When Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion’s (HUC-JIR) Rabbi Aaron Panken died in a plane crash in 2018, the search committee to replace him suggested Andrew Rehfeld throw his hat into the ring.
Rehfeld, 54, didn’t take the request seriously. He’s not a rabbi, and at the time he was the president and CEO of the Jewish Federation of St. Louis. Before that, he was a political science professor at Washington University.
The Journal caught up with Rehfeld to talk about his first year on the job and the challenges facing the Jewish community as a whole, especially during these pandemic times.
JJ: Have you learned anything in the first year that changed your view of what it means to be a Jewish clergy person?
AR: I don’t know if it changed my view so much as it deepened and focused it. Reform rabbis have had a transformative effect on my own life. I came here with the full knowledge that each is expected to do multiple things — be a pastor, be spiritually inspiring, be knowledgeable, show up and be present. What has changed is only the level of detail I have about each of those qualities. The one thing that is no longer clear to me is that we should be thinking about training rabbis simply as generalists. We need to be attracting the best pastors who want to have a rabbinical career [as] pastors; the best scholars who want a rabbinical career that’s really going be about transformative ideas, and rabbis who want to use their rabbinate to lead and transform great organizations.
JJ: Do you ever notice when you talk to colleagues that you are not a rabbi and most of your faculty probably is?
AR: The president of the university of Chicago, one of my alma maters, is a mathematician. He oversees one of the largest medical complexes in the state of Illinois, arguably the best business school in the world, arguably the best law school in the world, social science divisions, humanities divisions, biology, chemistry — things he has no knowledge or expertise in whatsoever. Nobody ever asked the president of the university “Why aren’t you a [fill in the blank]?” The reason is that they have a great understanding that the strength of universities comes from the ability of their president to recognize the things that he or she or they do not know and getting the right people to lead them.
The reason that I felt confident taking this job is that I believe the board finally recognized that HUC moved over 40 years ago to become a comprehensive leadership university for the Jewish people. Forty-six percent of our students are rabbis but it’s not even half of our students. So yes, every day I think, “Boy, I’m not a rabbi, I’ve got a lot to learn,” but I’m also not a cantor.
JJ: What are some of the challenges the Jewish community as a whole is facing?
AR: The challenges of the 20th century that we are familiar with, are what I call urgent and existential. Immigration at the beginning of the century, the Shoah, the birth of Israel, the sustaining of Israel, gathering of the exiles from the Soviet Union and Ethiopia. Those shifted from urgent and existential to slow and existential. And those challenges are defined, in my view, by three key pieces: 1) the level of Jewish education, 2) the rate of Jewish engagement, and 3) the sense of the depth of Jewish identity. Knowing, doing and being Jewish are a challenge, they are existential.
We are facing those existential threats for really good reasons. Jews are much more accepted today than we were a 100 years ago. Israel is now one of the strongest nations, even as it is facing some real challenges. That acceptance and that place of strength, even in the face of renewed anti-Semitism, means that we have to work doubly hard, because every Jew, particularly in North America, is a Jew by choice.
JJ: How has the pandemic affected HUC?
AR: Mainly in two ways: 1) It helped us develop a deep appreciation for the work that we are training our students for, because we see how our alumni are responding in such innovative and daring ways to the needs of their communities. 2) We needed to address some long-standing issues but knew it would take a long time, for example, how to do distance learning that’s at the same level of excellence as the education in-house. We are now going to spend 90 days developing a program in case we have to go online for the rest of the academic year.
JJ: How do you think the Reform movement in general has handled the pandemic?
AR: I think all arms of the movement, and not just the Reform movement, are managing a situation none of us has a playbook for. We are, in that sense, all making it up as we go, and we are relying on those values that inform and guide our work every single day. Values of equity, openness and justice.
JJ: What do you think the long-term effects of all of this might be?
AR: Here are three thoughts: 1) It’s reinforcing all of our need for community. For deep, meaningful, physically proximate relationships with other human beings. 2) It is also showing us that technology can be used for spiritual and educational purposes. And I think that’s going to pose a challenge to business as usual. 3) During any crisis, the sense in which things will be different in the future feels a lot more significant than it turns out to be. If you think about what happened after 9/11, there were certainly some changes that were made. But day-to-day life in the United States has not changed demonstrably since then.
JJ: Will it have an impact on the relationship between the Reform and Conservative movements?
AR: This crisis is going to put stress on nonprofits and all Jewish organizations, and anything we can do to work closer together, to collaborate, is important. All of the heads of the seminaries have just met for a conference call a few weeks ago. And we are going to do that on a regular basis. I don’t view denominations as barriers. I view them as clarifiers of different approaches to Jewish life. I am stunned at the way we haven’t been doing things together and I’m glad that this is causing people to understand that we have to. We’re not going to be doing better by putting up denominational walls. That is 20th-century thinking of the worst kind.
Jessica Donath is a freelance journalist in Los Angeles.
The Knesset was mostly shut down on Thursday after a lawmaker from the Arab Joint List announced that he had tested positive for the coronavirus.
Sami Abu Shehadeh was tested for the virus after his driver was diagnosed with COVID-19. He and his staff are now in isolation.
Abu Shehadeh told the Kan public broadcaster on Thursday morning that he is asymptomatic and has met with thousands of people in the last week, including at protests, family events and Knesset meetings.
All Knesset committee meetings and other events scheduled for Thursday were canceled, and hundreds of Knesset employees were told to stay home unless their work at the building was deemed essential.
Israel has seen an uptick in confirmed cases of the coronavirus as it continues to reopen.
U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a progressive Democrat in her first term, has endorsed the Democratic primary challenger in her home state of New York facing veteran congressman Eliot Engel.
In a late-night series of tweets Wednesday, Ocasio-Cortez backed Jamaal Bowman, an African-American educator, over Engel, a 16-term lawmaker who heads the powerful House Foreign Affairs Committee. Her district in the Bronx and Queens boroughs abuts Engel’s in the borough and suburban Westchester County.
It is unusual for a congressman from a party in a state’s delegation to endorse a primary challenger of a colleague.
Engel raised more than $1.6 million through March for his reelection campaign, which is about three times as much as Bowman.
But Bowman may have received a windfall on Tuesday when Engel, while asking to speak at a news conference in the Bronx about the current wave of protests over the killing of George Floyd, said near a hot mic that “If I didn’t have a primary, I wouldn’t care.”
Once upon a time, in an election far far away, in April of 2019, amidst the political cacophony of right and left, one party stepped into the lime light as a possible king maker.
You see here in Israel, as a small party, you can tip the scales of a coalition – and thus hold a lot of power.
Zehut, or Identity, led by Moshe Feiglin was predicted to receive as much as 7 mandates.
For many, Zehut is an enigma. On one hand the founder of the party Moshe Feiglin leads a libertarian approach to government and economics. He believes in lowering taxes, abolishing social security and a separation of church and state. And as an added bonus, he wants to legalize pot. On the other hand, he’s a devout religious Jew who believes the Temple Mount should be under Israeli control and that the third temple is soon to be built – g-d willing.
Some people adore him, others despise him, but one thing is certain. Moshe Feiglin is one of the most intriguing Israelis to hit the political stage in recent times.
We are very thrilled and honored to be joined today on the podcast by Moshe Feiglin.
For over 30 years, 81-year-old Iranian immigrant Ned Harounian ran the Dr. Martens shop at 7618 Melrose Ave. However, that all changed on May 30, when looters swept through the store, stealing and destroying over half a million dollars of merchandise and personal family belongings and then burning what remained.
Now, only the building stands.
“My dad’s work was everything to him,” Ebbi Harounian, Ned’s son, told the Journal. “And now it’s gone.”
Harounian said he was watching the riots on television when he saw his dad’s store on fire. “My wife was sitting next to me and says, ‘Ebbi, look, it’s your dad’s car.’ When he heard about what was happening, [my dad] went to the store. I called him and said, ‘What are you doing over there?’ He said, ‘It’s my life.’”
Ned, a widower, not only lost his livelihood in the fire, but precious family heirlooms: his late wife’s belongings were there, including pictures, clothing and jewelry. “All of my father’s memories with my mom were in that store,” Harounian said.
Ned’s wife Yafa, to whom he was married for 47 years, died three years ago from pancreatic cancer. Prior to her death, the couple ran the store together, and built up an impressive celebrity clientele including Shaquille O’Neal, Magic Johnson, Halle Berry and Bruce Willis.
Yafa posing with Shaquille O’Neal. Photos courtesy of Ebbi Harounian.
“My dad and Shaq were so close that they used to play backgammon together,” Harounian said. “My dad would make him tea. When Bruce Willis’ house burned down, he came to our store to get a new leather jacket.”
The Harounian family — Ned, Yafa, Ebbi and his sisters Naz and Firouzeh —came to the United States in the 1980s. They came at different times, splitting into three groups and going through Afghanistan, Pakistan and Austria. Ebbi, who was 14 at the time, didn’t see his parents for two years, while Yafa went with Naz and Firouzeh. They all met up in Los Angeles and started their life over.
Ned purchased Solomon’s David Book Store, located on Fairfax Avenue at the time. He ran it for nine years before opening the shoe store. Ned would work at the Dr. Martens shop seven days a week for nine or 10 hours a day.
“My dad never had a day off in his life, and he loved it,” Harounian said. “That was his passion. He wanted his family to have everything. I had a great life because he helped me. He worked his fingers to the bone for us.” He added his father would socialize in the shop with his friends and loved ones.
Photos courtesy of Ebbi Harounian.
“This was his social media. This was his Facebook,” Harounian said. “All the neighbors in the houses behind the store knew him. These kids would buy Dr. Martens from my dad, and when they grew up, they’d bring in their own kids to buy them shoes. Now, the whole history is gone.”
Harounian discovered a YouTube video of looters breaking the window, telling each other to go in and get money and then stealing everything in sight. In the wake of the destruction, someone had scrawled “capitalism” on the building.
“My dad and Shaq were so close that they used to play backgammon together. My dad would make him tea. When Bruce Willis’ house burned down, he came to our store to get a new leather jacket.” — Ebbi Harounian
Harounian said while he empathized with the protesters’ cause, he condemned the actions of the looters and how they targeted businesses. “What happened to Mr. Floyd was absolutely wrong,” he said. “Everybody should have a voice and be able to speak and protest. But looting and burning down other people’s property is absolutely wrong. We as Jews know what happened when they killed us over and over again throughout history. When we were in Iran, we had issues but we never went and burned down anybody’s store or broke anybody’s window.”
Immediately after the store was destroyed, Harounian set up a GoFundMe account to rebuild it and cover costs that insurance would not. To date, he’s raised more than $60,000 of his $75,000 goal from more than 1,400 donors. People from all around the world, including the United Kingdom and India, are sending money.
“They understand what we went through,” Harounian said. “I get messages saying, ‘We feel for you. We are immigrants too. We are here and we’re trying to make it.’”
The campaign picked up steam when Halle Berry tweeted about it and encouraged fans to donate; People magazine, Entertainment Tonight and Daily Mail ended up covering it as well.
While Harounian said Ned had “no hope” the day the destruction happened, when he saw people were donating and sending messages to him, he changed his perspective.
“I read him the messages and his eyes were full of tears. Now, he believes he can come back from this. He says, ‘When I get back on my feet, I will open the store, invite everyone, cook for them and give them hot tea.’ He doesn’t say ‘if.’ He says ‘when.’”
“Human beings were created as single individuals to teach us that anyone who destroys a single life is as though that person has destroyed an entire world; and anyone who preserves a single life is as though an entire world has been preserved. The creation of an individual human being was done also for the sake of peace among humanity, so that no person could say to another, ‘My parent is greater than your parent.’” (Talmud Sanhedrin 4:5)
While thinking of everything going on in the world today, this piece from the Talmud speaks to me loudly. Under God’s rule, all humans are created equal. We are created as if our lives mean everything.
This means we stand together.
During this period of fighting for justice, and the lives of black people, I have seen much controversy. Some people are against the Black Lives Matter (BLM) organization because of anti-Semitic comments made four years ago. Some people use this to justify not fighting for an entire race. There are many issues with these arguments, beginning with the belittlement of this civil battle.
Black Lives Matter runs deeper than the organization. It means that black people should be able to live a full life; that we should be able to live fully without the people meant to protect us killing us; that we shouldn’t be persecuted more harshly for the same or lesser crimes, and that we should be protected and equal under the law.
This should not only be black people vs. the police, black people vs. the government, or black vs. white. It should be everybody against racists, supremacists, inequality and injustice.
This should not only be black people vs. the police, black people vs. the government, or black vs. white. It should be everybody against racists, supremacists, inequality and injustice. When choosing to ignore this cause as a Jew, you are also choosing to deny yourself equality as a minority. You are inadvertently giving way to anti-Semitism.
Throughout history, Jews and African-Americans have faced pain. From the traumas of Egypt to the discrimination of both in modern times, now is an important time to stand together. Although Jewish blood runs deeper ethnically, a good number of Jews are white-passing in skin. While I see people denounce it, when it isn’t physically clear that you’re Jewish (i.e. wearing a kippah, Star of David symbol, etc.) white privilege is something from whom many benefit. The privilege of your skin color does not have to be a bad thing. It allows for a bigger and wider platform, as black voices have been widely silenced.
Another issue I see in the community is the lack of care because of the belief that people were not there for Jewish lives when they were lost. As a black, Jewish woman, this makes me somewhat sick. The divisions and separations in our community need to stop. We need to stand together for all lives lost, no matter who the victim. How can we all sing “Hinei ma tov u’ma na’im shevet achim gam yachad” (Behold how good and how pleasing / for brothers (people) to sit together in unity) when we refuse to come together as a community? My conversion began because of the community I was shown. When we drive for a deeper divide, what makes us different from everybody else?
We cannot live together as one if we cannot unify. This is the time for it. Be the change you want to see. As Rabbi Sandra Lawson said, “You are either racist or anti-racist… The latter meaning you are working everyday either emotionally or physically to dismantle the racism that we have all been taught since day one in the United States.”
Erykah Gaston is an 18-year-old from the Bronx, NY, currently studying special education at Ohio University.
It’s 5 p.m. at our home, and that means one thing. Before dinner, we are going to sail through every one of the Jewish holidays (plus Martin Luther King Day and Israel Independence Day) with the Maccabeats. My kids dance and ask questions (“Is that really what Haman looked like?” “Why did they make this video on Zoom – are the Maccabeats stuck at home, too?”); my husband and I point out clever details in each video. This is essentially their only “screen time,” so I take great joy in increasing their appreciation for each song. It’s been going on this way for months.
It’s been a great supplement to my kids’ Jewish education that we review the entire calendar of Jewish life on a regular basis (read: nightly). “Do you know what I love most about these guys?” I ask my husband, who at first, is too busy hopping to the beat of “Latke Recipe” – never mind that it’s June – to answer.
“That they stay relevant with the times?” he guesses.
I point to our son, just two, who has put on a kippah specifically so he can emulate his favorite member of the a cappella group, and shake my head. “Our kids have Jewish rock stars. They think that cool musicians look like observant Jews.”
Looking back on my secular childhood in the ‘90s, outwardly expressed Judaism was certainly missing from my own media consumption – but it was not the only demographic missing. It’s shocking to think that there was so little effort at inclusion in film and television (‘bad guys’ were typically not white; heroes almost always were). Women were subtly and not-so-subtly sexualized and objectified, and only rarely were they in positions of authority.
I hate that all of this seeped into my consciousness.
In neighborhoods where Jews and other minorities live alongside each other but in very little contact, suspicion of one another has become a learned behavior.
But now my concern has evolved. My children are being raised in a primarily Jewish community, and the majority of people we spend time with (or read about, or watch videos about) look like us. And while I’m thrilled to offer my children access to Jewish representation and education, this is a difficult environment in which to dismantle racism.
In neighborhoods where Jews and other minorities live alongside each other but in very little contact, suspicion of one another has become a learned behavior. Today, I’m committing to step one, which is recognition of the work that lies ahead and of the biases – intentional or unintentional – that exist within our world. If this makes you uncomfortable, I highly suggest that you take the time to consider why – and whether that discomfort is necessary or even good. One of my favorite reads on this topic is Malcolm Gladwell’s Talking to Strangers, a social psychology-based unpacking of how misunderstanding subtle nuances of behavior can have far-reaching consequences.
In graduate school, I remember embarrassing myself in a course on culturally competent counseling by pointing out that historically, Jews have never been seen as white by those who purport white superiority. What I was failing to understand is that I have indeed grown up as white (as have most Jews in America since at least the 1970s) and I have no idea what it is like to be scanned from 200 meters away and have someone recoil in fear or suspicion. I should have simply listened.
Our people know hatred and suffering, but we do not have a monopoly on it. I vow to understand this.
Our people know hatred and suffering, but we do not have a monopoly on it. I vow to understand this.
I also vow to never use the term “shv*rtza” or any such phrases, or to tolerate such language in my presence.
I vow not to teach my children to be afraid or suspicious of people simply for the color of their skin. This starts with me checking my own body language and unspoken behaviors.
If we do not embark on this rigorous self-examination, we risk not only failing in our role of being a ‘light unto the nations’, but in hindering the process towards justice and understanding that our complicated world endeavors towards. In the words of James Taylor (or as my children believe, the Maccabeats): “There are ties between us.”
Jessica Brenner lives in northern California with her husband and two children. She works as an academic counselor in private practice and is a lifelong writer.
This Week’s Torah Portion- Parashat Naso (Numbers 4:21-7:89)- begins with the completion of the head count of the people of Israel. God then gives Moses instructions concerning the purification of the camp, ‘wayward wives’ (wives which are suspected of being unfaithful to her husband) Nezirim (Jewish ascetics who take a vow to devote themselves to God), and the Priestly Blessing. Toward the end of the parasha the tabernacle is consecrated and the chieftains of the different tribes bring their offerings.
