On April 6, the State Department designated as a terror organization the white supremacist group Russian Imperial Movement (RIM).
Three of the group’s leaders were designated as terrorists: Stanislav Anatolyevich Vorobyev, Denis Valliullovich Gariev and Nikolay Nikolayevich Trushchalov. According to the State Department, RIM trains white supremacists and neo-Nazis in weaponry and combat, and was behind two November 2016 bombings in Sweden.
Under the designation, they are unable to access the U.S. financial system and their current assets in the U.S. financial system are frozen, according to Foreign Policy. According to The New York Times, this allows the FBI “to open sanctions-evasion investigations into Americans who appear to have ties to [RIM].”
“This is the first time the United States has ever designated white supremacist terrorists, illustrating how seriously this administration takes the threat,” Coordinator for Counterterrorism Nathan A. Sales told reporters on April 6. “We are taking actions no previous administration has taken to counter this threat.”
He added, “These historic designations are just one part of the administration’s broader efforts to counter white supremacist terrorism abroad. We’re bringing all of our counterterrorism tools to this fight – information sharing, counter-messaging, combatting terrorist travel, engaging with tech companies, and building partner capacity to protect soft targets like synagogues and mosques.”
The Simon Wiesenthal Center tweeted that the designation of RIM as a terror group is “President [Donald] Trump and Secretary of State [Mike] Pompeo’s most potent move against white supremacists and Nazis overseas, with important implications to track and interdict violent racists and anti-Semites, including links to hate groups in US.”
President Trump and Secretary of State Pompeo’s most potent move against white supremacists and Nazis overseas with important implications to track and interdict violent racists and anti-Semites including links to hate groups in US. https://t.co/suJ1nCgww5
— SimonWiesenthalCntr (@simonwiesenthal) April 6, 2020
Anti-Defamation League CEO Jonathan Greenblatt tweeted that RIM’s designation was an “important step, but there is more to do.”
.@StateDept designating a white supremacist group a terrorist org for the first time is an important step, but there is more to do. Our experts & @gwupoe outline options for reform to how law enforcement addresses the threat of violent white supremacy: https://t.co/ooepstbq0l
— Jonathan Greenblatt (@JGreenblattADL) April 6, 2020
So much of the commentary around Passover this year has to do with helping us cope with the coronavirus pandemic.
How do we make sense of a real, modern-day plague that has been added to the 10 ancient plagues of the Passover story? How do we connect the many messages and lessons of Passover with the biggest crisis of our time?
How do we manage to have seders all alone, or on Zoom?
And how do we “celebrate” a Jewish holiday while so much pain and suffering has been unleashed on the world?
These questions and others must be asked. I’d like to suggest one more: How do we clean out our Chametz in pandemic times?
Chametz, in the Jewish tradition, is any food product made from wheat, barley, rye, oats or spelt that has come into contact with water and been allowed to ferment and rise.
Because it is a biblical commandment for Jews to replace chametz with unleavened matzah during the eight days of Passover, we must make sure to thoroughly clean our homes of any chametz. Growing up in Morocco and Montreal, I have vivid memories of the back-breaking work that went into Passover cleaning every year.
But something happened this year that arguably has never happened in human history: A microbe entered our lives and infiltrated virtually the entire planet. This has changed everything— the things we value, the things we talk about, the actions we take, the choices we make, the way we look at life—everything.
In that spirit, it ought to change how we approach the mitzvah of cleaning the chametz from our homes.
For one thing, we can’t settle for the physical. It’s not enough to break our backs to eradicate from our homes any leavened food product.
In these pandemic times, when everything is magnified and nothing is the same, we must aim higher and deeper.
A microbe entered our lives and infiltrated virtually the entire planet. This has changed everything. In that spirit, it ought to change how we approach the mitzvah of cleaning the chametz from our homes. We must eradicate not just the leavened crumbs hiding behind our furniture but the bad habits that have “leavened” inside us.
We must eradicate not just the leavened crumbs hiding behind our furniture but the bad habits that have “leavened” inside us. We must ask ourselves: What are those bad habits and where are they hiding? Is it sloppiness? Selfishness? Grouchiness? Anger? Arrogance?
These bad habits are the spiritual chametz that corrode the soul and poison relationships. As we clean out the physical chametz, we must be just as diligent with the spiritual chametz. This chametz has leavened and hardened for too long.
What is the one habit that can help eradicate our worst character traits? It is humility. It is recognizing our many faults and knowing how much we don’t know.
What does the matzah represent? That’s right, humility. At Passover we get rid of what has “leavened” and gotten to our heads, and replace it with the humble, unleavened matzah.
Activating our humility gene is especially appropriate during these pandemic times, when we’ve been humbled and reminded how little we know. A deadly virus has brought us to a lowered plane, where only the essentials matter—such as our habits.
So, this is how we get rid of our spiritual chametz in pandemic times: We roll up our sleeves, look for our bad habits and replace them with the matzah of humility.
It may hurt our egos, but it won’t hurt our backs.
United Kingdom Prime Minister Boris Johnson was moved to the intensive care unit (ICU) on April 6 after being hospitalized the previous day for COVID-19.
BBC News reported Johnson’s move to the ICU was a precautionary measure, and he is not on a ventilator, although he is on oxygen. Johnson’s condition has worsened since he was hospitalized. He was diagnosed with the coronavirus 10 days ago.
“The PM is receiving excellent care, and thanks all NHS staff for their hard work and dedication,” a government spokesperson said in a statement to the BBC.
Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab is handling Johnson’s duties in the interim.
Israeli leaders expressed sympathy for Johnson.
“[Israeli] Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the People of Israel pray for the speedy and full recovery of our friend British Prime Minister @BorisJohnson,” Netanyahu tweeted.
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the People of Israel pray for the speedy and full recovery of our friend British Prime Minister @BorisJohnson. 🇮🇱🇬🇧 pic.twitter.com/gNoPE4ulr1
— Benjamin Netanyahu – בנימין נתניהו (@netanyahu) April 6, 2020
Blue and White leader Benny Gantz similarly said in a statement, “My heart goes out to Prime Minister Boris Johnson and to the British people during these difficult moments. I send my wishes for a full and speedy recovery to the prime minister.”
President Donald Trump said during the April 6 press briefing, “All Americans are praying for him. He’s a friend of mine. He’s a great gentleman and a great leader, and he’s as you know, he was brought to the hospital today. I’m hopeful and sure that he’s going to be fine.”
As of this writing, the UK has 47,806 cases of and 4,934 deaths from COVID-19.
“Killed and will kill people en masse,” “Our blood is on his hands,” “delusional and dangerous”—these harsh remarks, posted on social media in the past few days, refer not to some arch-terrorist captured on his way to murder Jews, but to Israeli Health Minister Yaakov Litzman, a haredi Jew. Jews were the ones who wrote them.
This might not be a popular opinion these days, but Litzman has been a good health minister. He has boosted the list of government-subsidized medications by millions of shekels, added medical equipment, built hospitals, introduced reforms that benefit the elderly and programs like subsidized dental treatment for children.
Now, in the midst of a global pandemic—a pandemic that will go down in history, a pandemic that has wrought havoc in powerful Italy and Spain—the health-care system in little Israel is in good shape. If there were thousands of bodies here, you would be blaming Litzman, wouldn’t you? But there aren’t, so give him some credit.
You don’t agree? That’s fine, but tell the absolute truth: Isn’t the criticism of Litzman especially venomous because of his Yiddish, his beard and his attire? The criticism of him indicates something about the public’s feelings regarding what’s happening in Haredi city of Bnei Brak. There is a feeling that it goes beyond concern for the city’s residents themselves. The discourse about Bnei Brak reeks of prejudice.
The discourse about Bnei Brak reeks of prejudice. If there had been an outbreak in the relatively secular Givatayim, no one would call the residents “polluted” or “infected,” or call to “lock them up in their ghetto.”
If there had been an outbreak in the relatively secular Givatayim, no one would call the residents “polluted” or “infected,” or call to “lock them up in their ghetto.”
One young haredi man tweeted on Thursday: “I went to a supermarket in a non-religious area. I was standing in line, with everyone, myself included, keeping a distance of two meters or more. An old man who was standing in front of me with his wife turned to me and complained that I was too close to him. I told him I was more than two meters away, just like everyone else. He answered, ‘Yes, but you’re haredi. You need to stay farther away.’ ”
Even if the criticism is just, the venom is dangerous.
Passover stands apart from the other holy days in the Jewish calendar, not only because it embodies the fundamentals of Jewish faith and ethic, but also because Pesachserves as “the focal point of Jewish history” and thus “crystal[izes] the Jewish national identity and marked the birth of the Jews as a free people.”
These resonant words were penned by the late Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin (1928-1983), the spiritual leader of Congregation B’nai David in Southfield, Mich., an adjunct professor of Judaic studies at the University of Detroit and, above all, the author of a trilogy that has introduced the rituals, traditions and practices of classical Judaism to several generations since they were first published in the early 1970s.
Donin himself conceived of his work as “a practical handbook on how to live a Jewish life,” but he also acknowledges that the overarching goal of the three books in the series is “to answer the constant query, ‘Why?’ ” Even a half-century ago, he recognized that many men and women who think of themselves as Jews are unaware of “the authentic values and lifestyle of the Jewish heritage,” which he describes in “To Be a Jew” as “a buried treasure.”
No aspect of Judaism is overlooked in Donin’s masterwork. Early on in “To Be a Jew,” for example, he devotes a chapter to Shabbat, “An Island in Time,” but not before he introduces the reader to the core values of Jewish history and theology, “which [do] not permit Jews to become ‘like all the other nations.’ ” He explains how Torah and halachah offer a body of law that governs the lives of pious Jews, but he acknowledges the ongoing debate that has been conducted for centuries among rabbis and sages over their meaning.
“We might compare the total panorama of Judaism to a giant jigsaw puzzle,” Donin writes in “To Be a Jew,” “which when put together shows a beautiful and inspiring picture.”
Donin’s treatment of Passover in “To Be a Jew” provides an especially enriching example of his approach. Pesach, he explains, is a festival of freedom, of course, but it was also an agricultural holiday that marked the barley harvest in ancient Israel. Above all, Passover is the only occasion in the Jewish calendar when the law of kashrut is supplemented by a special prohibition against the consumption or even the possession of unleavened bread (chametz). And so crucial are these elaborate rules and rituals, as he shows us in exacting detail, that they apply to both human beings and animals, and mere removal of chametz from a Jewish home is not sufficient; it must be burned in compliance with Exodus 12:15 (“You shall destroy leaven from your houses”).
Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin recognized that many men and women who think of themselves as Jews are unaware of “the authentic values and lifestyle of the Jewish heritage,” which he describes in “To Be a Jew” as “a buried treasure.”
“To Pray as a Jew,” first published in 1980, carries the reader from the home to the synagogue. Here, too, Passover is the occasion for a special observance. By ancient tradition, Psalm 136, called the Great Hallel, was recited at the dedication of Solomon’s Temple and when the prayer for rain was heard and granted, but now it is uttered in the observance of Passover because it acknowledges that God “gives food to all creatures,” thus praising God “for the daily sustenance of all mankind,” as Donin explains.
So exalted is Pesach that the prayer called Tachanun is not recited at the synagogue service that precedes Passover. Donin explains in “To Pray as a Jew” that the Tachanun originated as a prayer of supplication in which “[e]veryone expressed … what lay heaviest upon his heart.” For that reason, the solemn prayer was omitted on “a day that has even the slightest festive character,” including Passover. According to the ancient sources, the practice embodies the aspiration that, when the Messiah comes, even Tisha b’Av, a day of deepest mourning, “will be turned into a festival like Passover” and “transformed from a day of sorrow to a day of rejoicing, from mourning to celebration, from a day of darkness and gloom to one of light and joy.”
Donin’s self-appointed mission was to call his readers “to return to the faith of Israel,” as he writes in “To Be a Jew.” He did not seek to innovate or reinterpret Judaism, and he saw himself as a teacher of the settled traditions. His source texts are the Tanakh and the Talmud, and he insists that there is “no substitute for studying the philosophy of Judaism as expounded or expressed in the brilliant classical works” of the rabbis and sages, “old and new.”
Still, Donin offers his three books as the starting point on the journey of return that he invites his readers to begin. The books are so clearly written, so welcoming and so respectful of his readers that they serve as keys to unlock the treasure chest that he imagines Jewish learning to be. And Donin himself conceived of his books as a way to give Judaism back to the Jews: “The Jew today is desperately needed as a Jew by the Jewish people,” he writes in “To Be a Jew.” Surely, the need is no less urgent today than it was when Donin first set pen to paper.
Jonathan Kirsch, author and publishing attorney, is the book editor of the Jewish Journal.
There is an unseen public health crisis spreading as a consequence of the forced isolation most Americans are observing: loneliness. And it comes in many forms.
Dario Gabbai survived some of the worst horrors humanity has ever known. A Sonderkommando at the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp, he was forced to herd his fellow inmates into the gas chambers, then pull out their tangled corpses and burn their lifeless bodies. Last week, Gabbai died in Los Angeles. He was 97. Although he had not contracted COVID-19, because visitors are no longer allowed in hospitals, he died alone.
Infectious disease experts tell us that social distancing will save innumerable lives. But it has also meant that for some Holocaust survivors, their final days have been without the comfort, dignity and solace they deserve from family and friends at their bedside. Because of their past experiences, they know the perils of loneliness. But they also know the redemptive power of connection, even when it’s at a distance.
My work as executive director of USC Shoah Foundation puts me in regular contact with people from among the world’s roughly 400,000 Holocaust survivors. As I have connected with those in my circle in recent weeks, I’ve found that they’re the ones providing the consolation. And they’ve offered wisdom I want to pass along.
My work as executive director of USC Shoah Foundation puts me in regular contact with people from among the world’s roughly 400,000 Holocaust survivors. As I have connected with those in my circle in recent weeks, I’ve found that they’re the ones providing the consolation.
Joshua Kaufman, who survived the Dachau concentration camp, called to say he’s ready and willing, day or night, to support survivors or veterans less fortunate than he is. Pinchas Gutter, who survived the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and the Majdanek death camp, reported his excitement upon reading a letter from a high school student who was moved by his memoir, “Memory in Focus.” Isolation is much less lonely when cheered by gratitude.
Ed Mosberg met his wife Cecile, during the Holocaust. She died a few weeks ago. For the first time in 67 years, Ed is alone — and now in government-imposed isolation. But his spirit remains undaunted. The annual March of the Living, which takes place in Poland and Israel each spring, has been postponed. Ed, who is 92, called me full of ideas about how he could still participate, as the organizers move it to a ‘virtual March of the Living’ online for Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Decorated Army veteran Alan Moskin, now 93, helped liberate the camp of Gunskirchen as a member of the 66th Infantry. He, too, wanted to talk about the value of connection. “One good thing about this situation is that it brings out the best out of people,” he said. “People I don’t even know are calling to see if I need anything.” He lamented that it took “this crazy virus” to be reminded of how caring people can be. He is looking for ways to keep giving back. “I did not speak about what I saw for 50 years, but now they cannot stop me,” he said. “I have already spoken to 100,000 middle and high school students. I am antsy to get out and do more.”
That urge to connect, to tell their stories, to help others, to simply be together, is strong among survivors. We can all learn something from them.
“It’s a surprisingly inspiring time,” Daisy Miller, 82, told me over FaceTime, after requesting a few minutes to put on lipstick. “If nothing else, it gives us a deeper appreciation for the things we take for granted. We are a society so used to the superficial; we are not used to addressing deeper things.” For some people, she said, being alone for a single day is a crisis. This puts that in perspective.
Daisy survived the war in hiding. Today she is undergoing chemotherapy as part of a long battle with cancer. But, even so, she’s eager to support others. “I have Zoom,” she said, “and I want to do anything that I can to help.”
Paula Lebovics, 86, who survived Auschwitz as a 10-year-old, likewise spoke about the value of connection in times of strife. “Use this time to do good deeds, she advised. Reach out to people who are alone, because they need you.” She understands how meaningful connection is, the difference a phone call or Zoom chat can make: “Just to know you are valued is enough.”
Having experienced the worst of humankind, Holocaust survivors know the importance of its best. They remain inspiringly steadfast in their devotion to community. They are defiant that physical distancing must not mean harmful isolation — not for them, not for anyone.
“Most of all” said Paula, “If we know anything as Holocaust survivors, it’s that gam zeh ya’avor, this too shall pass.”
Stephen D. Smith is Finci-Viterbi executive director of the USC Shoah Foundation.
Passover shopping is hectic enough in normal times. Stores are crowded, prices are higher and shoppers have to go to a few different places to get everything they need for the seders and the rest of the holiday. This year, however, coronavirus concerns and restrictions have added another layer of stress.
Nili Isenberg lives with her mother and her special needs son, who suffers from seizures if he has a fever, so she’s been going to the store as infrequently as possible and wearing gloves. For Passover, she stocked up on groceries at Pico Glatt Mart in Pico-Robertson.
“Every time I go, it is pretty terrifying to leave the house, and then [I] have to touch so many things that others have passed by,” she said. “Shopping for food used to be a fun activity if I could go out without the kids and listen to music and dance in the aisles and take my time, but now it is something that I try to get done as quickly as possible.”
Tiki Segura, who also shopped at Pico Glatt Mart for Passover, went in with a list of groceries for her family, her in-laws and her parents. She said the store was well stocked, employees were wearing face masks and there were markers on the floor to indicate 6 feet of distance between shoppers waiting in line.
Nonetheless, she said she believes the stores should be doing more “They can be giving out masks to customers and be limiting the amount of customers allowed in the stores at a time,” she said. “Additionally, they should be sanitizing the shopping carts and, if possible, keeping them inside the store to prevent people on the street from touching the carts. I also think providing curbside pickup with no purchase minimum is a good idea.”
As COVID-19 restrictions have increased, some kosher supermarkets have stepped up their guidelines. Western Kosher in Mid-City is only letting one person per family shop in the store and is asking people to wear gloves, a mask, keep a distance of 6 feet, come with a prepared shopping list and not socialize in the store. It also offers to help seniors and shoppers with compromised immune systems to find local volunteers who could shop for them, and only seniors are allowed in the store from 7 to 8 a.m.
Blue tape marked outside of a Kosher supermarket so locals can safely shop for Passover. Photo courtesy of Kylie Ora Lobell
Livonia Glatt in Pico-Robertson sent out an email saying it is following the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s guidelines by sanitizing shopping carts and checkout stations, only allowing small groups of people in the store at a time, monitoring shoppers’ product quantities, and offering easy and quick checkouts.
Rachel Barnes Yammer, who mostly has been using Amazon Prime Now and Postmates to get items delivered to her home, only went to the store because she had to get a few last-minute items she forgot to order or that were out of stock online. While she enjoyed shopping at Livonia Glatt, she said she wishes the kosher stores took advantage of technology more by using Postmates or taking text orders. “They seem to still have a lot of workers who could easily package orders and create some sort of pickup, even if they don’t do delivery,” she said.
“The kosher markets tend to have more narrow aisles, so that makes it harder to always stay 6 feet away from every other shopper, but I try very hard to do that.” — Naomi Selick
Instead of going into Pico Glatt to shop for Passover, Ally Tsitsuashvili sent the store an email with a list of her products and quantities, and the store had her order ready for curbside pickup the next morning. “It was a very long list and it would have taken a long time for me or my husband to collect everything, so we did the curbside pickup in order to avoid exposure at the market for that long,” she said. “My husband went to the market and everything was bagged and paid for and in a cart ready for him to pick up. When he brought it home, we wiped everything down with disinfecting wipes before putting it away.”
Photo courtesy of Kylie Ora Lobell
Like Yammer, Tsitsuashvili has been relying on online shopping services like Amazon and Instacart. However, she said, “With keeping kosher and especially with Pesach approaching, we inevitably need to go shopping at some markets to pick out products ourselves.”
Yulia Medovoy Edelshtain said she and her husband venture out to the kosher supermarkets on Wednesdays, when she feels the stores aren’t as busy. “It does not feel crowded and people are making an effort to stay away from each other,” she said.
Rebecca Agi only goes to the store at the least busy time of day, which is in the first hour after the store opens or one hour before it closes. “I wear gloves, a mask and maintain social distance with everyone in the store. When I get home, I disinfect everything, change my clothes and wash my hands.”
For Naomi Selick, going to the kosher market to shop for her family and in-laws has been a mixed experience. While she said the stores are very well stocked — she even found paper towels — the size of the stores is an issue.
“The kosher markets tend to have more narrow aisles, so that makes it harder to always stay 6 feet away from every other shopper, but I try very hard to do that,” she said.
No matter what precautions people are taking, Isenberg said her thoughts are with those on the front lines, providing for all of the Passover shoppers. “I am so grateful to the people who are working and just wish them to be healthy and safe,” she said.
Tsitsuashvili echoed a similar sentiment. “I just hope we’ve been doing our hishtadlut [best effort] to be safe and healthy, and that HaShem will keep us well and bless us with a kosher and simcha-filled holiday.”
Passover is going to be different this year for many people, including those in hospitals. In Los Angeles, Cedars-Sinai Medical Center has had to adjust its guidelines for the holiday in order to protect against the spread of the novel coronavirus, COVID-19. The new rules apply to all patients — whether or not they’re infected.
Senior Rabbi and Director of the Cedars-Sinai spiritual care department Jason Weiner told the Journal, “Normally, people’s loved ones come and guide them through [the seder], but this year there are no visitors allowed. People are making it on their own so I can see how it can be depressing and scary. We’re going to have to help people prep for it. It’ll be difficult.”
One of the ways Cedars-Sinai is doing this is by giving patients their own seder plate and things to help them create their own seder, including a haggadah and matzo. They’re also broadcasting a seder on the televisions in patients’ rooms before the start of the holiday.
In the past, a Torah could have been carried from room to room, or patients could put on tefillin. This year, however, that can’t be done. “We are extra cautious not to pass anything from one patient to another to ensure that we don’t hurt patients more than we are trying to help them,” Weiner said.
“We’re recognizing that people need a little extra attention and TLC. They need to develop coping mechanisms, whether it’s through meditation, reading, reflection, prayers or ritual. Sometimes the seder can help people to transcend the walls of the hospital.” — Rabbi Jason Weiner
And while the hospital’s chapel is not locked down, Weiner said there are only a few chairs, spaced very far apart. Instead of having patients congregate there like they used to, all of the chapel programming — which includes classes and services — are being broadcast live throughout the hospital and in all patient rooms. Only Weiner, or the person leading each service or class, will be in the chapel. He also will call some patients by phone or pray outside their room, instead of visiting them in their rooms.
Kosher for Passover meals will be prepared in the hospital’s kosher kitchen, and Weiner will visit patients’ rooms to ensure they are set up before the holiday and to answer any questions. Some patients, he said, may choose to make phone calls or use Zoom during the seder.
On Shabbat during Passover, patients will receive special Passover Shabbat kits, which will include extra grape juice and a Kiddush cup. However, Weiner said COVID-19 patients won’t receive them, for their own safety. And although Weiner won’t be working normal hours during the holiday, he will be checking in from time to time. “Patients need someone to listen to and talk to, especially when visitors aren’t allowed,” he said.
Because the first two days of Passover run into Shabbat this year and observant Jews won’t use technology to connect with their families, Weiner said, as a result, “People are anxious. Normally, people walk over and visit on Shabbat or yom tov, but now you can’t walk in. Patients have to go a long time without hearing from their loved ones.”
As for himself, Weiner said he’s been taking precautions. “It’s certainly scary this year, and I am carefully trying to balance my responsibility to the patients and my need to protect my family and not bring anything contagious home.”
And although Passover will be even more challenging for patients this year, Weiner said there are ways they can get through it, and they should use the self-care techniques that work for them.
“We’re recognizing that people need a little extra attention and TLC,” he said. “They need to develop coping mechanisms, whether it’s through meditation, reading, reflection, prayers or ritual. Sometimes the seder can help people to transcend the walls of the hospital.”
Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” As cases of the coronavirus increase in our communities, we must take these words to heart. To maintain our humanity, we must become champions for life — not just our lives or our families’ lives, but for life itself.
Never has there been a time when entitlement and wealth have faced off with death to the degree that likely will unfold in United States urban centers this spring. COVID-19, which metes out its fate with an even hand, will face off with those social injustices we’ve long neglected. As the coronavirus spreads in Los Angeles, the homeless will die first, as will veterans who have long been unable to attain quality health care, and seniors in state-funded assisted living facilities.
Those with means will begin quiet efforts to protect their own. What may begin as the affluent privilege of delivered groceries quickly may become at-home ventilators and private nurses. But to what end? What if, God forbid, two people fall gravely ill in your home? Or three? What if it is your cousin but not your child who has need for your hoarded resources?
The ethos of American individualism will call us toward a mode of selfishness never before seen in the U.S., which rests mostly on the conviction that to be a person of means is to have the ability to protect one’s own. Never has this much comfort and wealth faced off with this much death. But to follow this course of action is to lose our humanity, even if we happen to save our own lives. We must find another way.
Our humanity, our sovereignty, our loving selves rest in the quiet place beyond fear and striving.
My 9-year-old, an American growing up in Israel, is aware of the hostility he’ll be called on to face as a soldier one day. He shared his view that the coronavirus has come to teach us all to work together. I agree. It has stilled the rat race, sent us home to our loved ones and to the clarity that they are what matter most. The best and brightest around the world share knowledge in the fight for a vaccine and a cure. We miss the lesson of the moment if we respond to death’s test by sacrificing our neighbors for ourselves.
The conundrum, the challenge of the moment, reminds me of the parable of the long spoons, attributed to Rabbi Haim of Romshishok, which tells of a person who dies and is greeted at the gates of heaven by an angel. Having been a person slightly more good than evil, she was afforded the opportunity to first glimpse hell before being admitted to heaven. As they descended, she saw a banquet filled with greater decadence than she had known in life, so she wondered to herself, “How can there be so much blessing in hell?” But as she looked closer, she saw the arms of those gathered around were splinted, unable to bend at the elbow. The diners could not reach their mouths to enjoy the bounty. Having understood, the two then ascended to heaven, where she saw the same scene, a banquet hall filled with delicacies. Here, too, were elbowless humans; but here, they fed one another.
Our people have faced death’s horrors before, and as we do so again now, we must take Frankl’s words to heart. Our humanity, our sovereignty, our loving selves rest in the quiet place beyond fear and striving. If we’re panicked, we’re not there. If we’re reptilian, we’re not there. We must take this quiet time at home to internalize the awakening that dawned on Frankl as he endured Auschwitz. In “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Frankl wrote, “A thought transfixed me. For the first time in my life, I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth — that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which a man can aspire.”
Our humanity lies in our power to move from love, to choose life. Let us try to see humanity as this virus might see us — one species, one extended family, linked in love, fighting for life.
Rabbi Sara Brandes is executive director of Or HaLev: Center for Jewish Spirituality and Meditation and rabbi-in-residence at Camp Alonim.
I have spent the past few weeks doing my utmost to offer hope, faith and fortitude to my family, my readers and my followers around the world as we confront a plague that has caused suffering and claimed the lives of untold innocents.
A rabbi should be allowed to do his job giving comfort to the people. That I should now have to divert my focus and respond to a vile, libelous and anti-Semitic attack against me and the Jewish community by the Israel-hating U.K. Guardian is unfortunate but necessary. We Jews have learned that in moments of global crisis, anti-Semites are most inclined to attack.
The TV series based on Philip Roth’s novel “The Plot Against America” is airing n now on HBO. The story is a disturbing one that envisions Charles Lindbergh defeating Franklin Roosevelt in the presidential election on the platform that he will keep the United States out of war. Anti-Semitism becomes accepted to the point where Jews see frightening parallels with the persecution of Jews in Germany.
Guardian journalist Charles Bramesco’s review of the series attacks Jews in general, and me in particular, as being a source of American anti-Semitism. As Jewish communities around the world are decimated by the coronavirus, Bramesco — who openly and expressly accuses President Donald Trump of being a Nazi — libelously accuses Jews of being pansies for the Hitler-like Trump and fascism.
Bramesco describes Roth’s character Rabbi Lionel Bengelsdorf (played by John Turturro) as a stereotypical court Jew who defends Lindbergh against allegations of anti-Semitism, prompted in part by his flirtations with Hitler, and is rewarded with a position in the administration. Even as persecution of Jews escalates, the rabbi continues to be an enabler of the president. “Bengelsdorf,” Bramesco writes, “typifies a lethal combination of confidence to the point of gullibility and an excessive fondness of power, which breed complicity in wrongdoing.”
Inexplicably, Bramesco then pivots to me — and the object of his loathing —Trump. He compares me to Bengelsdorf and Trump to Lindbergh (and perhaps Hitler?). He also employs a little Yiddish, calling me a worldwide “shandah” (embarrassment), “cozying up to President Trump in the presumptive belief that he’ll be exempt from the hatred now being seeded.”
According to the Guardian, we Jews are culprits, and not victims, of Jew-hatred.
A discerning reader might be tempted to simply dismiss Bramesco’s writings as the blathering of the lunatic fringe and Bramesco as a man filled with an all-consuming hate. But given that his words appear in a publication claiming legitimacy, they are deeply damaging, libelous and demand a response.
Let me start with his comments about the president. Some people love Trump. Some people loath Trump. That’s all part of living in a democracy. The same mixed feelings were true of presidents Barack Obama, George W. Bush and Bill Clinton. But to compare Trump — the father of a Jewish daughter and grandfather to three Jewish grandchildren — to Lindbergh/Hitler is an affront to the memory of 1.5 million Jewish children murdered by the Nazis. That a supposedly respectable publication like The Guardian would compromise its credibility with an unhinged fanatic like Bramesco is deeply disturbing. Comparing Trump to Hitler trivializes the Holocaust on the 75th anniversary of the liberation of so many of the camps where millions were turned into piles of ash.
WASHINGTON, DC – JANUARY 28: U.S. President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu participate in a joint statement in the East Room of the White House on January 28, 2020 in Washington, DC. The news conference was held to announce the Trump administration’s plan to resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. (Photo by Sarah Silbiger/Getty Images)
I have had my areas of agreement with Trump and I have my areas of disagreement. If there were racists who supported him, I’ve repeatedly condemned them as “disgusting, vile white supremacist nut-jobs.” I strongly criticized the president’s campaign pledge to ban Muslim immigrants, which I labeled “a betrayal of both Jewish and American values.”
But on his unprecedented support for Israel and his strong efforts to combat anti-Semitism, I am unapologetically grateful, as I am for Trump’s decision to fire American missiles at the genocidal leader of Syria — Bashar Assad — for using poison gas against Muslim men, women and children, a move Obama declined to do.
For Bramesco to equate a president widely regarded as the most pro-Israel in American history with Hitler, or with a fictitious president who tells Jews to assimilate “or else” and who puts on his cabinet a vicious anti-Semite (Henry Ford) who manipulates America’s “neutrality” in favor of Nazi Germany, is vile.
As for me, the supposed worldwide embarrassment who cozies up to Trump in hopes I’ll be spared the anti-Semitism he allegedly seeks to unleash, I’ll say this to Bramesco:
1. I’m not embarrassed that the president pulled out of the Iran deal, which presented an existential threat to Israel.
2. I’m not embarrassed that the president moved the American Embassy to its rightful place in Jerusalem.
3. I’m not embarrassed the president recognizes the Golan Heights as part of Israel. Nor am I embarrassed by the efforts his administration has made to promote Middle East peace and provide economic hope and opportunity to our Palestinian brothers and sisters who live under the kleptocracy of Palestinian Authority leader Mahmoud Abbas and the murderous yoke of Hamas.
Sadly, Bramesco typifies the hate circulating in our currently polarized world. Consider his reaction to Trump’s Happy Hanukkah tweet with a photo of a fully lit menorah:
“1. Only the first candle and the shammes should be lit, you stupid motherf***** [he spelled out the word] 2. YOU ARE A LITERAL NAZI FIGUREHEAD HOW DARE YOU.”
Perhaps it’s no coincidence that Bramesco has a position at a publication with a longstanding pattern of anti-Israel bias. After British politician Jeremy Corbyn admitted he laid a wreath in 2014 to honor the terrorists responsible for the 1972 Olympics Munich massacre, the Guardian published an op-ed defending Corbyn and said, “There is nothing immoral about laying a wreath to remember the victims of an attack that even Margaret Thatcher condemned.” Also, on more than one occasion, The Guardian has published false accusations that Ethiopian women in Israel were given contraceptives without their consent.
Last year, a Guardian editorial disputed that Hamas is a terrorist group and accused Israel of killing unarmed Palestinians with “impunity,” including children, medics and journalists, who “posed no danger to anyone.” It ignored the fact that Israel was responding to riots and attempts to infiltrate the country to kill and kidnap Israeli civilians; that Israeli soldiers have strict rules of engagement for firing at violent protestors; and that most of those killed were associated with a terror group.
It is particularly sad that in a time when we need to pull together and support and protect humanity from a deadly virus that The Guardian and Bramesco trade in such extreme hate.
I have spent my life promoting universal Jewish values, advocating for Holocaust memory and education, crusading for genocide awareness and fighting genocidal incitement, facilitating African-American-Jewish relations, supporting LGBTQ rights and defending Israel. I’ve spent my career opposing dictatorships and authoritarian regimes while promoting the freedoms afforded by democracy and working to see they are available as a birthright to everyone.
The unforgettable words of lawyer Joseph Welch to Sen. Joseph McCarthy during the Army-McCarthy hearings in the 1950s apply equally to Bramesco and the editors at The Guardian: “At long last sirs, have you no decency?”
Rabbi Shmuley Boteach is founder of the World Values Network and the author of 33 books, including “Judaism for Everyone.”
