RabbiYoshi

Replace “Haniyeh” with “Sinwar” and it applies to yesterday’s news as well.

“When we see the truly wicked among our enemies — those who terrorized us and others, those who planned and executed acts of unspeakable cruelty, those who tore parents from their children and children from their parents — when we see them brought to justice, we can breathe more than a sigh of relief. We can rejoice.”

May We Rejoice at the Downfall of Our Enemies? “Is it OK to be happy that he’s dead? Not just relieved but happy?”

My Yizkor sermon about my mom. Maybe it’s about your mom, too?

Gratitude List Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback's High Holy Day Sermon 5785 (2024), delivered during Yom Kippur Yizkor services at Stephen Wise Temple on October 12, 2024.

It's a heavy time to celebrate a birthday. Thanks to everyone who took the time to send me birthday wishes yesterday... My deepest wish is that the hostages come home, residents of the north and south return to their communities, our soldiers come home safe and sound, and that -- somehow -- we can realize lasting peace for Israel, the region, and the whole wide world.

What a lesson, what an important reminder for us as we turn the page on 5784, a year filled with countless moments of despair, moments of doubt, moments when maybe for just a second or perhaps longer, avda tikvateinu – our hope was lost.

But we got through it, together. Again and again we held each other up. We reminded one another of that all important LO – NO! We will NOT give up.

https://youtu.be/GRA057vRJ48?si=ed5nKeE4IcEqzIfl

Text - https://docs.google.com/document/d/13_xJbwuNN9Cg5WsxX7lMDPPffdv6UgpXHlS-BAfBe-o/edit

Od Lo Avda Tikvateinu - Our Hope Is Not Lost Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback's High Holy Day Sermon 5785 (2024), delivered during Erev Rosh Hashanah services at Stephen Wise Temple on the evening of Octobe 2, 2024.

Many of us have probably already seen footage of the fences designed to protect the Israeli communities on the Gaza border being breached by the terrorists. Some of the openings they made on October 7th were just large enough for people to walk through. Others were wide enough for cars and even those white Toyota pickup trucks to navigate. The images of the dozens, then hundreds, of terrorists crossing over are haunting.

Yesterday I came across a very different video of the Gaza border being breached; this time by family members of those held hostage trying desperately, albeit symbolically, to rescue their loved ones. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. Of course, the families did not actually breach the Gaza border. They broke through the perimeter fence of Kibbutz Nirim and ran toward the internationally recognized border with the Gaza Strip--but did not actually cross over. They remained separated from their loved ones by meters, just as they have been for over 325 days.

What a painful and powerful image nonetheless. What a poignant split screen. On one side, bloodthirsty terrorists breaking a cease-fire and violating an internationally recognized border in order to pilage, r**e, terrorize, and murder. On the other screen, desperate family members, filled with compassion and hope, attempting to breach the border in order to save their loved ones.

As they ran toward the fence, the families chanted: “Et kulam – ACHSHAV! (Bring all of them home, NOW!).” A member of the Albag family yells out, “Liri, ani ba’ah! (Liri, I’m coming to save you!”).

Yehudah Cohen, whom I had the honor to speak with a few weeks ago, is the father of Ni**od, a soldier who was taken hostage on October 7 from the Nahal Oz army base. He spoke to his son through large speakers set up to project his voice into Gaza itself: “Ni**od, Abba is speaking, we’re here at the border, I will not give up until you come home. I will run everywhere in the world until we have a deal that will free you and the other hostages.”

Varda Ben Baruch, the grandmother of Edan Alexander, a 20-year-old lone soldier from Tenafly, New Jersey, shared these words to her grandson: “It’s Grandma and Grandpa, you are our soul, do you hear us? Idanaleh! Mom and Dad are waiting for you, we’re worried about you and waiting for your return home. Be strong, you’re strong, survive, we’re doing everything we can for you and for all the other hostages.”

Rachel Goldberg-Polin recited a prayer for her son:

“It’s Mama, Hersh. It’s day 328. We are all here. All the families of the remaining 107 hostages. Hersh we are working day and night and we will never stop. I need you to know that I am giving you the blessing I give you every single morning when I pray for you and every Friday night I go out on the porch and I put my hands up toward Gaza and I give you the [Priestly] Blessing: May God bless you and keep you. May God shine His face upon you and be gracious to you. May God lift up God’s face toward you. May God give you peace and may God bring you home! ”

Clearly, this week’s action, sponsored by the Hostage Families Forum, was designed to put pressure on the powers that be–in Israel, the United States, and throughout the world–to get to a deal that will bring the remaining hostages home before it’s too late.

But beyond the politics, the symbolic act of attempting to breach the border was itself a prayer. A prayer of longing. A prayer of love. A prayer of hope.

To their prayers, I add two more of my own: one, a prayer of gratitude for the rescue of Farhan al-Qadi this past week. May he and his family be well and may the brave soldiers of the IDF bring home dozens more in the days to come.

The other is a prayer for fences:

Dear God, may our fences never be breached by those who wish us harm. May they stand strong, protecting us always so that we might live our lives in safety and peace. And should they ever need to be breached, may it only be for the sake of rescue, for the sake of holiness, for the sake of life.

If you saw it you would understand. The heartbreak. The utter heartbreak.

Right before she begins her speech at the DNC with her husband, Jon, at her side, she hears tens of thousands of people chanting “Bring Them Home.” Rachel Goldberg puts her hand on her forehead and then collapses on the lectern, her body convulsing as she begins to cry. Jon gently helps her stand and says to her gently, “You’ve got this.” And then, “let’s go.”

She starts to speak: “At this moment, 109 treasured human beings are being held hostage by Hamas in Gaza. They are Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists. They are from 23 different countries. The youngest hostage is a one year old, red-headed baby boy. And the oldest is an 86 year old mustachioed grandpa. Among the hostages are eight American citizens. One of those Americans is our only son. His name is Hersh. He’s twenty-three years old.”

She tells us that Hersh is a happy-go-lucky young man who loves soccer and music and is obsessed with travel; his room at home filled with atlases and travel books.

If this impassioned plea by Jon and Rachel on behalf of their child, and the rest of the hostages, doesn’t open your heart, I can’t imagine what would.

Bringing our hostages home is an issue that, no matter our politics, every American should be fighting for, along with every person of conscience in the world.

Jon referenced this directly when he said, “We are heartened that both democratic and republican leaders demonstrate their bipartisan support for our hostages being released.”

At last month’s RNC gathering, Orna and Ronen Neutra, the parents of Omer, age 22, another Israeli-American being held hostage in Gaza, spoke. There as well we heard the convention participants chanting in one voice, “Bring Them Home.”

Empathy should be bipartisan and, yes, empathy should extend to the innocents in Gaza who suffer mostly because of the intentional cruelty of the Hamas regime.

Jon and Rachel powerfully demonstrated their own empathy by acknowledging that the agony they feel is not unique. It is shared, of course, by the families of the other hostages. This agony is also experienced by millions of others in the region, Israeli and Palestinian alike, who are affected by the awful war initiated by the terror attacks of October 7. The tens of thousands of Israelis who have had to evacuate their homes. Gazan families who desperately seek safety in the middle of a war zone. Survivors of the Nova music festival who struggle with the horrific trauma they witnessed. Soldiers who are asked to do hard things so that terrorists might be brought to justice, hostages might be rescued, and whole communities might be kept safe.

So much agony on every side. As Jon put it: “There is a surplus of agony on all sides of the tragic conflict in the Middle East. In a competition of pain, there are no winners. In an inflamed Middle East, we know the one thing that can most immediately release pressure and bring calm to the entire region: a deal that brings this diverse group of 109 hostages home and ends the suffering of the innocent civilians in Gaza.”

We need to bring Hersh and Omer home, now, along with Kfir and Ariel, Carmel and Liri — every last one of them. This includes the dead so that we may bury them properly.

It’s been far, far too long.

The masking tape on Jon and Rachel’s shirts made this clear; noting exactly how many days have passed since the hostages were taken: 320.

Almost a year since these sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, and grandparents were stolen from their lives and their families. Almost a year of unimaginable agony.

Our broken hearts must remain open. We must hold on to our capacity for empathy.

This week’s Torah portion, Eikev, points the way:

“Cut away the thickening about your hearts and stiffen your necks no more. For the ETERNAL your God is God supreme and Sovereign supreme, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who shows no favor and takes no bribe, but upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the stranger, providing food and clothing. You too must love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 10:16-19)

Our Torah calls us to stop being hard-hearted, stubborn, and stiff-necked; to see the pain of the orphan and the widow, the agony of the stranger, of the other.

These verses remind us that empathy is divine; a Godly attribute which, as God’s creations, we can actually hope to attain.

We can do this. We are capable of seeing the agony of the other. We can cut away the “thickening of our hearts” and love even the stranger.

And then, regardless of race or religion, political affiliation or ethnic background, we will someday experience justice, liberty, and peace together.

Asking most Jews to reject their relationship to Israel and to their age-old dream of returning “upright to our land” as the rabbis would have it, would be akin to asking them to reject any other deeply held belief or article of faith.

Thank You, Judge Scarsi Thank you Judge Scarsi for seeing us, for understanding us, and for this temporary injunction that we hope might lead to more robust and permanent protections for our people.

When the truly wicked are laid low, we are permitted to rejoice. Normal rules no longer apply.

May We Rejoice at the Downfall of Our Enemies? “Is it OK to be happy that he’s dead? Not just relieved but happy?”

Olympic Swimming LEGEND Mark Spitz on the Search for Meaning podcast from a few years back... It's absolutely amazing to reflect on his achievements. An extraordinary athlete and a tremendous mensch...

https://www.buzzsprout.com/367523/2545450

For more than 25 years, the Tel Aviv Pride Parade has brought together people from all over the world in a demonstration of tolerance and shared humanity unique in the Middle East. Last year, more than 200,000 people participated; since 2019, Tel Aviv Pride has been the largest in Asia

Because of the war, and the almost singular focus of Israeli citizens on bringing the hostages home, the organizers of Tel Aviv Pride decided to cancel this year’s parade--but they did not cancel Pride. In a beautiful fashion, Tel Aviv found a way to demonstrate its ongoing commitment to LGBTQ+ inclusion even in this painful time. Last night the city held a “Pride and Hope Assembly'' with a focus on remembering those murdered on October 7, as well as all those who have fallen since. It also included an opportunity to offer prayers for those still held in captivity in Gaza. A special flag was created for this moment that expands the yellow band of the rainbow in honor of the hostages. (We have made our own version of this same flag which I plan to carry as part of the Jewish contingent of the LA Pride Parade with Rabbi Sari this Sunday.)

One of the most meaningful and heart wrenching moments at Pride in Israel this year so far took place at the Jerusalem event held last Thursday. Among the speakers was Omer Ohana, the bereaved fiancé of slain soldier Maj. Sagi Golan who was killed fighting Hamas terrorists on October 7. At first, the law did not initially recognize Ohana as a bereaved family member after Golan’s death; his advocacy and efforts led Defense Minister Yoav Gallant to amend the IDF policy to include same-sex couples. What a beautiful example of how we can make progress towards inclusion, even in our most difficult moments. It’s a story that should be told to demonstrate just how much Israel, alone in the Middle East, embodies the values that college students on campuses across this country who purport to care about justice should embrace.

At a time when Israel is being vilified and demonized in the most insidious and antisemitic fashion, we should be especially proud of the ways in which it is truly a beacon of tolerance and inclusion not just in the Middle East but throughout the world. In a time of identity politics and zero-sum thinking about empathy, we should be proud of how the organizers of the Tel Aviv assembly sought to connect efforts around inclusion with concern for the hostages. And in a time when some voices in the LGBTQ+ community wish to exclude Jewish participation in misguided attempts to demonize Israel, we should refuse to cede these spaces or give up values we cherish in the face of such bigotry and hatred.

I think especially about Sagi Golan’s sacrifice when I read one of the opening lines of this week’s Torah portion where Moses is commanded to count the number of Israelites eligible for army service:
שְׂאוּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ כׇּל־עֲדַת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל…׃
"Take a census of the whole Israelite community…” (Numbers 1:2)

The Hebrew idiom for taking a census is instructive. It literally tells us to “lift up the head of every Israelite.” It reminds us that every person counts.

I’m proud to be part of a tradition that has endeavored to find ways to live this value as our understanding of gender and sexuality has changed over time. Across the denominational diversity of the Jewish people, Rabbis and leaders have consistently and overwhelmingly embraced inclusion over exclusion and tolerance over intolerance. And at this difficult moment, as I reflect on how our sisters and brothers in Israel are balancing their desire to celebrate Pride with the sorrow they feel about loved ones lost and missing, I’m prouder still.

Shabbat shalom and Am Yisrael Chai

This past Monday I had the honor of attending a reception at the White House in honor of Jewish American Heritage Month (JAHM), which is a celebration of our people’s enormous contributions to the United States. JAHM was first proclaimed by President George W. Bush in 2006 at the initiation of Senator Arlen Specter.

Standing in the Rose Garden, President Biden spoke about the ways our community has shaped this country: “Jewish artists and poets have helped define the American vision of liberty for millions of people who come to our shores. Jewish suffragettes and advocates have fought for women’s rights, and voting rights – every right we have. My whole career, every fight to increase civil rights and civil liberties has been led by Jewish community… Jewish scientists and engineers and doctors have led breakthroughs in innovation, technology, and medicine. Across government, Jewish Americans have proudly served our nation in uniform and elected and appointed office in embassies and civil service and in our nation’s highest courts.”

Although his remarks focused on the American Jewish community, the President also categorically rejected the ICC’s actions this week, called for Sinwar’s removal, and aptly described Hamas as “butchers,” explicitly condemning the kidnappings, r**es, and murders perpetrated by the terrorist regime. He declared his ongoing commitment to provide Israel with the resources it needs to defend itself against its enemies and promised to do everything he can to defend Jewish life in America against rising antisemitism.

While legitimate concerns have been raised about certain actions the administration has taken, it was an honor to have the opportunity to express our gratitude for the generous support we have received as well.

It was inspiring to be surrounded by hundreds of members of the Jewish community, our allies, elected officials and cabinet members. I was heartened to also stand amongst brave student leaders who have been advocating so courageously over the past many months on our college campuses.

I was invited to the White House as the guest of comedian Tiffany Haddish, whose personal story is a magnificent example of what makes the Jewish American experience so special. Born to an Eritrean immigrant father and a native Angeleno mother with roots tracing back to African slaves, Haddish only discovered her father's Jewish lineage during her teenage years.

At age 40, she fully embraced her Jewish identity by celebrating becoming a Bat Mitzvah, during which Cantor Emma and I were honored to co-officiate. Over the past eight months, Tiffany has spoken out repeatedly in support of Israel and made her first-ever trip there this past February, visiting Hostage Square and meeting with families those held captive in Gaza. Watching her speak with the President and Vice-President about the importance of continuing to fight for the return of the hostages while proudly wearing her Jewish star was another reminder of how unique, precious, and rare the Jewish American experience has been.

Following the President’s speech, I had the opportunity to introduce Tiffany to my former neighbors Rachel Goldberg and Jon Polin, whom we met while our family was living in Jerusalem. Jon told me that his son Hersh, for whose release we pray every single day, is a huge fan of comedy. God willing, Hersh will soon be able to enjoy hearing about his parents’ meeting with Tiffany when he is released from captivity and at last comes home.

I’ve studied Jewish history throughout my adult life. Never before have Jews lived in a time with a sovereign Jewish state whose closest ally is the most powerful nation in the world, whose leaders have declared publicly on many occasions as President Biden did this past Monday afternoon: “My commitment to the safety of the Jewish people and the security of Israel and its right to exist as an independent Jewish state is ironclad.”

Jewish American Heritage Month gives us the opportunity to reflect on both the tremendous contributions we have made to this country as well as the extraordinary gifts this country has given us in return.

May God bless Israel and may God bless Israel’s greatest friend in the family of nations: the United States of America.

Happy Jewish American Heritage Month, Shabbat Shalom, and Am Yisrael Chai!

This past Tuesday we celebrated Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day. Our joy was, of course, muted given the terrible war we find ourselves in and the fact that so many of our family are still held captive in Gaza after enduring more than 224 days of hell.

There is an insertion to our liturgy on Yom Ha’Atzmaut which I find particularly resonant and inspiring at this moment. In one section of the Amidah, the central prayer of our service, there is a passage known as “Modim (Thanksgiving),” where we express our gratitude for the many gifts, including the gift of life itself, that God showers upon us day by day. On Yom Ha’Atzmaut, we add special words of gratitude for the gift of sovereignty. With all of its messiness, challenges, and obligations, our return to power has been an extraordinary blessing which we must never take for granted.

One of the many superpowers of the Jewish People is our astonishing strength and resilience. When others might have given up, assimilated completely, or faded away, we soldier on. Even in challenging times, we find a way to celebrate our festivals and rejoice in our blessings. On Yom Ha’Atzmaut, even in the middle of a painful, bloody war that included this week the tragic and heartbreaking news of five soldiers killed by “friendly fire,” we must have the strength and resilience to express our gratitude and even joy that we are of the generations who merit to have the privilege to build up and to be built up through the task of our return to sovereignty, the sacred task of Shivat Tzion, our coming home to Zion.

In our siddur (prayer book), we add these words: “In the return to Zion of our time, Your people gathered in Your land to build it up and be built up themselves. They established this Independence Day as a festival of joy, thanksgiving, and praise to You. As You performed miracles for our ancestors, do likewise for us, saving us now as You did then.” (Mishkan T’filah)

Once, years ago, I was speaking with a congregant at a Yom Ha’Atzmaut celebration. He was the kind of synagogue member who didn’t often attend worship services but would never, ever miss an event celebrating Israel or a gathering of solidarity when, God forbid, something tragic befell our people. He turned to me with tears in his eyes and said, “Rabbi, I am a total atheist but there’s one miracle in which I believe: the miracle of Israel! Out of the ashes of the Holocaust, against all odds, we built a State!”

And at this time especially we should acknowledge the truth that Israel is itself a miracle–an inexplicable occurrence which is both surprising and welcome. This miracle, however, wasn't given to us on a silver platter; it was bought with blood, tears and enormous sacrifice.

This miracle that is Israel should be celebrated not just by Jews, but by people of conscience throughout the world, especially by those who would describe themselves as progressives. After all, what is a more inspirational example of progress than an oppressed people returning to its land of indigeneity? But sadly, many of those whom we would expect to celebrate alongside us instead demonize and delegitimize us.

Our work is not finished, it never will be. Like every other nation-state or worthy endeavor for that matter, it is an ongoing, iterative process that requires continued strength, creativity and perseverance in the face of new challenges.

This week especially though, we celebrate with pride what we have built, what we have accomplished, and what we hope to achieve in the future. Despite the many forces hell-bent on our destruction, we hold on to our humanity and strive to be worthy of the time when the dream of the prophet Micah will be fulfilled:

..וְיָשְׁב֗וּ אִ֣ישׁ תַּ֧חַת גַּפְנ֛וֹ וְתַ֥חַת תְּאֵנָת֖וֹ וְאֵ֣ין
מַחֲרִ֑יד

Every family shall sit
Under its own vine and fig tree
And no one shall give them cause to fear!

May this be a miracle that we experience soon, speedily, and in our own day.