Alef: The NEXT Conversation
Good enough for the Jews?
by Isaac Shalev
Last week’s episode of Family Guy featured Lois, the mom, discovering that she was Jewish. Amid the hilarity, Lois mused at one point: “I don’t care about being Jewish – or about being Christian either! I just want to be a good person on my own.”
As a professional Jewish educator who sometimes even wears a beard, I’ve heard that from a lot of people, usually in the form of a question. “Isn’t it enough for me to just be a good person?” In truth, it’s not a bad question, and I think we’d all agree that if we all could just be good people, we’d live in a pretty sweet world. It’s just that the question usually gets asked right after I tell someone about some Jewish ritual or observance, particularly one that seems arduous or odd, like, for example, waving a lulav and etrog, or sitting in a sukkah.
Jewish wisdom teaches us that we humans are no good at dealing with big abstractions. We don’t grasp large numbers, we can’t relate to statistics, and we don’t bridge great distances. Even as we know in our minds that every single human life is sacred, we struggle to rally for Darfur or the dozens of other places where human life is cheap, and bread is dear. The homeless in our own cities escape our gaze, even as they lie plainly in our view.
Judaism suggests that we look into our own history to appreciate the struggles of others and open our hearts to them. We were slaves in Egypt. We were strangers, exiles in a land not our own. We were wanderers in a desert, where none would give us water. God’s grace brought us to our homeland and sustained us, and created a responsibility in us to do the same for those in need. Judaism then asks us not just to look, but also to feel, and to learn by experience through acting and symbols. On Passover, we eat matzah, the bread of the poor man. On Sukkot, like the homeless, landless man, we build a crude hut and gather together the barely edible leavings of the harvest, symbolized by the sour etrog and the date-palm frond we call a lulav. The Torah reminds us that our celebration must include everyone: our family and friends, and also the stranger and the impoverished.
Is it enough to be a good person? I think so. How can we get there? By reflecting back on our Jewish history, and by placing ourselves into the shoes of those without. The path from knowledge to compassion and, finally, to action is a Jewish journey, and it’s one that I hope we will all take this holiday season.
Chag Sameach.
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Between Sukkot and Thanksgiving be on the look out for other stories on food issues and giving back in our own communities. Learn more about Harvest to Harvest here.
An Ample Harvest
It can be easy to forget some of what it means to be an American, and what it means to be Jewish. The inscription on the Statue of Liberty tells us – “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”, while the Jewish concept of “tzedakah” or “charity” comes from the root “tzedek” meaning “justice.” As these next few weeks bridge the Jewish holiday of Sukkot and American holiday of Thanksgiving, we at Alef wonder – Just what compels people to take action and transform that action into a movement?
Gary Oppenheimer, founder of AmpleHarvest.org, gives us his story:
“Two years ago, I faced a dilemma when my own garden in West Milford, NJ produced a prolific crop–far more than we could use, and more than I could give away (there are only so many cucumbers you can give to friends and have them still call you a friend). The notion of simply throwing the extra produce away was unacceptable. I’ve known too many people who were hungry in the past, including my mother-in-law who spent five years hungry in the Soviet Union during WW II.
I decided to deliver 40 lbs of produce to the local battered women’s shelter. The woman who took it thanked me, and then commented that it would be good to finally have fresh produce. That comment stayed with me.
Click here for the rest of Gary’s story
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Between Sukkot and Thanksgiving be on the look out for other stories on food issues in our own communities. Learn more about Harvest to Harvest here.Â
Photo by LexnGer, Licensed under Creative Commons.
The Third Spoke
by Jonathan Fish
Over the past couple of years, I participated in a Birthright trip to Israel with Israel Outdoors, then a second trip through Birthright NEXT New York which focused on the not-for-profit sector in Israel, and a third trip with Birthright NEXT New York to Poland, which focused on the resistance during the Holocaust. I was suddenly inclined to add a third spoke to my career – helping the Jewish community. So, how do I use my accounting and finance skills to help improve the environment while enhancing the Jewish community?  Fortunately, I found Hazon, an organization with a mission to create a healthier and sustainable Jewish community as a step towards a healthier and more sustainable world for all.
Read more…
Click to learn more about Hazon!
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Between Sukkot and Thanksgiving be on the look out for other stories on food issues in our own communities. Learn more about Harvest to Harvest.
Photo by noticejl, licensed under Creative Commons.
Rebuilding
by Rachie Lewis
When an entire city is physically obliterated, what is still within our control is our own behavior and activity, and what stays strong, though weakened from catastrophe, are the citizens who remain. Such blatant exposure of human vulnerability empowers us to rebuild, for collective power can emerge from individual wounds and frailty. Though Sukkot may reveal that we are subject to a force beyond our understanding, perhaps it can compel us to defend ourselves against that knowledge. Perhaps it can also teach us the strength of greater numbers, of unity channeled toward improving lives or simply guiding them back to where they once were.
Rachie Lewis was a Fellow at Yeshivat Hadar during the Summer 2009 session.
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Between Sukkot and Thanksgiving be on the look out for other stories on food issues in our own communities. Learn more about Harvest to Harvest.
Photo by Striatic, licensed under Creative Commons.
Will Work For Food
by Steven Weinberg
Throughout college I really started to define my Jewish identity. As an underclassman I attended some meetings of the University’s chapter of STAND–an anti-genocide group that focused on Darfur advocacy. After my sophomore year I was fortunate enough to go on a Birthright trip and visit Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial, in Jerusalem. We spent hours winding through such a tragic part of our past—reading compelling stories and being drawn into powerful photos. I vividly remember exiting the museum onto a cantilever suspended over trees and wild flowers looking out onto Jerusalem.
Although the view evoked a sense of safety and pride at first, this was quickly replaced by thoughts of the thousands of children starving to death in Darfur that I had learned before my trip. Although I was involved with STAND and local community service groups on campus before my trip, it was never with the connection to the concept of tikkun olam–healing the world. That I discovered that moment staring out at Jerusalem.
I returned home understanding that my being Jewish isn’t determined solely by the classes I attended as a kid or how I observe the religion, but also by how I relate to Jewish morals and values. This discovery reformed my motivation for helping those malnourished kids in Darfur and being involved in local community service.
Steven Weinberg is the co-founder and CEO of Will Work For Food.
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Between Sukkot and Thanksgiving be on the look out for other stories on food issues in our own communities. Learn more about Harvest to Harvest.
Photo by delayed gratification, licensed under Creative Commons.
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