Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5768 – Jewish Identity, Jewish Pride

One of the funniest comedy routines ever recorded is Abbott and Costello’s classic routine best known as “Who’s On First?” Costello plays a baseball park peanut vendor and Abbott plays the manager of a baseball team, the St. Louis Wolves. Lou Costello begins by asking Bud Abbott for the names of the players and Abbott, with all sincerity and a straight face answers by saying, “Who’s on first, What’s on second and I don’t know is on third,” and goes on to list the entire roster of the St. Louis Wolves.

Within our American culture, we are all familiar with fictional baseball teams like the St. Louis Wolves. There are the New York Knights from the Robert Reford movie, “The Natural” and the “Mudville Nine” from the famous poem Casey At the Bat and many others. But have you ever heard of the Beit Shemesh Blue Sox, the Netanya Tigers, or the Modi’in Miracles? These are not fictional baseball teams. They are not the stuff of legends and fables; they are real and along with the Petach Tikva Pioneers, the Ra’anana Express and the Tel Aviv Lighting they comprise the nascent Israel Baseball League. The Israel Baseball League, which has 120 players from nine different countries, mostly Jewish with only a dozen Israelis in the line-up began their inaugural season this past June. The last player chosen for the Modi’in Miracles to complete the 120-player league roster was the somewhat reclusive resident of the Treasure Coast, Baseball Hall Of Fame pitcher Sandy Koufax.

Back in February, former member of the 1969 Miracle Mets team and current manager of the Modi’in Miracles, Art Shamsky joked that should Sandy Koufax elect to pitch on opening day he will be well rested having had 14,851 days between pitching starts. He never actually played a game in the Israel baseball season especially as most of the players were 40 to 50 years younger than him. The Modi’in Miracles won the inaugural game on June 24th, played well and made a run for the championship but finished in third place; Tel Aviv came in second and the Beit Shemesh Blue Sox won the championship on August 19th. The selection of Sandy Koufax was of course a symbolic one in tribute for his standing in the history of baseball and more importantly his standing among Jews everywhere.

While American Jews born in the 1920’s might look to Detroit Tigers first baseman Hank Greenberg as their role model and baseball hero because he affirmed his Jewish identity despite the anti-Semitic atmosphere in 1934 by refusing to play on Yom Kippur during a very tight pennant race, for my generation, Sandy Koufax was our hero for refusing to pitch the opening game of the 1965 World Series which coincided with Yom Kippur. It might matter to baseball history that the Tigers won that pennant race in 1934 and that the Dodgers won the 1965 World Series and that Hank Greenberg’s and Sandy Koufax’ brave affirmation of their Jewish identity and religious rights did not harm their teams’ ultimate success. But for us, all that matters is that they took a stand to affirm their rights as Americans and as Jews to worship free from coercion or hindrance and to say loudly and clearly to all, I am Jewish and that truth and reality is at the very core of my being and nothing will cause me to surrender that.

We have been called an am k’shei oref a stiff-necked people, more as a result of our stubbornness rather than our disobedience to God. What Sandy Koufax and Hank Greenberg did was a mild reflection of the obstinacy demonstrated by our forefathers when foreign powers or local rulers tried to force us to give up our beliefs and practices and conform to their religion and their culture. Whenever I have tried to answer the questions of, Why is there anti-Semitism? Why do they hate us so much? Why is it always the Jews? I focus on one constant that can be applied to all forms of anti-Semitism over the ages no matter whether it is Greco-Roman anti-Semitism, religious anti-Semitism, economic anti-Semitism, racial anti-Semitism or the contemporary anti-Israel form. And that one constant is our absolute stubborn refusal to compromise our principles, to abandon our religion, our culture and our way of life and adopt the way of life in vogue at the time. Long before Nancy Reagan made it popular, our policy when faced with an employer, an official, a political or social leader or an entire government compelling us to give up Judaism, God and Torah was to just say no. For centuries, we have said we are Jewish, Jewishness is an integral part of who we are and to give up any part of it be it our culture, our beliefs, our ethics, our practices, our traditions, our community would be tantamount to excising living tissue out of our very hearts and minds, our bodies and our souls. So, no thank you, we choose to remain different, we choose to remain Jewish despite temptation and despite any and all consequences.

This past June, two days before the Modi’in Miracles played their first professional baseball game in Israel, a movie was released in this country entitled “A Mighty Heart” starring Angelina Jolie. The movie tells the painful and troubling story of the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl from the perspective of his then pregnant wife Marianne. Being a thorough and professional journalist and following leads on Al-Qaida and alleged “shoe bomber” Richard Reid, Daniel Pearl was in Karachi, Pakistan in January 2002 hoping to have an interview with Sheik Gilani, a Muslim spiritual leader with ties to the terrorists. Sheik Gilani had previously declared that he would never talk to Western journalists. The interview never happened, it was a set-up, it was never meant to happen. Daniel Pearl was abducted on January 23, 2002. His Islamist captors accused him of being a spy for the CIA and then for the Mossad and ultimately murdered him. When news of his brutal murder was confirmed on February 21, 2002, the world was stunned. When news of his last words captured on videotape and transcribed for all to read, the Jewish world was simultaneously surprised and shocked, angry and sad, proud and grief stricken. Daniel Pearl’s last words were “I am Jewish. My father is Jewish. My mother is Jewish. I am Jewish.” In a moment of abject despair, knowing fully what was about to happen to him, Daniel Pearl bravely claimed his identity. His parents Judea and Ruth Pearl were initially taken aback by his words wondering why he would choose that moment to make that Jewish affirmation but over time they came to see the power and the beauty of it. A young girl from New York about to become a Bat Mitzvah thought that an appropriate Bat Mitzvah project would be to compile statements about being Jewish and present it as a gift to Daniel Pearl’s son Adam who was born in May 2002, three months after Daniel’s murder. Daniel’s parents enlarged the idea to include written contributions from prominent authors, artists, politicians and thinkers on their reactions and thoughts about Daniel’s last words, “I am Jewish.” The response was overwhelming. The end result is a moving book entitled “I Am Jewish”, published by Jewish Lights publications, a winner of the National Jewish Book Award for Anthologies and a worthy addition to any Jewish library. Daniel Pearl’s last words have inspired many of our co-religionists to look inward, challenge previously held notions, reflect on the nature of Jewishness and Judaism and wonder just as we wonder if we could have the faith of Abraham and follow God’s command unquestioningly, we must wonder if we could do as Daniel Pearl has done and affirm our Jewish identity, declare our allegiance to Judaism and the Jewish people amidst the most horrific and frightening moment of our lives. Could we sing “ani ma’amin” on the way to the gas chambers? Could we say “Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad” on our last dying breath? Could we say “I am Jewish” while our murderous captors held a knife to our throat? These are the last words of Daniel Pearl, will they be ours?

In 2004, the Jewish community of Pittsburgh of which my wife and I have fond memories, added their words to this subject and responded to Daniel Pearl’s last words and the subject of Jewish identity. Steve Levin, a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette organized the effort and offered these thoughts. He declared that being Jewish is “a feeling and a birthright” a connection to “a religion and a people, a culture and a country, it’s me.” He goes on to say that no matter how many hundreds of Jewish responses there are to the question of what it means to be Jewish, “Beneath it all is the pintele Yid, that Jewish spark that underlies all the religious, social, historical and political complexities that go into being a Jew.” When Daniel Pearl said, “I am Jewish.” “He spoke for himself yet he spoke for all Jews.”

David Shtulman, the executive director of the American Jewish Committee, states that while Daniel Pearl’s last words “I am Jewish” could have been seen by his Islamist captors as an admission of guilt, “To every other Jew it was meant to say, this could have easily been you.” Mr. Shtulman goes on to say that for him “I am Jewish” means that I am the beneficiary of 3,000 years of collective memory, communal experience, wisdom, suffering and joy which inform my world view, my relationship with God and with the world. As he wrote, “my Jewishness cannot be measured by how often I go to synagogue, the foods that I eat or how I experience God. It is part of me and will always remain a part of me. I am Jewish is simply what I am.”

Lee Chottiner, the editor of the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle, writes about an experience he had at 15 while on a cruise with his parents. A family who had lost a son needed a minyan to say Kaddish. This experience taught him that no matter how different one Jew is from the next, we are all apart of a religious community. None of us can say, “I’m a better Jew than you.” To Mr. Chottiner, “being Jewish means being part of a community, or, better yet, being part of a family.” Molly Ainsman, a freshmen in college, had a similar experience when she first entered the University of Pennsylvania. It was through the Jewish community on campus, the Hillel center, that she was able to find her “niche at such a large university” and to realize that “as a Jew, she is a member of a larger community that will always embrace her no matter what path she chooses to follow.” Judaism and the Jewish community is a rooting, a grounding, a firm anchor that will never leave us no matter how far we may drift. Teshuvah, returning, is always possible because we are never too far from home.

Howard Rieger, the president of the United Jewish Federation of Pittsburgh, sees Jewishness as an imperative to make a difference in the world, “to help heal the world, to pursue tikkun olam, to serve as a light to the nations.” Joni Rabinowitz, co-director of Just Harvest, said that despite not being raised as an observant Jew she did learn basic Jewish values of equality and fairness from her parents and to work to make the world better. For her, being Jewish means being an social activist.
There are many more written responses compiled by Steve Levin of the Pittsburgh Post–Gazette which highlight different pieces of Jewishness and Judaism such as Judaism’s concern for the poor and underprivileged in our society, Judaism’s rich heritage of history, Judaism’s comforting and familiar rituals and traditions, and Judaism’s reinforcement of a sense of continuity between the generations and connection between people and the unshakeable knowledge that we are part of a community, a greater whole, an extended family.

For me, the most moving response came from Sophie Masloff who was the mayor of Pittsburgh from 1989 to 1994. She wrote, “Being Jewish to me is the core of my being. Being Jewish is about the values of giving more of one’s self, of making the world just a little better than when I came into it. Being Jewish is lifelong learning about our people. Being Jewish is about caring; a celebration of freedom and hope. Even in the darkest times, I was always proud of my heritage, proud to be part of the Jewish people, a people of hope and faith.”

Daniel Pearl’s poignant and simple last words should inspire us with pride and cause us to consider our own response, our own thoughts; to reflect on what it means to be a Jew, to affirm our identity and our heritage proudly despite all the adversity. Clearly, being Jewish is important to us otherwise we would not be here tonight. What is it that motivates us? What is it about Judaism that draws us in? The great German-Jewish philosopher Franz Rosenzweig was ready to defect, to abandon Judaism and convert to Christianity but as his last Jewish act, he entered a synagogue during the High Holidays of 1913 and was drawn back in to the embrace of Judaism and the Jewish community and never again thought to leave. What is this thing called being Jewish which draws us in and becomes such an integral part and parcel of our being that to be rid of it would be devastating if not impossible.

Now at the beginning of this New Year of 5768, let us consider what it means to be Jewish. Let us embrace the opportunity provided by these days of repentance and introspection to ask ourselves these questions, “What does it mean to be Jewish, to be part of the extended Jewish family? Where do I stand as a Jew, as a member of the Jewish community?. Ask yourself what you would do if you were in Daniel Pearl’s situation, would you proudly and defiantly state that you are part of the Jewish people, that you are embraced by an extended family, the Jewish community, and that you stand for high ethical values and a 3,000 year old unbroken chain of heritage and tradition that links us to our forefathers and to the Jewish community of the future and no one no matter how brutal, how barbaric, how inhuman will ever take that away from us!
Let us proudly reaffirm our Jewishness and renew our commitment to Judaism and the Jewish people. Let us re-enter the warm embrace of the Jewish community. Let us reflect on who we are and what we hold most dear and then say hineni we are here, we are ready, we are fully committed and let us begin this new year of 5768 with our eyes clearly focussed on the future.
And let us say, Amen