SYBIL SHERIDAN

Ethiopian Blog 2012: Sunday

Since my first visit to Ethiopia four years ago, I have given many talks on the subject.  The titles have ranged from:  Are there still Jews in Ethiopia? To: There are Jews in Ethiopia, to: There are still Jews in Ethiopia.  My future talks will be entitled, I think:  There will always be Jews in Ethiopia.

I am currently sitting in a comfortable hotel in Gondar viewing the attractive garden with highly coloured birds flying around and stealing crumbs from the breakfast table. But this is Gondar. There is no electricity and consequently no coffee for breakfast, and no internet.  But all of this is in sharp contrast to the rest of the town and my complaints marginal when I consider that just down the road, surrounding the Beta Yisrael synagogue are slum dwellings and a shanty town in which the poorest of the Jewish community still lives. So, I am moving out today and into a small flat owned by Link Ethiopia for the use of its volunteers.

Why will there always be Jews in Ethiopia?  It’s a long story. Briefly, the Israeli government took the Jews to Israel in the much-publicised operations Moses and Solomon.  These were Beta Yisrael, part of an ancient community with distinctive customs and a unique faith – the people better known as Falasha. Along with them, went a number of Zera Yisrael, the descendents of Jews who had converted to Christianity, known rather derogatorily as Falash Mura. They got caught up with the rest and have provided the Israeli government with something of a headache.  Though ethnically Jewish, they cannot be accepted under the Law of Return, which since the case of Oswald Rufeisen (Brother Daniel) decided that if a Jew has converted they have forfeited that right. But the Israeli government has since agreed to take Zera Yisrael under the Law of Entry, which allows for the reunification of families. In Gondar, thousands of Beta Yisrael have taken the opportunity to reconnect with their Judaism and the charity with which I volunteered four years ago, NACOEJ  created a community under the auspices of an Israeli Rabbi who has taught them Mizrachi Judaism so that they can join Sephardi congregations when they get to Israel.

Two lists of Zera Yisrael were compiled – one in 1999  and another in 2005. Then, for reasons that must have to do with internal policy the decision was made to only take those Jews who were matrilineally Jewish – a decision that makes sense from the point of view of Halachah (only the Ethiopians are converted after a year in Israel anyway) – but makes no sense for the Jews in Ethiopia have always followed the patrilineal principal. Thus you have the anomaly of families that are matrilineally Jewish but practicing Christians going to Israel, while families that are patrilineally Jewish who have always considered themselves Jewish being refused.

But the line has to be drawn somewhere, and after years of false hopes and broken promises, the Community in Gondar now knows exactly where it stands. Those eligible to go to Israel have been told so and are simply awaiting process.  Roughly 250 individuals are going each month at the moment and the whole procedure should take no more than eighteen months.

But what of those who are left behind?  They are angry, of course.  There are those who will continue to fight their cause, but that is not my concern. What worries me far more is that for years, NACOEJ supported these families with food and education. They are quite suddenly left with nothing.  There are families too, rejected in 1999 Who never received anything at all and are living in abject poverty. It is no different from the poverty of their non-Jewish neighbours, but still there is a difference. Many are people who left their villages; farmers, blacksmiths, potters and weavers. In the town, their skills were redundant. They lost their means of support because of the promise that they would be taken to Israel.  They have been living in Gondar for fifteen years now, getting menial jobs when they can, but these barely pay the rent and food is expensive. The death rate is high as HIV is high. Life in the villages was not great; there was famine and a vicious anti-Semitism that was not alleviated by conversion to Christianity but the people were living together as a community with a long history and a rich tradition. That has all gone.

It is hard to know how many are in this condition. It is estimated that around 5,000 individuals have been refused permission to go to Israel, but a great many of these

are comfortably off, or at least can make a living.  However, there is sizeable number who cannot, and for whom I think we Jews are responsible. That is why I am in Ethiopia at this time, to find out about them, and what we can do to help.  That is why I am going to leave this comfortable hotel and move into a basic flat in a less favourable area for the rest of my stay; even the money I save by this move

can make a difference.

The Loyal Prayer

 

In 1990, as part of their golden Jubilee celebrations, Maidenhead Synagogue invited Princess Margaret to the synagogue. She was quite struck by the service - not – as you would think by the reading of the Torah or  the foreignness of Hebrew prayers. No. What struck her was the prayer for the Queen. 

 

At first, she though it had been read because of her visit, but my husband explained to her that it was not just for that occasion, but that they  read it in synagogue every week – not only that, but that all Jews all over England read it as part of the liturgy every Shabbat.  ‘How lovely,’ was her response,

‘They don’t do that for us in church; I’ll tell my sister’.

Whether the message was every relayed back to Buckingham Palace is unknown, but the custom itself is symptomatic of the very particular relationship that Jews have had with ruling monarchs under which they lived. To my knowledge we are the only faith group that have included such a sentiment in their prayers.

The custom goes back to the period of the Babylonian exile - 586 BCE – the first diaspora if you like – the first time since Egypt where Jews were subject to the whims and wishes of foreign rulers.   This is exemplified in the story of Daniel – a pious Jews from Jerusalem who falls foul of the court in Babylon and is accused of treason – he is thrown into a lions’ den – and it is only his miraculous survival that attests to his innocence.  Jews through the ages have known only too well, that being ‘foreign’ is enough to cast suspicion.

The prophet Jeremiah at that same time sought refuge not in Babylon, but in Egypt. A long time champion for Jews to save Jerusalem, he finally gave up and joined the thousands fleeing the encroaching armies. The question asked by his coreligionists as Jerusalem went up in flames. What do we do now?

Do we join Egyptian society? Merge in with their values and worship their gods? Or remain proudly independent keeping our individuality and our loyalty to the defunct Judah?

Jeremiah’s answer was surprising, but wise.

‘Seek the peace of the city in which you live…for in its peace is your peace’[1]

This was not a call to assimilation, but a clear understanding that the self-interest of the Jewish population is heavily bound up with the security of the ruling populace. We see this to this day. Where countries are stable, anti-Semitism remains a distant rumble. When economies are shaken, where there is no clear direction and where people become scared, then all sorts of nasty right wing elements come to the fore.

The Book of Proverbs contains this maxim:

My son, fear the Eternal and the king; and meddle not with those who are given to change;[2]

Hence, Rabbi Hanina the deputy High Priest tells us in the Mishnah Pirkei Avot

Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for the fear of it, one person would swallow up another alive.[3]

Thus it became customary from very early on to include prayers for the rulers, wherever you may live. And the unease of many Jewish communities is reflected in their prayers for the monarch, in many of which, what is said and what is meant are not necessarily   the same thing.  When prayers ask the monarch rule ‘wisely’ and with ‘compassion’ it may well suggest that the ruler is neither wise nor compassionate. The sub text of the words are a plea to go easy on the Jewish community. The desire ‘Long to reign over us’ may well be a recognition of the upheaval dynastic change brings – and no such change is ever ‘good for the Jews.’ 

It is perhaps in this spirit that the earliest surviving text of the prayer from 11^th century Worms, should be read.

‘May He who blessed Abraham Isaac and Jacob, bless our exalted Kaiser. May He bless and prosper his undertakings; establish his throne in justice, so that righteousness rule in the land; and grant life and peace to him and his seed after him.’[4]

It was in 1096 that 800 Jews were massacred in Worms as part of the first crusade.

It is in this spirit too that the Rabbi in Fiddler on the Roof, asked what is the proper blessing on the Czar, replies ‘May God bless and keep the Czar… far away from us.’

But there are more altruistic ideas also incorporated into the prayer too. Jeremiah’s command to seek the peace of the city holds within it a sense of obligation too. You were homeless, stateless and the country took you in. This is one of the reasons why Jews in the latter centuries have done so well. Out of gratitude for their host country they have worked hard and worked well within the societies in which they have found themselves.

Rav  Shmuel of  Nehardea is quoted many times in the Talmud for his formula held to, to this day of dina  demalchuta dina -  the law of the land is the Law.[5] And this is the law we follow. No real sense of dual loyalty, in spite of what our detractors may say.

Former Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz, in his commentary on the prayer book says the following.

‘Loyalty to the State is ingrained in the Jewish character. The Jew has often shown himself to be the intensive form of any nationality whose language and customs he adopts. (Emma Lazarus calls it “the Piel of the Peoples”).’

Thus it is with pride that many synagogues of the 18^th and 19^th century would engrave the words of the loyal prayer upon a board and display it prominently in the synagogue.

There is another element of the prayer too, which goes to the heart of Jewish belief and that is its universalism. It does not stop at praying for the peace of the city in which we live, nor indeed of the country. We pray too for the peace of the entire world.

The 16^th century Italian scholar Azariah dei Rossi wrote

‘We, who are scattered to the four winds of heaven, should supplicate Almighty God for the peace of all the inhabitants of the world; that no nation lift up sword against nation; and the He remove from their hearts all strife and hatred; for in their peace we too have peace.’[6]

Our version of the loyal prayer, (found on page 246 of the siddur) reflects all these elements, but has added one more – our own obligation to be part this: of creating wise rule of improving society, and of creating world peace.

‘May God give us all the strength to do our duty and the love to do it well„, Together may we work for peace and justice among all nations.’

These words will show to future generations exactly our status as British subjects today. Rather than pray that rulers be kind to us, we pray that we can do our part in our society sufficiently well that all humanity will benefit. It demonstrates that our ruler it titular, that our government is inclusive, and that we as individuals count.

As we go off to enjoy the many jubilee celebrations this weekend – be they the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee,  let us remember that.

Vayakhel Pekudei and Shabbat Parah - a sermon

Two scrolls read this morning in Synagogue – the second being rather short but giving the name to this rather special Shabbat – Shabbat Parah. Shabbat Parah means Shabbat of the cow - and that is because we read of the red heifer - something of a mythical beast these days - a cow that is completely red all over. It is to be slaughtered in an elaborate ritual during which everyone involved becomes ‘unclean’ and must wash and purify themselves before they can continue their lives, while the ashes themselves become an agent of purification for others.

 

Why we read this at this time of year is not entirely clear, but there are lots of possibilities.  The double portion - Vayakhel and pekudei – are the two sections that conclude the book of Shemot, or Exodus and the building of the Mishkan - the tabernacle in the desert. Next week we are into Vayikra - Leviticus and the laws of the Priests and the elaborate details of how they organised their worship. By reading about the red heifer, you get a taste of the ritual that will take over  once the Mishkan, -  whose plans and measurements we are so mired in this week, - are completed.  We read it too, because it is one of the special Shabbatot that lead us up to Pesach and to the greatest event in our history - the Exodus from Egypt.

The ritual of the heifer is all about preparation and purification, and the more conscientious Jewish women - and I hope men, - will have begun their house cleaning and general preparations for Passover.

 

We are reminded also, that only last week, we read in our Torah about the golden calf - an act of idolatry for which the people were punished.  Red Heifer versus golden calf - it is the red heifer that wins.

 

Red and gold.  Colours are so much a feature of these portions - and they all had significance. Unlike today, where dyes are chemical and consistent, wearing coloured garments would be testament to your wealth. Most people, wearing homespun garments, would have to make do with vegetable dyes that created a variety of yellows and browns - not much else. But the people bring for the Mishkan blue and purple and scarlet. These are dyes obtained from small creatures that are rare and cost.  The significance of colours permeates all cultures. Look at the Catholic Church, where the ordinary priest wears black, a bishop purple and cardinal red. Only the Pope wears white, for purity… and gold. 

 

The High Priest wore the colours white and gold, with the gemstones of the ephod and the breastplate sparkling on his shoulders and chest. The other priests wore white.  So imagine in the setting of the Sinai Desert - whose mountains are largely beiges and browns, a motley crowd of people whose clothes would have been equally beige… Imagine the colours of the Mishkan bursting out in vivid contrast. And what does the use of those colours say about the faith of the Israelites?  That it was vibrant, that it was exciting, that it was varied and contained a multiplicity of imagery - even if at its source there was only one God.

 

If you look at those colours the blues the reds, the purples and the golds - they occur in nature in only one place, in the sky - as night turns to day and as day turns to night. In the Bible, red was associated with wealth, purple with royalty and blue…. Blue was associated with with God.  At one moment, while at Mount Sinaii, Moses and Aaron, his sons Nadav and Avihu, and the seventy elders of Israel all see God and beneath God is a ‘pavement of sapphire like the very heaven for clearness.’ (Exodus 24:10)

Thus it was, that the first tsitsit included in them a thread of blue - a touch of heaven - a ‘picture of God.’  When you held the tassels in your hand and said the blessing, just think how close that made you to God.

 

There is another comparison made between the Mishkan and the golden calf. The calf was made by one man, Aaron, the Mishkan by the community. Betsalel and Oholiav organised the men and the women so all could create and be part of it.   The word Mishkan comes from the verb root   which means to dwell, but it is a verb used only of God  dwelling or ‘living’ and we are told at the beginning of the building;

‘Let them make me a holy place and I will dwell among them.’ (Exodus 25:8)

 

‘Dwell among them’ - not ‘dwell in it’.  God’s presence is not confined to the tabernacle, - it is the means by which God enters our community, but not where God lives. The root word for Mishkan   gives us also Shechinah - the presence of God who dwells on earth alongside and among us. God is with the people, and proof of this, is seen everyday in the creativity of artists who are inspired like Bezalel here, to build and to beautify.

 

 (taken from sermon for Aidan Samama’s Bar Mitvah 17.3.2012)

Night Thoughts in a Homeless Shelter

 It is 4.00am and I am sitting, writing in pencil on the back of a paper bag outside the Gents’ toilets on the upper floor of Wimbledon Synagogue.  I am participating in the Merton Night Shelter, through which the synagogue and various Churches in the Borough have opened their doors to those sleeping rough through the month of January.  It is an experiment that, should it be deemed a success, will lead to the project continuing through the winter next year.

 

As I sit here, I am full of amazement that we actually managed it.  The project appeared a non-starter.  While many of our congregants are keenly involved in helping others, their activities remain strictly off-site and often off our radar.  I would love to claim our members social actions are prompted by the demands of their Judaism, but more likely, I think, it is simply because they are good people.  The Prophet Micah’s connection between what it is that God requires of us, and ‘doing justice,’ is one that few seem to make.  A significant number of our members go twice weekly to the Merton Drop in Centre to cook meals, wash clothes and generally chat to the homeless there.  But bring them here? To our beautiful building? That would be a challenge.

 

The first and most obvious objection was security.  Interesting, though everyone else saw this as a problem, the CST did not.  The people coming were named individuals, known at the drop in who had to register at the YMCA and agree to abide by certain rules, before they could take part in the programme. They had to sign an agreement – no drugs, no alcohol allowed, and volunteers would have no hesitation in refusing entry to any who contravened these rules.  This partially resolved the second anxiety too, which related to protecting the fabric of our building and the valuable artefacts inside it.  Purchasing extra insurance resolved this and incurred no great cost.  But the main objection, one that could not be articulated and could not be resolved was a general unspecific fear of the people themselves. Who are the homeless? The vagrants, the alkis, the addicts? Their behaviour would be unpredictable, their very presence a threat.

 

But in a highly charged council meeting, the matter was discussed and voted upon, and the majority agreed to letting the project run on an experimental basis. The congregation as a whole did not know much about it – volunteers put themselves forward to help so quickly and in such numbers that there was never any need to advertise. And there was really nothing to fear. The homeless clients themselves are just so grateful for the warmth, the food the shelter – they are not going to wilfully do anything that will damage our property or put people or the project at risk. 

 

We are really doing some good here. Though not as cold as last year, - it was in the depths of snowbound December 2010 that the scheme was conceived, - nevertheless as the temperature edges towards zero, it is awful to imagine where exactly these people would be tonight if it were not for the synagogue. It is also awe-striking to realise how many are in this situation because they are migrants with no friends or family to take care of them.  There but for the grace of God were we. Were it not for the landesmen - the offer of a fellow countryman’s floor to sleep on – and indeed the opening of Synagogues at night to house the Jews newly arrived in London from the Polish Pale of Settlement at the turn of the last century, our grandparents, great-grandparents and great, great grandparents could well have died of exposure and hypothermia and we would not be here today.  The fact that today’s migrants are Polish adds a nice sort of circularity to the story.

 

Another lovely irony took place on the first night. One thing we do so very well is food. Our volunteers have delivered feasts worthy of a top class Bar Mitzvah. One of the guests stood up and declaimed a speech. ‘I missed Christmas this year,’ he said, ‘Tonight, this is my Christmas dinner.’ To celebrate the nativity with a kosher fish pie in a synagogue – how’s that for interfaith relations?

 

But however wonderful this has been for the guests to the synagogue this month, the true transformation has come to the volunteers themselves. You can spot them around the shul at other times. They are the ones with a ‘glow’ about them.  I first noticed this when, the day before the first session, volunteers from a neighbouring Church brought around some mattresses.  They had just had their ‘first time’ with the homeless and were full of the amazing stories, the amazing characters, and the amazing experience of the night before.  Then, the next day, when I came to take my place in the second shift of the night, I noticed the same glow and the same excitement among our own volunteers.  The morning shift noticed the same about us. 

 

There is no better way to feel good about oneself than to do things for other people.  It is so simple and so effective.  In our materialistic society, so many acknowledge an inner emptiness, which they persist in filling with more and more ‘stuff’. If only they could take this fact on board – then things would be better for all of us.

URJ Conference Washington

Parashat Miketz                  URJ Conference                                  24.12.11

 

This time last week I was in Washington at the biennial URJ conference. URJ stands for the Union of Reform Judaism and is our sister movement in the United States.

What a revelation! What a difference.  Firstly the conference was five thousand strong. Five thousand Reform Jews sitting down to Friday night dinner together - five thousand joining in Friday night and Shabbat morning worship.  Can you imagine it?  How did they do the catering?  Admittedly the room in which we dined resembled an aircraft hangar, but the food was served hot and there was no endless waiting.  The services were highly amplified and relayed via giant screens to those at the back for whom the people on the bimah resembled ants.  But in the land of mega churches – where ten thousand will turn out at one time for worship such services are not impossible. 

In fact, nothing seems impossible in the URJ.  They are the largest Jewish movement in the States, - and one of the oldest. They have a high profile in the media and in a political system which depends on lobby groups they are exceedingly well connected.  This year, they were celebrating the 50^th anniversary of the Religious Action Centre.  Formed at the time of the civil right marches, when Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched beside Martin Luther King, it has been influential in shaping American policy on race, gay rights and disability. Its current director, Rabbi David Sapperstein regularly breakfasts at the White House and has had the ear of every President since his appointment.  Because of this, a smaller number of us had a day with RAC, going to the White House to hear politicians and civil servants describe their policies, listening to Ambassador Michael Oren, at the Israeli embassy and meeting Jewish Senators on Capitol Hill.  The highlight though, was on Friday afternoon, when President Obama addressed the conference. You can here his speech on U-Tube – its worth it – engaging and amusing as all his speeches are – but never have I heard a President of the United States give a d’var Torah  before. ‘In the Parashah we read this week, Parashat Vayeshev’, –  he began, ‘Joseph says ‘Hineni’  - ‘Here I am.’ ... Clearly he has a Jewish speech writer, but it is the ease and confidence with which he came out with Jewishisms that show that he is no stranger to us.  For example he spoke of his daughter being of the age where ‘every weekend there is another Bat Mitzvah party.’

We are planning to set up a Religious Action Centre here in England but because the political system is different, and because we Jews have a different relationship to the society around us, the resultant group will look quite different.   We may be involved in many civic and political activities as individuals, but we do not do this because we are Jews and we don’t do it communally. That makes a huge difference. 

The Reform movement is the largest Jewish body in the United States.  This was not always so, but over the past decade they have far outstripped the Conservatives, - their main rivals.  How had this come about?  Growth had come, I was told repeatedly, because of the Movement’s developing spirituality.  American Reform, like British Reform was very cerebral, very logical. Our watchword ‘informed choice’ requires study, knowledge and an intellectual acceptance of beliefs and practices. Services are dignified, comprehensible and the words we say (and I would add – the sermons we hear!) make absolute sense. But there is something missing.  That missing bit is defined by Rabbi Laurence Hoffman as ‘meaning’ – giving meaning to what we do – making sense of our lives.  But how do we translate that into something concrete, and specific to our Jewishness?  Debbie Friedman, z”l the singer/songwriter who has been influential in shaping a new generation of music and musicians was, because of her own ill health drawn to the idea in Jewish tradition of healing.  She created healing services which encouraged individuals to focus on their own issues and their own relationship with God. That individualisation of worship has led to the interaction, now adopted by many in this country, by inviting people to call out the names of those in need of healing and those whose yarhzeits occur, rather than reading a list. Debbie and her generation, part of the 60s revolution adopted the music genre of her peers and made it Jewish. The result a new style of  music in worship which for many Brits is dismissed simply as ‘Happy Clappy’ but which recognises the power of music as a medium that bypasses the intellect and goes straight to the soul.  ‘Music is how God speaks to us.’ We were told more than once at this conference.

It seems to me, that while many in England (including ourselves now with ‘shir hadash’ our new monthly musical Kabbalat Shabbat) are trying to emulate this style of service, we are missing the mark unless we make it true to our own experience, and our own personalities.  Americans do seem to wear their heart on their sleeves, and in the face of their open confidence and optimism, we appeared to ourselves at the conference, both world weary and cynical. What this means is that there is a lot of work to be done by Reform leaders to learn how best to articulate and how best to deliver on that search for meaning for the communities in our care.

Finally, I followed the track on education – and in particular the challenging session entitled ‘How to move your Cheder from Sunday to Shabbat.’  So many kids coming to Sunday cheder do not engage in any real way with the religious life of the synagogue.  As one person put it so aptly they are ‘reading the menu’ but never enjoying the meal. Rabbi Stephen Cohen, presented the current statistics which suggest that the further ‘right’ you are on the religious spectrum the more likely you are to have Jewish grandchildren.  Those who go to Jewish schools are more likely to retain their Judaism into the next generation, while those who have no Jewish affiliation are most like to completely assimilate.  So far, so expected.  But listen to this.  Other statistics also suggest that those who go to cheder just once a week are less likely to marry and bring up their children as Jewish than those that don’t go to cheder at all!

What should we make of that?

So we have three challenges that have come out of the American Reform movement that speak to the Reform movement in this country.  The establishment of a British Religious Action Centre, the development of a new Reform Jewish spirituality, and the challenge to make religious education meaningful.  There is a lot more to be said on all these subjects.  And I will.  So watch this space…

 

This too shall pass

גם זה יעבור  gam zeh ya’avor

“King Solomon once searched for a cure against depression. He assembled his wise men together. They meditated for a long time and gave him the following advice: Make yourself a ring and have thereon engraved the words  gam zeh ya’avor - this too shall pass. The King carried out the advice. He had the ring made and wore it constantly. Every time he felt sad and depressed, he looked at the ring, whereon his mood would change and he would feel cheerful.”

This is one piece of wisdom I find really works.  In my day to day activities, there is so much that  gets one down. It is so easy to get hung up on details, be upset by random comments, and feel the pain of small injustices.  But this phrase gam zeh ya’avor  puts it all into perspective.  There is so much more to be thankful for.  Maybe one day I shall have the phrase engraved on a ring also…