From the desk of Rabbi Joshua Katzan

If we, as Jews, correlate secular New Year’s Eve to Rosh Hashanah, then the Fourth of July should correlate to Yom Kippur. Let me explain. 

On Yom Kippur, we speak of renewal through t’shuvah/repentance. T’shuvah happens when we take responsibility not only for our misdeeds but also for the mindset and emotional infrastructure that brought us to our misbegotten actions. In other words, Yom Kippur is the day we proclaim with sincerity a desire to course-correct and live the principles we aspire to. 

Judaism is not pretend. We don’t fast, say words, and then believe we’re clean and transformed without having to effect real changes. Yom Kippur is meant to inspire us to live the Judaism that would otherwise exist only in books. 

I believe the Fourth of July is, and should be, the same for America: a day not only to celebrate the freedom, liberty, and opportunity this country has afforded so many but also to re-dedicate ourselves to realizing the founding aspirations of our country.  

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” On July 4th, let us ask, To what extent is our country living up to this ideal in policy and practice? How can we do better? 

The Declaration of Independence has a very Yom Kippur-like clause: “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government …” In other words, we the People have the responsibility to self-correct and live in accordance with the principles and institutions that protect our freedoms and liberties, and to rebuke our leadership when it needs it. 

Today, many Americans are questioning policies and methods deployed by our government, that we are astray from the kind of America we ought to be. For example, it is difficult to see a worthy conversation about immigration policy through the cruelty and fear created by the haphazard ways ICE and other departments are operating. When citizens are profiled and rounded up along with non-citizens by agents in plainclothes and masks with weapons; when our own plant manager, Ruben, must walk around with his naturalization papers lest he end up in a detention center somewhere outside the state; when a deluge of outrageous actions seems to be coming from the government, we the people have a responsibility as Americans to demand t’shuvah/repentance, to demand better. 

At the end of Yom Kippur, we blow the Shofar — what I think of as audible fireworks. No matter what we happened to be confronting within ourselves during that day, we culminate in ecstatic celebration that the project of being human, of becoming our better selves, has been renewed. So too are the fireworks displays of July 4th — a dazzling reminder of our privilege and power as Americans to renew and celebrate this extraordinary experiment in democracy, liberty, equality, and freedom.  

Shabbat Shalom to you all, and may we celebrate 249 as the year we come closer together in a renewing America. 

--Rabbi Katzan 

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Dear Friends,
 
In the wake of the murder of two young employees of the Israeli embassy, Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim, z”l, in Washington, D.C., I have been in a low-grade state of rage. The pressure cooker of antisemitism in this country has been intensifying steadily for years, leading many of us to ask, Is this a growing phenomenon in our country in general, or is it violence unleashed by the radicalized margins? Will it keep getting worse? Are we safe? 
 
I have found myself thinking of Aaron in the Torah after he learned of the destruction of his two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu. “Vayidom Aharon/Aaron was silent.” What words are there for this tragedy? “Thoughts and prayers?!” I have neither the right words nor divine insight, just shock and horror. But there is one word that does come up for me as we have been stewing in this growing antisemitism: cowardice. 
 
Simplistic explanations of complicated issues are cowardice. Certitude of one’s own opinion is folly, but refusal to engage different perspectives is cowardice. Shouting down professors, lecturers, and forums of conversation where Jews, representatives of Israel, or simply anyone who doesn’t agree with you, as so many pro-Hamas or its synonym activist groups on campus have done, is not justice, it is not courageous; it is totalitarian cowardice. The fact that so many of these “activists” keep their faces covered is a grotesque statement of the obvious. They’re cowards.  
 
Another act of cowardice is silence in the face of untruth. We have seen it abound in politics across the spectrum when loyalty tests force people to publicly affirm notions everyone can see are false. This is a cowardice that is rewarded and is especially dangerous. The more people go along with untruths, the more corrupt, diminished, and brutal our society will become.  
 
As we approach Shavuot, the holiday that celebrates receiving the 10 Commandments, let us focus on the 9th Commandment: “Do not bear false witness.” Do not bear witness to untruth. Israel is not committing genocide; it is prosecuting a war against a genocidal organization that attacked it brutally on October 7. The telling of this untruth inspired Elias Rodriguez to cross over into murderous evil. Israel may well be worthy of criticism, but we should all understand the difference. 
 
With a heavy heart, I wish us all Shabbat Shalom, a sabbath of reflection as we mourn Sarah and Yaron, z”l, and a sabbath of comfort, knowing that the seeds of our redemption are in our own hands, hearts, and tongues.

--Rabbi Katzan

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Dear Friends, 

Today, our hearts burst with emotion as we witnessed three young women being released from their Hamas captors and returned to their families’ healing embrace. Although two of them remain wounded from their brutal kidnapping 15 months ago, they each appeared whole and very much alive as they reunited with their loved ones.  

The nation of Israel may now dare to exhale as this tortuous period for the hostages, and for our broader Jewish nation, is seeing some movement. According to the agreement, more hostages will be exchanged for Palestinians held in Israeli jails, many of whom are serving multiple life sentences for murder and terrorism. It is a fraught deal, one that, although by no means “fair,” “just,” or “equitable,” provides for the return home of individuals, alive and dead. It is heavy but a price Israel is committed to paying.  

I write to you not because anything is over or because we’re even close to seeing a real end to this nightmare with Hamas, let alone a much-desired peace with and for the Palestinians. I write because I was shocked at how hard I cried when I saw the clips of these young women falling into their families’ arms. 470 days since this horror began for them, and I felt just how much so many of us have been holding our breath ever since. 

The ancient rabbis teach that we say a blessing when we reunite with our loved ones after a long absence: Baruch ata Hashem, Elokeinu Melech haolam, mechayeh hametim! Praised are you, dear God, Sovereign of the universe, who gives life to the dead.  

This idea originates in the ancient notion that God will one day reanimate the being of all Jews and return them to Zion, our homeland of Israel, in a spectacular act of redemption. It is appropriate that we say it today and every day a person held hostage by Hamas is released because witnessing their reunification with family, freedom, and life is as vivid an image of God’s Redemption as we may witness in this lifetime.
  
At least, that’s what it felt like to me as I watched these young women fall into their mothers’ arms.  

May we soon utter this blessing again and again until every hostage, Israeli and non-Israeli alike, is released and redeemed by the warmth of their loved ones and our whole nation.  

Am Yisrael Chai, the nation of Israel is alive, healing, and feeling just a little bit redeemed. 

--Rabbi Katzan 

December 17, 2024

Dear Friends, 

When Jews refer to the dead, we often attach an acronym after their names, z”l, which stands for “zichronam livracha/their memory should be for a blessing.” In Israel today, this custom of realizing blessing from memory has become a national practice of strengthening one another to extraordinary effect, giving one a sense that, despite the rest of reality, they are living in a sea of holiness. 

As many of you know, this past week I was privileged to participate in the Rabbinical Assembly convention of Conservative and Masorti rabbis from around the world, this year held in Jerusalem. It was an incredible program of Torah, poetry, creative expression, meeting colleagues, and, most important, encountering Israel and Israelis where they are now, 14 months into a war ignited by the Hamas invasion on October 7. I witnessed a range of spiritual, psychological, and social progress, as well as indelible questions that continue to stain the heart and soul of our extended family in Israel. One of the more profound developments since my trip there one year ago is everywhere I looked: stickers. 

Families and friends of victims and soldiers fallen since October 7 have taken to creating bumper-stickers with images of their loved one and a memorial epitaph, an expression that, to them, represents how their loved one lived his or her life. At Har Herzl, the military cemetery in Jerusalem, the grave of each soldier fallen since October 7 has become a holy space filled with color, poetry, mementos, photographs, and stacks of stickers for the taking. The intention is that people will take a sticker from the grave and put it somewhere, a park bench, their car, a public fence, not only spreading the glow of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen but also reminding you of the simple truths that make life so deep and meaningful, what these beautiful young people lived — and died — for. 

“One doesn’t need a reason to live joyfully.” “Easy paths do not lead to special places.” “Enjoy life and don’t forget to smile.” “Keep your light bright and shining — you never know for just how many people you may be a lighthouse.” 

Because I will unpack this powerful trip in my upcoming sermons, I will offer here a message I have come to appreciate about the holiday of Hanukkah: A festival of light is incomplete if we do not also pay attention to the shadows the light reveals. Israel has made incredible progress, but the war, the deaths, the existential threat persists, and they are woven into all aspects of life. Every day, Israelis insist on living life, insist on calling their political leaders to account, insist on remembering their fallen loved ones out loud — and insist we do so as well. This Hanukkah, as we light our menorah, let us remember that the Maccabees fought to be free to be their authentic selves despite a larger world seeking to snuff them and their traditions out, and that the fight to be free to be ourselves in our ancient homeland continues in earnest to this day. 

Let us also recount an Israeli song or poem written since October 7 or quote one of these stickers — of which there are far too many. Let us find ways to participate in addressing the shadows this war has unleashed and revealed. Most important, this Hanukkah, let us remember that we ourselves have the potential to unleash powerful light into the world and that this is our collective purpose as a people.  

“Keep your light bright and shining — you never know for just how many people you may be a lighthouse.” 

Wishing you and all you hold dear a Hanukkah celebration of light, healing, and hope. 

--Rabbi Katzan 

Dear Friends,

Since October 7, Jews around the world, and we at Mishkon, have taken to singing verses from the liturgy Acheinu kol beit Yisrael ha’netunim b’tzarah u’v’shivyah ha’omdim bein bayam u’vein bayabasha/To our brothers and sisters, all the House of Israel, those ensnared in trouble or held captive, whether at sea or on land … . The liturgy continues, imploring God’s intervention to bring the afflicted out of darkness, out from their anxiety and trauma and into the warmth of light and freedom. The soulful melody of Abie Rotenberg has helped turn this somewhat-obscure piece of liturgy into a unifying anthem of solidarity and prayer for solace.

Tonight, as Shabbat ended, I heard of Iran’s attack on Israel, a retaliation for Israel’s attack on an Iranian embassy in Syria. Hundreds of drones and missiles rained down on many parts of Israel but were nearly entirely thwarted by Israel’s defense systems and by American naval interceptions. So far, there are no fatalities and little damage in Israel. Thank God.

I know that many are on edge and worrying about where this will lead. Our feeling of vulnerability has been accentuated not only by the Hamas attacks of October 7 but also by strong feelings of abandonment. Most Jews alive today have no personal memory of these feelings of isolation and shattered trust. But our history and even our liturgy is shockingly aware of it. Painfully, this is not new.

But I am convinced that, despite the eruptions of anti-Semitic hatred and the makings of global conflict, the State of Israel and the Jewish people are strong and will be OK. We will come through this, and our future will be safe and secure.

The attack was announced by Iran as a retaliation for Israel’s strike — a response to months and years of Israel contending with Iran’s proxies of Hamas and Hezbollah. Pundits in Israel and elsewhere have understood that Iran had no choice but to make a big show of retaliation. But, they continue, Iran is not interested in an all-out war with Israel, let alone with the United States. As unsuccessful as this attack was, I get the feeling it was just serious enough for them to save face and to show their Islamist allies they are still a regional power to reckon with.

There are some very old festering hatreds and challenges, but there are also fresh opportunities for stability in the region as additional Arab states are realizing they have more to gain from an alliance with Israel than from holding on to old conflicts. Let us pray that these trends continue and succeed in being God’s agent in delivering us the safety and security we so desperately desire.

In just over a week, it will be Passover, when we recount being taken out from the narrows of oppression in Egypt and brought into the light of freedom and redemption. I can think of no better blessing for us to contemplate than the conclusion of “Acheinu,” Hamakom yerahem aliehem v’yotziem me’afela l’orah/May God have mercy on themand bring them out from trouble to tranquility, from darkness to light, from subjugation to redemption. May God bring the hostages home, and may we once again feel trust, security, and brotherhood among our neighbors and the international community.

 --Rabbi Katzan

Dear Friends,

The band Counting Crows sing, “A long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last…” For us as a global Jewish community, these words act more like a prayer. I must say, despite all the trauma, darkness, and horror we have absorbed, I am encouraged to believe that the coming year will indeed end up better than the last.

As you may know, I am in Israel now for two weeks volunteering. The aftermath of October 7th reverberates through the country, and the protracted mobilization of the army has left many fields untended, as it were, so I join the many volunteers coming to help fill the gaps. I have found there is much more going on in Israel than we realize.

A few days ago, I participated in project “Grilling for Hope” that prepares and serves BBQ meals to soldiers at bases around the country. We went to a base just outside of Gaza where shelling could be heard not too far away. This base is for reservist infantry soldiers, so their ages ranged dramatically. Underneath worn and dusty uniforms are regular people. But it seems there are few “regular people” in Israel. Each has palpable vitality and verve and are eager to build and create. As the soldiers approached and saw the many trays of grilled meats and salads, they seemed overcome and expressed sincere thanks. I felt emotional each time a soldier said thank you to me, as I was filled with profound gratitude for their service. I can’t do anything about Hamas. All I can do is support them in small ways, and they’re thanking me? I guess little things do matter. Underneath the volleys of gratitude is the gravity and reality of the moment: Israel, and by association the Jewish people, are at war. And it has brought us all close together.

Every morning at 6am the media publishes the names of soldiers who fell the day before. Communities around the country have established rituals of collecting along routes to the cemeteries with flags and their solemn presence. Here in Ra’anana, several young men from the community have been buried in recent weeks. Each story is of a vibrant, productive, beloved young person with tremendous potential who has been sacrificed in fighting an evil adversary for the sake of protecting and securing the country. Words fail to express what this means to this country.

There is a reason Israel has ascended so dramatically in 75 years. It is a country that, despite its decades of war, terrorism, and struggle, has a culture of hope. It may seem counterintuitive, but Israel is a country that is mysteriously driven by hope for the future. It is no surprise the national anthem is “Hatikvah/The Hope.”

Here, hope is lived. People marry relatively young and have over 3 children per household. Entrepreneurship seems to be a way of life. Despite the dramatic increase in material comforts, there remains an impressive amount of earthiness and grit among

Israelis. They spend time with each other more than they spend time on screens. Resilience is a reality.

When a population understands that each individual shares a common destiny with its community, that sense of responsibility inspires progress, growth, and, even in dark times, happiness. I see it and I feel it all around me.

For a better understanding of this, I commend to you the recent book by authors of “Start Up Nation,” Dan Senor and Saul Singer: “The Genius of Israel.” It came out just before October 7th, but their analysis of Israel holds up: Israel is an extraordinary country, and it will inspire each of us.

As 2023 comes to a close, let us be inspired by Israel with the audacity of hope that, as the song prays, “maybe this year will be better than the last.” 2024 is likely to be a lively year fraught with crazy politics, a major election, and the anxiety that a lot is beyond our control. So let us be blessed to pay closer attention to one another, to show up and spend more time together. Plan to have more Shabbat meals together, to volunteer a little more, to make more in-person dates with friends. And come more often to spend time together at Mishkon—together we’ll make our prayer a reality.

Wishing you and all you hold dear a healthy and joyous new year.

--Rabbi Katzan

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