is our attitude, then repentance can never work. We must believe the day will come when the cycle will be broken. 

And, what is true for us as individuals is also true as we consider the state of the world. 

This past year has been a frustrating one for so many of us. We have watched in horror and disgust as in the United States, Israel and throughout the world leaders spew rhetoric of division. We have been saddened to see the precious values of compassion and justice, values rooted so deeply in Jewish tradition, ridiculed and mocked.

Naturally, many of us are tired and justifiably have become more than a bit cynical. 

But it is at this moment that we have to look back at the warning of the Mishnah and realize that we have to rise above the frustration and cynicism and find the energy and the desire to continue to work for what we believe to be right, for right will triumph some day. We simply have to believe this. There is no other choice. 

In the haftarah reading for Yom Kippur, Isaiah teaches that “the fast God desires” is to do good in the world, to free the oppressed, clothe the naked, feed the hungry and bring the world closer to perfection. 

This beautiful haftarah begins with words which remind us of the Torah verse about the stumbling block: “hareemu michshol,” “remove the obstacles” in our path. 

Cynicism, despair and frustration are the most prominent obstacles preventing us from doing all we can to repair the world. We need to remove those obstacles from our path in order to fulfill our role. We need to believe that the world can return to the proper direction.

It has been a difficult year. We are tired. But the cries of children at the border, the cries of those who have been targeted because of color, the cries of families who have lost loved ones to gun violence, the cries of the earth begging us to make the changes necessary for us all to survive can not be ignored. Despite our fatigue, we can not despair. We can’t get caught in the trap of “things will never change”. We must believe they can and they will. 

While we admit that we are tired and frustrated, let us commit ourselves and our communities to continue the work. As sunset brings in the first Shabbat of the New Year, may we discover the light of renewed energy and passion to continue to work for what we believe. And, most importantly, may we always be inspired by absolute faith that the day will come when the world will “get it right”.

This past Friday, I had the opportunity to fulfill a long standing ambition. I stood in front of the grave of my great great Grandmother, Rasha Gershuney (Rose Goldman), in the Worcester Hebrew Cemetery in Massachusetts.

As I have written here previously, my mother had repeatedly told me that she believed that her great grandmother was buried somewhere in Massachusetts. This always intrigued me because, while I have had the opportunity to visit the graves all four of my maternal great grandparents, I couldn’t imagine that a member of an even older generation was buried in America. It seemed to me that it would be so unusual for a Jewish person of my age (64) to have had a great great grandparent that lived in this country.

While my mother never wanted to pursue this story, I was able to do so after her death. Through internet genealogical research, I connected with third cousins who knew the general location of Rasha’s grave. During two visits to the cemetery, I was unsuccessful in finding the grave. Then, with the help of another cousin and a rabbi in the Worcester area, I was able to get more precise information and during a trip last weekend to Massachusetts, I took a detour to Worcester and finally was successful in finding the grave.

As I stood there, my mind went in many different directions. First, I thought of my mother who was so fiercely proud of her family. I firmly believe that she knows I stood at the grave and felt a great sense of satisfaction that I had honored her ancestor.

Secondly, I thought a lot about the Goldman family. My grandfather had 10 siblings and we knew many of them growing up. I knew many of my mother’s first cousins and some of my second cousins. But, I know that I didn’t appreciate, as much as I should have, the blessings of a large extended family. As a kid, I looked at them as the “old folks” and by the time I had reached a place in life where I would appreciate these connections, I had moved from Boston and the opportunities to get together with them were greatly limited.

I have to say that the Goldmans were a great family. My grandmother, who had married into the family once said about some members of the family: “they would go to hell for a good time”. That was certainly my recollection. I remember the Goldmans of that generation as being hard working “salt of the earth” as we would say but always happy, somewhat loud and boisterous but always smiling even when gently insulting or poking fun at each other. They were a great group and I only wish I had appreciated them more deeply. Meeting several of my second cousins over the internet and in person has been deeply meaningful to me, as if somehow I could recapture some of the times I missed or took too lightly.

But, there was a third thought that came to mind as I stood looking at the grave.

My mind went back to the last time I visited a cemetery in search of a relative’s grave. That took place several years ago in the small city of Preili, Latvia. I couldn’t stand at the grave of my great uncle Shael and his children and grandchildren for they were buried in a mass grave after the slaughter of the Jews in the town in 1941. I stood in the cemetery where the massacre took place and stared at the monument which had recently been constructed in memory of those who were murdered and, after, crying for them, said a simple prayer of thanks to God that my grandfather, Shael’s brother, had chosen to come to America decades before.

So, as I stood and looked at Rasha’s grave, I realized how significant it was that Rasha’s son Morris, my great grandfather, and other members of the family were able to come to America and that the family was further able to bring Rasha over very late in her life. If nothing else, that guaranteed that her grave would be visited by future generations.

But, more than that, I realized once again, how blessed I am (and I usually don’t use that word but here it is entire appropriate) to have ancestors who, under whatever circumstances, made the decision to come here to this great land of freedom.

Yes, we are facing some serious issues of anti-Semitism here in the United States. But, I believe with all of my heart that we will overcome this threat and that this country will continue to be what it has been for so many generations- a place for families to grow together, to celebrate our Jewish traditions and heritage and make our mark for generations to come.

May the memory of Rasha Gershuney- and Shael Dobrushin- be for a blessing.

May we remember them, and all of the others, and may we teach our children and our grandchildren to embrace family whenever they can.

A couple of years ago, I posted a piece on my blog about my favorite movie of all time, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. You can find it here: https://robdobrusin.com/happy-40th-birthday-best-time/

I love Close Encounters and am drawn to watching it whenever it shows up on TV. But, my second favorite movie of all time (and it is really a very close second is from the same genre) is also one I have written about on many occasions. I am referring to the 1997 movie Contact.

Like Close Encounters, Contact is a story about the search for extra terrestrial intelligence. It is adapted from a book of the same name by Carl Sagan. It is truly a fascinating, engaging film and if you have never seen it or haven’t seen it lately, you really should see it. It has stood the test of time in many ways.

I happened to turn to Youtube to watch a section of the movie today because I have been listening to a series of online lectures on the theory of relativity and quantum physics in general. The lectures are supposed to be for non-scientists but I am still mystified by many of the ideas. I thought that watching the “wormhole” scene in Contact might put me in the right frame of mind to go back to learning more about the science that I really want to understand a bit better.

As I was watching the scene from the movie which I have seen dozens of times, I happened to scroll down for a moment to look at the comments and I was absolutely astounded by something a viewer had written. Before I tell you what it is, I want you to watch part of the scene. Watch the first minute and a half. It won’t ruin the movie for those of you that haven’t seen it.

Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzTHC6JSUvM&t=62s

The commenter on the page noted something which I had missed. It is subtle but it is absolutely fantastic. If you didn’t catch it, and you probably didn’t, go back again and watch what happens at about 57 or 58 seconds.

At this point in the scene, Jodie Foster’s face momentarily “morphs” (I can’t think of a better word) into the face of a young girl and her voice also changes briefly but noticeably. It then changes back again to the adult face and voice.

This “trick” is fascinating and is significant in the story. If you saw the movie, you know that we are introduced to Foster’s character, Ellie Arroway, as a young girl, fascinated with astronomy and with the world in general. She has a big smile and wide eyes as she learns. I won’t go into details here but her youth is interrupted by family tragedies. As an adult, she is clearly excited about her research and her greatest discovery but she sees everything from an analytical perspective until this moment when she once again realizes the majestic beauty behind the science. She recaptures her youth.

Clearly, the director of the film made this very subtle statement which really is the point behind the entire movie.

Why am I writing about this today? One reason is to share the excitement of this discovery that I had missed all these years.

The other reason is that is a very timely lesson for all of us.

We are approaching Rosh Hashana, which according to Jewish tradition is the “anniversary of creation”. The major focus of the holiday is repentance but lying behind that theme is the idea of recognizing the majestic beauty of our world and our special place within it as creations who can appreciate and rejoice in that beauty.

As we age, we naturally tend to forget the childlike awe and wonder that we had when we were younger. But, our tradition compels us to find that wonder and excitement in the world and allow ourselves, more than just for a short second or two, to see the world with young eyes once again.

Seeing the world in this way will help us to take more seriously our obligations to repair the world and preserve our planet for generations to come. It will also help us to recognize the miracle of our lives and, as a result, live our lives with more respect for each and every one of God’s creations.

My mother, Gertrude Dobrusin, was born 97 years ago today on September 2, 1922. She was a rather unique individual in many different ways and I think of her every day and always with a smile.

She always loved to tell stories about her youth and her extended Goldman family and it was quite a large family as her father had 10 siblings. There were great aunts and uncles, and 2nd cousins that we met and those we only had heard of in the complicated tales she would tell.

But, there was always one bit of mystery that my mother would inject into stories. She used to tell us that she thought that one of her great grandparents was buried someplace in Massachusetts. I was fascinated by this since I didn’t know any of my Jewish friends who had visited the graves of a great great grandparent. It was unusual enough that I knew where our great grandparents were buried and had visited the graves many times. While I only knew one grandparent, the idea that a great great grandparent was buried in this country gave me a great sense of family pride.

But one of my mother’s idiosyncrasies was that she would tell us a tantalizing story and then the story would end someplace in the middle. For years, I asked her to find out where her great grandmother was buried and she never did. And, when she died in 2005, the information, we assumed was lost forever.

Then genealogical research was made easier through the Internet and through a complicated set of circumstances, I met a third cousin and he told me that he knew who our common relative, our great great grandmother, was and where she was buried. Her name was Rasha Gershuney and she was buried in Worcester, Massachusetts. And, most importantly, he told me some of the family living in the area knew exactly where the grave was.

So, a few months later, during a trip to the Boston area, we went to visit the grave but we couldn’t find it in the large cemetery. A second trip a few years later yielded the same disappointing result.

Then, two weeks ago, I received an email from my 2nd cousin Tracey, whom I had also met through this research, asking if we ever found her grave. After I told her of our failures, she did some great research and was able to pinpoint the place of Rasha’s grave.

This was the information we needed and I took it from there. I contacted a rabbinic colleague in the area and asked if she knew the caretakers at the cemetery and if so, would they take a picture of the grave and send it to me? My colleague gladly offered her help and a few days ago, the mystery was solved. Here is the picture she sent.

My great grandfather had changed his family name from Gershuney to Goldman and since his death preceded Rasha’s, presumably someone else decided to record her name on the stone as Goldman (spelled incorrectly in English but correctly in Hebrew) and to anglicize her name Rasha to Rose. But, there was no question that this was her grave. The name of her father (my great great great grandfather Mordecai) and the date of her death matched all of our records.

So, there it was. Finally, the end to the story my mother tried to tell me over and over again.

It is ironic that we received this a few days before her birthday, maybe it is not a coincidence.

Maybe it is also not a coincidence that I’m going to be in Boston for a family celebration later this month so I’ll be up in the area to celebrate with cousins on my father’s side of the family. Instead of my original plan to spend Friday afternoon doing what I love to do, wandering through the North Shore looking for a “fish shack” to get some fried haddock and onion rings, I’ll take the Mass Pike out to Worcester to stand at the grave of my great great grandmother and realize once again the long history our family has in this great country.

In 2012, I traveled thousands of miles to stand in a cemetery in Preili, Latvia at a monument to the residents of that town who were slaughtered by Latvian collaborators as the Nazis took over the town. Among those were my great uncle and several of my 2nd cousins.

That visit was horribly sad. This one will be happy. Even if she never did see the story to the conclusion, I’m glad to close this circle on one of my mother’s long stories and to recognize once again how fortunate I and my children are that our ancestors made that long journey to America.

Happy birthday, Mom.

Many times over the past four years, I have expressed my thoughts on statements by then candidate, now President Trump. So many of these statements have left me greatly concerned as an American and as a Jew.

But, yesterday’s statement brought this entire discussion to a new place and it is a terrifying place.

Yesterday, the President said: “”I think Jewish people that vote for a Democrat — I think it shows either a total lack of knowledge or great disloyalty,” 

As I wrote on Facebook and as so many have expressed, the word “loyalty” carries with it tremendous implications and historical gravity for Jews. For centuries, Jews have been accused of a lack of loyalty to the nation in which we live, holding greater loyalty to our people and, since 1948, to the state of Israel. This claim of disloyalty or secondary loyalty has led to persecution against Jews for centuries.

So, when President Trump used these words yesterday, he was using language which resonates deeply within our hearts and minds as Jews.

It is not immediately clear what disloyalty the President was alluding to but I assume that he was saying that Jews who vote for Democratic candidates are being disloyal to the Jewish people and to Israel.

There is so much that needs to be said.

First, it goes without saying that President Trump has no right to lecture me or any Jew about how to express our Jewishness. This patronizing, demeaning attitude is shameful.

But, more importantly, from my perspective, his assumption about what makes a “loyal Jew” is simply wrong.

I do not deny that there are some within the Democratic party who have made anti-Semitic statements and this concerns me deeply. But, the assumption that the fact that more Republicans are vocal in their support for the current government of Israel translates into an administration that is “better for Jews” is misleading to say the least.

I care deeply about Israel but President Trump has repeatedly made support for Israel a “partisan issue”. This preceded his administration when republican leaders invited Prime Minister Netanyahu to speak before Congress to argue against President Obama’s support of the Iran Nuclear deal. The scene of so many in Congress cheering Netanyahu so ecstatically while disrespecting the leader of our nation was unsettling to say the least. While I am glad to see Israel have the support in Congress, that scene set the tone for the relationship that has been built up between Trump and Netanyahu which culminated a week ago in the Prime Minister, apparently, agreeing to the President’s suggestion that two Democratic members of congress who have been blatantly critical of Israel not be permitted to enter the country.

This decision was soundly criticized by most American Jewish organizations and rightly so.

Mr. President, there are many people who care about Israel who do not agree with the positions of the Netanyahu government. We will not be swayed by your claim that loyalty to a state means agreement with current policy.

But, there is a more important point to be made.

I am a loyal American. I am deeply concerned about the direction this country is taking and I believe that the values that Judaism espouses are being trampled on by this administration.

As Jews, we are called on to be compassionate, to recognize the image of God in all people, to be concerned for the earth which we live on, to protect our children from violence, to welcome the stranger and care for those in need.

These are not uniquely Jewish values as they are shared by so many in our nation and these values guide my vote on election day.

I intend to vote for a Democrat in 2020 because this administration has stood against recognizing climate change, dismissed the value of science, refused to enact laws protecting our children from gun violence, sought to take away from women the right to make decisions about their own bodies, referred to those seeking asylum and a better life as “invaders” and bringing “infestation”, turned a blind eye to, if not actively encouraged, white supremacists and overlooked the actions of brutal dictators throughout the world. These are unacceptable to me as an American.

I intend to vote for a Democrat in 2020 because I could not vote for a man whose rhetoric and actions do not reflect what this nation should be about.

Mr. President, to support your administration would be to be disloyal, both to the country I love and to the faith I hold.

There have been so many 50th anniversary observances in the past nine and a half years and they each remind us how turbulent, exciting and unpredictable a decade the 60s was. Think of it: we saw John Glenn’s first orbital flight, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the march on Washington, the assassinations of President Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King and Senator Robert Kennedy, the Northeast power blackout of 1965 and the six day war, Woodstock (and I have to add, the Red Sox’ Impossible Dream season of 1967) all within the span of 10 years. And behind all of these, the civil rights movement, the music of the Beatles, the anti-Vietnam war movement. It was an inspiring, scary, momentous and exhilarating decade that shaped the lives of so many of us.

As we approach the end of the current decade, it seems like we’ve saved the best fiftieth anniversary for last. For today, we observe the anniversary of the greatest adventure in the history of human beings: the first manned lunar landing.

Like everyone who remembers that July day, I have vivid memories of where I was sitting, what I was thinking and how the different members of my family, spanning three generations, reacted to the event. As with so many of those events, the memories of our personal connection with the event are often uppermost in our minds. But, this mission was about so much more than our own memories.

As I have watched and read the retrospectives of the Apollo 11 mission, one thought keeps coming back to me. The flight to the moon was so complex, so complicated, so technologically advanced and yet it was performed with computer technology that is dwarfed in scientific terms by the cell phone in the pocket of a 12 year old. Just imagine.

Each point of the mission was fraught with danger and uncertainty: achieving orbit in the first place, “trans-lunar injection” as the spacecraft left earth orbit, the docking with the lunar module, the separation of the LM from the spacecraft, the flight to the moon, the landing, the “moonwalk” itself, the lift-off from the moon, docking with the command module and the reentry and splashdown. So many times, the commentators told us that the mission depended on that moment. And each test was passed. When the lunar landing took place, there was less than 30 seconds of fuel remaining. When Apollo 11 returned to earth, it did so right on target. The measurements so precise and the planning so exact.

And, for me and so many others, the moment we remember best was the booming voice of Walter Cronkite who summed it all up by saying simply; “Man on the Moon!”

The real story is that behind the beauty, the astounding pictures and sounds, lay the intelligence and abilities of human beings. The foundation of any scientific advancement that was achieved by the findings of this flight and the others before and after it is the reality that we have been created with minds that are able to accomplish what seems to be impossible.

While sitting on the surface of the moon in the LM, astronaut Buzz Aldrin took a moment to perform the rite of communion and asked everyone listening to his voice to say words of thanks.

We should do that every day.

The first blessing we say during the daily Amida, the first among the list of petitions and statements of thanks to God focuses on our wisdom. “You had endowed the human being with wisdom and give us knowledge…”We ask God to continue to imbue us with such wisdom and remember that it is this wisdom which sets us apart from other creations and provides the hope for our collective future.

It is 50 years since a human being stepped on the moon for the first time. I personally believe that it was worth all of the expense and all of the dedication for so many reasons. And, I believe that we should continue that type of exploration because it is in our nature as human beings to stretch the horizons of our learning.

But, it is also necessary for us to look inward and to seriously consider why it is that a creation which can send a person to the moon, can understand the depths of the ocean and the intricacies of the human mind can not do what we have dreamed of as a species not just for the past 50 years but for so many beyond that.

Neil Armstrong took “one small step” and the world took a “giant leap”. If we could be inspired by the flight of Apollo 11 to take small steps towards mutual respect and concern for all, it would be a giant leap for all. The world stood together on July 20, 1969, celebrating this momentous accomplishment. May we see the day when all of us, all human beings, stand together as one once again.

I posted two postings on Facebook yesterday and today about how horrendous President Trump’s tweets of Sunday morning were. But, then this morning, he tweeted that the people whom he was speaking of “hate Israel”.

Here was my response today on Facebook:

While I am not by any means enamored with some of the comments made by the 4 members of congress whom Trump apparently has targeted, I am infuriated by his using; “They hate Israel” as a justification for his racist tweets. He is clearly trying to leverage the support of the American Jewish community and claiming it is out of concern for Israel that he makes statements like these.

A few months ago, I wrote a piece on my website entitled; “An Open Letter to President Trump” in which I said that I would certainly consider a candidate’s stand on Israel when I decide whom to support in 2020 but: “My vote will also be based on a candidate’s and party’s positions on health care, immigration policy, gun violence, tax policies, environmental concerns and civil rights for minorities of all types, to name a few. I will also consider whom I feel represents the United States best in the world community. These domestic issues are what motivate me as an American as I consider the future of my country.”

President Trump’s use of Israel in this way is, I believe, disingenuous as well as dangerous. As much as we are legitimately concerned about Israel’s future and our country’s policy in the Middle East, we can’t be swayed by statements like this to ignore how horrendous his racist rants and his alliances with the far right and White Nationalists are. In no way are those good for the Jews or good for America.

This past Shabbat, Shabbat Parashat Korach, I had the opportunity to deliver a d’var Torah at Beth Israel. The story, from the book of Numbers, focuses on the rebellion of Korach, Datan, Aviram, On and 250 others against the leadership of Moses and Aaron.

The story is fascinating in and of itself but there is one aspect of the story which continues to attract my attention. When Korach and his band approach Moses with their complaints, Moses says that the matter will be settled the next morning. The commentaries consider why Moses and God didn’t respond on the spot.

There are many answers that are given, some more fanciful than others. But, the answer that has always resonated most clearly with me is the idea that Moses wanted to give the rebels an opportunity to take back their words. He wanted to give them a chance to do teshuva, to repent.

If, in fact, that was the goal, it was partially successful. The man named On is never mentioned in the rest of the story and the rabbis imagine that either he himself decided to stay away or, as we read in a great aggada, his wife prevented him from joining the rebellion the next day by filling him with food and drink during the night so that he slept through the entire affair the next day.

I examined this story in more depth during my d’var Torah and related it to a sad chapter in American history which I had been reading about the past few weeks.

I love reading biographies of presidents and I have just finished the biography of Ulysses Grant by Ron Chernow. It’s a fascinating book about a very complex man who, by the end of his second term, had a reputation of concern and respect for all people, including blacks and Jews. He had brought more Jews into his administration than any previous president and had publicly stood up against Russia and Romania where Jews were being persecuted.

What was particularly surprising about his relations with the Jewish community is that in 1862, while he was in charge of the “department” of Tennessee, then General Grant had issued the most blatantly anti-Semitic order in American history: General Order no. 11 which called for the eviction of Jews from the entire area. Grant was furious about war profiteering and smuggling that had been taking place and, swayed by general anti-Semitic attitudes in the nation, issued the order that Jews “as a class” were required to leave immediately. The order was quickly revoked by President Lincoln and Grant rescinded his order shortly after. But, the fear that the order raised among Jews was not easily calmed and the chilling words resonated for many years.

You can read more about the order in Chernow’s book or in a great book called: “When General Grant Expelled the Jews” by Jonathan Sarna. There is so much more to say about this entire affair and it is fascinating to consider how Jewish leaders responded and, particularly how and why many Jews decided to support Grant in his bid for the presidency despite the order. Part of that decision might be attributable to Grant’s explanation of his act. Whether it was because of political expediency or spoken from the heart, Grant later said these words which resonate today: “It would never have been issued if it had not been telegraphed the moment it was penned and without any reflection.”

Think for a moment about those words.

And now, think about today.

If, in 1862, Grant was a victim of speaking without thinking twice, how much more is that a danger for us today?

In this era of instant communications, we constantly are telegraphing our thoughts without reflection in the perceived need to have our opinions or feelings “out there” before any others. And, it is more difficult than it was in Grant’s day to have any repentance we might feel accepted by our listeners or readers because those words, once written, are constantly brought up again and again thanks to the Internet. Nothing is forgotten. Nothing can be cancelled out. And, it also seems that no apology is enough even if it is backed up, as it was in Grant’s case, by action.

When Moses gave Korach time to “think it over”, it was an encouragement to realize that in his situation perhaps the words could be taken back. Somehow, in 1862, Grant’s statement of regret was enough.

Today, it is even easier to fall into the trap of speaking or writing without taking a moment or two to reflect. And it is certainly more difficult to take back our words when we do.