Kol Nidre/Yom Kippur Message
by
Senior Rabbi, Alan Green (00-Present)
Published in the Shaarey Zedek Shofar in December 2005
My name? My name
isn’t important. The year? It’s 2155. The place? The Smithsonian
Institute, Washington, DC. I live in a display case. They bring me
my meals—Kosher, of course. I have a dining table, a sitting room,
even a bedroom and ensuite.
People pass my way,
day in and day out. But, I’m very much alone. They stare, they
point, they even laugh. On the glass walls of my home are the
remnants of Jewish culture: a Torah; a Tallit; Tefillin;
candlesticks; a Kiddush cup; a Siddur; the books of the Talmud. I
still use them occasionally.
But each day, as I
sit here, watching these people pass by, I wonder to myself: how
could the six million Jewish people who lived in North America 150
years ago have so utterly and completely disappeared? For you see,
I…I am the last Jew in North America.
My father and my
grandfather used to talk about the large, thriving communities of
the 20th century: Chicago and New York; Toronto and
Montreal; about world-wide organizations like United Jewish
Communities, B’nai Brith, and so many others. I remember my father
telling me how successful and prosperous the Jews of North America
were.
Yet all of this has
vanished. I recall the events, and I search for answers. And I now
believe I know the reasons why the Jews in North America and the
rest of the world simply ceased to exist. Small things at first;
things that happened so gradually, hardly anyone noticed anything
amiss. Jewish families stopped attending synagogue, except as a
social obligation. Shabbat candles stopped being lit. Parents
stopped sending their children to Jewish schools. The Bar or Bat
Mitzvah became not a highlight, but often the only light in a
child’s Jewish education.
They were good
Jews. They gave generously to CJA; they attended High Holy Day
services; they celebrated Pesach; they had successful careers; and
they led upstanding, moral lives. But the history books tell the
story. In time, much of this came to an end. Parents, fearing that
their children would end up “too Jewish,” encouraged them to
participate in sports rather than Jewish learning. Allocating even
one hour a week to extra-curricular Jewish learning, became
unthinkable. “My child is ALREADY overscheduled!” became the mantra
of these parents.
And so gradually,
over time, going to synagogue—even on Yom Kippur—became a chore
rather than a privilege. Organizing a Pesach Seder became a burden,
rather than a joy. One by one, the rituals and observances of Jewish
life began to vanish. I believe this was the first step. And, of
course, we did it to ourselves.
To be fair, a lot
of it was a product of the struggle for emancipation. Our ancestors
came from Eastern Europe, from places where it was dangerous to be a
Jew. They came to the New World so that they could be equal, along
with everyone else. This was a laudable goal and eventually, we
achieved it. We became materially successful, and we attained a
sustained state of equality. Hatred towards Jews soon died out.
Nowhere in North America could there be found even a hint of
anti-Semitic prejudice.
A non-religious
Judaism came to hold sway in North America. Why didn’t these people
realize that a non-religious Judaism couldn’t be sustained outside
the land of Israel? Judaism obviously needs Jews; but Jews also need
Judaism. Without one, the other is dead. Why didn’t these people see
it?
And then came the
final blow. It happened almost fifty years ago, but I recall it as
vividly as if it happened this morning. The world gave the
Iranians—with their relentless hatred of the State of Israel—a
destructive, terrible gift. Through a combination of negligence and
apathy, Iran was allowed to develop nuclear weapons. The US and
Israel alone were powerless to prevent it.
And so Iran acted
on threats that it had been voicing for decades. Twenty-four
nuclear-tipped cruise missiles were fired at Israel. Israel, with
the most sophisticated air-defense system in the world, was able to
stop most—but not all of them. Three missiles got through, and three
were enough. Five million died in the initial attack; and five
million more, from the lingering effects of radiation. A land that
once flowed with milk and honey remains, even today, a toxic
wasteland.
When news of this
new Holocaust flashed across the globe, the Jews of North America
denied responsibility, and asked: “Really, what could WE have done?
This was completely out of our hands.”
One hundred and
fifty years earlier, Adolph Hitler succeeded in killing six million
of us, during World War II. After that tragic episode, people swore
that they would never forget. They promised donations towards the
development of the land of Israel; and they vowed allegiance to the
progress of Jews throughout the world. However, in time these
allegiances were forgotten. Donations stopped flowing to Israel and
other Jewish causes. In time, the relationship between North
American Jews and Israel was almost completely severed.
Israel WAS the one
place on earth where it was possible to be secular without the
danger of assimilation. With its Hebrew language, its synchronized
civil and religious calendars, and its all-pervasive Jewish culture,
Israel was the beacon light of the Jewish future. However, with the
destruction of the Jewish State, the final extinction of the Jewish
people was only a matter of time.
I…I am the last Jew
in North America. In less than twenty years, I too, will die. And
never again will the footsteps of a Jew, be seen or heard on this
planet…
Now, back to the
year 2005. Fortunately, this vision of the future hasn’t played
out…yet. May it never do so! And I don’t believe things will
necessarily unfold in the way that I’ve outlined above. I really am
an optimist. And while I can’t tell you the details, my heart tells
me that in the same mysterious way that we’ve defied the odds and
survived the last three millennia, God willing, we’ll continue to
defy the odds for another three millennia.
But this doesn’t
minimize the fact that danger lies ahead. And what is that danger?
It’s very simple: our Jewish lifestyle choices—as individuals, as
families, as communities—are directly damaging the future of the
Jewish people on this continent, even as we speak.
As Jews cease to
identify as Jews, they become increasingly estranged from Jewish
communal life; from the State of Israel; from Jewish philanthropy;
and most significantly, from the possibility of raising a new
generation of the Jewish people.
This very real,
worrisome phenomenon is born out by the latest population studies of
North American Jewry. According to the American Jewish Committee,
low fertility levels combined with an already old age composition
will inevitably cause the Jewish population of this continent to
decline from 5.7 million today to 4.7 million in 2050; to 3.8
million in 2080. The AJC also predicts that within the next two
decades, Israel will be home to the absolute majority of the world's
Jewish children. And by 2080, between 77 and 86 percent of all Jews
under the age of 15, will be living in Israel.
The aging of North
American Jewry has already begun to impact Jewish philanthropy. In a
recent article, Yehudah Reinharz, President of Brandeis University,
noted a study that examined very large gifts donated from 1995 to
2000. There were 865 gifts of $10,000,000 dollars or more, 22
percent of which came from Jewish donors. Of these 188 donations,
almost half went to higher education; 21 percent went to the arts;
while only 6 percent, went to Jewish causes. This is a trend that
certainly will intensify with time. Jewish philanthropists now in
their 70’s witnessed the Holocaust and the founding of the State of
Israel. But for their grandchildren these mega-events are now mainly
stories, already collecting dust on the pages of their high school
text books.
I want to say that
I’m deeply grateful to be able to share these words with you
tonight. I know that sitting for hours in synagogue—hungry, thirsty,
listening to prayers you may not understand and sermons you may not
want to hear—isn’t easy.
I know that if you
were to ask the average Jew sitting in synagogue on Yom Kippur if he
even believes in God, you probably couldn’t get a straight answer.
If he were slightly philosophical, he might say: “Well, it all
depends on what you mean by God.” If he were very philosophical, he
might say, “What am I, a rabbi? I don’t know if I believe in God!”
And if you were to
ask that same average Jew sitting in synagogue on Yom Kippur if he
were religious, he’d probably laugh in your face. He’d assure you
that he’s the furthest thing from being religious. In fact, he’d
want to tell you how assimilated he is.
But if you were
then to ask that same average Jew the next logical question: “But if
you feel this way, what are you doing here, sitting in synagogue, on
Yom Kippur?”—the average Jew, in all likelihood, would look at you
as if you were crazy.
He’d probably say:
“I know today is Yom Kippur, even if I don’t own a Jewish calendar.
I’m in synagogue, even though I hate the place. I’m a Jew, even if
I’m not religious. God is God—even if I don’t believe in Him. And
I’m here, because God wants a Jew to be in synagogue on Yom Kippur!”
Sitting for hours
in synagogue—listening to prayers we may not understand, and to
sermons we may not want to hear—we Jews are making a powerful
statement. That statement goes something like this: “He is my God.
He may get on my nerves. I may not want to hear about Him, and I may
not want to talk about Him. But look, if He wants me to be here on
Yom Kippur—that’s where I’m going to be.”
This tendency to
dig in our heels; our talent for showing our bravest selves, even
when threatened with self-inflicted spiritual extinction—that, I
believe, is the most powerful possible guarantee of a Jewish future
in North America.
We Jews are
completely unique—unlike any people on earth—in relation to God, to
ourselves, and to others. And I believe that this is our best hope
that 150 years from now, and hopefully for many centuries beyond,
there will still be a vital, vibrant Jewish presence on this
continent, and in this world. May the people of Israel live forever!
|
