It is often the custom at large meetings at Jewish organizations to have someone present a Jewish framing for the work at hand, usually rooted in either a recent calendar happening or in the weekly Torah portion. A few weeks ago, I was asked to prepare a few words for a committee at the Jewish Federation named "Ensuring the Jewish Future" - since the week containing Tish'ah b'Av (a fast day mourning destruction) and Tu b'Av (a day of celebration and love) had just ended, here were my thoughts. - EDK
Last week was Tish’ah b’Av, with its tales of horror and destruction, wreaked upon the Jewish people because of what is referred to as “baseless hatred.” This week, was Tu b’Av (which, just as a reminder is not about trees), commonly referred to as the Jewish Valentine ’s Day or holiday of love.
The pairing of Tish’ah b'Av and Tu b’Av sends an important message – that hopelessness and hope are part of a cycle. This message is one that has echoes in other “sets” of holidays. Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day actually transitions into Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israeli Independence Day.
Yom Kippur is known as the one day a year when all the big decisions are made – who shall live and who shall die, and when and how. It’s all very heavy. But in rabbinic literature (don’t ask me exactly where, although there are people in this room who do know) Yom Kippur is paired with Purim. The real name of Yom Kippur is “Yom Hakippurim,” or as some render it, “Yom K’Purim,” a day like Purim. Which if you think about it, it kind of is. Even though the Yom Kippur liturgy is full of God and in the Purim megillah there’s no overt God mention, there is the shared idea that anything can change on one day, whether it’s Yom Kippur’s forgiveness and absolution, or the Purim story's “nahafochu,” the concept that - in a moment - fortunes can be turned upside down. The message that tragedy has a context and a duration, and that so does happiness, is something that we humans could all stand to learn.
To invoke a theme from Hollywood, the two masks of comedy and tragedy hang over us all, always. But they give us a sense of cycle and of scope. Our revelry is strong because we know that it is ephemeral. But we can also take comfort in the fact that where there is destruction, there will be reconstruction. One week’s baseless hatred and desperation can transition to a week filled with endless love and, if we’re talking about dating, perhaps we'll still encounter some of that desperation. But hopefully, mainly love.
To transition somewhat awkwardly to the concept of Ensuring the Jewish Future, a noble and lofty pursuit which we attempt to define through our various programs, we can only project what the future contains. Sometimes it will look bleak, and sometimes it will seem vibrant. But most times, we don’t know what we’re looking at.
So here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and we’re never quite there. So on that path without end, there are times when things seem to be looking up, and other times in which we will look up to the heavens, hoping that help will find us. If “the future” is a moving target, and “Jewish” itself is vastly changed from what it used to be, who are we to engage in the hubris of trying to ensure something which is always in motion, always dynamic, which includes people who are looking to connect at whatever stage of life? How do we make sure that there are multiple platforms for connection to Jewish life and engagement in leadership, regardless of age, marital or parental status? How do we fill everyone’s various needs in chasing a future that’s always beyond our reach?
We return to the concept of pairs. We all need partners, in work and in life. Sometimes that partner is a loved one, or a friend, or a teacher, or a colleague. Our actions and programs also have partners. We spend a penny now, and put one (or more than one) in the bank for later. We elevate our heart rates with daily sprints in training for a longer marathon. We create the sense memory of reciting words from liturgy now, even if we don’t understand them – on the premise that, as we form the words and repeat them, they will become familiar; become a resource we can draw on at some point in the future. We create a program that capitalizes on the immediacy of a need, and trust that it will be a cornerstone in building our collective Jewish future. Even though we don’t 100 percent know for sure.
Thematically, we support our community in times of tragedy and dance in times of joy. So in all we do, if the goal of ensuring the Jewish future is too nuanced, or complicated, or lofty to achieve, we need to ensure that our programming serves a dual purpose: we address the concerns of today and address the Jewish present, but we also invest in strengthening the Jewish future.
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