www.chabadofthegardens.com | Blogs | Rabbi's Blog

Where Chabad Differs

Thu, 8 Sep 2011 2:03:00 PM

Why can't Chabad be more like “Mainstream Orthodoxy”?

There are people who, when they encounter Chabad, are troubled by the distinctiveness and differences between how Chabad operates and how other “mainstream orthodox” groups operate. Why do Chabadniks have to be so different from everyone else? Do they think they are better than everyone else? Are they just “perverse” and choosing to be different merely for the sake of appearing distinctive?

I have tried to answer this question on various occasions, and what I have learned from the experience is that sometimes it is better not to try to answer the question directly. No matter how good your material is, if you try to answer a confrontational question, you always looks like an apologist. Each answer proposed only arouses the natural skepticism of the listener. They think that you are trying to excuse and cover up what truly is a problem. In effect, one has already given their question some validity by acknowledging it and trying to answer it.

So let me try something different. I am just going to tell some stories and observations, and I will trust that you, gentle reader, are intelligent, mature, and enough of a truth seeker that you will discover, absorb, and draw conclusions that you yourself will feel have the correct balance of truth.

Recently, I had to travel to Monsey, New York. I hadn't been there before and it was a new experience, with both its interesting and troubling components. For those of you unfamiliar with Monsey, it is sort of a 18th century shtibl 30 miles north of Manhattan, full of people with the dress and mannerisms of an 18th Eastern European Jewish town - with one major distinction: all the housing, cars, etc. are typical 20th century American suburban. Initially, one could think one was in any typical American suburban town, until one sees the people living there.

There are many different groups living in Monsey: Satmar, Belz, Ger, Modern Orthodox, Litvish, Yekke, the list could go on and on. The entire spectrum of Orthodox Jewry (and a goodly number of Conservative and Reform Jews as well). These people are raising their families with full-strength Judaism. They have created an environment where one can live a completely halachically observant life, and where the environment of the community itself re-enforces this lifestyle by making halachic Judaism the norm. Whereas orthodox Jews might stick out in other American communities, and have to struggle to nurture a Jewish environment - in Monsey it is part of the natural existence. One has to be impressed by the sincerity and dedication of the people who created that town.

There is also a growing Baal Teshuva community in Monsey. Either by attending one of the Baal Teshuva Yeshivas, going to a kiruv (outreach) event, or by being m'kareved (brought close) by a Monsey family, there are people who are impressed with what they see in the Jewish lifestyle that pervades Monsey and want to be part of it.

Parenthetically, it is interesting to note “Mainstream” Orthodoxy's growth in interest in kiruv work. Initially, Chabad was almost entirely alone in trying to contact non-religious Jews. And until recently, Chabadniks were frequently castigated for taking time away from learning Torah to work with non-religious Jews. Today, the complaint has taken a different tone: not “why do kiruv” (since also all Orthodox do some form) but today's complaint is the manner and form in which Chabad does things.

After numerous conversations with people running these kiruv organizations in Monsey, I noticed that there is a different emphasis in what the goal of this kiruv is. The issues in these kiruv organizations is how best to integrate and absorb new members: how to transform people who are far from Yiddishkeit and make them into Orthodox Jews. These rabbis and teachers are sincere, dedicated people, attempting to help people whom they see as lost and confused. Indeed, they are helping people who were once very alienated from their Jewishness see it in a new and more meaningful light - but their approach is not the Chabad approach. Why? Because Chabad does not do “kiruv” or outreach.

The term outreach is a translation of the term “kiruv”, which in turn is a contraction of the phrase: “kiruv ha'richokim” - bringing close those who are far away. The Rebbe never approved of this phrase. When someone would use this term, he would correct them saying: “ how do you know who is close and who is far?”

For more than 40 years the Rebbe - through countless talks filled with examples and illustrations - taught us a unique and distinctive approach to how one should talk to and approach another Jew. Any Jew. And even non-Jews. At this point in time, for those who are truly attached to the Rebbe, this approach is ingrained in our nature.

What was this approach? That every Jew (and even non-Jew) is a part of G-dliness (Man is created in the image of G-d, B'tzelem Elokim). He taught us that G-dliness is already there, and all one has to do is reveal it.

Without the Rebbe's teaching one might look at things quite differently. One might think, “hey I am a pretty good person. I know a lot about Judaism. I know more than most other Jews. And when I look at the world I see that many people have confused value systems and ethics and need direction and guidance to become a better person. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I am going to go out and help them. I am going to be altruistic and do an act of kindness and teach those unfortunate heathens who are not as enlightened as me.”

And of course, this is exactly what irritates us the most about about “Orthodox” people. “Who do they think they are? Why do they think they are so much better than the rest of us? Let me tell you, they really aren't so good. I can tell you lots of stories about how they did this and that.” Some people can spout these stories quite easily, because it helps assuage the feeling of inferiority and diverts attention from the insecurity that these “Orthodox” people can provoke, even if they say or do nothing other than exist.

The Rebbe changed the entire approach to “outreach.”. A person is not reaching out to someone on the “outside”. A Jew is already perfect. A Jew, just by being a a Jew, without doing any mitzvoth has more G-dliness than can ever be instilled by any practice. Practices, observances, are limited acts confined to this world - G-dliness is something that is utterly beyond this world, and cannot be affected by physical acts. A Jew's Jewishness is a basic thing, which cannot be corrupted or diminished by any thing that the Jew might have done in this world. This derives from the fact that a Jew already possesses a degree of G-dliness which is utterly beyond this world. A Jew is a “chelek Eloka mimal” literally a part of G-d. And just as G-d is not affected by the occurrences and the world (we cannot harm Him, etc.) so to a Jew's G-dliness is something infinite and untouchable.

This situation is the same when a Jew who knows more comes in contact with a Jew who knows less. One should realize that on a certain essential level, there really is no difference. The essence of both of them is the same - they are both Jews. And that commonality basically makes any distinctions insignificant. The mere fact of one's Jewishness is something beyond any training or observance.

In fact, the whole reason why some Jews happen to know more about Judaism is so that they can share it with other Jews. Knowledge of Judaism comes from G-d. It is a gift. And the only purpose of this gift is to share it with those who need it. It belongs to to them already. The giver is only being given the opportunity to return this knowledge of Judaism to them. This is what the Rebbe taught: that it is not the giver who is doing the recipient a favor , but the recipient who is doing the giver a favor by allowing him to be able to give.

When one truly internalizes this outlook, when one has absorbed this perspective fully and clearly and integrated it into one's being, then one will no longer be troubled by questions about the structure and format of “outreach” that Chabad does.

It doesn't matter where the person is located (in the street, movie theater or even the bar), nor does it matter whether the person is intermarried or homosexual or anything else. What matters is that it is a Jewish soul. And every Jewish soul is complete and whole no matter what place or situation it is in. Place and situation cannot touch the pure essence of the Jewish soul - because a Jewish soul is something that is completely beyond the confines of this world. We really don't know what a soul is, because we grasp everything with our limited physical and intellectual senses. And these can only grasp the limited projection of the soul that exists in this world. But the part of the soul that exists beyond the confines of this world - this we are unable to fathom.

A true emissary of the Rebbe appreciates that each person who walks into his or her Chabad House or whom they meet on the street is a Jewish soul beyond measure. The external appearance and situation is only that - externality.

The truth is that the person is already, in their true being, 100% complete. That is why a properly functioning Chabad institution feels so homey. Because from the first moment one steps into the door - one feels completely accepted. Not that one has to change, not that one has to grow, but already from the first moment one is already 100% accepted and complete.

And even if that person does not change or grow - it is not essential. Their Jewishness is already there. Unlike other outreach organizations, where one feels that one has to change to fit in, where the point of the kiruv is to bring in and transform the person from someone outside to an insider - Chabad says a Jew is already more Jewish than any amount of training can accomplish.

Of course, Chabad Centers do teach an enormous amount. Yes, there are classes, and all sorts of educational programs. But the point is different. These are not things designed to “integrate” one into the “Orthodox” community. There is no agenda to make one into a Jew who would feel comfortable in Monsey, Borough Park, or Bnei Brak, to make a person fit in so that his uncomfortable “foreignness” does not stick out.

Rather, the uniqueness and “foreignness” of each Jew is to be treasured. G-d caused a person to be situated distant from “mainstream” Jewish groups, so there must be something precious that G-d wanted the person to acquire when he was there.

Whatever education that Chabad does is not aimed at “re-engineering” the person but rather giving him or her better insight so that THEY THEMSELVES can decide where they want to go next. That is how one treats an adult. One trusts their sense of truth and correctness. If one tells an adult something, then one can trust the adult to understand themselves and the world well enough that they will act on whatever needs to be done. If they don't act, then trust them that they either need more time, a better understanding, or have some other personal issue that needs to be addressed - and that they will take care of this - because they are adults.

Treating a person as an adult (Jewishly) means appreciating that the person already has a Jewish soul, and that the Jewish soul is attached to and seeks G-dliness. It is perfectly capable of finding and appreciating what is truly G-dly. Similarly, it can distinguish G-dliness from shtick. [What is shtick? One example might be a person who grew up in America in the 60's, yet when he becomes religious he takes on the speech mannerisms of Polish Chassidim so that he can fit into their Brooklyn community. That's shtick. Because what does that have to do with truly deepening one's Yiddishkeit? And the same thing applies to being able to recite Gemmora with a certain style of sing-song speech patterns].

Chabad “outreach” is the antithesis of shtick. Don't try to take on the mannerisms of those who were brought up in those religious enclaves. You are fine as you are. Your Jewishness is fine as it is. There is no expectation that you have to transform yourself. In fact, we cherish an environment that is made up of a heterogeneous mix of very different people. But if you would like to learn more about Yiddishkeit, here are some things I think you will find interesting. I trust you completely, because you are a Jewish soul (and an adult). I trust that you will find the meaning that is personally relevant to you, and do a much better at it than if I tried to guess what you should find meaningful.

This, in essence, is what Chabad “kiruv” is about, and why it differs from what others do. This does not mean that others are not sincere, well-meaning, and selflessly dedicated to helping other Jews. No, not at all. It is just that the Rebbe taught a different way. He taught us a different way to unite Jewry. By uncovering the essential spark that is in every Jew, one accomplishes more than any amount of re-education and training.

Those of us who call ourselves Chabadniks appreciate and value this distinction. Others may not, and they are certainly no less admirable. The Chabad approach is not one that desires to transform the world into Chabadniks.

If others see value in the Chabad approach. that's also fine, and they don't have to change themselves and start acting or dressing like Chabadniks. They only need to act according to what they already sense is true. That is, if you come across someone who has less knowledge of Judaism, and you sense you have an insight or understanding that you can share with them - then by all means do it. Don't try and transform him, just share something precious with them, and help uncover the spark of Judaism that is already there and only needs a little fuel (which you can provide) to help it burn more brightly.

This is what Chabad “outreach” is about - in a very practical and grounded way. And hopefully this short essay has helped illuminate and answer some questions about what we do and why and how we do it.

The Secret of Lubavitch Success

Thu, 19 Jul 2007 9:12:00 PM

The Secret of Lubavitch Success?

New York Times/January 22, 2000 By Peter Steinfels

NEW YORK -- Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg would never be mistaken for a member of the Lubavitch Hasidic movement or a follower of the late Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the movement's hugely admired -- and greatly controversial -- leader, who died in 1994.

"I never met the rebbe," said Rabbi Hertzberg, using the term for "teacher"

that Hasidic groups give to their spiritual leaders and that was universally applied to Schneerson. Hertzberg, a former president of the American Jewish Congress, for many years the leader of a Conservative Jewish congregation and the author of books on Judaism and Jewish history, said, "I always thought, what have I, a notorious liberal -- on the matter of Israel a dove

-- to say to the rebbe, who was a notorious hawk?"

But here was Hertzberg declaring that the Lubavitch movement "has made an enormous change in the Jewish world," one that left him, he said, "absolutely staggered with admiration."

For many people, Lubavitch is known for its curbside urging of Jews to increase their level of religious observance, whether by ritual actions or kind deeds. Today Chabad, as the movement is also known, operates centers or mounts programs in large cities and remote towns in 100 countries. Nearly a million Jewish children -- almost all of them not Lubavitchers -- attend its schools, camps and educational programs. At a time when a group of prominent Israeli rabbis have banned the Internet as morally perilous for their followers, Chabad has created 700 Web sites in more than 50 countries, again intended to serve not its own members but Jews in general. Hertzberg said Lubavitch had given Orthodox Judaism an altered, open face to the world. If almost all the branches of Judaism and even some of the Orthodox groups in Israel "have got into outreach," he said, Lubavitch is the reason -- "they are the ones who in a sense have shamed all the rest of us."

The conversation was provoked by an anniversary. Last Monday the Lubavitch group marked the 50th anniversary (according to the Jewish calendar) of the death of the sixth rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, and the succession of his son-in-law, Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, the seventh and last rebbe in a line going back to the group's founding in the 18th century.

The testimony of people like Hertzberg is significant because anyone trying to understand the achievement of Chabad confronts a serious obstacle: the enormous reverence surrounding the rebbe. Such attachment inevitably puts the outsider on guard against the claims made on behalf of himself or his movement.

That reverence, of course, was not limited to the rebbe's Hasidic followers.

Jews from all around the world -- both rich and poor, pious and doubting, powerful statesmen and humble housewives -- streamed to encounter him at his headquarters in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Critics saw all this as pure adulation and accused the rebbe of fostering, or at least tolerating, a cult of personality that, in turn, was leveraged into political power in Israel.

The sixth rebbe had interpreted Bolshevik persecution in Russia, where the Lubavitchers were originally, followed by the Holocaust as signs that redemption by the Messiah was at hand. His son-in-law, the seventh rebbe, had read the unforeseen security and opportunity of exile in America as another mysterious sign of the same.

In the 1980s many Lubavitchers, seeing that the rebbe had no son or designated successor, took those messianic expectations a step further and concluded that the rebbe himself was the Messiah. The fervor quickly spun into what mainstream Judaism and Lubavitch leaders judged dangerous or heretical excesses, dividing the movement and threatening to overwhelm it.

Today the storm has calmed, and the question is no longer can Lubavitch survive, but why Lubavitch has been so influential. Its numbers are smaller than those of other Hasidic groups. There are no official figures; estimates run from well below 100,000 to up to 200,000. It has remained uncompromising in adherence to views that would be generally termed fundamentalist.

Nonetheless, its activities, costing hundreds of millions of dollars a year, are largely supported by non-Lubavitch Jews, some of them not even observant.

The key to this success, organizationally, has been the concept of "schlicum," or emissaries, who are sent by the movement to a community in need and make a lifetimes commitment to serve and raise their families there. From their earliest years, Lubavitch young people see such a daunting commitment as the highest form of messianic undertaking. They are carefully selected for their assignments, but they are also expected to be self-supporting in their activities, recruiting assistance and raising funds locally. In this sense, Chabad is a movement that is both highly centralized and strongly decentralized.

There are nearly 3,700 emissary families around the world. They combine a kind of religious entrepreneurship, whose programs employ almost 50,000 other professionals, with a very personal ministry. "They have had a prominent impact on a great many Jews, especially in places without a large Jewish infrastructure as well as places remote from centers of Jewish life," said another scholar, not at all associated with Lubavitch, Jack Wertheimer, a professor of Jewish history and the provost at Jewish Theological Seminary. "They have often provided basic services, from education to kosher food, where they were lacking."

Wertheimer said there was both "a very loving, caring face to Lubavitch" and a more aggressive, militant one, "a kind of conquering mentality."

Congregational rabbis, he noted, have sometimes felt that Lubavitch presented an unfair competition, targeting particular age groups for programs or mounting colorful, publicity-gathering events for certain holy days, while the rabbis had to provide a wide array of year-round services.

Yet, "competition can be healthy and serve as a spur," he added, and other Jewish movements have been trying to meet the standard of "personal and caring presence" that Lubavitch has set.

Behind all this there is of course a theology, a spiritual vision -- of the rebbe himself and of the Chabad Hasidic tradition from its beginning. It is a vision that stresses how all creation is suffused with a divine essence; consequently, modern communications technology is to be embraced and put to good purposes.

From its beginning, Lubavitch teaching also had a strong anti-elitist, outward impulse expressed in the writings of its founder, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, who wanted to make even the mystical dimension of Jewish observance accessible to the average Jews.

These are the things that Lubavitchers like to point to rather than the mundane organizational details, and probably they are right. Nonetheless, the teaching remains most powerfully expressed in the way it is lived out -- in this case by thousands of people willing to make lifetime commitments to serve Jews not of their movement, and often in obscure and isolated places.

Rebbe to the World: by Shmully Boteach

Mon, 2 Jul 2007 9:49:00 PM

Rebbe to the world
By SHMULEY BOTEACH

Few men are able to shape the world in death as they did in life. To do so is to so subsume your existence to a lofty ideal, with such complete thoroughness, that your life comes to symbolize the values for which you toiled.

In the latter half of the 20th century perhaps only two men can be said to have so completely revitalized their communities that they achieved immortality by becoming the symbol of their nations. They are Martin Luther King, Jr., who offered dignity and self-worth to a persecuted people, and the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, who offered education and identity to an assimilated nation.

Orthodox Opinions: The Rebbe's legacy

Had King not lived, the African-American community might still be reeling under the brutality of discrimination and racial injustice. Had the Lubavitcher Rebbe not lived, the Jewish community would still be hemorrhaging millions of members, ignorant and estranged from the glories of their tradition. These two colossi further share the distinct similarities of having used oratory, scholarship and religious conviction rather than political office to galvanize vast armies of followers, who breathed new life into their moribund communities.

But the principal difference between these giants lies in the fact that King's renown spread globally to the white community, while the Rebbe's remains largely confined to Jews. This is curious given that King's work was confined principally to the southern US, while the Rebbe's operations spanned the globe.

THAT THE Rebbe - the 13th anniversary of whose passing is commemorated this week - remains unknown to most of the non-Jewish world remains a tragic omission that requires rectification and constitutes the foremost failure of the otherwise astonishing achievements of Chabad. For he was a once-in-a-millennium holy man whose call for moral virtue, spiritual heroics and acts of lovingkindness was as universal as it was electrifying.

In 1992, just before the Rebbe's 90th birthday, hundreds of his worldwide emissaries gathered in a hall in Brooklyn to discuss how the important milestone should be observed. One rabbi got up and said that every emissary should bring 90 constituents to meet the Rebbe. Another suggested that 90 new Jewish day schools be opened over the course of the year.

I was one of the younger rabbis in the room, having just moved to Oxford, England, and I approached the microphone with trepidation. "We should endeavor to have the Rebbe awarded the Nobel Peace Prize," I offered.

My suggestion was greeted enthusiastically by the younger emissaries present, and with skepticism by the older guard. Ultimately, no steps were taken to have the Rebbe nominated - a missed opportunity if there ever was one, given that few world personalities had more eloquently articulated man's capacity for ushering in an era of eternal peace as did the Rebbe.

TO BE SURE, our people have always erred in believing that Judaism is only for Jews. The universal values our religion has bequeathed to the world have been largely treated as secondary to core Jewish ritual. As such, who would have thought that the teachings of a bearded rabbi in a long black coat could appeal to techies in Silicon Valley, or to ranchers in Wyoming?

Could the foremost spiritual leader of such a tiny people really have broad appeal? After all, the Dalai Lama, with shaven head and flowing red robes, who is the nominal head of Tibet with only 2.6 million citizens, was transformed into a global icon by his followers and was awarded the 1989 Nobel Peace Prize. Mother Theresa, in her simple white habit, won it for her faith-inspired humanitarian work in 1979.

What the followers of both decided early on was that the Dalai Lama and Mother Theresa had a global mission; while the followers of the Rebbe concluded that his mission was a Jewish one.

This was never the case. At every available opportunity the Rebbe reached out to non-Jews. Several times a year, when his live addresses were broadcast on national television, he always addressed the mainstream public. Whether the subject was the need for a moment of prayerful silence in public schools, or a call to greater acts of charity, the Rebbe made it clear that outreach to the widest possible audience was his intention.

Most importantly, he made it a central staple of Chabad outreach to teach the universal code of morality, as embodied in the Bible's Noachide covenant, to all non-Jews.

WHEN MY mother worked in a bank in Miami Beach, a Cuban Catholic co-worker who was childless asked me if she could write to the Rebbe for a blessing for children. I told her the Rebbe would welcome her letter. A few weeks later, she called me to share how elated she was at having received a warm response from the Rebbe. The fact that she later gave birth to two children is beside the more relevant point of the Rebbe's love for all of God's children.

Yet, 13 years after the Rebbe's passing, Chabad and the wider Jewish community's outreach to non-Jews remains virtually non-existent.

Chabad is the single most successful Jewish educational network in the history of the world. But there remain millions of Jews who still have not been impacted by its work and who can only be reached by Chabad's influencing the mainstream culture in which they live, including their non-Jewish friends and neighbors.

This is a subject that is extremely close to my heart. Three months after the Rebbe's death I was summoned from my station in Oxford to a meeting of the Chabad leadership in London, where I was told that I would have to rescind the membership of 5,000 non-Jewish students because too many in Anglo-Jewry complained that their participation diluted the Jewish character of our organization.

I WAS crestfallen and resisted the order, leading ultimately to my official separation from the Chabad movement. And yet, many of the non-Jewish leaders of our organization - most notably Cory Booker, who was our president and is today widely regarded as the second most important African-American politician in the US and who is a brother to me - remain stalwart friends of the Jewish community due to the openness they experienced as students.

I have never overcome the pain of that break and remain, till today, a man who loves and considers himself Chabad, even as he lives without a community.

I take comfort, however, in knowing that the Rebbe belonged not only to Chabad, and not only to Jews, but to humanity at large, to all who seek inspiration from giants who teach us to live selflessly, righteously and lovingly.

The writer is the author most recently of Shalom in the Home. His two-volume work about his years as rabbi of Oxford is called Moses of Oxford.

Auschwitz and Darfur

Sun, 28 Jan 2007 8:26:00 AM

Auschwitz and Darfur

Yosef Y. Jacobson

The images from Sudan are horrific: wounded, starving, diseased adults; skeletal, dying infants. Some people have referred to this as "ethnic cleansing," and the U.S. called it "genocide." Since 2003, an estimated 400,000 Africans have been massacred by the state-sanctioned Janjaweed ("men on horses"), many of them through savage torture. Many men had their eyes poked out. Countless women were raped, and if they refused, their arms and legs were broken. Children were mutilated while others perished from famine and disease. Two million people have been displaced from their homes and villages.

As youngsters, many of us could not fathom how the world remained silent as six million Jews were taken to their deaths. How was it that even among many Jews apathy prevailed? How, we wondered, could anybody go to sleep at night knowing that tomorrow another 12,000 Jews (as was the number in 1944) would be gassed?

But human nature knows all too cruelly how to detach. One of the tragic ironies of life: As many of us get ready to enjoy a serene weekend, in Darfur others will brace for rape, torture and death.

And the world remains silent.

Eli Wiesel once remarked that the lesson of the Holocaust was that "you could get away with it." Was he incorrect? Cambodia, Rwanda, Serbia and now Sudan demonstrate that at times it seems futile to ask where lies the conscious of the world.

Yes, the situation is complicated. The semi cease-fire attempts have been broken both by the Janjaweed and by the rebels who oppose the government. Yet it is incomprehensible that U.S. and world leaders find any item to be more important and urgent than genocide in Sudan.

And the hypocrisy is alarming, too. Ten weeks ago, on Nov. 8, 2006, Israel erroneously sent a missile to Beit Hanun in Gaza which tragically claimed the lives of 18 Palestinians, among them children. There was an international uproar. The United Nations, loyal to what has become its "mission statement," issued forth a condemnation and world leaders expressed outrage. The incident was discussed for weeks on the front pages of the world media and web sites. The missile was an error; it was targeting terrorists launching rockets against Israeli civilians, and Israel expressed regret for its devastating mistake. In Sudan, the government intentionally encouraged the murder of 400,000 innocent individuals, but weeks go by with scarcely a mention in the world's press.

The former Yugoslavia, Rwanda and Darfur are all conflicts that have taken many more lives than the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, yet they receive nowhere near the attention that Israel does. There are 200,000 child soldiers in Sierra Leone alone, but who even knows about that? One peace activist, Rachel Corrie, ignores IDF warnings to stay out of the way and accidentally gets crushed by a bulldozer, and the world can't get over it.

In recent weeks we've heard the outcry concerning the inhumane method in which Saddam Hussein was hanged. "The means of his execution," former Carter speechwriter James Fallows wrote in the Atlantic, "is what will haunt us." Granted, even mass murders deserve a fair trial and execution, but why has the fate of Saddam inspired more compassion than the poor children of Sudan who are forced to observe in horror the flowing blood of their parents? Saddam's death will haunt us? Perhaps. But why doesn't the death of the 400,000 in Darfur and the 800,000 in Rwanda haunt us? Are we not observing today the truth of the profound psychological observation our sages stated long ago, that "One who exercises compassion toward the cruel, will end up exercising cruelty toward the compassionate." (Midrash Rabah Koheles 7:15.)

***

On Jan. 27, 62 years ago, Russian troops entered the little Polish town of Auschwitz, and saw sights we still find difficult to comprehend. It was their first glimpse of the Final Solution: the planned extermination of every Jew in Europe. It's hard to sense the sheer scale of the destruction. On Sept. 11, 2001, history was changed by a terrorist attack in which 3,000 people died. During the Holocaust, on average, 3,000 Jews were killed every day of every week for five-and-a-half years. And the killing didn't stop with just Jews: the mentally ill, the physically handicapped, gypsies and gays were murdered because they were different.

There is no comparison between the Holocaust and what is happening today in Darfur. The Holocaust was exceptional in the scientific precision with which it was carried out. It was unprecedented in the sheer scale on which it was conceived. But what made it different from other mass murders was that it served no interest. At the height of the slaughter, the Nazis diverted trains from the Russian front to transport victims to the extermination camps. As Emil Fackenheim once put it, the Holocaust was evil for evil's sake.

There is no comparison, but there is a connection. Both are what happen when human beings lose the capacity to live together despite our differences, and fail to make space for one another despite our conflicting aspirations.

In this week's portion (Bo), as the Hebrews are set free, Moses cautions them to "remember this day on which you departed from Egypt, from the house of bondage" (Exodus 13:3). Moses knew how easy it is to forget and he warned his people never to forget. That is because those who forget the past are more likely to remain apathetic to those suffering in the present.

Public Menorahs in the Gardens & Forest Hills

Mon, 25 Dec 2006 1:00:00 PM

We would love your comments and feedback about the Chanukah Menorah's in Forest Hills.

The Forest Hills Menorah Story: Abridged Ver.: 1) Six years ago, after much negotiations, we the people represented by Chabad were granted permission by the Gardens Corp. to place the menorah in Station Square. The following year the Jewish Festivals Committee of the Forest Hills Gardens was formed and they coordinated the menorah each year thereafter. 2) 4 years ago we petitioned the Courd Meyer Corporation to place a menorah atop the Chase bank on Queens Blvd & 71st Ave. and after some negotiations and signed petition they arrange this Menorah each year. 3) For many years Chabad of Flushing has assited Chabad of Forest Hills by placing a menorah in McDonald Park - on Queens Blvd and 70th,...to be enhanced and beautified G-d willing next year for Chanukah 2007. 4) Last year, for the first time Chabad of Rego Park & Corona graciously presented a menorah at 67th Rd. and Queens Blvd. in our Absence...G-d wiling next year to be beautifed and enhanced by Chabad of Forest Hills.

Last but not least, for now anyway 5) Chabad of the Gardens - Forest Hills and the Borough President's office, under the keen directorship of Hellen Marshal, has placed a 10 foot menorah presentation on the lawn of borough hall, at which this year her honor herself attendanded ceremonies. Thank you.

Where else? Where do you think we should add a menorah next? Let us know?

Who Knows Forest Hills

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 5:05:00 PM

Tell us what you know about Forest Hills that you think would interest the general public.