From the Rabbi
Rabbi Robert L. Wolkoff
Previous Messages
“A Bridge To Pass Over”
One of the things I love most about traveling in the United States is going over big bridges. Bridges help us pass over otherwise arduous obstacles, a hand of God lifting us over on wings of eagles. Passing over a bridge is a journey into the unknown, a journey of hope and clarity, from the clouds to the sun. Faith is about a willingness to cross over.
Some of the people we meet are bridges — those whose essence it is to lift us over and tell us, “It’s all water under; you can start over.” As we continue our journey through the holy lands of America, we continue to discover the beautiful places and beautiful people who do holy work.
On Sunday, we blessed a new community center in Lansdale, PA. On Monday, we visited Charlottesville, VA, where we offered a prayer for the memory of Heather Heyer. She was killed in 2017, when a man rammed his car into a crowd of counter-protesters. From there, we witnessed new life being baptized in Asheville, NC. It was in Nashville, TN, where our tour started following the trail of the Civil Rights Movement in the South. One was the locations was the iconic Woolworth store in which a group of Blacks, in an act of civil disobedience, pushed forward against segregation at the lunch counter.
We celebrated Shabbat in Birmingham, AL, the cradle of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King and members of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference staged nonviolent civil rights demonstrations and were arrested. From his cell, Dr. King authored “Letter From Birmingham Jail,” a powerful piece of writing and a seminal text for the American Civil Rights Movement. Our friends, Bethany and Rabbi Stephen Slater, the spiritual leader of Temple Beth El, led us on a tour through town that teaches about the connections of the Jewish community to the Black movements.
Then we crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma on the way to Montgomery, the scene of the Civil Rights March of 1965. Five years earlier, in March 1960, student activists from Miles College had begun department store sit-ins in Montgomery, demanding the end of segregation and discriminatory hiring. That bridge became a symbol of the transition from segregation to integration. In like manner, the event itself became a bridge.
My friend, the Rev. Jerria CurDaun Martin, whom I met a decade ago on a special program of Jewish and Christian seminarians to the Holy Land, was ordained at the Princeton Theological Seminary and returned to be active in her native Selma. In 2016 she was the first woman to run for Selma’s mayor. In one lifetime, Jerria’s father saw an amazing transformation from his mother, who lacked the right to vote, to his daughter, who ran for mayor.
Much of the black liberation theology draws on the themes of the Israelites breaking loose from the Egyptians. It was interesting to tour the American South on the week prior to Passover, which is an ongoing commemoration of the slavery, oppression, and the suppression of the voice of the Jewish people. Recently, Israel crossed another significant bridge — making the jump to widen Judaism’s Big Tent, if you will, by acknowledging non-Orthodox conversions. Every year, we need to ask ourselves, what bridge are we ready to pass over?
I look forward to being with you at our Zoom Seders on Saturday and Sunday, March 27 and 28, at 7:30 p.m. Happy Passover to all!
– -Rabbi Gadi Capela
“The Journey Continues…”
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, the members of CTI, for your continued support of the successful contract extension process. As we begin another chapter on our journey, it is nice to look back at the achievements of the past year, as we traversed the rough waters of Covid.
Normally, at this time of the year, I would be on my way to the Holy Land on my annual pilgrimage. But this is not a normal year. Since nanoparticles and microbes have changed all of our travel plans, I am planning, instead, to go on a pilgrimage around the holy lands of America — a trip to the heart of the country.
Geographically, Lebanon, Kansas, is designated as the middle of the contiguous United States. It’s the heart, in one sense, that I am planning to visit on the trip, but my journey to the heart of America will be to touch its pained spirit — a spiritual expedition to see how this year has affected our country, and how people have endured.
Many years ago, I learned a good definition of a valuable friend — one who reminds you who you are when you forget. I believe that at its core, America carries a beautiful spirit and holiness in the hearts of its people. As in the song of Naomi Shemer, “Anashim Tovim” — Good People in the Middle of the Road:
“Open your eyes, look around you,
Here and there, winter has gone, and spring is here.
In the field along the road, cornflowers are already out,
don’t tell me that it can’t be so!
Chorus: Good people in the middle of the journey, very good people.
Good people who know the way, with whom it’s possible to march away.”
One of the most precious lessons we can learn from Jewish history is that we can find holiness wherever we are. Starting with the Israelites’ journey in the desert and continuing through ancient and modern history, Jews have sanctified every place along the way. Whatever the circumstances that contributed to leaving one place, we were always eager to find holiness in the next one.
I will pray wherever I go and find God in a different location. During much of this time, we will count the Omer, which signifies the voyage to the holy land through the desert of faith, learning to find holiness on the road, around our beautiful country and the holy lands of America.
May God continue to bless our journey together,
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
“A Journey Toward Reconciliation”
There are times in life when we need to make a decision. Do we want to move forward or not? Do we seek revenge or do we seek forgiveness. Do we let our anger hold us back or do we turn it into fuel for building. Every January, the Greenport Ecumenical Ministries (GEM) holds a service to pray for religious unity and mutual understanding and dialogue. This year, in the face of national turmoil and division in our country, it was clear that this service needed to be about reconciliation, a grand ambition, even for a large group of religious ministers.
When we were first thinking of reconciliation, the story of Joseph and his brothers came to mind. When they finally meet after 22 years, Joseph says to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still well?” His brothers were dumbfounded. Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come forward to me.” And when they came forward, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. Now, do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me hither; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you.” (Gen. 45:1-5)
The story of Joseph and his brothers is a story of hope, of course, but nowhere does the Torah tell us that Joseph forgave his brothers. Instead, he pardons them, choosing to move forward, assuring them he is not looking for revenge. The story is about getting closer again through a process — a journey toward reconciliation.
After the death of their father, Jacob, the brothers are fearful that Joseph still bears a grudge and will pay them back for the wrong they did to him. But as the story continues, Joseph was in tears when they spoke to him. They flung themselves before him, and said, “We are prepared to be your slaves.” But Joseph said to them, “Have no fear! Am I a substitute for God? Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result — the survival of many people. (Gen. 50:18-20) Joseph called for rebuilding, not revenge, for turning bad into good.
Growing up, I thought that one could never reach reconciliation without a resolution. People who forgave their Nazi persecutors were often met with resentment. But like Joseph, they did not exonerate their adversaries, but instead decided to pardon them so they could concentrate on building a better future. Even though our actions harm others, God can convert those actions into good, if we recognize it.
To do this, we need to understand and to see the bigger picture, to believe in a cause greater than all of us. The greater idea is where we all meet and can continue to meet — our sanctuary, our Tent of Meeting. Perhaps we don’t need to seek unity, but diversity. The way to reach unity passes through diversity.
In her speech at the inauguration of Joseph R. Biden, Jr., Sen. Amy Klobuchar referred to the Capitol Building as a “Temple of our democracy.” For the American project to continue to strive, we need to guard it. President Joseph Biden in his inaugural speech called us to “End the uncivil war.”
The Biblical Joseph took the first step toward reconciliation. We, too, understand it as a goal to achieve, one that marks an ongoing process, a life-long journey.
With hope,
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
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