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September 25, 2008

Liturgy reminds us what we can do to avert evil

Sept. 11, 2001, occurred just six days before Rosh Hashanah. It was the tail end of what had been a difficult 12 months on the Jewish calendar: violence in Israel, a presidential election arbitrated by the U.S. Supreme Court, the Enron scandal.

Then, on a particularly gorgeous morning, terrorists attacked New York and Washington, D.C. Rabbis who had worked hard on their High Holy Days sermons all August rushed to rewrite them.

The liturgy seemed stunningly relevant. Who shall live and who shall die? Who by fire and who by water? We acknowledge our vulnerability in light of death, the harsh decree. But, the liturgy tells us, teshuvah (repentance), tefillah (prayer) and tzedakah (righteous deeds) will avert — not nullify, but avert — the evilness of the decree.

In other words, we cannot always prevent the worst from happening, but we can choose to wrest some meaning from it.

So here we are seven years later, about to enter the Jewish year 5769. The deaths of Sept. 11 have been compounded by more deaths in Iraq and throughout the Middle East. In many ways our world is more violent and certainly more fearful than it had been. Evidence of evilness abounds.

But this is also the time to take stock of the ways in which our liturgy speaks to a universal human theme. Many Americans, Jews and non-Jews, in the face of tragedy have chosen to move forward in these seven years — to engage in teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah.

Teshuvah: For some Americans, the first step of repentance was to say, “I don’t know enough; let me repair my ignorance.” Since early 1992, groups of Jewish, Christian and Muslim women have been joining together in living rooms to discuss books about their respective faiths. The Daughters of Abraham book groups began in Cambridge, Mass., when one Christian woman realized she didn’t personally know any Muslims. Now there are 14 such groups in the Boston area alone. We just began one in Philadelphia and already there is a waiting list.

Tefillah: In 2001, Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb of Albuquerque decided she wanted to pray for peace alongside Muslims. So she called the local mosque, where she knew no one, and found herself on the phone with a scientist and peace activist named Abdul Rauf Marqetti. They came up with the idea of a peace walk — a meditative, prayer-in-motion march for Jews and Muslims together.

In 2003, a group of Philadelphians decided to emulate them, and with no institutional backing, an ad hoc collection of Jews, Christians and Muslims began meeting monthly at the Al Aqsa Mosque in the Kensington section of the city. The first walk began at the mosque, stopped for prayer at two churches and culminated at a synagogue. It drew 400 people. Plans are under way for the sixth annual Philadelphia Interfaith Walk for Peace this coming spring.

Philadelphians are not the only ones praying with others. In 2000, The Hartford Institute for Religion Research conducted a survey to find out how many congregations, if any, had participated in an interfaith service in the past year. The answer was 7 percent. By 2005, the number had grown more than threefold to 23 percent.

Tzedakah: The Hartford study had even more striking news. When it asked about community services, the institute learned that 8 percent of congregations had joined with those of other faiths to improve conditions in their communities. Five years later it found 37 percent — a nearly fivefold increase.

Which brings us to Eboo Patel, a young Muslim born in India and raised in the American Midwest. In 2001, he was in England completing his studies as a Rhodes scholar. When he returned to the United States, he had a big idea. The way Patel saw it, young people want to change the world, and extremists are expert at giving them a cause to believe in, an exciting and dramatic movement to be part of. But what about moderate, pluralistic, liberal men and women, he wondered, those who saw religion as a way to work across faiths to make the world a better place? Could they offer young people a compelling counterpart to what the extremists offered?

Patel thought so. He founded the Interfaith Youth Core in Chicago to bring together young men and women of different faiths to serve their communities. Since 2001, his staff has grown to 20; Jewish teenagers and college students throughout the country are joining with Muslim and Christian peers to create a national interfaith youth movement.

Something is happening out there, something good. It does not eradicate the very troubling developments precipitated by the Sept. 11 attacks, but in small ways it is helping our society achieve what Jews worldwide seek to achieve at this time of year — to avert the severity of the decree.

That’s worth remembering as we mark another anniversary of that beautiful and horrible September morning — and another Rosh Hashanah. This year our anxiety — who will live and who will die? — must be matched by our belief in our ability to make a difference.

We cannot always prevent the worst from happening, but we can choose to wrest some meaning from it.

Rabbi Nancy Fuchs-Kreimer directs the religious studies program at Philadelphia’s Reconstructionist Rabbinical College

åArticle courtesy Jewish Telegraphic Agency

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The Fall Season: VideoJew’s VideoGuide to Los Angeles

In the past year, under my online video persona, VideoJew, I’ve explored much of the Los Angeles Jewish community and shared it with the YouTube-viewing nation.

You’ve seen me eating at a kosher Subway, playing mah-jongg and conducting a blind matzah taste test. But after a successful year of VideoJudaism, I decided to devote my next season to my experience as a Los Angeles newcomer.

When I first moved here after graduating from the University of Wisconsin two years ago, I felt completely overwhelmed. Busy people, heavy traffic, distant neighborhoods all contributed to my troubled adjustment to post-academic life.

Burdened by difficulty finding a job, buying a car and meeting other young Jews, I soon realized that life in the real world was very real. And with my mother a full 2,500 miles away, for the first time in my life I had no one to tell me what to do or where to go.

Thankfully, after two years in Los Angeles, I’ve finally adjusted to the lifestyle and culture that West Coast living affords. I found a job, bought a car and even met several Jews who are happy to tolerate me (most of these without the help of my mother). Looking back, I now recognize that my transition to West Coast living would have been much smoother if I’d had a mentor — or even a manual.

So I’ve decided to offer help to others who feel as lost as I once did … with my VideoGuide to Los Angeles, launching online today.

In this five-episode handbook, revealed over the next several weeks, I’ll walk you — the newcomer (or your memory of yourself as one) — through everything you need to know to make the most of your Los Angeles experience. Each episode is guaranteed to mentally and physically (though, not legally) naturalize the new West Coast immigrant.

It doesn’t really matter if you’re new to the city, just visiting or have lived here all your life, anyone can benefit from this guide.

Follow along each week for an all-new installment.

Introduction — Online Sept. 26
Like any manual, VideoJew’s VideoGuide to Los Angeles begins with a short but concise introduction, sure to prepare you for the upcoming schedule and give you a sneak peek at some of the exciting scenes to come.]]

Volume I: Looking the Part — Online Oct. 3
In this how-to style segment, I reveal the most important aspects of visiting Los Angeles: fitting in. Because nobody wants to look like an outsider or worse — a tourist — I’ll teach you the secrets of blending into the L.A. scene. And in no time, you’ll be wearing a T-shirt and flip-flops as you sip on a tall caffeinated beverage.

Volume II: Driving in L.A. — Online Oct. 10
The other key to enjoying this city is, of course, your car. When I moved out West, I was a timid, passive driver. Now I’m aggressive, confident and, most importantly, mostly safe. Follow my tips and you’ll feel confident behind the wheel … and you won’t even have to lift a finger, let alone “the finger.”

Volume III: Jewish L.A. — Online Oct. 17
With one of the largest Jewish populations in the country, Angelenos don’t hesitate to flaunt the city’s Jewish culture. Discover the exciting opportunities of the Jewish neighborhoods — from the butcher shop to a great place to buy a yarmulke. But more importantly, beyond kosher food, Judaica and synagogues, Jewish Los Angeles exists in its own realm. All you really need is a little Jew in you, and you can turn any place into a Jewish place.

Volume IV: Hollywood — Online Oct. 24
This segment could arguably fit into Volume III, but given its significance to the L.A. community, it seemed worthy of special attention. Not just limited to the physical Hollywood, Los Angeles’ entertainment industry is extremely widespread. And trust me, as someone who’s been a background extra for several no-name television shows and a few low-grossing feature films, I know Hollywood. I’ll take you to some of the typical tourist sites and a drive the celebrity star maps. And who knows, maybe I’ll catch a celebrity on tape.

Volume V: Outdoors L.A. — Online Oct. 31
One of the main reasons I moved to Los Angeles was for the weather. After college in Wisconsin, where the average winter day sees a windchill of minus 30 degrees, moving out West was not only an option but a necessity. Unfortunately, it took me a few months before I really started taking advantage of the climate and outdoor activities, like hiking, fishing, swimming, sailing, sunbathing, people watching, breathing, etc. The possibilities are endless!

My hope is that I can help you get ready to unearth the extreme sensation of Los Angeles. And while each episode is bursting with useful hints, like any encyclopedia or handbook, there’s plenty of room for improvement in future editions.

Stay tuned throughout the year for more updates, and you too will be able to experience the greatness that Angelenos experience every day.

videojew@jewishjournal.com.

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Livni must demonstrate new type of leadership

Tzipi Livni’s victory in the Kadima Party primary is the result of the Israeli version of the clamor for change that we are seeing across the democratic world. She prevailed despite ruthless attacks on her experience, her judgment, her appearance and her gender. Her record of probity, her straightforward style and — most significantly — her decidedly civilian aura definitely worked in her favor.

But does Livni have it in her to capitalize on these currents and take the risks necessary to cement a new kind of politics in Israel?

She faces incredible opportunities and formidable challenges. Ultimately, the test of her leadership rests on her ability to move Israeli-Palestinian negotiations to an equitable and durable conclusion.

The new head of Kadima must begin to prepare herself and her party for the likelihood of new elections in the spring. Her main opponents — Ehud Barak of Labor and Benjamin Netanyahu of the Likud — justifiably perceive her as the single-most- serious threat to their respective political ambitions.

These two former prime ministers hoping for a second chance cannot ignore the polls that consistently show Kadima under Livni’s leadership pulverizing Barak’s Labor Party and giving Netanyahu’s Likud Party a close contest. That is why they did everything in their power during the primaries to promote Livni’s main intraparty rival, Shaul Mofaz. Now, they can be expected to step up their attacks on her.

Livni also faces ambiguity abroad. Indeed, her key negotiating partners present their own set of challenges. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice is on her way out, as may be Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, whose term is set to expire next January.

Under these circumstances, the conventional wisdom is that Livni has two diametrically opposed options: She can put negotiations on the back burner and call for new elections as soon as possible, in the hope of taking advantage of her current popularity to consolidate her political position. Or, she can try to delay new elections as long as possible — by acceding to inevitably exorbitant demands from coalition partners — and use the limited amount of time at her disposal to reach an accord with the Palestinians.

Livni may be sorely tempted to follow the first course. Her advisers and some of her closest supporters believe that continuing the negotiating process that began last year in Annapolis would be an electoral liability, especially given the growing preoccupation of the Israeli electorate with domestic socioeconomic issues.

Opting to proceed quickly to the polls, while forgoing the possibility of making progress on the Palestinian front, Livni would be left with little ability to affect policy in the immediate term. Livni might then opt to fall back on a politics rooted in style and personality in the run-up to new elections.

Should she choose this route, however, she will be playing directly into Netanyahu’s hands. He knows full well that several months can be a lifetime in politics, enough to darken Livni’s halo with clouds of doubt regarding her leadership abilities and her decisiveness. Wrangling with recalcitrant party cohorts and getting muddied in Israel’s political quagmire would risk sacrificing the clean image that ushered her to where she is today.

But forming a new government without elections may be impossible, given the distribution of seats in the current Knesset, especially since only Labor — which can expect to do poorly at the polls — has a strong interest in maintaining a Kadima-led government. And even if a coalition arrangement is reached, the political price would be prohibitive. Capitulating to the demands of the ultra-Orthodox Shas Party would prove to be a major liability down the line in terms of public opinion, and striking a deal with the Palestinians would, in any event, probably destabilize such a tenuous coalition.

Thankfully, Livni does not have to buy into the binary vise devised by the pundits. There is a third alternative: She can call for new elections and, in the meantime, step up talks with the Palestinians with a view toward concluding a comprehensive agreement that can be presented for public approval at the polls.

Such a move may speak to her Palestinian and American partners, who share her sense of urgency. It would at least temporarily confound her domestic opposition. Above all, it could salvage the last chance for a two-state solution.

The success of such a daring strategy hinges on Livni’s capacity to muster real political courage. She must be willing to inject new substance into the faltering negotiations with the Palestinians. This requires a readiness to revisit the roots of the conflict and to recognize the fundamental asymmetry that has plagued past Israeli-Palestinian negotiations.

While success is not guaranteed, conditions are ripe for progress — especially if Livni takes the additional (and long overdue) step of embracing the Arab Peace Initiative, something that would have strong regional, as well as international, resonance.

Could Livni pull this off? The answer is unclear. What is evident is that if she fails to take an audacious step of this sort, her political career will be short-lived and prospects for a negotiated settlement will dim and perhaps disappear entirely.

It is up to Livni to demonstrate that her victory in the Kadima primaries augurs a new type of leadership. Otherwise she — like her once-promising predecessors — will become a footnote in the history of an Israel still desperately looking for ways to open up a new political horizon.

Naomi Chazan is president of the New Israel Fund. She is a former deputy speaker of Israel’s Knesset, where she represented the Meretz Party from 1992 to 2003.

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Ed Guthman leaves legacy of fighting injustice

When Ed Guthman died Aug. 30 at the age of 89, the Los Angeles Jewish community lost one of its most distinguished members.

He had been a Pulitzer Prize- winning reporter. As press secretary to Atty. Gen. Robert Kennedy, he braved danger in the South when the federal government forced recalcitrant states to integrate. Before that, he’d faced danger in combat in Italy during World War II.

Ed was an editor at the Los Angeles Times and the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was a beloved journalism professor at USC. He helped create and then headed the Los Angeles City Ethics Commission.

I don’t believe Ed was religious. We never discussed it. Our shared religious background was hardly mentioned when, in 1972, he assigned me to do a story that was of major interest to the Jewish community.

At the time, Republicans were mounting a quiet but intense campaign to persuade Jews to vote for President Richard M. Nixon on the grounds that he was Israel’s best friend. I told Ed I had a connection who might help, Louis Boyar, a cousin who was a major philanthropist, political contributor, supporter of the Jewish community and friend of Golda Meir, the prime minister of Israel.

Ed assigned me the story. I had lunch with Boyar at the Hillcrest Country Club and reported what I had learned. It wasn’t enough, so Ed sent me east, first to the office of Jake Arvey, the retired Chicago political boss and a prominent Jew, and finally to the Israeli Embassy in Washington. The last stop, plus some other interviews, finally gave me enough information to satisfy Ed, and I wrote the story.

Looking back on the incident, what was striking was how little our being Jewish figured into the pursuit of the story, even though it would be widely discussed in the community. My memory of the story is how he urged me on until I got to the bottom of it.

That’s not unusual. A newsroom is a most secular place. In all my years in newsrooms, I can recall discussing religion with only one person, my friend Tim Rutten, a devout, although cynical, Catholic.

Such secularism, by the way, is one reason for journalism’s spotty coverage of religion. The United States is a highly religious country, but this is not reflected on television news or in mainstream publications.

But whether or not he was religious, Ed was a righteous man — although never self-righteous — who approached his tasks with a commitment to social justice, honesty and concern for society’s underdogs. There was something biblical about him, like those prophets who couldn’t let evil pass by without doing or saying something about it.

When he was honored by the Los Angeles City Council for his public service, he said he was grateful to his father, a German Jewish immigrant, for imbuing in him an obligation to serve.

“He always taught us that we had to give something back to this great country and the freedom we enjoy and experience,” he said.

I became friends with Ed at the Times, where he was national editor from 1965 to 1977.

It was a big job. Ed was in charge of a growing network of bureaus around the country, as well as the Washington bureau. In addition, he was responsible for a national desk, which edited the large number of stories that came in each day.

Ed took the best of this work into the daily news meetings, where the managing editor, after hearing the pitches of each of the editors, decided what would go on Page 1. Ed argued fiercely for his stories and was sometimes too intense for a group who seemed to take pride in being calm, laid back and uninvolved.

It was a tumultuous period, and Ed was in the middle of it. The Watts Riot of 1965 ushered in the era, followed by student rebellions in Berkeley and across the country and then demonstrations against the Vietnam War. In the middle of it were the assassinations, first of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and then Ed’s friend, Robert Kennedy. That occurred here in Los Angeles, the night Kennedy won the 1968 California Democratic primary.

Then there was Watergate. Ed’s leadership in the Times coverage and his association with Kennedy earned him a place high on Richard Nixon’s enemies list.

Ed’s office was one of several for editors at one end of the vast newsroom. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the office. When he was in there, he was on the phone with his correspondents around the country and in the Washington bureau.

But much of the time, he roamed through the newsroom, talking to reporters. He respected reporters and was curious about what they were working on and how they were going about it.

That’s how I became friendly with him. I covered politics, and Ed was intensely interested in what I was doing, from state elections to campaigns for City Council. He began arranging with my boss for me to do national stories for him.

In writing this sort of piece for a newspaper, a journalist looks for illuminating anecdotes that in three neat paragraphs can illustrate and explain the subject of a story.

Ed did not lend himself to anecdotes. He was forthright and plain in his speech. For a man of such accomplishment, he was extremely modest. In a business full of men and woman with huge egos, he didn’t boast of glory days of the past.

So I don’t have any great stories about Ed. What I took away from our friendship was a commitment to social justice and to fighting injustice. Long after he left the paper, I tried to carry on his tradition in my own work and, when I became an editor, in the work of my reporters. Many of them knew Ed and were inspired by him, as were his students at USC.

They are Ed’s legacy to journalism and his country.

Until leaving the Los Angeles Times in 2001, Bill Boyarsky worked as a political correspondent, a Metro columnist for nine years and as city editor for three years. You can reach him at bw.boyarsky@verizon.net.

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Got forgiveness?

Would you believe that most Jews, including Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox Jews, don’t fully observe the High Holy Days?

I don’t mean the basic rituals, like going to synagogue, reciting the prayers, listening to the shofar and the rabbi’s sermons, having the holiday meals and saying the blessings. Most Jews do all that.

And I also don’t mean the spiritual element, like using this time of year to contemplate our mortality, reflect on the purpose of our lives, ask God for forgiveness and resolve to become better people and better Jews in the coming year.

No, what I mean is that most of us neglect what is arguably the most difficult and meaningful ritual at this time of year: Going to the people we’ve hurt, recognizing our hurtful actions and asking for their forgiveness.

This can be awkward and embarrassing, but our Jewish tradition has given us the perfect little window to help make this happen.

It’s called the month of Elul, a time for self-examination and repentance that culminates during the High Holy Days. As the month of Elul comes to a close and we begin the daily selichot (prayers of forgiveness), the mood of repentance becomes more urgent.

This is the moment we are about to enter right now: The zero hour of repentance — the Days of Awe before the Day of Atonement when one of our key obligations is to muster our courage and humility, go to someone we have wronged and say “I’m sorry, I messed up, please forgive me.”

The problem, of course, is that while we routinely do this with God, it’s a lot less comfortable to do it with our fellow humans.

But the other, more acute, problem is that our Jewish faith has this little wrinkle: God cannot forgive us for the sins we’ve committed against another person until we have first obtained forgiveness from that person.

Ouch.

Theoretically, this means a rabbi can tell you that until you obtain the forgiveness of those you have wronged, it’s useless to come to synagogue on Yom Kippur and ask God for His forgiveness — because He can’t give it to you.

If a rabbi did that, who would show up to the big show?

Most rabbis challenge us at this time of year to engage in things like more mitzvahs, more tikkun olam, more tzedakah, more Jewish learning and more spiritual connection. But in truth, if they really wanted to challenge us and encourage personal transformation, they’d pick the one mitzvah that requires the biggest emotional sacrifice: Having to suck it up in front of someone you’ve hurt and ask for their forgiveness.

To his credit, the ultra-Orthodox writer Jonathan Rosenblum, in an article from a few years ago, took his own denomination to task on this subject:

“Too often we arrive at Rosh Hashanah feeling woefully unprepared and wondering what happened to Elul. As Kol Nidre approaches, we rush around to those nearest and dearest to us to seek their forgiveness. But our requests lack the specificity that would indicate that we have given any serious thought to how we have wronged the particular loved one whose forgiveness is sought. Nor are our ritual assurances that we forgive with a whole heart worth very much.”

For too many of us, the modern-day excitement and pageantry of the High Holy Days — the marquee events, the glamorous sermons, the fancy clothes, the elaborate meals — have eclipsed the essential ritual, the one that deals with the pain we inflict on each other.

If I forget to pray one day, I’ve hurt no one except maybe for God, and I know He’ll forgive me. But if I offend, deceive, mock or dishonor another person, I’ve introduced real human pain into this world. And by hurting one of His children, I’ve also hurt God— who must surely be spending the holidays waiting for us to forgive each other.

I count myself in the group that God has been waiting for. I’ve done the basic High Holy Day rituals and recited the prayers asking God for His forgiveness. But when it came time to recognize my mistakes and ask people for their forgiveness, I’ve chickened out and used the classic cop-out: “If I did anything to hurt you, please forgive me.”

Like Rosenblum explains, “without a real chesbon hanefesh, some form of regular spiritual diary — of both the positive and negative — we are in no position to ask Hashem or our fellow man for forgiveness. Where there is no recognition of our failures, there can be no genuine regret, which is the starting point of teshuvah [repentance or return].”

On a more romantic level, Rabbi David Aaron of Jerusalem, in a recent article, reflected on the intimacy of forgiveness:

“The best time to remember your mistakes and wrongdoings and ask forgiveness of your beloved is in moments of love. The contrast between the bad times that were and the good time that is happening right now generates even greater feelings of love and appreciation.”

Imagine, then, the love and appreciation that would filter through our community this year if the sound of the shofar at Rosh Hashanah became our clarion call to seek out those we have wronged — whether it be our spouse, sibling, mother, father, child, friend, neighbor, colleague, teacher, client, business partner, supplier or stranger — and, with love and courage, admit our mistakes and ask for their forgiveness.

By returning to each other and paying our spiritual dues, we would repair our souls, enter the Day of Atonement with cleaner hands, reduce the amount of pain in our little worlds and allow God the chance to forgive us.

Not a bad way to kick off a new year.

David Suissa, an advertising executive, is founder of OLAM magazine and Ads4Israel.com. He can be reached at dsuissa@olam.org.

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The Crash

“How will the economic meltdown affect the Jewish community?” someone asked me during a talk I gave last week.

That’s when I knew this crisis was serious.

Asking me to analyze the economic meltdown is like asking Sen. Barack Obama when human life begins. As the senator said, it’s above my pay grade.

But unlike Obama, I’m not being cagey: Like most people, I really don’t get it.

As near as I can understand, the crisis began when banks extended home loans to people who really couldn’t afford them, based on the belief that housing prices were just going to go up indefinitely. When home prices tanked, people couldn’t pay off their loans and the banks and financial institutions that carried the loans began to fail. Now the government wants to step in and spend nearly $1 trillion in taxpayer money to prop up the biggest of those companies by buying up those bad loans.

One of the best explanations I’ve heard for what happened came, allegedly, from President Bush. According to cuttingedgenews.com, Bush was at a closed-door fundraiser in Texas recently when he asked that any cameras be turned off.

He then bluntly summed up the crisis: “There’s no question about it, Wall Street got drunk; that’s one of the reasons I asked you to turn off the TV cameras. It got drunk and now it’s got a hangover.”

Wall Street didn’t get drunk on drink, of course. It got drunk on money. The exact cocktail turned out to be equal parts greed, hubris and more than a dash of deregulation.

In Bush’s closed-door fundraiser world, the effects of the crisis may not be readily apparent.

But here in Los Angeles, even in the relatively affluent Jewish community, the hurricane has begun to hit.

“It’s a really scary time,” Michael Kaplan of Miller, Kaplan, Arase & Co. told me.

Kaplan is the epitome of the sober-minded accountant — which is good, because he happens to be mine — and I immediately turned to him to help me get the lay of the local land.

Loans are harder to come by, he said, and his clients have to jump through quite a few hoops to get them. The wild stock market swings, the tightening credit, the uncertainty of a bailout — all of it has left people insecure and confused about their future.

Kaplan sees retirees and older people who rely on their pension plans and 401ks being hit especially hard. Just as they need the money, there’s less there.

“They’re the ones really suffering,”he said.

As for his wealthier clients, he does know of a billionaire whose net worth has plunged overnight to $250 million. I allowed that I was having a hard time working up much sympathy for this nameless Midas, but Kaplan pointed out that when the rich get a cold, the poor and middle class get a fever. Less money trickles down to job creation, goods and service purchases and, finally, charitable giving.

“Anytime you have a downturn, people hold on to their cash,” Kaplan said. “One of the first things that happens is people reduce charitable contributions.”

“It’s too early to tell the impact of the economic downturn over the long term,” said Marvin Schotland, president and CEO of the Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles. “But it certainly has already significantly impacted some of our donors, and it has affected all of us psychologically, causing many people in the short term to lose confidence in the market and our financial institutions. That can only mean that most charitable institutions will be faced with economic challenges in the near term.”

Combine that with the sudden devaluation of many charities’ market-invested assets, and situation looks grim indeed.

Will it get better or worse? Two economists I respect give two different answers.

According to economist James Quinn, we are not at the end of the end, but the beginning of the end.

“The economic situation has not changed,” he writes at cuttingedgenews.com. “We are in a recession that is being driven by consumers with too much debt. Enormous consumer spending reductions will bankrupt over-leveraged retailers, mall developers and commercial developers. A slow soft depression is a distinct possibility.”

Meanwhile, economist Glen Yago, director of Capital Studies at the Milken Institute, urges a bit of perspective.

“This is a pretty big crash for all involved in the luftgeschaft of finance,” he e-mailed me.

“That said, it’s hopefully not as bad as the headlines indicate if the fix works — maybe about 3 percent to 5 percent of GDP, which is a lot [more than 1.5 percent to resolve the S&L crisis], but a lot less than Japan or Indonesia’s resolution costs 10 years ago [30 percent to 40 percent of their GDP]. Even with a credit contraction, the sun will shine tomorrow.”

Who’s right? Who knows what our fate will be?

This week we will enter our synagogues and pray the words of the Unetaneh Tokef.

“Who will live and who will die?” goes the prayer. “Who will become impoverished and who will become wealthy?”

The prayer tells us that whatever dreadful fate awaits us, repentance, charity and acts of lovingkindness can sweeten the Divine Decree.

That can only mean one thing: Even when we’re all hurting, we still must give.

Or, as Nachum the Beggar in “Fiddler on the Roof” tells the wealthy Lazar Wolf after being turned down for a handout: “If YOU had a bad week, why should I suffer?”

The economy is beyond our understanding and outside our control. The New Year comes to teach us that we can’t say the same about our character.

Shana Tova.

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Communities can use High Holy Days to help ease economic angst

With the start of the High Holy Days, the pace of communal life starts to change, and our focus is on reflection, reconciliation, repentance and the annual response to new beginnings.

For too many in our community, however, this season will hold more angst than joy.

The economic situation in our country presents us with challenges unseen for nearly a generation. Too many will sit in synagogues through this season and be equally concerned with their own economic situation as they will the state of their soul. Increasingly, senior citizens on fixed or limited incomes are seeing their resources challenged. Young adults are concerned about job security. Too many of our people of all ages have lost jobs, been downsized or live on the edge of job and financial uncertainty.

This reality presents our community with a unique and necessary opportunity to become an even more meaningful “caring community.” This is a time when no one should be left to feel that they are “l’vado” (alone). This is a time for community and relationships to be enhanced and expanded, so that our congregations can be seen as responsive to and involved with those who are hurting.

In every community are untapped human resources: people who may have some time to give, who have experienced life and, if asked, might be willing to assist leadership in developing support systems for individuals and families in need. At the least, a call can be made to members who have experience in the workplace, who have counseled people in job changes and career moves.

Establishing a congregational or communal service corps with members willing to give advice and direction — or just lend a sympathetic ear to those who might be searching for new directions — is one possible course of action.

During a similar economic downturn in the early 1980s, I worked in Philadelphia and was involved in helping congregations create a communitywide job bank. It had some success helping people in our community get back to work. We simply polled the members of the community’s congregations for possible job openings and advertised those openings throughout the area so members could see what was available from those within their own community.

This could be done again. Synagogues can join other local organizations, JCCs, Jewish Family Service and others to broaden the base of opportunities to search. Even in this day of electronic and Internet job searches, personal networking and relationships go a long way in opening doors.

A difficulty in some of this may be the unwillingness on the part of many to come forward. So often we face this challenge of having people admit they may need some assistance, guidance or help in establishing goals. Transitions are tough and filled with fear. But let us not forget the power of the pulpit. The simple act of the rabbi offering a sermon on the need for this type of caring “inreach” can help worshipers see their congregation as more than a life-cycle institution.

The High Holy Days are a perfect example of a moment in time when Jews attend synagogue. Why not take a few moments at each service to launch this internal support network? Why not have in each prayer book a form that someone can fill out who has a job opening or position request, or has a willingness to give time to counsel or advise a fellow congregant on career change and possibilities?

Use your caring community committee to organize these forms and launch, right after Yom Kippur, a Sukkot of Transition so that all can feel the possibility of a “sukkat shalom.”

We soon will enter our season of possibilities. In each of our communities there are those we need to support and those with the ability to create that sense of support and caring. All we need to do is ask.

Rabbi Richard F. Address is the director of Union for Reform Judaism’s Department of Jewish Family Concerns (www.urj.org/jfc).

Article courtesy Jewish Telegraphic Agency

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Create a new model to enhance work, self, family and community

Now is the time of year when we return to what matters most in our lives. We reflect on what we’ve done and we commit to making things better in the year ahead. What a great and powerful moment in the Jewish cycle. For without this annual taking stock, how can we evolve to become the person we want to be and build our legacy as a positive force during our precious time on earth?

Following the June publication of my book, “Total Leadership: Be a Better Leader, Have a Richer Life” (Harvard Business School Press), I spent much of this summer traveling, speaking about work and how to make it fit with the rest of life in ways that are good both for companies and the people employed by them.

Here’s what I heard: There’s much pain. Too many people feel overwhelmed, disconnected, pessimistic and with no other purpose than to merely survive. Demand for change is the order of the day, as it has always been in our Jewish tradition. Now, as I step into my 25th year teaching at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, I’m struck by how different the work world is today and why a new approach to leadership — no matter where you are or what you do — makes sense.

This new approach is all the more necessary given the new demands on our time as well as our evolving aspirations. Throughout human history, the sun’s relationship to the Earth determined when people worked and rested. Thanks to the revolution in digital technology, this is no longer true for most people. New communication tools promise freedom from time and space, but it’s just dawning on us that we need to learn new psychological and social tools, too, to avoid drowning in the deluge of nonstop pressures that come at us through cell phones and BlackBerries.

The Jewish tradition’s respect for meaningful and useful boundaries is clearly evident in the concept of Shabbat, which creates a natural separation in our lives. But just as there are boundaries, there is also a strong need for integrating the various parts of our life. When the different aspects of life fit together as one — perhaps the essential Jewish idea, to which the Shema calls our attention — then everything in life seems better.

The ago-old Jewish commitment to social justice and respect for the world around us is returning to favor in American business. Employers are learning that people perform better in their jobs when they bring passion into the workplace, when they are doing what they believe matters to the world and when they have a hand in figuring out how to get it done. Greed and competition were ’80s cool. Green and collaboration are ’08 cool.

As I wrote in my book, being a leader is not the same as being a middle manager or a top executive. Being a leader means inspiring committed action that engages people in taking intelligent steps, in a direction you have chosen, to achieve something that has significant meaning for all relevant parties.

Individuals can do this whether they are at the top, middle or bottom of an organization or group. And they can do this in business, families, friendship networks, communities and social associations.

This may be easy to say, maybe not so easy to do. There are a few simple principles that can help:

  • Be real, by acting with authenticity and clarifying what’s important in all parts of your life.
  • Be whole, by acting with integrity and respecting all aspects of life.
  • Be innovative, by acting with creativity and experimenting with what you do and how you do it.

Anyone can bring these principles to their lives and perform better in all aspects. You just have to make an effort to reflect and grow, bolstered by those you enlist to push and encourage you. This is just what our Jewish tradition challenges and inspires us to do, especially during the High Holy Days.

In the Total Leadership process, you begin by writing and talking about your core values and your vision of the kind of leader you want to become — how you want to affect the world around you and why. That’s what I mean by being real, and it’s akin to what we as Jews do in prayer — we contemplate what’s important and how to bring our lives in closer alignment with our values.

Next you explore how the different parts of your life fit together as one — whether your world has integrity — by thinking through the performance expectations of the most important people in each of the four different parts of your life: work, home, community and self.

Then you talk to these people, whom I call your “key stakeholders,” for they are essential to your future, as you see it, to verify and perhaps revise your grasp of these expectations. This activity is similar to what we do on Yom Kippur in talking about what we need to do to strengthen our most precious relationships.

Finally, the fun, inspiring part is being innovative. This involves trying new ways to get things done with the intent of improving performance in all four life domains — pursuing, in other words, what I call “four-way wins.”

We need to focus on what matters most and to consciously take small, realistic steps toward acting on it. You’ll spend your time more intelligently — better aligned with your values, using more of your natural talents to pursue passionately the goals to which you’re genuinely committed. As the great Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel once said, “Life without commitment is not worth living.”

In these Days of Awe, as we reflect on the work of our lives, ask whether and how your “living” makes sense in the bigger picture of your life, your world. If it doesn’t, consider taking one small step toward making it so. Experiment with a change that aims to make things better for you — your mind, your body and your spirit — and for the people around you at work, at home and in your community.

Stewart D. Friedman (www.totalleadership.org) is on the faculty of The Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania and is the author of the best-selling “Total Leadership: Be a Better Leader

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The very best Tashlich custom is a toss-up

On paper, the Rosh Hashanah ritual of Tashlich is about doffing one’s sins to start the new year with a clean slate. For Jason Mauro, 16, it’s also about beach football.

Every year since he was 8, Mauro and his friends at Temple Israel of Hollywood have marked the afternoon ceremony, which the synagogue holds at a beach in Santa Monica, with a sand-logged scrimmage.

“It’s a routine now,” said Mauro of Studio City. “We bring a couple of footballs and give some to the younger kids. The games used to be kids vs. parents, but since we’ve gotten bigger and stronger, they kind of back off.”

Family ball games, picnics and drum circles are revitalizing Tashlich as a booming social event, local rabbis say. Built on the traditional casting of sins — often symbolized by breadcrumbs, rocks or lint — into the ocean, the ritual now draws throngs of participants eager to celebrate community, revel in the great outdoors and cut loose.

“People are really gung-ho about Tashlich,” said Rabbi Michelle Missaghieh, associate rabbi at Temple Israel of Hollywood. “After spending the morning in synagogue, they get to take off their stockings and shoes and suits and ties and dresses and put on shorts and T-shirts and bathing suits and sun block. They take picnics and blankets, and we all meet at the beach.”

Maybe that’s why the ceremony, which Missaghieh brought to the Reform congregation when she joined its staff 13 years ago, has been steadily gaining in popularity. Starting with about 100 participants the first year, Temple Israel’s Tashlich event now draws a gathering so large — more than 450 people, Missaghieh said — that they have to obtain a permit from the city of Santa Monica to accommodate the crowd. The city also assigns lifeguards to watch over the waterside festivities.

“It’s a great service for people with families,” said Temple Israel member Bruce Miller, who has taken part in Tashlich for the past six years with his wife, Tracy, and their three young children. “You’re not sitting in one place in a big room where you have to be quiet and sit still. Three-year-olds don’t do that so well. Here, they can run around. Tashlich is more connected to things kids can relate to.”

Miller, a television writer based in Hancock Park, also enjoys the chance to experience Judaism amid nature’s majesty.

“It’s wonderful to hear the shofar outside at the beach,” he said. “Near the water, under the sky, it seems more spiritually relevant to what the holiday is about.”

A few blocks south on Venice Beach, Nashuva encourages Jews of all ages — including total strangers catching rays nearby — to tap into their spiritual sides by taking part in a drum circle. With more than 1,000 participants, Rabbi Naomi Levy said she’s been told Nashuva’s Tashlich ritual is the largest Jewish drum circle in the world.

“We’ve been doing this for four years, and it’s been growing exponentially,” Levy said. “We blow the shofar at the beach as a call for all Jews to come. You’d be surprised how many times we get an Israeli jogger passing by, or a couple of sunbathers who happen to be Jewish. You see people coming from all different parts to join in.”

Members of the Nashuva community, which during the rest of the year holds Friday night Shabbat services at Brentwood Presbyterian Church the first week of each month, gathers for Tashlich at the beach off Venice Boulevard at 4:30 p.m. on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Organizers hand out percussion instruments, but attendees are also urged to bring their own. Drums, tambourines and even spoons are welcomed.

The first time Brentwood resident Carol Taubman took part in Nashuva’s Tashlich ceremony in 2004, “it took my breath away,” she recalled. “There were so many people, all dressed in white, and this fabulous drumming circle. There was a great sense of community, and it was very powerful.”

Taubman has attended Tashlich ever since, drawn back by the inclusive spirit of the event.

“It’s such a welcoming experience,” she said. “Some people can be intimidated by all the prayers at a synagogue service, but anybody can hit a drum or bang two spoons together. It’s like sharing a communal language.”

But the point of Tashlich — to cleanse oneself of the past year’s sins — shouldn’t be undermined by the ritual’s festive atmosphere or the ease of tossing breadcrumbs into the ocean, said Rabbi Dan Shevitz of Mishkon Tephilo in Venice.

“The notion that we can dispose of our sins in such a casual manner is problematic,” said Shevitz, whose Conservative beachfront service gathers 200 to 400 people each year. “You can’t just empty your pockets and be rid of your sins. It takes more work than that.”

Shevitz has put together a reading reflecting the idea that sins can never be truly cast off, but they can be “purified, as we treat sewage.”

The ceremony, which Mishkon Tephilo has done for decades, attracts more and more congregants each year, he said. “It’s as much a social occasion as a liturgical one. It’s a refreshing alternative to the sobriety of the morning service.”

Further inland, Encino-based Valley Beth Shalom has seen a spike in Tashlich attendance for the same reason. The Conservative congregation has been holding a ceremony on the second day of Rosh Hashanah for the past 10 years at Encino’s Lake Balboa.

“Tashlich is amazingly popular,” said Rabbi Edward Feinstein, senior rabbi of Valley Beth Shalom. “The sunshine is wonderful, we’re out in the fresh air, and we can begin to smell the autumn coming. It’s really joyful.”

This year, Valley Beth Shalom will partner with Valley Village congregation Adat Ari El for a joint Tashlich service. Feinstein is expecting a crowd of about 250 at the lakeside park, which Los Angeles park rangers keep open an extra hour for the ceremony.

An added bonus of holding Tashlich at the site, Feinstein noted, is that the bits of challah thrown into the water end up feeding the ducks that live on the lake grounds.

Temple Israel of Hollywood chooses to forgo traditional breadcrumbs for a more novel approach to the purging of sins, Rabbi Missaghieh said. As soon as the crowd gathers at 4 p.m. on the first day of the holiday, all the children begin building a wall of sand along the shore. After songs and readings, participants consider an area of their lives they want to improve in the new year, then inscribe their thoughts by hand into the wall. The waves eventually wash the sand away, carrying congregants’ written confessions out to sea.

“I think there’s something very magical about it,” Missaghieh said. “You spend the whole morning thinking about God, talking to God. But then you actually go out into nature and feel the grandness of God’s creation on the day of creation. It’s a very visceral moment; not just your mind, but your whole body is experiencing the rebirth of the world.”

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No healing the world here — Humanistic Jews are ‘building’ the world

Rabbi Greg Epstein, the young Humanist chaplain at Harvard University, maintains that the question “Do you believe in God?” is totally meaningless and that “tikkun olam,” to repair the world, is the wrong concept.

But he also affirms that religion will never disappear and that the “New Atheists” don’t have the answers to meeting human needs.

In his 31 years, Epstein seems to have done most everything, from being a singer and composer in a professional rock band to studying ancient Aramaic literature at Jerusalem’s Hebrew University.

During a lengthy phone conversation, he previewed some of the points he will raise when he speaks at Rosh Hashanah services at Adat Chaverim, the local Congregation for Humanistic Judaism, points that he analyzes more deeply in his forthcoming book, “Good Without God.”

Humanistic Jews do not believe in an omnipotent supernatural power, “but in this day and age, the term God can mean anything you want it to be,” he said.

“If you mean a bearded deity on a throne who worries about your personal lifestyle and issued 613 commandments, we reject that. But if your god stands for nature, or the universe, or love, that’s fine,” he added.

“The real point is that this is the only world we can ever know and that this life is the only chance we get to make a difference.”

Epstein also thinks that the oft-repeated injunction to repair the world misses the mark, because it assumes there once was a perfect world, which degenerated and must now be fixed.

“I prefer the phrase ‘bniyat olam,’ to build the world,” Epstein said. “Humanistic Judaism teaches that there never was a utopia, but this lack of perfection is no excuse for intellectual or spiritual laziness.

“We must build our relationship to our fellow humans and the world brick by brick, for we are responsible for one another and no one else will do the work.” He added facetiously, “The most pernicious rhyme in our language is ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ the idea that there was once a perfect white egg which shattered into a million pieces, and no one could put it together again.”

Many, but not all, Humanists are atheists or agnostics, but Epstein is no fan of such popular proponents of the “New Atheism” as writers Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris or Christopher Hitchens.

In an early story about these writers in Wired Magazine, the cover proclaimed “No heaven, no hell — just science.”

That distillation oversimplified a “painfully complex” question, Epstein said. “Science is the best tool for determining the truth about us, but that is not the same as doing something about it. It is not enough to just observe, we must engage in our community and do something.”

Epstein also distinguishes his philosophy from that of Jewish, mostly Yiddish-speaking, secularists of previous generations, who maintained that religion would ultimately disappear as mankind became increasingly rational.

“Religion is not primarily about faith in God; it is about community, identity, heritage and being of service to others,” he said. “We Humanists must also do more to meet these needs, rather than complain about what others believe.

“As a friend pointed out to me, when Martin Luther King Jr. gave his most famous speech, he did not say, ‘I have a list of complaints,’ but ‘I have a dream.'”

Questioned about the role of religion in the current presidential race, Epstein recalled that slamming the other candidate’s religion or piety has a long, dishonorable tradition in American politics.

In the election of 1800, when Thomas Jefferson challenged incumbent John Adams, the Federalist Alexander Hamilton, an Adams partisan, swiftboated Jefferson in the following advertisement.

“The Grand Question Stated: At the present solemn and momentous epoch, the only question to be asked by every American, laying his hand on his heart, is ‘Shall I continue in allegiance to GOD _ AND A RELIGIOUS PRESIDENT; or impiously declare for Jefferson – and no god!!!”

Epstein was born in the Flushing section of Queens, N.Y., then a widely diverse, multiracial community, and he had his bar mitzvah in a local Reform synagogue.

“It seemed to me then that no one took the message of religion seriously, and everyone recited prayers just by rote,” he said. “So I soon started exploring everything except Judaism and visiting every place except Israel.”

After graduating from the University of Michigan, Epstein studied Buddhism in Taiwan and China, then joined the rock band Sugar Pill and recorded two albums. Like many of his contemporaries, Epstein said, “I wanted to express myself through art and music, rather than religion.”

At this point, Epstein discovered the pioneer Humanistic Judaism congregation established by Rabbi Sherwin Wine in suburban Detroit, and “I finally connected to my heritage, but also realized that I had a lifetime of learning ahead of me.”

The process began with five years of study in suburban Detroit and Jerusalem at the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism, followed by a master’s degree in Judaic studies at the University of Michigan, and another master’s degree in theology and comparative religion from the Harvard Divinity School.

Four years ago, he became a chaplain at Harvard, where he advises students in the Secular Society, Interfaith Council and the Harvard Humanist Graduate Community.

Epstein’s thoughts are frequently expressed in national publications and on radio networks, and he is one of a select group of invited panelists for the On Faith blog, started jointly by Newsweek and the Washington Post.

According to the 2000 National Jewish Population Survey, there are 1.6 million American adults and children who define themselves as “just Jewish,” and who are either secular or without any denominational affiliation.

Epstein said that one out of five young American Jews between ages 18 and 25 fall into that category, and that globally 1.1 billion human souls do without formal religion.

If all secular and unaffiliated American Jews joined together, they would form the country’s second largest Jewish denomination, barely trailing Reform membership.

The problem for Epstein and other Humanist leaders is that the 1.6 million are not organized and are not joining the existing congregations/communities of the Society of Humanistic Judaism.

After more than 40 years on the North American scene, the movement claims only some 10,000 adherents and 30 congregations, according to national executive director M. Bonnie Cousens.

Only six of the congregations are led by ordained rabbis, the others by lay leaders or “madrichim.”

What accounts for the low figures, given the large pool of potential members?

There are no clear-cut answers, but Cousens and other national leaders speculate that secular Jews, having arrived at this state through personal doubts and mental wrestling, are just not prone to join any organization.

Another cause may be that there is still, at times, an onus attached to “coming out” as a secular or atheistic Jews, though reactions by more traditional Jews seem less shocked and outraged than in the past.

Rabbi Miriam Jerris, president of the Association of Humanistic Rabbis, bemoaned the society’s lack of popular visibility, saying, “There are so many Jews out there just waiting to discover us.”

Epstein is more upbeat. Drawing on his four-year experience at Harvard, he said that in the beginning only four students regularly attended his meetings.

Now his meeting rooms are crowded and last year, when he organized an international conference on “The New Humanism,” some 1,100 people attended.

“We may be a small minority, but minority groups can have a profound impact on mass movements,” he said. “Even now, I believe, liberal mainstream congregations are speaking more to human needs than divine needs.”

To have a growing impact, Humanistic Jews “must sing and must build, and I mean that literally and metaphorically,” he said.

So Epstein is hopeful, but within reason. Quoting playwright Tony Kushner, Epstein said, “We are optimists, but we are not stupid optimists.”

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