Yom HaShoah and the Problem of Bad Neighbors

I spent this past Shabbat in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where I had the opportunity to hear a moving presentation from my friend and colleague Rabbi Steven Lindemann. Temple Beth Sholom was beginning its study of Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of our Ancestors, as is traditional between Passover and Shavuot.

Rabbi Lindemann decided to focus our attention on a particular Mishnah in the first chapter for a couple of reasons. One was that this particular section is attributed to Nittai of Arbel and many people in shul that day had shared the experience of visiting Mt. Arbel in the Galilee. The second reason was the proximity to today, Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.

The Mishnah reads: 

"Distance yourself from a bad neighbor, do not join a wicked person and do not despair from retribution."

The first question Rabbi Lindemann posed was, “Which do you think is more important?  Distancing oneself from a bad neighbor or from bad friends? And why?”

One person suggested it was bad friends because one may be tempted to follow their example.

Another offered that it was a bad, or wicked, neighbor because one is in more regular contact with that person and may be subject to their actions or lack thereof.

Another thought it was a bad neighbor because even with bad friends, one has a chance to be a positive influence on him, mitigating his “wickedness.”

It was a lively discussion. And then Rabbi Lindemann shared with the congregation perspectives from our tradition which support the view that it is indeed more important to distance oneself from a “bad neighbor.”  He quoted in part from Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, the former Chief Ashkenazi Rabbi of Israel, and current Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, who has written a modern commentary on Pirkei Avot. Rabbi Lau wrote extensively on the comment of the Mishnah about wicked neighbors and friends.

Why?

Perhaps this story from the NewYork Times obituary of Rabbi Herschel Schacter, who was among the first at Buchenwald helps us to understand.

As he passed a mound of corpses, Rabbi Schacter spied a flicker of movement. Drawing closer, he saw a small boy, Prisoner 17030, hiding in terror behind the mound.
 “I was afraid of him,” the child would recall long afterward in an interview with The New York Times. “I knew all the uniforms of SS and Gestapo and Wehrmacht, and all of a sudden, a new kind of uniform. I thought, ‘A new kind of enemy.’ ”
 With tears streaming down his face, Rabbi Schacter picked the boy up. “What’s your name, my child?” he asked in Yiddish.
 “Lulek,” the child replied.
 “How old are you?” the rabbi asked.
 “What difference does it make?” Lulek, who was 7, said. “I’m older than you, anyway.”
 “Why do you think you’re older?” Rabbi Schacter asked, smiling.
 “Because you cry and laugh like a child,” Lulek replied. “I haven’t laughed in a long time, and I don’t even cry anymore. So which one of us
is older?”

Lulek is known today as Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau. 

One of the lessons of the Shoah is the impact of bad neighbors. Today, as we remember and mourn our brothers and sisters, it’s crucial that we remember not only what happens when evil people commit evil acts. What we must never forget is what happens when neighbors – ordinary, good people – see evil happening all around them – and don’t say a word.

With thanks to my friend and colleague Rabbi Steven Lindemann, Temple Beth Sholom, Cherry Hill, N.J. 

Conversing with Our Hands: the Legacy of the Passover Seder

The main mitzvah of the Seder is to tell the story of Pesah to your children. This theme gets expressed in many different ways throughout the course of the evening. There are four pivotal questions, four unique children, and a great search for the afikomen. It is a time for families to come together, both physically and spiritually. College children arrive by car, bus, plane, and train, and adult children – sometimes with their own babies in tow – return home. Even Yizkor, which is said on the last day of Pesah, helps us give life to the loved ones we have lost, continuing their connection with our family.

Through our families we are afforded an opportunity to reflect on the essential messages of this holiday. We need to remember that we are human, we are alive, we must live, and we can never take our freedom for granted. We must reflect on the plague of poverty and on our responsibility to care for the neediest members of our society. We think about the importance of family, our individual and collective histories, Jewish values, and the importance of education and learning in our tradition. All of these concepts help compose the story of Pesah.

A central focus of Judaism is turning Jewish values into sacred acts, and moving forward to ensure a future. Ultimately, it is this network of sacred deeds that provides the path to holiness and goodness through ritual living – learned through the family.

We know that our Seder conversations have been successful when they translate into deeds of Tikkun Olam. This week, I have been delighted by the hands-on proof that the themes of the Seder resound for the next generation in the remarkable Alternative Spring Break program developed by Rabbi Dave Levy and his dedicated staff at United Synagogue Youth (USY).

Today is Day Two of the Alternative Spring Break program of USY which organized a hands-on relief program over Chol Hamoed Pesah in order to assist in sections of New Jersey devastated by Hurricane Sandy. 

 Starting yesterday, 83 teenage USYers from 13 of the 17 USY regions came together

to do hands-on work in Union Beach, NJ, forgoing more common vacation activities and destinations. The teens will stay over in the community for Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath) where study will center on text study about Jewish responses to natural disasters and on the importance of Tikkun Olam, which President Obama spoke about in his historic Jerusalem speech last week. The Shabbat portion of the weekend will also include communal prayer, singing and festive meals. 

Yesterday saw the teens working in rainy, windy weather with shovels, hoes and other tools in the lots of private homes in Ocean City that had been destroyed by the storm back in the fall, after they were briefed about the unique devastation to the Ocean City community. They also did park clean-up. After they finished, they went to Congregation Torat-El in Oakhurst for dinner and to hear from communal leaders, rabbis and other speakers on the dimensions of the destruction wrought by the storm. They spent the night in the synagogue in sleeping bags. The food provided for the teens is strictly Kosher for Passover. 

Today, the USYers will be working at another site from 9 am until early afternoon. The Alternative Spring Break is supported in part by Repair the World. Congregation Torat-El in Oakhurst, NJ is hosting the teens for the duration of their visit. 

Just as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously spoke of “praying with his feet” when he marched for civil rights, I call the work of our USYers “conversing with their hands.” 

The fact that so many of our teens (and many more would have come if we could have accommodated them) chose this activity for their long-awaited spring break is proof that the lessons of the Seder are being passed on to the next generation. 

Reflecting on the values of our young people as we prepare for Shabbat, I believe we are entitled to a moment of “Dayeinu.” They have earned their place at the great Jewish communal table and we eagerly await the conversations we will share in the future. 

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Kasher v’Sameach! 

This Purim, Discover Your Inner Esther!

Among observant Jews, one of the most frequently asked questions of this past week has been: “What are you wearing for Purim?”

This question has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with creativity as Jews have dressed up as characters from the Purim story throughout the ages in celebration of this festival. More recently, the traditional cast of characters – the Brave Queen Esther, her Noble Uncle Mordechai, the Disgraced Queen Vashti, the Dastardly Haman, the Foolish King Ahashverosh -- have given way to contemporary characters, drawn largely from popular culture or current events.

The most joyous holiday of the Jewish year, Purim celebrates the deliverance of the ancient Persian Jewish community from destruction. As told in The Scroll of Esther – written in the 4^th century BCE and included in the canon of 24 holy books known as the Tanakh – the evil plot to annihilate the Jews of Persia plotted by Haman, the advisor to King Ahashverosh, was overturned by Esther, the Jewish maiden who beguiled and married the king.

However, as we approach the lighthearted festival of Purim this year – which begins tomorrow evening, at the conclusion of Shabbat -- my heart is heavy because of the recent silencing of Jewish women’s voices in Israel, lifted in prayer at one of Judaism’s most sacred sites, the Kotel.

Suppressing the voices of women is antithetical to Judaism. From our matriarch Sarah, to the prophet Deborah to Queen Esther, our tradition teaches us that women’s words are to be heeded and honored…not stamped out.

But Judaism does have a tradition of stamping out sounds that are undesirable. In synagogues around the world, tomorrow night’s recitation of The Scroll of Esther will be marked by the energetic employment of noisemakers every time Haman’s name is pronounced. This ritual is one of the most beloved and memorable of all Jewish life. Children and adults alike bring everything from the traditional wooden groggers to more contemporary implements like metal pot covers and bull horns to drown out the name of Haman, and by extension, all evil in the world.

Bearing this custom in mind, it seems that the religious authorities in Israel are confused. Instead of drowning out the name of Haman, the Chief Rabbinate has taken upon itself the task of silencing Esther.

But Purim is the holiday of reversals. Using her wiles and wisdom, Queen Esther reversed Haman’s evil plot against the Jews of Persia. In the spirit of reversal – and justice -- I propose that this Purim, we don the mask of the heroine of the holiday, Queen Esther, by honoring the voices of Jewish women.

As we endeavor to usher in an era of religious pluralism to Israel, let us access our inner Esther, pondering her bravery as we advocate for the participation of Jewish women in all realms of religious life.

Imagine if efforts had been made to silence Queen Esther, who saved the Jewish People from extinction centuries ago. What a terrible thing to envision – a world without the redemptive efforts of Queen Esther; a world without the prayers of women!

As the father of three remarkable young women, the thought is inconceivable. It leaves me, quite literally, bereft. 

This Purim, let us discover our inner Esther, drawing on the fortitude and moxie of that ancient Persian heroine to honor – not silence – brave and bold Jewish women.

photo credit: USCJ Flickr page

Deconstructing the Success of USY's International Convention: A Useful Blueprint For Our Future

 It’s hard to believe that a week has elapsed since the magic that was the 2012 USY International Convention in Boston.

NERUSY's delegation streams into
IC's Opening Session

With “God and Spirituality” as its central theme, the ruach was palpable…and incredible. Imagine more than 800 teens from around the world forming a focused fellowship, united and cohesive. USY’s International Convention was not the place for anyone seeking peace and quiet; the singing, dancing and hugging was constant. Every time I looked around I saw committed and passionate young men and women steeped in the pure unfettered joy of positive Jewish identity.

The experience was profoundly uplifting…and instructive. Here was the shimmering future of Conservative Judaism. Here were the leaders for the next generation, teaching us the essential truth that a kehilla need not have walls; indeed, that the truest meaning of kehilla transcends the concept of place.

But of course, the convention was not just one big communal hug. The programming, which culminated in an impressively well-attended rally against gun violence in America in Copley Square (drawing substantial media attention), is what made this gathering such a success. Important conversations were facilitated. In venues both large and small, USYer after USYer talked about the power of community as a safe place to explore their inner, deeper selves.

Walking through the convention sessions, I noted the most substantive discussions on God and spirituality I have ever witnessed, with any age group, anywhere.

What I observed provides a useful blueprint for a successful kehilla. At the heart of everything, a kehilla must be the convener of important, timely and relevant conversations.

To paraphrase a famous movie, build the conversation and they will come.

Some further thoughts on what worked, spectacularly: rally guest speakers Colin Goddard (an advocate for the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence and a survivor of the Virginia Tech shooting in 2007) and Pastor Corey Brooks of Project Hood (the Chicago-based activist whose Walk Across America to End Gun Violence commenced at the USCJ headquarters this past summer) were hugely inspirational, drawing the attention and respect of every USY’er.

At the rally, the reading of incidents of gun violence in each region of the country demonstrated that gun violence is a pressing, contemporary social issue – not black or white, not faith-based, not rich or poor, not limited to city or suburb.

The rally was a vehicle for empowerment and the best kind of social activism for our young people. While the incidence of gun violence, especially after the Sandy Hook massacre, is so disturbing, instead of feeling powerless to effect change, the rally gave our young people the ability to send a message to the adults that care about them – as well as those in public office – that they expect us to create a society that keeps them safe.  One after the other they shouted, “Enough is Enough!”

Furthermore, the Nativ alumni tisch-- which took place on Friday night – captured the very best of Conservative Judaism.  At this deeply moving event, 50-plus alumni of our gap-year program in Israel – who had come to staff IC -  brought the of Shabbat in Israel to the convention in Boston. It was beyond Jewish literacy; yes, they knew the words and the references to Bible and prayer in the traditional songs of Shabbat. Yes, they understood the references to creation and God’s love for humanity and Israel and the hope of redemption. They got all that and they sang in glorious harmony.

But what took place at the Friday night tisch was more than Jewish fluency or a program led by Jewish professionals. It was homegrown and real and pluralistic and inclusive. It was spontaneous and inspiring. It was a taste of Olam ha-Ba, not the distant afterlife but the immediate future – our next generation, suffused with passion and love. Modern. Engaged. Focused on fixing what is wrong in our world, united in the quest to create an Eden on earth, empowered by the gift of finding fellowship in a common vision.

What took place is replicable. Huge props to Rabbi Dave Levy, Karen Stein, Josh Ull and all our USY staffers. May the lessons of this most recent USY International Convention inspire us as we approach our Centennial celebration and beyond.

No Divisions Between Jews When Rockets Fly

(cross-posted at the Forward)

Like many Jewish leaders, I have devoted the majority of my professional life to advocating on behalf of my denomination. Sometimes the need is concrete, other times ideological. From supporting the worldwide network of the 600-plus Conservative kehillot to agitating on behalf of a Judaism that is pluralistic, intellectually compelling and rooted in tradition, my religious identity is often inextricable from my personal Jewish “brand.”

Much of this is unavoidable. Not a month goes by without an invitation to speak about a topic of endless fascination to the Jewish public: the current state of Conservative Judaism. Whether joining together with the heads of my sister organizations to construct a wide lens view or honing on a particular geography — I will be moderating a panel discussion on the renaissance of Conservative Judaism on Manhattan’s East Side in December — I declare myself, time and again, a spokesperson for Conservative Judaism.

But I was reminded of the limits of denominationalism this past week in the course of my hastily arranged Solidarity Tour to Israel on Day 7 of Operation Pillar of Defense. Organized by the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations, I joined with a group of North American Jewish leaders from United Synagogue to the Union for Reform Judaism to the Orthodox Union to the Jewish Federations of North America and other Zionist groups.

Together, we visited the mayors of the cities most affected by Hamas missiles, the injured civilians and soldiers, the damaged property, the brave Israeli citizens under threat of extinction every single day. Together we met with Israeli president Shimon Peres. Together we boarded buses from Ashkelon to Beer Sheva to Jerusalem, united as Jews, representatives of our denominations, yes, but stripped of the agendas that occupy us back in our offices in North America.

We were a fellowship without boundaries because when missiles and rockets fly towards Israeli towns, they do not have addresses based on denominational affiliation. As Jews have learned from the persecutions of the past, the ideologies and practices that divide us are invisible to those who seek to erase us from the map.

Even if I can submerge my membership in a particular Jewish faction, it is impossible to silence my rabbinic instinct to turn to Torah for guidance. In Beresheet (Genesis) 1:27, humanity is created from a single being, named Adam. God creates Adam in God’s image, “male and female He created it (meaning humanity)”

A wonderful Midrash on this verse asks rhetorically – why does God create humanity from a single being? The answer rendered is – so that no one could legitimately say “my father is better than your father since we all originate from the same father.”

Though simple, this is text contains a profound lesson about unity, solidarity and the value, divinity of each and every life. As I joined together with my counterparts in North American Jewish life during our Tour of Solidarity to Israel last week, I found that this midrash came to life in a multitude of ways every day.

The most obvious manifestation was in the cross-denominational composition of our group. In a crisis, we all are Jews without divisions, united in protection of Israel. It was profound and beautiful to experience this eternal truth in the course of our trip.

We were further buoyed to note that throughout the ordeal it was enduring, Israel demonstrated how strong a society she is. People did not give up in despair. They supported their government. One clear indication of this was the better than 100% response by the reservists who were called. In Operation Pillar of Defense, the country rallied. The fight was for survival, no matter where one lived. Even during the typically divisive election time, there was unity.

It was clear that Israel applied the lessons it learned in 2006, namely, the importance of collaboration, training and readiness in various realms – civil society, political and military. When the missiles rained down on Israel, the country was ready; better yet, every segment of society worked together. The Home Front Command was so effective because people helped one another other.

That care was also manifest in the manner in which civilians were protected on both sides of the conflict, from the surgical strikes of the Israeli counteroffensive to the care on the home front. By lobbing rockets towards Gaza, the IDF adhered to the highest ethical standards, targeting terrorist sites, not people.

As we approach the joyous festival of Hanukkah, Jews of all denominations can bond in recognition of the ultimate strength of Jewish unity, at the miracles that happened in those days and in our time when we unite to fight a common enemy. In the spirit of Hanukkah, let us rededicate ourselves to this old lesson that we need to relearn in every generation: We are one people. The Jewish future depends on it.

Thanksgiving in Jerusalem

One week ago, I was making plans with my family to attend Thanksgiving at my father's New York home.  Yet on Wednesday afternoon, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I was on a plane bound for Tel Aviv on a tour of solidarity together with the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations.

When we arrived, we learned that a ceasefire had been declared between Israel and Hamas, ending the eight-day-long Operation Pillar of Defense, the IDF’s impressive counter-offensive to the rocket assault from Gaza.

The first phase of the ceasefire brought with it a watchful, tense quiet. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I was grateful for the relative calm, the absence of sirens, the tenuous and possibly temporary peace.

Mindful of these blessings, we embarked upon our tour, heading to Ashkelon to visit with its mayor in the city’s bomb shelter. Since Operation Cast Lead, Ashkelon has suffered from rocket fire on a constant basis. Indeed, more than 200 rockets have fallen on this, Israel’s 10th largest city. We learned of the damage inflicted to schools and residential building. Fulfilling the mitzvah of bikur cholim, we visited injured civilians and soldiers in the local hospital.

From Ashkelon, we went to Beersheva where we also visited its injured and learned of the new normal in southern Israeli hospitals -- moving critical patients to safe rooms, stopping all non-emergent surgeries, preparing for wounded soldiers, civilians and yes, Palestinians. 

In both cities, we heard much of the same story: sadness, fear, cynicism that this ceasefire will hold, that normalcy will ever be restored.

The purpose of the on-going rocket assault from Gaza is not to take out Israel’s ports or major facilities but to disrupt daily life and perpetuate a campaign of terror against civilians.  Ashkelon, for instance is home to one of Israel's main power plants and the world's largest desalination plants. Strategic targets, yet the missiles are not aimed in their direction.  Judging by the damage, they are aimed at the most vulnerable: children, the elderly, patients in hospitals.  Since the second intifada, this has been the Palestinian strategy.

Back in Jerusalem, we met with Israeli President Shimon Peres for briefings.

My remarkable day concluded at the Fuchsberg Center for a moving and uplifting Thanksgiving dinner that included 210 people: this year's participants in our Nativ program, Nativ alumi, family and friends. This dinner, at USCJ's Fuchsberg Center, is a much-anticipated annual event and people do not miss it for anything, except for military service, though we were lucky to have a few soldiers able to join us.  One reservist show up in his IDF uniform. Our current group of 80 students family members lend great spirit to our gathering, which included A Capella singing and a video in which participants gave statements of what they are thankful for.

This morning, among several speakers we met with Arnon Mantver, the director of JDC Israel and learned about the work JDC is doing to help people affected by war. This important meeting highlighted some of the benefits of our partnership with Jewish Federations of North America and the Union of Reform Judaism.

It enabled me to understand, in an up close and personal way, the important ways in which our funding is helping Israeli civilians cope with the existential threat they face on a daily basis, whether by working with children to counteract the stress, anxiety and fear of being in shelters, providing food, medicine and supplies to the disabled and elderly, helping make what is broken whole.

I am filled with pride when I note the many ways in which the Conservative and Masorti movement is a partner in delivering these important social services.

I did not undertake this Thanksgiving weekend trip to Israel lightly; it was upsetting to leave my family, especially at this time. But once in Israel, I was overwhelmed by how thankful everyone was for our visit and inspired by the solidarity of the Jewish People. In crisis, we relearn an important message: we are one. Our group included a wide range of North American Jewish leaders from United Synagogue to the Union for Reform Judaism to the Orthodox Union to the Jewish Federations of North America and other Zionist groups.

As I go into Shabbat, my feelings are mixed. My American optimism wants to believe that Operation Pillar of Defense will ensure a bright and safe future for Israel, now and forever. The spirit of American thanksgiving still resides in me; reminding me of the innumerable blessings of being a Jew, of having a Jewish State in my lifetime.  

This week's Parshah, Vayetze, contains the story of the Sulam – Jacob’s Ladder. Jacobs dream of a ladder connecting Heaven and Earth, with angels going up and down. The significance of the angels originating from earth and rising to heaven is a metaphor for the human quest for sanctity. When we act with holiness in care for others, we become God’s angels.

I saw angels ascending and descending during my solidarity tour of Israel.

Hurricane Sandy and the Torah of Thanksgiving

(cross-posted; originally appeared at Huffington Post)

Growing up in Winnipeg, Manitoba, I spent the majority of my teenage years celebrating Thanksgiving with hundreds of other Jewish kids at United Synagogue Youth (USY) conventions, which took place in such cities as Minneapolis, Des Moines, Denver, St. Louis and Kansas City.

As a member of the USY Emtza Region, the high point of the extended weekend was hardly the requisite Thursday evening turkey meal. Rather, it was theruach (spirit) and fellowship I found with my American counterparts, all of whom were active in Conservative Jewish life.

Those were the days, in so many ways. Conservative Judaism was popular, inspired and modern, the pre-eminent Jewish denomination worldwide. As the son of a Conservative rabbi, I was delighted to find myself in the company of other young people who -- like me -- saw no contradiction between our secular and religious lives.

If anything, we shared a feeling of dazed revelation that we were the lucky ones who had figured out how to fuse both facets of our identities. Being Jewish made it better to be American -- or Canadian.

Years later, when I moved to the United States, I discovered yet another revelation: Thanksgiving was regarded as a deeply meaningful holiday for the majority of American Jews who viewed a mandated day of expressing gratitude as a mitzvah.

Though Canadian Thanksgiving takes place in October, the day bears no resemblance to the American celebration, beginning with the missing narrative of a small band of people inspired to flee religious persecution in Europe and build a New Jerusalem in America. The religious freedom guaranteed in the United States has enabled the formation of the most unique, cohesive, functional and sustained Jewish community in the world. In recognition of the profundity of this blessing, it is customary in many synagogues to recite the Hallel prayer in the morning service on Thanksgiving.

For this American blessing and many others, I, too, have learned to give thanks. This year, for those of us affected by Hurricane Sandy, the gratitude goes deeper. It is less theoretical and all-too-tangible.

Following on the heels of the largest scale natural disaster those of us in the Northeast have ever endured, the simple blessing of heating and electricity has become the greatest of gifts. For those of us lucky enough to have avoided damage to our homes, injury or the death of friends and loved ones, we are thankful for the blessing of shelter, the stability of walls and a roof over our heads.

In our gratitude, we have a great responsibility, and that is to offer help where it is needed. Two and a half weeks after Hurricane Sandy assaulted our region, I am astonished to see the daily calls for hands-on volunteers in the hardest hit areas: Coney Island; the Rockaways; Red Hook, Brooklyn; portions of the New Jersey Shore.

Though perturbed by the prolonged recovery and rescue work that is needed, I am heartened to see those calls being answered by so many people. I am proud of the millions of dollars allocated for the relief effort by New York's UJA-Federation, an organization largely supported by Conservative Jews.

As the head of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, I have been deeply moved by the example set by many of our kehillot (sacred congregations) in the path of Hurricane Sandy's devastation who opened their facilities to members of the larger community -- offering shelter, fellowship, food, electricity, showers and programming for children and adults alike. One of the USCJ kehillot hardest hit by Hurricane Sandy -- United Synagogue of Hoboken -- kept its doors open throughout the crisis, hosting a bar mitzvah in the unheated, candelit sanctuary because the family could not bear to celebrate this milestone anywhere else. The USCJ has been privileged to take part in the assistance effort for this synagogue, purchasing vital equipment and hosting a community meal this past Thursday evening.

Sustaining a house of worship through a time of crisis keeps provides immeasurable moral support for a community.

Equipped, as we are, to communicate and correspond with our over-600 member synagogues, we were able to serve as a command center to coordinate services, provide assistance and act as a hub. Dipping into our discretionary funds, we were able to provide assistance to synagogues that suffered damage and provide a significant grant to Nechama, a Jewish disaster response organization. Having just completed building a security and safety protocol for our kehillot, we were able to help our member congregations help the people in their area.

So, this year, Thanksgiving is relevant in an up-close and personal way. We are grateful. We are blessed. And in our good fortune, we are compelled to pay the blessing forward. In the immediate post-crisis period, giving is easier, but with the passing of time, it is natural to lose focus of the need.

After Hurricane Sandy, the Torah of Thanksgiving teaches us that thankfulness is not limited to a solitary day. Gratitude is an ongoing consciousness that compels us to open our eyes and hearts and wallets to respond to the devastation around us, now and always.

This year, I am approaching Thanksgiving with an extra dimension of kavannah (intentionality) finding in the observance of this American festival a new twist on a liturgical passage from the Hallel prayer service: "hodu l'hashem ki tov."

Though the verse is typically understood to mean, "Give thanks to God for God is good," I see another meaning, which is "Give thanks to God, for thankfulness is good."

Thankfulness is a mitzvah. Thankfulness is mindfulness.

One more thing. As American Jews prepare for Thanksgiving, we find our focus abruptly shifted to Israel, where a hurricane of another nature -- man-made and fueled by hatred -- is wreaking havoc on the citizens of the Jewish State. Indeed, the escalation of the conflict has compelled me to trade the comfort of my American Thanksgiving table for a last-minute tour of solidarity to Israel to visit the 300-plus young people currently studying there through the auspices of United Synagogue.

The Torah of Thanksgiving reminds me of the blessing of religious freedom and the security that we enjoy as Jewish Americans.

This year, my feast is movable.

May we be thankful for the blessing of peace. May it come soon to Israel, to her neighbors and to the entire world.