Yom Kippur: What if I'm Not Sorry?

On Yom Kippur, the day where Jews delve into self-reflection, mend sour relationships and pray for a clean slate from G-d, we are supposed to say "I'm sorry".  This year, what if I'm not sorry?

About a year ago I moved back to America from Israel. In my seven years there, I learned many things.

I learned about justice and to pursue it.
I learned to stand up for myself.
And most importantly, I learned that I don't need to apologize for the results of other people's shortcomings. 

Over the last year, I have had two jobs.

In the first job, I was hired by someone who ended up leaving two days after I started. I was left with a boss who did not have a background in the profession, and had little knowledge about what she was hired to represent to the outside community. I had a really hard time respecting her role in the capacity, especially after being told that I was hired to make up for her lack of knowledge in the area. I didn't, however, have just knowledge. I had passion, experience, and a genuine desire to help my department excel.

In the second job, I was hired by someone who claimed they wanted to retire and wanted to groom me as their replacement. This new boss brought me in to expand the organization, so I created innovative programs and updated communications tools (social media, website, new branding) in ways that had real potential to exponentially increase the successes of the organization. I help to shift the organization to just that- an organization- instead of a one-person-show, ensuring that even after the leader's departure, their legacy would live on in the organization. I had brought the community together around a cause and created a real buzz. It was incredible. Things were looking up, or so I thought.

In my first job, I was beat down, minimized, and demeaned on a regular basis. I was told that no one ever is interested in talking to me, they always mean they want to talk to my boss when I interact with them. I was isolated from the community, and made to feel that my sole purpose was to sit in my cell (office) and sit idly while I saw things happen that were against my very core beliefs and principals- in other words, unjust. I left that job, and I'm NOT sorry. I'm NOT sorry that I wouldn't respect the person hired to be above me, and I'm NOT sorry that I stood against injustice.

In my second job, after a disagreement with my significant other, my new boss had changed my work space from a spacious office with floor to ceiling windows to a tiny cubicle in the corner of another office. He demanded that I be available to work 24/7. He took away responsibilities and started telling me things like "You suck the air out of the room". And then he took away my major programs that were supposed to grow the organization. In other words, he took away my ability to succeed. I refused to accept this new reality and decided it was time to stand up for myself. So I left.

I remained civil throughout both cases, and never told either boss exactly what I saw was happening in their organizations. Both were cases of severe dysfunction on totally different scales. One was a person who was hired without any experience in the field and had no business representing a community that they, themselves, were not really a part of. The other was a person who was so engulfed in their own ego that they refused to collaborate with anyone.

Both of these people gave me reasons to walk out, never to look back. In doing so, they were, unbeknownst to them, freeing me of injustice, freeing me of the serious dysfunction I had seen as a thread running through this community's professional leadership, and freeing me to pursue my goals and dreams of uniting us all under a common cause. I will not apologize.

This Yom Kippur, I will reflect upon the last year, I will make amends with family and friends I may have hurt, but one thing is for sure-when it comes to my professional life over the last year, I'm not sorry.

My Rosh Hashana Sermon

I was given the opportunity to write a sermon for a teen service at a local synagogue. Enjoy!

When I agreed to write the shortest sermon ever, I was given a hint that this year’s theme is the “Selfie” generation. So I looked up the world selfie on none other than “Urban Dictionary”. I was going to share a definition but pretty much none of the definitions were really appropriate to repeat in synagogue, and definitely not on the day G-d determines if my next year I will be happy or better yet, overrun by wild beasts. 

In taking selfies, we take a snapshot of ourselves. We see ourselves through our own smartphone screens, and our own eyes. We take pride in our selfies, and proliferate them heavily on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Since selfies are just snapshots- captures of who you are at that given moment, I wanted to go deeper, and tell you where we come from.

By 1446 BCE we had been slaves in Egypt for about 400 years when Moses, with the help of G-d, convinced Pharoah Thutmose the III to let us go. We packed up what we could and started the trek through the Sinai Peninsula, now in modern day Egypt, to return to the Promised Land. About half way through our journey, G-d gave us the Torah- the five books of Moses- the bible. Process that for a minute- we, the Jews, were given the original source of universal human values. And look at the world’s largest religion- Christianity- if it wasn’t for us, they wouldn’t be here.

In 1406 BCE we arrived to the Promised Land. Since we were enslaved in Egypt for hundreds of years, the Caananites had taken up shop. They weren’t ready to budge and fought us for the land. They aren’t around anymore.

Once we moved in, the Philistines, an ancient sea faring people who lived in the area of Gaza fought us for hundreds of years. They were our arch nemesis. Goliath was a Philistine. Thankfully, they were defeated by the Assyrians and by the 5^th century BCE, ceased to exist.

In the year 586 BCE the Babylonians, led by King Nebuchadnezzar, destroyed our first holy temple and exiled us from Israel to Babylonia, modern day Iraq and Syria. The Babylonians aren’t around anymore, and we were allowed to return by the conquering Persians to rebuild our temple.

In the 2^nd century BCE, the Seleucid empire, under King Antiochus, tried to ransack the Temple, but thanks to the Maccabees and one vile of miraculous olive oil, we beat them AND we got a holiday where we get presents and eat enlarged tater tots that put school lunches to shame.  Oh, did I forget to mention? The Seleucids aren’t around anymore.

In the year 70 the Romans finished off what the Seleucids were hoping to do- they destroyed our holy temple and kicked almost every last one of us out of the land of Israel. They renamed it “Palestina” as an insult to us, reminding us of the Philistines who caused us so much grief. Well, the Romans aren’t around and all we have left of them is a salad named Caesar that is traditionally made with anchovies. Yum.

In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Unfortunately, the Jews didn’t have it so easy. The Catholic Monarchs established the Spanish Inquisition, where we were attacked, forced to convert to Christianity, banished from Spain, or killed.  The monarchy in Spain was officially abolished in 1834.  Nowadays, the half bald monks in frocks who used to run the tribunals are sworn to lives of silence, poverty, childlessness and eternal janitorial work.

Fast forward to the 1800s, under the Russian Czars, we were victims of constant Pogroms- nighttime raids that left our villages plundered and burning, and our people hurting. In 1917 the Czars fell. Remember Anastasia? The Russians weren’t done yet though, and under the new regime called the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, or USSR, religion was cancelled. We weren’t allowed to be publicly Jewish, and our holy books were banned. In the late 80s, however, the USSR fell and all of its provinces broke up into little independent countries. Now Russia is left with a president named Putin who runs amuck topless in the wilderness while riding bareback on grizzly bears.

And now to one of the darkest times in our history, the Holocaust: 6 million of us were murdered. That’s the entire population of Arizona. By the end of the war, Germany was completely decimated and the Nazi party was crushed. They’re not around anymore, and people who want to be their copycats in Germany are outright banned and thrown in jail. The few surviving Nazi officers are being hunted to the ends of the earth and are thrown in prison in their 80s and 90s. We, although badly broken and bruised, survived. 

Since the Romans kicked us out of Israel we have been yearning to return, and in 1948 an independent country of Israel was restored. After all of our hardship, we were reunited with our homeland, our mother ship, the center of our people. You and I could have been born in any other year, in any other decade. But no, we were born now- we, unlike our great grandparents and all those in the last 2,000 years who came before, are witness to this great Jewish state. We are Israel’s founding fathers and mothers. We are the rebuilders of Jerusalem.

Unfortunately, our next battle is already upon us, and that is our fight for legitimacy. We are once again under attack. Our enemy since 1948- most of the Arab world, doesn’t want us to exist.  Here at home, we are faced on Social Media with mean words, with falsified pictures, with lies about our brothers and sisters in Israel, and with attempts to ruin us by groups like the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement, Students for Justice in Palestine, and Jewish Voice for Peace. 

But have you seen the Middle East lately? Iraq is in shambles, Syria doesn’t really exist anymore, Gaza was reduced to rubble by Hamas’ foolishness, the Arab Spring has seen the overthrow of every government in North Africa, and the Islamic State is killing every minority in its path.

Throughout our history, there is a common thread. It is they who have perished. It is they who have become another chapter in the history book. And it is us who have always survived. We are a miraculous people who have survived far longer than any other nation who came against us. Our survival is in our soul, it is in our blood, and it is in our DNA. In the book of Genesis, chapter 12, G-d says: I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you. I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you, and all peoples on the earth will be blessed through you.

So sit tight, stand tall, and hold your head up high. Be proud of who you are. G-d has our back.

In the words of the sages: they tried to kill us, we won, let’s eat. Have a happy and sweet new year.

Blood is blood

In the last several hours, the body of a 16 year old Arab boy named Muhammad Abu Khdeir was found dead in a forest. There are rumors flying around that he was killed in an "Honor Killing" because he is gay, or that his killing was an act of revenge by Jewish extremists in response to the abduction and murder of three Israeli Jewish boys, Eyal Yifrach, Naftali Fraenkel, and Gilad Shaer.

If it was in fact an honor killing, this boy met a tragic end because of a culture that refuses to accept him. I pray for him and that his family should find peace, and hope the perpetrators are brought to court to be tried for their crimes. 

If this killing was indeed at the hands of Jewish extremists, I condemn them. More than condemn, I release them of any connection to the Jewish people. They do not represent the Jewish people. They do not represent the nation of Israel. And they do not represent our Torah.

• They represent the hatred that boils within them. 
• They represent year after year of failed peace and nationalistic violence that continues to plague our country. 
• They represent the inaction of the government in stopping Jewish extremists before they even think of talking about harming someone. 
• They represent the squashed hope that we could ever coexist. 

If this poor boy was indeed murdered by a Jew,I refuse to accept it as a response to the tragic murder of my three Jewish brothers. True to ourselves, we Jews and Israelis worldwide will continue to diminish, banish, and excommunicate lowly Jewish extremist thugs from our nation until they represent nothing but their pitiful evil selves. 

In the words of Benji Lovitt, 

"If a Jew vandalizes a mosque, burns a field of olive trees, throws someone in jail without due process and basic human rights, it doesn’t matter that the Arabs said no in ’48, attacked us in ’67, or blew up buses during the Second Intifada. It’s not always about moral equivalence. Sometimes it’s about taking responsibility for ourselves and not always pointing to what they’re doing."

I really hope that this poor child did not lose his life to revenge. If he did, you know where I stand. 

To read Benji Lovitt's post, click in the link below.

Read more: It's not always about them: It's about who we want to be | Benji Lovitt | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel

Weeping for my Brothers

A little over 10 months ago I moved to Dallas, Texas from Tel Aviv, Israel. I had been living in Israel for seven years to the day when I embarked on the unknown in a new place where a loving boyfriend was waiting for me. Each day I recall life in Israel, think about my friends and family, and lament the loss of living in the only Homeland the Jewish people have ever known. 

Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaer, Naftali Fraenkel

Today, that pain screams within me. Just a little over two weeks ago three Jewish Israeli teenagers were kidnapped by two soulless men with the backing of Hamas, a terrorist organization hell bent on killing Jews and destroying Israel. For more than two weeks, Jews from around the world gathered together, praying, hoping, and awaiting their safe return. In Dallas alone, nearly 600 people came out for a rally, enthusiastically chanting "Bring back our boys". 

Today, the Israel Defense Forces brought back our boys. Dead. Murdered within hours of being kidnapped on their way home from school. Sought after for two weeks while their bodies were decomposing in a shallow grave in the holy land of our ancestors, their blood joining those who gave their lives for the fulfillment of our 2,000 year old dream- to return to our homeland. 

As I sit here in the middle of America, my heart yearns to be in Israel, comforted by a nation in mourning. We are all family. We all live and breathe through one larger soul- the soul of the Jewish people. I send my love and comfort to the families of the slain boys. I call on my Arab cousins to stand with us in peace and in yearning for an end to suffering, and I weep for my brothers, Eyal, Gilad and Naftali.  

Proud Parents

Yesterday was Tel Aviv's annual pride parade. Every year, tens of thousands of people from across Israel and the world come together to the Meir Garden to celebrate. What are they celebrating? Everything.

As I walked through the countless stands on both sides of the central walkway, I saw countless organizations, each representing a different group in the community- veteranarians, religious people, families, divorcees, education, english speakers, political parties, youth, social activists and more. None of these groups are any different than any of us- we all can identify with the aforementioned- but these groups had one commonality between them- they were all representing the gay community. 

As I looked closer, I began seeing the groups that reminded me of the struggles still faced by this vibrant and colorful community- advertisements for surrogacy programs, bumper stickers being passed out saying "I also want to get married", and a booth for transgender men and women, who suffer more than you think.

 I began to think about the article I read this morning about an American Christian family and their ultimate price for not fully accepting their gay son- his life. To everyone in this park there is a mother or a father. Some have been kicked out of their homes for being gay, some are still hiding their reality from their parents, and some may feel that today is the only day where they can dress up or put on a costume and let their true colors show.

Parents reaching out

Amongst the sea of young people, a group of older men and women catch my eye, holding their signs proud and high. As I came closer and understood who they were- TEHILA, a non-profit as a support network for parents and family members. (www.tehila.org.il)  These were mothers and fathers of children who had come out and were there to make a statement: Our children deserve equality, justice and acceptance. If only all parents understood the importance that their support and love means to their children. I choked back my tears and expressed my gratitude for the parents of gay children who were out in the open supporting them. 

I snapped a few photos and went back to sit on a distant bench.  As I sat on the sidelines and observed the celebration of the LGBT community, I can't help but believe that this whole thing is made possible by the mothers and fathers here and everywhere, who hold their head high and say out loud  "I love my child, I am proud of my child, and I am here to show my support". If seeing this as a straight woman brings me to tears, I can't imagine the feelings of those who so desperately need their love and support.

As I made my way out of the park, I overheard two young men in conversation. The first one said "I'm going over to TEHILA (the stand)". The second young man asked "why?", and the first replied "to wish my mother 'Mazal Tov'". 

Closing up the Israel Soldiers Stories 2012

Dear friends,

     It has been over one month since we finished my  tour with you, our listeners and supporters, in the southern United States. As some of you may know, today is Holocaust Remembrance Day (Yom HaShoah). Today, we remember the millions of lives lost to the genocidal hatred of the Nazi Party, who rose to party in Germany in 1933. Today, the Jewish population of the world stands at 13.5 million. The Jewish population in 1933 was 16.7 million. We have still not recovered. Holocaust survivors continue to tell their story, yet there will soon be a time when no one is left to speak, as Holocaust survivors continue to pass away each day. As I sit in my living room, watching the official ceremony commemorating the Holocaust, I wish to share an experience I had on my tour. In honor of the memory of so many, I have recorded a song "Eili, Eili", which embodies the hope and the prayer that our world will keep going. I invite you to listen, as you continue reading.   

When I was in New Orleans, Orit and I spoke to the Senior Citizen group at the Jewish Community Center. I spoke of my powerful experience going to Israel's Holocaust museum as a soldier in the IDF, knowing that because of people like me, the Jewish people will never fall to such threat again. Just outside the very room we spoke was a miniature statue that looked like this:

The statue standing outside that room was an exact replica of the statue you see above, placed at Yad Vashem (Israel's holocaust museum). In New Orleans, there was no plaque or sign that shared the story of the man above with his children, so I shared his story with the group that day. On this day, I would like to share the story of that man with you as well. The following text was taken from the website of a group of Ukranian children, who even in our days, called him their hero. 

Life is the most precious gift, and the Hero is the one who gives it for the others. Yanush Korchak, Polish kid's writer, is the right person to prove that. And now, when the Second World War is so far away, we should remember those who showed the complete courage and heroism having just one goal - to make somebody feel less bitter.Yanush Korchak was  the help of his love and understanding. Korchak opened the door to childhood - and left it wide open for us in his books. So, as we've already told, in those times he was principle of a school for Jewish kids who lost their parents. Every day he had to think what food he would give them, living in the occupied Warsaw. But also the other aim of an old doctor was to make his kids happy during the Second World War. The Nazis decided to send poor Jewish children to the Treblinka death camp - maybe, the worst place you can imagine. That was the place where grownups, and - lots of children - were to be killed as those who were of no use for their new world. And the principle followed his students in their last journey...

Yanush Korchak had a chance to run away: a Nazi officer, who used to read his books being a child himself, wanted to rescue him and told the writer to leave the train to Treblinka and go away. But the man called Yanush Korchak could not betray the kids who needed the last warm words. So they all took their places on the Death train... Some time later all the children with their old principle went to die in the gas chamber. They were among other 300,000 children murdered there by the Nazis!There are lots of really nice people on this planet. But there are some of them who were living angels for those who needed their love and care even more than life. Yanush Korchak is our hero and we really hope that he can be a Hero for everyone.

One and a half months after my experience with you, I am reminded of the importance of the work that we do. We, the people of Israel and the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces, continue to stand tall and prove day after day that we are not going anywhere. No amount of hate or threat to our existence will stop us from continuing to live and to create new life and strive to respect all those who exist within our borders. We, the former soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces, will continue to come with StandWithUs and share our stories year after year, reaching even more people with our message of the daily struggle to live safely in our homeland.

The experiences that we shared together in February are experiences that will remain a part of my life forever and each one of you has become a piece of the beautiful mosaic created by the Israeli Soldier Stories Tour of 2013. 

All my love,

Drew 

Self-hating Jews need to look in the mirror

Dear friends,

One of my friends shared this status written by Idan Raichel. It moved me so much, that I had to share it. He describes his feelings about the unfortunate phenomenon of what we call "self-hating Jews"- in other words- Jews who will do everything and anything to come out against the Jewish people and encourage everyone to act against us as well. I am very passionate about this issue and it hurts me greatly when one of my own turns themself into our own worst enemy. Without further adew, Idan Raichel's Facebook Status update: 

Hi It’s Idan writing to you again, Shavua Tov (have a good week). I wanted to tell you something:(Translated to English by David Azulay ) 
     Six months ago I stayed at a roadside motel in California. It was in the desert, with nothing really around. I was there for business and around the evening time I had nothing to do so I went outside to the motel courtyard to read or just to rest and relax.
On the first evening I overheard two men speaking in Arabic to each other. They were maybe 25 or 28 years old or something like that, I asked them where they are from and they said that they are officers in the Egyptian Army and that they are in the US for training. I told them I’m from Israeland they flinched a little and tried to stay away a bit.
     Later on 5 or 8 more officers joined them and we started a rolling conversation about Israel, which they never visited and they said that because of their position they probably never will. They had never spoken to an Israeli before, and they were really interested to find out about our culture and day to day life in Tel Aviv. I felt like I’m talking with the Elite of the Egyptian society. I can’t really explain why but these conversations were triggering within me the same emotions that I feel when I talk with an Israeli Navy Seal or Special Forces, a bunch of men with deep moral values.
     Those Egyptian officers were really knowledgeable about many Israeli military issues. They knew everything about Raful, the Bar-Lev line, the Dakar Submarine, Ariel Sharon, Moshe Dayan, Itzhak Rabin, Israeli Tanks, Israeli Fighter Jets and more. They talked with much appreciation about the Israeli sophistication and strength and with great and deep patriotism about Egypt and its moral power, in their opinion.
     On the last evening, one of the officers, who looked to me like the salt of the earth of the Egyptian society, told me: “Idan, it is very important to me that you know that our parents fought in the war that you call The Yom Kippur War, and that they were good soldiers. It is important to me that you know that before we are soldiers, and before we are Egyptians, we are first very devout Moslems, and that we interpret the Quran in a very different way from what you see sometime in other countries in the Middle East in your neighboring nations and countries. It is important for me that you will know that our parents and we were always happy when one of your war machines got hit by us, we were always happy when an airplane got shot down, and we were happy when a tank got blown up or when one of your sea vessels got hit. BUT NEVER, EVER were we happy about the loss of human life inside that tank, we were never happy about the death of the mother’s son who was flying that airplane and we were never happy about the death of the brother who was sailing that sea vessel.”
     I listened to the Egyptian officer and I thought to myself, “Rejoice not when your enemy falls”, the same values for us and for the best of them.
     I’m writing these lines because I was horrified to hear that a woman,probably from the radical extreme Israeli left, wrote that she is happy about the Israeli helicopter training accident, a crash last week that led to the death of two of our finest men. This miserable woman is a disgrace to ourcountry, and people like her are the bottom of the Israeli society. There is nothing good in them, nothing Jewish or Israeli, and it will be good if we will repudiate them from our society.
I’m dedicating the last shows of the Idan Raichel Project tour to the memory of those two pilots, who are without a doubt the Elite of the Israeli society.
Shavua Tov,
Idan Raichel