Sermons and Divrei Torah
Our Jewish Heroes
by Rabbi Elyse Goldstein
(Sermon - Yom Kippur 5763)
A true story: one summer a few years ago my brother-in-law attended a
conference for Jewish educators. In one session the educators were given
blank index cards and asked to write who their Jewish heroes and heroines
were. The cards were collected and read aloud. Names like Theodore Herzl,
Hannah Senesh, Henrietta Szold, Shimon Bar Yochai and the facilitator was
able to extrapolate from these and other names lessons about Jewish history
and Jewish values. The session so impressed my brother-in-law that he decided
to take this lesson plan back to his religious school, where he taught grade
8. He handed out the blank index cards, asked his 8th graders to write down
their Jewish heroes and heroines, and pass the cards up to the front. He
began to read, and then stopped. The first card was blank, and the second,
and the third. The next card said, “Moses.” Two more blanks, and
then “Michael Jackson”. Three more blanks, and the last one said,
“God.” Not that God and Moses are bad role models, mind you, and
Michael Jackson does study Kabbalah, but my brother-in-law had expected
something a little more substantial.
This summer, I learned alot about what we would call heroes from religious
Christians, at two events which took place during the week of July 25. I
think the Catholics and the Mormons have a lot to teach us as Jews.
For months before July 25 I watched as my neighborhood at Bathurst and Sheppard
became transformed into a papal shrine. The huge yellow cross was erected at the
Downsview park, and my little sidestreet, which had the luck to run directly off
Sheppard, was closed to traffic for a whole weekend. During that weekend, kids
reached out to touch a car as it snaked through the Park, and teenage boys had
tears running down their eyes as they held out their hands in hope of a touch
from this revered man.
Speaking on why the Pope’s visit was so emotional for those who attended,
Father Raymound J. de Souza wrote, “It was the old century speaking of its
anguish to the new. It was the voice of the ages conveying its wisdom to the
modern world. It was, in a word, prophetic...for he came to remind us again
of God.” What I found most amazing was not the Catholic adults who praised
him. What I was most impressed with were the throngs of young people walking
in downtown Toronto during World Youth Days. They looked like typical teenagers,
grungy jeans, logo emblazoned T shirts, loud boom boxes, squealing girls. Normally
I’d be afraid of such a teeming horde of hormones. I wouldn’t want to
meet that lot coming out from a punk rock concert. But I wasn’t afraid for
a moment that they would loot any store, deface any building, or hurt any person
in my city. Because, as teenager Evita Correra put it, “Everyone here was
partying and celebrating about God. I want to remember this forever.” Or
as teenager Giani Stephano said, “People think that young people have no
objective, no focus, but this pilgrimage shows them that we do.” The kids
read prayerbooks all night while waiting for the vigil to begin. OK maybe there
were a few comics stuck in those prayerbooks, but they had prayerbooks just the
same. Of course, one can expect that in such a Woodstock atmosphere, there would
be some playing around as well. I’m sure there was, but listen to how teenager
Ron Huarte put it, “We’re keeping it holy. Its a Catholic thing, and J.P.
(John Paul) has got his eye on us.” Oh man, can you imagine a bunch of Jewish
CHAT kids at an all night vigil, clutching siddurim and saying, “We’re
keeping it holy. Its a Jewish thing, and Hashem has got his eye on us.” Now
lots of these kids don’t agree with everything the Pope has decreed, especially
regarding birth control, homosexuality, abortion, and women’s ordination. All
the same, they hold him in their highest esteem, and he is their hero.
But on July 25th I wasn’t at Downsview Park, although I had been invited,
along with several other rabbis, to view the Papal Mass. I was in Salt Lake
City, having an extraordinarily interesting conversation with three teenage
Mormon missionaries. Now when you walk down the street in Salt Lake City Utah,
you should expect to have many, many “chance” meetings with Mormon
teenagers from around the world. It is Mormon minhag, a custom with the force
of law, for Mormon teenagers to spend three years, usually from around 18 to 21,
doing free “mission” work for their church around the world. The kids
we met were from China, India, France, Chile, and the Philippines. They all spoke
English and they all were unbearably clean cut, adorable, sweet, well dressed,
modest, pleasant and enthusiastic. Oh God, give me teenagers like those! And
each one of them was willing, anxious, and happy to entertain our questions
about their faith, invite us to the main building to see a film and presentation,
and share a free Mormon Bible with us. If it wasn't so damn loving and pleasant
I’d say it was proselytizing. They never argued with us, or indicated that
they thought we were wrong, or sinners, or flawed in any way. They personalized
everything with “This is how I see it...” or “I feel so connected
to Jesus...” or “The Prophet gives me so much joy...” Never mind
what they believe, because few of these well-meaning teenagers could stand up to
the scrutiny of a Bible-versed rabbi who knows Hebrew and whose questions were
deeper and more critical than they had ever been trained for. I was a Rabbi, I
explained to them, in Salt Lake City to teach Jewish adults at a serious seminar
put on by the Wexner Heritage Foundation. I had a group of my students with me
and it was amazing to see who could answer questions about the Bible better-
my Jewish students or the Mormons. I had already told my students the story
of how one Shabbos two polite clean-shaven young men from Jehovah’s
Witnesses rang our doorbell to proselytize. I invited them in for coffee and
a little Torah study. They left a few hours later, seriously contemplating
conversion to Judaism...so my students were curious to see how the Mormons
would fare. But having just come from the adoration of the Pope in Toronto,
I was more interested in asking these young missionaries this question: who
is your hero? Every one of them said one of two things: either “Jesus”
or “The prophet” (The prophet is their their highest church official,
like their “Pope” of sorts.) One or two would pause thoughtfully
and then seriously intone, “Actually, my hero is my mom (or dad, or
big brother or big sister or some other family member.)
I got to fantasizing if every liberal Jewish teenager—not Chabad, mind
you, but the kind of kids you have and you know— had to spend two or
three years going around the world explaining Judaism to non-Jews in a
respectful, proud way. Anybody ready to sign up or sign their kids up?
Then I got to thinking of the High Holidays, and I wondered, what if I
asked all the young people here today, who is your Jewish hero? Mark Twain
once remarked,
“It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world
and moral courage so rare.” What impressed me most this summer was that
in two very diverse, non Jewish groups, I found a recognition and validation
of moral courage and a widespread belief in it as a prerequisite of heroism.
If I asked Jewish kids, would they say moral courage is their criteria for
who is a hero?
In The Book of Jewish Values, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin writes, “In almost
every culture, heroism is associated with physical strength. A hero is
stronger than others, and one who uses this physical strength to overcome
opponents, and often, but not always, to do good. In Judaism, heroism is
generally understood as referring to inner, not outer strength. “Who
is a hero?” Pirke Avot asks. “The one who overcomes temptation.”
Thus, an impoverished person who finds a valuable object belonging to someone
else and resists the temptation to keep it but rather, returns it, is a hero.
So is the person addicted to liquor who passes up a drink. Judaism perceives
these small things as heroic acts.” The one who is able to destroy inner
enemies is a hero.
Since Sept 11 we have alot more hero stories about everyday people who do
good. People who put themselves on the line for someone else. People with
faith, and dignity, and perseverance. A hero is someone who is prepared to
do what needs to be done, even at great personal cost. A hero sees beyond
themselves and their material possessions to the greater good and the greater
need. A hero stands for something, and is not afraid to let others know what
they stand for. As Anna Julia Cooper, an African American educator and early
feminist in the 1880’s said, “The fundamental need of any nation,
any race, is for heroism, devotion, sacrifice; and there cannot be heroism,
devotion, or sacrifice in a primarily skeptical spirit.” Heroism requires
and demands, optimism, and great belief in teshuva, in the human ability to
change and do better.
In Judaism, those with great intellectual achievement have been our heroes;
not necessarily those with great wealth or great brawn. This comparison with
secular heroes puts into clear focus what our society values. Tell me who a
society’s hero is, and I can tell you alot about that society’s
values. Most religious heroes are heroes not because of what they say, or
even what they do, but because of who they are. I like the story of the
disciple of a certain Rebbe who was asked why he walks miles away to study
with that Rebbe when there is a perfectly good and learned Rabbi in his own
town. “Oh, I don’t go to learn with the Rebbe” the disciple
answers. “I go to watch how he ties his shoes.”
A Jewish hero is someone whose Judaism informs their everyday life; who is
passionately committed to the preservation of our heritage, our culture and
our religion and does something active to manifest that commitment; who is
Jewishly educated and who educates others; who doesn’t relegate their
Judaism to a “hobby” and who is soulfull; whose presence radiates
a spiritual energy and spiritual mindfullness; who avoids at all costs
lashon hara and other hurtful actions, and who is pursuing tikkun olam,
the betterment of the world. A Jewish hero is someone who makes you proud
to be Jewish because they don’t just talk Torah, they live Torah.
So: who are our Jewish heroes? So do we so admire that we can learn
something from him or her by the way they tie their shoes?
I love reading that page in the CJN that profiles some Jewish man or
woman who has “made it” in acting or business. Sometimes, the
reporter has to stretch really far to find any connection to Judaism,
like they had a Jewish grandfather somewhere, and rarely does it mention
any ongoing involvement in the Jewish community. But they are supposed
to be our Jewish heroes. Why? Because they have “made it.” In
the old days, we had plenty of Jewish heroes. David and Solomon. Judah
Maccabee. Rabbi Akiva. Hillel and Shammai. Abraham Joshua Heschel.
When I was growing up, everybody had the same Jewish hero and heroine.
For the girls, it was Golda Meir, hands down. The first woman prime
minister of Israel? A Jewish mother who ran a whole country of Jewish
mothers? She got my vote just for that. A Jewish woman who publicly
hated war but would do anything to save her country, a Jewish woman
in a man’s world of politics who men in international governments
looked up to, a Jewish woman totally proud and engaged with her
Judaism. And for boys, it was a toss up between Moshe Dayan, that
sexy black eye patch together with his military prowess and hopes
for peace; and, a very close runner up, Sandy Koufax, a world class
baseball star, who didn't’ take drugs, didn’t mess around
with women, and who refused to pitch the opening game of the World
Series because it fell on Yom Kippur. By the way, I have it on
expert witness that he still goes to shul every Yom Kippur.
And while the most famous Jewish man in America over the last five years
may rightfully be Joseph Lieberman, the most famous Jewish woman in America
over the last five years is unfortunately Monica Lewinsky or Madeleine
Albright, if you define her as still Jewish. Oy. We may still have some
Jewish heroes, but we need some Jewish heroines badly. Ask your kids to
name five great Canadian Jewish women who exemplify public leadership,
charisma, devotion, sacrifice, high moral values, optimism, and faith in
something bigger than themselves. Maybe they exist, but they sure aren’t
recognized publicly enough.
Today, our heroes tend to be rock stars and athletes. People who make lots
of money. People who can maneuver the media. Bill Gates, people who are
smart and rich and who build big houses and do some tzedakah now and again.
But why can’t we have Jewish religious leaders as heroes for our kids? The
Orthodox world does. Hasidic kids idolize their Rebbes. I know there are Hasidim
who think their Rebbe is the Messiah. I am not suggesting that we make our
rabbis the recipients of that kind of adoration. (Well...maybe once in a while....)
And I am not suggesting that we blindly follow a religious leader, the kind of
naive obedience to a charismatic that leads to cults. Lubavitch kids collect
and trade “Rebbe cards”—and I’m not kidding—and I
don’t expect Kolel to come out with a fundraiser to sell cards of Jordan
Cohen and me—but I am simply asking in the non-Orthodox world whether
we would hope one day that our kids could look up to their religious leaders,
see them as a source of inspiration, emulate them, and hold them as their
role models. I am asking whether, in the panoply of heroes out there, we
could hold out some whose Judaism informs their heroism.
Even though there are unscrupulous religious leaders. Even though there are
rabble-rousing political rabbis and sex-abuse soaked priests and other assorted
disappointments in the clergy. When the Pope spoke at the mass, he tried to
address the failures of the priesthood. And he also said, encouraging young
men to go into the priesthood, “At difficult moments in the church’’s
life, the pursuit of holiness becomes even more urgent.” Because some Rabbi
somewhere gets into a scandalous situation, should I not pursue the beauty of
teaching Torah? And should I not hope that those who do teach Torah with
integrity could be role models for our young people? When I was growing up,
the most amazing young rabbis sat round our Shabbos dinner table, because my
mother worked with the Reform movement’s youth division and she would
often invite these newly ordained young people to our home. As an
impressionable young Bat Mitzvah girl in the late 60’s, I had many
deep philosophical and controversial conversations with young rabbis who
were leading marches against the war in Vietnam, organizing voter registrations
for blacks in the South, and who were doing this because they believed Torah
demanded it of them. Who could not be inspired by such people? It was probably
because of them that I even entertained the notion of becoming a rabbi. And yes,
they were human, but my parents held them out for me as role models, along side
with the Beatles and Paul Newman.
And my other Jewish heroes were my parents. My father worked tirelessly for
the synagogue. My mother was a high placed executive in the Jewish world
where no other women had yet tread. She studied Hebrew and Torah and had
a Bat Mitzvah in her 50’s and still lit candles and went to shul
every Friday night long after the kids were grown and it was clear she
wasn’t being Jewish for us, time bound until after the oldest kid
was done with Sunday school. I know most of us could say that our parents
taught us how to be mentschen but not all of us had parents who could
teach us how to keep Judaism alive. You can’t change the past but
you can change the future. Those of us who are parents, do our kids look
up to us? They may obey or disobey us, they may be pleasant or unpleasant
to us, they may be cooperative or uncooperative, but do they look up to us?
Do we inspire them? Have we taught them enough about Judaism, not just about
amorphous “Jewish values”? Will they put our names on an index
card one day when a teacher asks them to name their Jewish heroes?
A story is told about the holy Baal Shem Tov, founder of Hasidism. Now the Baal
Shem Tov was a tzaddik, a righteous and pious man, who filled his whole life
with acts of goodness and the doing of mitzvot. He knew he would be justly
rewarded in the world to come. So he prayed to God to show him who would be
his study partner in heaven; who would sit next to him in the olam haba? And
God granted his wish. The next day, God took him to a little shop where a
poor shoemaker slaved away. All day, and far into the night, the man made
shoes, and yet he seemed to have little to show for it. The man never took
time to study, and performed his daily prayers as quickly as he could so
he could get back to work. His clothes were tattered and dirty and he
smelled of tanning oil and sweat. The Baal Shem Tov was outraged.
“Oh Lord” he cried. “After all my acts of piety, this
man is to be my neighbor in heaven?? What kind of justice is this?”
God answered, “Go and introduce yourself to the shoemaker.”
So the Baal Shem Tov went to the shoemaker and introduced himself.
The shoemaker answered, “I have heard of your great piety and
knowledge. I wish I had time to learn with you. But all day long I
work hard to make shoes for the rich; they pay my living and put
bread on my table. But then, when there is leather left over, I
work hard all night to make shoes for the poor, which I give out
for free in the morning; for they too deserve to have shoes on
their feet in the cold long winter ahead.” The Baal Shem
Tov turned to God and whispered, “Master of the Universe,
I am not worthy to sit next to him.”
Who would you want to be your neighbor in heaven? And, more importantly
on this Day of Judgement—who will want you to be their neighbor?
Sermons and Divrei Torah
Additional Resources
Elul: Period of Preparation
Yamim Noraim: Days of Awe
Rosh Hashanah: Introduction
Shofar Symbolism
The Custom of Tashlich
Yom Kippur: Introduction
G'mar Chatima Tova...
