The Rabbi on Mason

Dear Friends,

On this Veteran’s Day, I hope that each of us will take a moment to thank a person who has served or is serving in the military. I have had the privilege of interacting with a number of people in the military in my capacity as rabbi and in my capacity as adjunct professor at local universities.  I am unable to fully grasp the sacrifice which these brave people make on our behalf. The military personnel and their families are living a life style that challenges their relationships, their faith, and their opportunities to spend quality family time.

As a child and teenager growing up, we had a much different attitude toward the military. It was during the Vietnam War and many were questioning U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. Unfortunately, many took out their frustrations on the soldiers as they returned and I can’t imagine what those returning from Vietnam must have experienced.  In today’s world we are much more aware about post traumatic stress syndrome and other issues which returning vets face. Back in the 60’s, the support of our troops by the American people was not nearly as present as it seems to be today.

On a totally different matter, we are all saddened and shocked by the events which have occurred at Penn State University.  I hope that there will not be a rush to judgement about what the appropriate consequences are for all those who were involved in the despicable act of sexual abuse and for those who knew certain things but were not as diligent as they might have been in reporting this information.   We are taught by the famous rabbi, the Chofetz Chaim, that lashon hara, negative speech, hurts the one who says the negative things, one who hears the negative things, and the one about whom the negative things are said. After reading the accounts which I have seen and listening to so many reports about what happened, it is clear that we don’t have all the information. We must always be careful to not judge someone until we know all the facts. The Talmud states that we should not judge someone until we have been in their place.

I hope that we will pray for the victims of the abuse whose lives have been changed forever. We also must never ignore claims that someone has been abused and must not dismiss what has occurred as not being serious. In my rabbinic experience, I have learned the complexity of these situations and the incomplete communication that often occurs, making it very difficult to ascertain what really happened.  When I hear about these kinds of occurrences in our community, I encourage those involved to pursue counseling and try to ensure that they are receiving help and support.  I believe that one thing is for certain: if you are being abused or know of a case where someone is being abused, please let someone know.  These things should not be kept silent and yet, often individuals don’t share this information and they live with the pain because they are afraid to share this information.

On a separate note, as I write this, the National’s catcher, Wilson Ramos has been kidnapped and our prayers are with him and his family for his safe return.

What a complicated time to be living and a challenging world in which we live.  I hope that through prayer, study, and connection to our religious heritage through your involvement with Hillel , we all will find the strength and faith to confront whatever comes our way.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Bruce Aft

Dear Friends,

I recently had the opportunity to attend the Dedication of the Jewish Chaplain’s memorial at Arlington National Cemetery which will honor the twelve Jewish chaplains that have died in military service to the United States of America. It was a very touching ceremony and once again reminded me of the significant sacrifice which our military personnel make for us. I was particularly inspired by the story of the Four Chaplains on the Dorchester during WWII. As we prepare for Veteran’s Day next week, I hope that you will find the information below to be interesting.

If you have the chance to visit Arlington National Cemetery, please notice the Jewish memorial which is now part of Chaplain’s Hill. I also hope you will thank someone who is serving in our military for the sacrifices they make so that we can be safe.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Bruce Aft

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Four Chaplains, also sometimes referred to as the “Immortal Chaplains,” were four United States Army chaplains who gave their lives to save other civilian and military personnel during the sinking of the troop ship USAT Dorchester during World War II. They helped other soldiers board lifeboats and gave up their own life jackets when the supply ran out. The chaplains joined arms, said prayers, and sang hymns as they went down with the ship.

The Men

The four men were relatively new chaplains, who all held the rank of lieutenant. They included Methodist minister the Reverend George L. Fox, Rabbi Alexander D. Goode, Roman Catholic priest the Reverend John P. Washington, and Reformed Church in America minister the Reverend Clark V. Poling. Their backgrounds, personalities, and faiths were different, although Goode, Poling and Washington had all served as leaders in the Boy Scouts of America.[1] They would meet at the Army Chaplains School at Harvard University, where they would prepare for assignments in the European theater, sailing on board USAT Dorchester to report to their new assignments.
Alexander D. Goode
Main article: Alexander D. Goode

Rabbi Alexander D. Goode was born in Brooklyn, New York on May 10, 1911, the son of Rabbi Hyman Goodekowitz. He was raised in Washington, D.C., attending Eastern High School, eventually deciding to follow his father’s footsteps by studying for the rabbinate himself, at Hebrew Union College (HUC), where he graduated with a B.H. degree in 1937. He later received his Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins University in 1940. While studying for the rabbinate at HUC, he worked at the Washington Hebrew Congregation during summer breaks.[3]

He originally applied to become a Navy chaplain in January 1941, but was not accepted. After Pearl Harbor was attacked in 1941, he applied to the Army, receiving his appointment as a chaplain on July 21, 1942. Chaplain Goode went on active duty on August 9, 1942 and he was selected for the Chaplains School at Harvard. He had courses in map reading, first aid, law, and chemical warfare. Chaplain Goode was then assigned to the 333rd Airbase Squadron in Goldsboro, North Carolina. In October 1942, he was transferred to Camp Myles Standish in Taunton, Massachusetts and reunited with Chaplains Fox, Poling and Washington, who were classmates at Harvard.[4]

Dear Friends,

On the Shabbat when we read the story about Noah and the Ark, we are reminded of the potential that human beings have to perpetrate evil in our world. We see examples of negative human behavior every day and we also see examples of human kindness every day. It is easy to lost sight of the positive behavior that occurs in our society when we are overwhelmed by the negative actions that we are exposed to on a daily basis through the media.

I hope that we can find meaningful ways to help ensure that our good actions will outweigh the negative actions that fill our world. One of the most inspirational programs in which I have ever participated is the March of the Living. You have heard me talk about this trip often and I hope that we can have a congregational and community delegation participate this spring. The dates are April 15, 2012-April 29, 2012. The following description is from the web site of the March of the Living which is www.motl.org.

THE MARCH OF THE LIVING is an international, educational program that brings Jewish teens from all over the world to Poland on Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Memorial Day, to march from Auschwitz to Birkenau, the largest concentration camp complex built during World War II, and then to Israel to observe Yom HaZikaron, Israel Memorial Day, and Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day.
The goal of the March of the Living is for these young people to learn the lessons of the Holocaust and to lead the Jewish people into the future vowing Never Again.

On Sunday, Nov. 6 I will do an informational session about the March of the Living at 7pm at Adat Reyim, 6500 Westbury Oaks Ct. Springfield, VA. 22152. I hope you will come hear more about this life changing program which is open to students who are in 10th grade and older. Please contact me at 703-866-5531 if you would like further information. What a wonderful pilgrimage to make! I know that one of the most special activities in which I have participated with Sue and our own children has been the March.

As we confront the evil which occurred during the Holocaust and witness the hope which Israel offers, I believe that this educational program has the capacity to change lives.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Bruce D. Aft

Dear Friends,

As we transition from the High Holidays to Sukkot, we know that Sukkot is a time to be happy; zman simchateinu. One of the important aspects of the Festival of Sukkot is bringing together the four species, the lulav or palm, the willow, the myrtle, and the etrog or citron. Separately, each of these species is an important item, but together they represent the symbol of Jewish unity. What can we do to build unity in our community? When we recite Hiney Mah tov umanayim from Psalm 133, we talk about how good and pleasant it is when we come together. How special it is when a group of diverse people come together to create something special. I hope we can learn from the symbolism of the lulav that there is great strength when we join with our members of our community to try to perform mitzvot and acts of tikkun olam, repairing our world. I hope we can all pledge to be involved in some way to make our world a better place.

By the way, we are all watching the story of the potential release of Gilad Shalit and our thoughts and prayers are with him and his family that he might enjoy freedom. The cost to the Israelis is significant as they trade a large number of prisoners for him,. Once again, whether we agree or disagree politically with this action, we learn again that to save one life is to save an entire world and this Jewish value seems to be at least part of the motivation for the Israelis to make this deal. We wish all involved G-d’s guidance as they make difficult decisions.

Hag Sukkot Sameach!

Rabbi Bruce

Dear Friends,

I wanted to share a note I sent to our children and hope that during this Yom Kippur you will have a similar conversation with those with whom you are close. Forgiveness sounds like it would be so easy; and yet, to truly forgive someone is a very difficult enterprise. I hope we are able to find it in our hearts to seek and grant forgiveness.

May you all be sealed for a wonderful new year. At the conclusion of this note, please find a couple of articles that you might find interesting.

Rabbi Bruce Aft

Hey Everyone,

I hope that all of you are sealed for a wonderful, safe, fulfilling, and healthy year filled with lots of love and happy moments.

Many years ago, I asked you for a list of things for which I needed to be forgiven and made my own list of things for which I thought I needed to be forgiven. There was no overlap in the lists! I guess my point is that sometimes I am sure I have done something to upset you and hope you will forgive me. Being a dad is a wonderful privilege but also very challenging as we all wrestle with how to be the best person/parent we can be….

So, I hope that we start the new year fresh and that during this time of forgiveness, you will let go of anything I have done to wrong you. I assure you that nothing hurtful was done intentionally.

I love you all!

Love,
Dad

Links of interest on this holiday eve:
Kol Nidre (from Wikipedia)
Shofar Blowing Guide

Dear Friends,

As we prepare to celebrate Rosh HaShanah, Sue and I want to wish each of you and sweet, fulfilling new year filled with good health, safety, and happiness. I recently had a discussion with one of our children about all the various greetings at this time of year. I thought you might be interested to know that some will say L’shanah tovah tikateivu, may you be inscribed for a good year; (more…)

Dear Friends,

Earlier this week, my wife and I were in Shanksville, Pennsylvania for the private memorial for the families and friends of Flight 93. There was a funeral and burial for three caskets of remains which have been found over the past 10 years. The local funeral home staff and others dug 40 feet down in order to search for the limited remains that could be found that were not burned up in the crash. The service which was held was an interfaith service with those representing each religion praying in ways that were meaningful to the adherents of their religion.

I was representing the Jewish faith and began my remarks by suggesting that I felt like the doctor in the movie, “Field of Dreams” who was asked whether he was ever sorry he had not tried to be a ball player and responds that he would have been sorry if he had not become a doctor especially when he saves the little girl in the movie. Well, after 30 years in the rabbinate, I feel that perhaps yesterday was one of the reasons I had become a rabbi. If I could provide any comfort to the victims’ families and friends, then perhaps I would feel that I had made a difference as a rabbi. (Yes, like many of us, even rabbis sometimes wonder if we are making a difference….)

As the service progressed and the three clergy spoke from our religious perspectives, one could see the tears, feel the pain and anguish, and witness what I hope and pray was a transformation from grieving to healing. The minister spoke of leaving the pain behind and taking away hope that their loved ones had made a difference and in the love their loved ones shared with them, while recognizing that anniversaries and birthdays may never be the same; the priest spoke of the holiness of the ground on which we were standing, following up on the imagery of the Gettysburg address; the representative of the funeral home spoke of the area in which they are now buried as a cemetery that will always mark the place where their loved ones died; and I spoke of the Jewish custom of burying the despair and regrets, and taking away the courage that their loved ones had exhibited as they made their lives a blessing through their love and by saving so many others.

As we walked from the site of the service to the place of burial, we walked along the flight path of United Flight 93 through the open field. As the clouds dissipated and the sun came out, people cried, they held each other, young children got antsy, and the mood became one of hope with the realization that after 10 long years, the families and friends could feel a sense of closure. After the service concluded, everyone had the opportunity to put a rose on the gravesite and people hugged me in ways that only family members and close friends have hugged me before. People took pictures of the clergy to document this historical moment and I was even asked for an autograph so that future generations would know who had been present at this sacred occasion.

I may never have this kind of opportunity again (and due to the nature of this tragedy, I hope that I do not have to participate in this kind of service again) but am grateful for the honor and privilege of being able to perhaps alleviate a bit of pain, and inspire hope for the future.

Thanks for reading this. As one of the family members told me, no one who visits that place ever leaves it as the same person. I do not know what changes will occur in my life based upon this experience but I do know I am forever blessed to have been part of this incredible memorial for incredible heroes.

B’shalom,
Rabbi Bruce Aft

Dear Friends,

As we prepare for Sept. 11 this Sunday, I hope that all of you will join us at our Memorial/Healing Service on Sunday at 3pm at Adat Reyim. Please share the reading which is found at the conclusion of this article with those that are dear to you since I think it raises provocative questions. I personally think we provide the best memorial to those who died that day and to those who have died in the war against terrorism, by remembering them through the performance of good deeds and acts of kindness to others. How many of us remember the feeling of unity we felt 10 years ago and how that feeling seems to have disappeared? I hope that we can recreate that sense of togetherness that we experienced at that time.

Please be safe this weekend and as we go about our daily lives, be aware of anything that seems out of the ordinary. Notify someone if you see an idle car, a strange package, and be vigilant in pursuing all the other precautions which the media is suggesting.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Bruce Aft

The 9/11 attacks are linked to a wider moral malaise
Published in the Times 8/9/2011 by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

Two things have haunted me since 9/11. The first is the pain, the grief, the lives lost and families devastated, the sheer barbaric ingenuity of evil. The scar in our humanity is still unhealed. The second is our failure to understand what Osama bin Laden was saying about the West. We did not hear the message then. I’m not sure we hear it now.

After the shock and grief subsided, two theories began to be heard. The first was that this was an event of epoch-changing magnitude. The terms of international politics had been transformed. The Cold War was over. Another war had begun. This time the enemy was not the Soviet Union and communism. It was radical, political Islam.

The second was the opposite. 9/11 was terrifying and terrible but it changed nothing because acts of terror never do. Terrorist campaigns have been aimed at other countries. Britain suffered similarly from the IRA in the 1970s. The most important thing is not to overreact. Terror may bring dividends in local conflicts but it never succeeds in its larger political aims.
There is something to be said for both theories. But there is a third, no less consequential. Why did al-Qaeda attack America? Because it believed that it could. Because it thought the US was a power past its prime, no longer as lean and hungry as it believed it was.

Robert McNamara said that the first rule in politics is to understand your enemy’s psychology. As I struggled to understand 9/11 I began to suspect that the answer lay in the events of 1989. That is when the narratives of the West and the rest began seriously to diverge.

In the West, 1989 was seen as the collapse of communism, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the implosion of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War. The Western narrative was triumphalist. It saw those events as heralding the victory of its values without a shot being fired. The free market and liberal democratic politics had won for the simplest of reasons. They delivered, while communism did not. They would now spread across the world. It was, said Francis Fukuyama, the beginning of the end of history.

There was, though, another narrative that few were listening to. It said that the Soviet Union collapsed in 1989 not because of the triumph of liberal democracy but because of the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan earlier that year. It had invaded in 1979 and was forced to withdraw, not because of superpower politics but because of the determined resistance of a small group of highly motivated religious warriors, the Mujahidin and their helpers. That, historically, is the event that captured the imagination of Osama bin Laden.

According to this account, that one event, the humiliating retreat of the Soviet Army, set in motion a series of internal crises that resulted, months later, in the fall of a great power. If one of the world’s two superpowers was vulnerable to asymmetric warfare — the war of the few against the many — why not the other, America itself? What 1989 represented was not the end of history but the end of a history dominated by the twin superpowers of communist Russia and capitalist America.

Both were vulnerable because both were overripe and about to fall from the tree. Much excitement was felt in the West by the failure of communism. Less attention was paid to what Daniel Bell called the cultural contradictions of capitalism.
Throughout this period there were voices that few seemed to be listening to. First and greatest was the philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre in his 1981 masterwork, After Virtue. He argued that the moral discourse of the West had broken down.

The “Enlightenment project” of a purely rational ethic had failed — not because there was no such thing, but because there were too many. They clashed inconclusively and people were left with a sense that morality is whatever you think it is.

His minatory warning was: “The barbarians are not waiting beyond the frontiers; they have already been governing us for quite some time.” That was a scary thing to hear from one of the world’s great philosophers. I soon began to hear it from other leading intellectuals also, such as Philip Rieff, Christopher Lasch and Robert Bellah. That is what I heard in the echoes of 9/11: that all great civilisations eventually decline, and when they begin to do so they are vulnerable. That is what Osama bin Laden believed about the West and so did some of the West’s own greatest minds.

If so, then 9/11 belongs to a wider series of phenomena affecting the West: the disintegration of the family, the demise of authority, the build-up of personal debt, the collapse of financial institutions, the downgrading of the American economy, the continuing failure of some European economies, the loss of a sense of honour, loyalty and integrity that has brought once esteemed groups into disrepute, the waning throughout the West of a sense of national identity; even last month’s riots.

These are all signs of the arteriosclerosis of a culture, a civilisation grown old. Whenever Me takes precedence over We, and pleasure today over viability tomorrow, a society is in trouble. If so, then the enemy is not radical Islam, it is us and our by now unsustainable self-indulgence.

The West has expended much energy and courage fighting wars in Afghanistan and Iraq abroad and defeating terror at home. It has spent far less, if any, in renewing its own morality and the institutions — families, communities, ethical codes, standards in public life — where it is created and sustained. But if I am right, this is the West’s greatest weakness in the eyes of its enemies as well as its friends.

The only way to save the world is to begin with ourselves. Our burden after 9/11 is to renew the moral disciplines of freedom. Some say it can’t be done. They are wrong: it can and must. Surely we owe the dead no less.

9/11 Interfaith Memorial/Healing Service

Rabbi Bruce Aft

Dear Friends,

We are out of town this weekend celebrating our son, Aaron’s graduation from Law School. We will be blessed by the presence of all of our children, their spouses, and our grandchild. We are truly , as Lou Gehrig once said, among “the luckiest people on the face of the earth” and are truly grateful.

As we celebrate the fifth commandment this Sunday, which teaches us to “honor our father and mother,” I came across a posting by Rabbi Jack Riemer that I found very touching and hope you are as inspired by this as I was. I know that some of you reading this are not moms and this may be tough to read, but hope that you will appreciate this for what it is. It is long, but worthwhile….I hope you will send this to your moms and if they are no longer alive, I hope you have positive memories that will be stirred by some of his comments. (which apparently are based upon something that came across his desk).

This is for those mothers who wipe up barf that is laced with wieners and Kool-aid, and who say as they do: “It’s okay, darling, Mommy’s here.”

And this is for those mothers, some of them lawyers and doctors and engineers, who sometimes show up for work with spit-up on their dresses and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purses or in their briefcases.

This is for those mothers who are chauffeurs and cookie bakers and who sew Halloween costumes, and at the same time are executives and office managers and nurses and doctors too.

This is for those mothers who give birth to babies they give up and will never see. And this is for those mothers who take these babies in and give them homes.

This is for those mothers who have priceless works of art, done with crayons, on exhibition on their refrigerator doors.

And this is for those mothers who freeze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of staying home, so that when their kids ask: “Did you see me, Mom?” they can say: “Of course! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

This is for those mothers who swat their kids when they stomp their feet and scream for more ice cream and more candy before dinner. And this is for those mothers who don’t, and who count to ten instead, but who understand how child abuse can start.

This is for all those mothers who sit down with their children and explain to them all about how babies are made. And this is for those mothers who want to, but just can’t find the words. And this is for those mothers who, when they do, find out that the kids already know.

This is for all those mothers who pretend that they like the end of the loaf of bread because their kids don’t, and for those mothers who go hungry so that their children can eat. And for all those mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice, and then read it again “just one more time” if their kids insist.

This is for those mothers who teach their children how to tie their shoes before they start kindergarten. And this is for those mothers who opt for Velcro instead.

This is for all those mothers who teach their sons how to cook and teach their daughters how to sink a jump shot, so that they will both have a well rounded education.

This is for those mothers whose heads turn automatically whenever a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know that their own child is at home-or maybe even away at college.

This is for those mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them that they would be just fine when they got there, only to get a call from the school nurse an hour later, asking them to pick them up right away. And this is for those mothers who keep their kids home from school with stomach aches, only to have them mysteriously cured as soon as their favorite television program comes on. They both make a guess as to what to do-and if they guess wrong? Nu.

This is for those mothers, whose children have gone astray, who have either been locked up behind walls, or who have locked themselves up behind walls of silence, those mothers who cannot find the words with which to get through to them, but who never given up on them, and who won’t, no matter what.

This is for all the second wives and all the step-mothers who have done their best to raise someone else’s child and who are nevertheless made to feel like ‘the wicked witch of the west’, no matter what they do.

This is for all the mothers who grit their teeth and try to say nothing for as long as they can when their fourteen year old son says he is torn between dying his hair green and getting an earring or getting a tattoo, and you know that they are only trying to bait you into killing yourself.

This is for all the mothers of the victims of shootings, ‘nebech’, and this is for the mothers of those who did the shootings too, ‘nebech’.

This is for the mothers of the survivors of those shootings and for all the mothers who sit in front of their tvs in horror, watching what happened, and hugging their children who just came home from school safely.

And this is for the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful and gentle and who now wait and pray and hope that they will come home safe from the war.

What does it take to be a good mother?

The doctors say that it takes broad hips. That helps, but only in getting started at the task. After that, you need broad shoulders and a good heart more. And patience. And more patience. And still more patience. The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button-all at the same time. Nowadays they call that ‘multitasking’. We used to call it ‘being a mother’.

What does it take to be a good mother? The ability to watch your child walk into school alone for the first time, and resist the almost irresistible temptation to go along. And the ability to watch your child go into his college dormitory alone and resist the same temptation.

The inner alarm clock that goes off at any hour of the night when you hear a cry from a crib. And the inner alarm clock that goes off at any hour of the night when you hear your teenager close the door and tiptoe into the house after his first date.

So kol hakavod and yasher kocheych and cheers to the young mothers who are here today, who are stumbling through sleep deprivation and diaper changes. And kol hakavod and yasher kocheych and cheers to the older mothers who are here today, who are learning how to let go, which is much, much harder than learning how to change a diaper.

Here is to working mothers and stay-at-home mothers, to married mothers and to single mothers, to mothers with money and mothers without money. On Mother’s Day we say to all of you: hang in there-even though the end is never in sight, not even when they marry, not even when they become mothers. It never ends, but it does get easier sometimes.

Here is to all the mothers who are here today. Know that you can only do the best you can-and then pray. And know that if you are lucky, then you can say that you are smart. And know that your children love you. They really do, even if they only remember to tell you once a year on Mother’s Day.

Happy Mother’s Day and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Bruce D. Aft