MegilLA: The Inauguration Edition
January 22, 2021
Folks,
Oy, my pillow. Yes, MyPillow. I must confess, I have been sleeping on Trump devotee Mike Lindell’s invention for nearly four years. When we purchased them at the Ventura County Fair, soon after Trump’s election, we didn’t know about their political pedigree. “You won’t believe the night’s sleep you will get on them,” said the salesperson. Little did she know that the new pillows would usher in a four-year break from reality in which we wanted to sleep all the time. Some nights I would pound it, hoping to knock out some of its puffery. Some nights, my pillow seemed to mock me, responding to my night prayer of "Let not my dreams disturb me," by trumpeting “my-my-my” in my ear. Like one of our forefathers, who once put his head down to sleep on a rock, I wrestled with my angels: Should I keep my pillow? Or toss it away? Finally, I knew its days were numbered, when on the day of Biden’s inauguration, my wife told me it was time to pick up something new on which to rest our weary heads. Good-bye, my pillow. Good night, new pillow. Bring me many pleasant dreams.
…And I do not want to say good-by to you as well. In this time, when we can feel a little hope, and want to know more about the growing light around us, please help keep my lights on— become a paid subscriber. It’s been wonderful having you as free readers, but I cannot continue without your financial support, nor can I can continue to carry you. Please push the SUBSCRIBE button below.
Shabbat shalom.
Edmon J. Rodman
GUIDE FOR THE JEWPLEXED
Teshuva: The vaccine for hardening of the heart
Edmon J. Rodman
During his inaugural speech, President Joseph R. Biden, drawing upon the Book of Exodus, tasked Americans with a difficult challenge. “We must end this uncivil war that pits red against blue, rural versus urban, conservative versus liberal. We can do this if we open our souls instead of hardening our hearts,” said Biden.
Oh, yes, “hardening our hearts.” Though we recall from the Bible, that as a result of Pharaoh’s hardened heart, God brings down the 10 Plagues upon Egypt, our hearts still tighten when we think of recent events.
The hard truth is that opening our souls and moving towards understanding, or even forgiveness, for those who denied the truth of the election, and the mob who attacked the Capitol, as well as our freedom and way of life, may be, at this moment, an impossible ask.
It’s good and generous for our new leader to ask us to open to forgiveness, but then there is the stuff, worse than any cholesterol, which makes our hearts grow harder by the day.
In reading the reactions many Americans had to the violation of Capitol building, words like “sacred,” “temple,” and “tabernacle,” were often used. The mob with their deathly violence, destruction, and disrespect, touched an unseen chord that has caught our ear, and turned it, especially for Jews, into an alarm.
Even with a change of mode from our new leader, can we ever get that shrieking siren out of our heads? Can we find a way to forgive, even through the coming excuses?
My favorite excuse stems from the alleged actions of Aaron Mostofsky, son of a New York Judge. Seen in videos inside the Capitol building draped head-to-toe in fur pelts, and wearing a government bulletproof vest, he was arrested on federal charges of theft of government property, unlawful entry of a restricted building and disorderly conduct. In an interview with the Gothamist, Mostofsky’s older brother, Neil Mostofsky, said his brother was “pushed inside” the building.
Just a thought: If you don’t want to get pushed inside a building, don’t stand in the midst of an angry mob doing its damndest to get in.
Then there’s: “Invading the Capitol wasn’t any different than the Black Lives Matter protests.” MegilLA thoroughly covered the destruction wrought by the demonstrators in the Fairfax district; it was wrong. But it was a street protest, not a mob action bent on stopping Congress, or worse. There were no deaths, or the beating of policemen. The next morning, many of the same demonstrators were back at the scene helping to clean up.
Also, how do we not harden our hearts to those proclaiming their anti-Semitism during the riot? We have all seen the photo of the man wearing the “Camp Auschwitz” sweat shirt, and the Nazi salutes; not a lot of soul opening being engendered there.
At some point, I may be ready to unharden my heart, but I will need to see and hear a few things first.
As a guide, Judaism has a lot to say about forgiveness; about the path. Just saying “sorry” doesn’t cut it. A person cannot expect forgiveness unless they sincerely undergo teshuvah, a Hebrew word meaning “repentance” or “return.” Teshuvah is hard, requiring self-examination, and engagement with the victim. A confession is central to the process, as well as an expression of sincere regret. The person must also attempt to set things right.
Court ordered enrollment in courses on the Constitution and Holocaust Studies could be a start, and if someone can devise one: A course on separating fact from fiction. Supervised community service also needs to be a component of repentance.
Not that any of the soon-to-be convicted mob members will be reading pamphlets on teshuvah while serving their time. But presidential directive or no, I need to hear and see some form of repentance from them and others involved before the very heart of my being begins to unclench.
As for the leaders and inciters of the mob, each year at Yom Kippur, we pound our hearts during the Al Cheyt, for leading others astray. In their case, as part of teshuvah, we need to see some sincere heart beating in the form of stepping down from office, or in the case of former President Trump, never serving in office again.
During the inauguration, when Los Angeles poet Amanda Gorman, holding out a branch of hope, said that “Everyone will sit under their own fig tree, and no one will be afraid,” she was taking off from the words of the prophet Micah.
In LA where fig trees are plentiful, we have learned to cherish the yearly spread of their large shade-binging leaves, and the sweet taste of their fruit.
With Tu B’Shvat, the New Year of the Trees, coming up next Wednesday evening on January 27, Gorman’s reference was a reminder that when beauty in words and nature combine, they bring renewal.
Torah on the Streets of LA
When the final plague, death of the first born, is set upon the land of Egypt in Bo, this week’s Torah portion, we cannot help but think of the deadly virus that is now in our land. It’s a dark piece of Torah, that usually, we only revisit at the seder. But today, with a new plague, the first born, the oldest, are once again in jeopardy. Then, lamb’s blood, apparently in good supply, smeared over your doorway was a lifesaver. In our time, government agencies tell us there’s not enough vaccine to go around. It should be recalled, however, this last deadly plague won our freedom. Can the mobilization of our society to defeat the Coronavirus do the same? A mural by artist Corie Mattie, part of the “Doheny Wall” at the rear of 470 N. Doheny, suggests that to stay safe from the plague, what we need to do is change our behavior. In a four-word sermon, the mural leads us on the first steps to a safe exodus. “Cancel Plans. Not Humanity,” it says. That, and an increased supply of “lamb’s blood” will be helpful.
Sworn in on Jewish history
When Jon Ossoff, the first Jewish senator from Georgia, took the oath of office Wednesday, he swore it on a Hebrew Bible. The Chumash, once owned by Jacob Rothschild, the mid-20th century leader of Atlanta’s historic Hebrew Benevolent Congregation, served as a reminder of the congregation whose opposition to segregation helped unite Atlanta’s Jewish community.
From 1946 until his death in 1973, Jacob Rothschild served as rabbi at Atlanta’s oldest and most prominent synagogue, also known as “the Temple.” Throughout his rabbinate, “Rothschild forged close relationships with members of the city's Christian clergy, helped to engineer Atlanta's moderate political consensus, and distinguished himself as a charismatic spokesperson for civil rights,” according to the Georgia Encyclopedia.
As a result of its stand on civil rights, in 1958, the temple was bombed by white supremacists.
During the early 1960s, Rothschild became friends with Martin Luther King, and when King received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, the rabbi helped to organize a city-sponsored banquet in King's honor.
Speaking after the swearing-in, Rabbi Peter S. Berg, the current senior rabbi of the Temple, told The Washington Post, “It’s a special honor to have had Rabbi Rothschild’s Bible brought into the Senate chamber and in some small way to honor the work that he did with Dr. King to make this a better world.”
If you missed it on MLK Day, a short video I wrote and narrated about the long, complicated, and often fulfilling relationship between LA's Blacks and Jews, was shown as part of the live-streaming of "If Not Now," a multicultural interfaith tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It's a rich and timely program produced by Craig Taubman. My contribution, titled "Black and Jewish Embrace," begins just before the 11 minute mark. See it HERE.
Seen on the Way - Magic Mountain COVID-19 Vaccine Site
Sheesh. All those Coens.