What Will They Have to Fight for in the Future?

 

“She changed the way the law sees gender."

Abbe Gluck, Yale Law School professor and former clerk of RBG

I never turn on the television during the day, but this morning, when my sister called and said, “Turn on MSNBC,” I complied.
 
I cried as RBG’s flag-draped casket, her clerks as honorary pallbearers, made its way, ever so slowly, from the street, up the steps, and into the large entryway of the United States Supreme Court, coming to rest on Lincoln’s catafalque. Her own family and her Supreme Court family awaited her.
 
I watched and listened as Rabbi Lauren Holtzblatt chanted the 23^rd Psalm, spoke movingly about the justice, drawing parallels between the Torah and the U.S. Constitution, and then chanted the El Malei Rachamim—an only-in-America moment that RBG, no doubt, would have appreciated.

 
As the coverage continued outside, an MSNBC reporter queried people in line as they waited to pay their respects. Among them was a woman who had driven from Philadelphia with her 12-year-old daughter and the daughter’s friend. Hearing the masked girls talk (in their 12-year-old way) about RBG and her legacy and what it means for them was... right and precious and sad and wonderful, all at once. They reminded me of a battle I fought for gender equality when I was not much older than 12, a battle I now realize RBG, though not yet a household name, was fighting right alongside me.
 
Tonight, I told my sister about the girls with these bittersweet words: “They didn’t ever have to fight to join the Key Club, but God only knows what they’ll have to fight for in the future.”

 

 

 

 

Sure You Count, but Not for the Minyan

On my way to a break-fast tonight, I walked past what used to be Vintage Irving, a Union Square wine bar. The bar/restaurant, it appeared, had been converted into a shtiebel, at least for today. A kittel-clad man stood out front asking passers-by if they were Jewish; it seemed they needed one more for a minyan.

The man a few paces ahead of me said, no, he wasn’t Jewish, but wished the man a shana tova.

“You seem to know the lingo,” came the response.

“I’m not Jewish, but my mother was,” said the passer-by.

“Your mother was Jewish; you’re Jewish. Come on in.”

The man refused, politely, but stayed rooted to his spot on the sidewalk.

By now, I’d stopped, too, and without thinking said, “But you won’t count me…”

“Sure I count you,” the kittel wearer told me, “but not for the minyan.”

“Shana tova,” I said, continuing on my way.

Hey, That's Not Our Scroll!

Yesterday at the minyan, we worshipers were thrown for a bit of a loop when Rabbi Strom (this one, not this one) took this scroll from the ark at the beginning of the Torah service:

We, of course, were expecting this one, which we see and use each week:

As it turns out, Temple Shaaray Tefila was lucky to be hosting--for about 48 hours--the "guest scroll," which is in the midst of making its rounds throughout North America on its way to Israel.  Its journey began in San Diego, thanks to the generosity of Congregation Beth Israel and Rabbi Michael Berk.  Once in Israel, ARZA will present it to Women of the Wall to use at its monthly Rosh Chodesh service.  Here's more about the scroll, including a travelogue, if you will, of its journey.

So, although technically speaking the scroll doesn't belong to our congregation, it does, in fact, belong to all of us whose story is detailed in the carefully lettered words on its parchment.  Indeed, our guest scroll belongs to all of us just as does the Western Wall--into whose dry cracks and crevices we have been tucking our memories, stories and prayers, rolled thin like chiffonade, for much (but not all) of the last few millennia.  

As they gather to welcome Rosh Chodesh Tammuz by singing, celebrating, and retelling a piece of our people's story, may the women (and men) of Women of the Wall find that this scroll--our scroll--brings new meaning, energy, and the spirit of each of us (and our individual and collective stories) to their celebrations and their work.

Celebrations All Around?

This is a busy week for celebrations. 

Yesterday, June 14th, was Flag Day, which Adam Goodheart, in an essay about the holiday, calls “the runty stepchild among American national holidays.”  Perhaps for some, but definitely not for my family.  As has been his longtime custom, my father called me during the morning to offer "Flag Day greetings" and to recite the first and last stanzas of Henry Holcomb Bennett’s 1919 poem, The Flag Goes By:

Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flash of color beneath the sky:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off! The colors before us fly;
But more than the flag is passing by.

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State:
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land’s swift increase;
Equal justice, right and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong
To ward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honor,—all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.

Hats off! Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off! The flag is passing by!

This Friday evening, Temple Emanu-El will celebrate Pride Shabbat.  Because this year’s observance falls just a few days before Father’s Day, I commend to you two different, but related articles:  the first from this week’s New York Times, and the second, a blog post written by my friend and colleague, Rabbi Victor Appell, who celebrates both Pride Shabbat and Father’s Day together with his family.

This year, as these holidays and celebrations converge in the same week, let us hope that someday soon, we will truly honor the promise of the Pledge of Allegiance with a guarantee of “liberty and justice for all.”

Let's Raise Hell

A few weeks ago, I wrote on the Union's blog about the ongoing controversy involving women wearing tallitot and praying at the kotel in Jersusalem. Earlier this week, Anat Hoffman, excecutive director of the Israel Religious Action Center (IRAC) was interrogated by police for her efforts to spearhead this sacred endeavor.

In this video, she talks with JTA's Ben Harris about the experience:



As she suggests, we can keep quiet or we can raise hell.

I'd vote for the latter. What about you?