The first Jewish woman is elected President of the United States. She calls her mother: "Mama, I've won the election, you've got to come to the swearing in ceremony."
"I don't know, what'll I wear?"
"Don't worry, I'll send you a wonderful dress maker."
"But how will I get there?"
"I'll send an airplane for you."
"But its such a shlep to the airport."
"Mama, I'll send a limousine to take you to the airport."
"And, what will I do when I get to Washington?"
"There'll be a helicopter waiting, and after the ceremony you'll come with me to a wonderful dinner party."
"But you know I only eat kosher."
"I'll make sure the food for you is kosher. Just come, Mama."
"Okay, Okay, if it makes yo happy."
The great day comes and Mama, beautifully dressed, is seated between two supreme court justices. She nudges the gentleman on her right and says, "You see that girl, the one with her hand on the Bible, being sworn in, well...her brother's a doctor!"
All jokes about Jewish mothers and politics aside, I am sure that Joe Lieberman's mother is beaming with pride, as are the rest of us, since Lieberman, an observant Jew, was chosen to be Al Gore's vice-presidential running mate. When we heard the news, we felt affected personally, because it reflects a completely new model of how a Jew can compete, and succeed in America. And isn't that one of the central messages of Rosh HaShannah, after all, that old patterns can be broken, and that newer and healthier ways of understanding ourselves can emerge?
I think it was Sam Levinson who once quipped that the first Jewish President would be an Episcopalian. Joe Lieberman, however, is not Madeline Albright, who really is an Episcopalian, although she refers fondly to her Jewish heritage. Nor is he, like most of the famous Americans we like to claim as our own, a marginal Jew who has compromised the tradition in order to pursue a secular path. No, this is an Ivy League educated guy who keeps Kosher at State dinners, and who walks to Shul every Shabbas. Hadassah, his wife, grew up in a Rabbinic family, the daughter of Holocaust survivors. Their daughter goes to day school, and Haddassah's son from her first marriage is studying to be a Rabbi at the Jewish Theological Seminary. (for which, incidentally, he turned down Yale Law School). To all of you who still think that Day Schools, Shabbat observance, or any of the other trappings of traditional Jewish life are obstacles to entering the mainstream, I say, look at the Liebermans.
There was such a giddy mixture of pride and apprehension after the selection was announced. Some people worried about an anti-semitic backlash. Even Alan Dershowitz, the author of "Hutzpah," a book about Jewish empowerment in American culture, had to field a phone call from his mother who called to ask, "So, Alan, is this good for the Jews, or bad for the Jews?"
Others hailed the moment as a pivotal victory for America, signifying that the glass ceiling of anti-semitism had decisively been shattered. A Washington Post staff writer began his column that morning:
To my mother,
somewhere in heaven
Dear Mom,
I know I haven't written or called to you very often since you died... but I gotta tell you what happened this month. You'll never believe it... but an observant Jew was nominated to be vice president of the United States!!!
I remember how you and Dad used to tell me about how you came to this country, because you wanted to live in a land where all people are equal, and all people have the same rights, and the same
respect...
you know what Mom, you were right.
And in the Wall Street Journal, Peggy Noonan who is a Republican and a Catholic, wrote about how choked up she and her friends were when they heard the news. She ended her column with the words, "Mazal Tov to America."
It is true- America is slowly and steadily fulfilling its promise to Jews, and to all of its minorities. White- glove firms that once excluded Catholics, Jews, women and Afro-Americans, have opened up to minorities, adopting a meritocracy more concerned with talent than lineage. And we have all but forgotten that hospitals like Beth Israel in Boston, or Mount Sinai in New York, were originally founded because Jewish doctors couldn't get privileges in other hospitals. To my generation, those days seem like ancient history. The road that brought us to this point, however, has been harder that we would like to admit, and filled with more compromises than we care to count. We have made it in America. But making it has changed us, and it is some of those changes that I would like us to think about today.
Cohen goes to court one day to petition the judge. "Judge," he says, "I want to change my name to O'Malley. I just purchased a bar in an Irish neighborhood, and I think it will be good for business."
"Mr. Cohen," replies the judge: " Who do you think you will be fooling by changing your name to O'Malley? Surely, you don't have to resort to such a subterfuge."
"Judge, I've made up my mind." So he changes his name.
Two weeks later, Cohen is back in court, wanting to change his name again. "Ah Mr. Cohen," says the judge, "I see you've reconsidered. You want to do the sensible thing and reclaim your name".
"No," says Cohen, "I want to change it to O'Reilley."
" What are you talking about? If changing your name to O'Malley didn't improve your circumstances, why do you think changing your name to O'Reilley will work any better?"
" No judge, its just that when they ask me, what was your name, before you changed it, I want I should be able to say it was O'Malley!"
Its an old joke, but it reflects a slice of reality in American Jewish life. In our effort to blend in, Jews changed their names more than any other group. Surely, the families of many of us sitting in this room adopted new names after arriving in America. How many of your families changed their names, so that you or your father, or grandfather could get into professional school? My father in law is a doctor. His name used to be Rabinowitz, but he changed it to Robins to help him circumvent the Jewish quotas when he applied to Medical School. That story is common. But I wonder sometimes if the admissions officers were really fooled by this ruse- didn't they know that Robins was Rabinowitz, or that Caine was really Cohen? Or was it enough for them to make our families forsake this piece of our identity- was this capitulation what they really demanded as the price of admission into America?
Anne Roiphe, author of Generation Without Memory, relates that her mother's family name, which was changed to "Phillips" when her grandparents came to America, was intentionally and irretrievably lost to her. Her mother had heard the grown ups utter it- only once- when she was a child, but was made to swear under the threat of curses never to reveal it. And so she never did, not even on her death bed.
Lately," Roiphe writes, "I was wondering if not knowing the real name was not a form of curse too. What was the family shame? What was the terrible secret? Was it nothing more than being Jewish and foreign?... Was it perhaps some paranoid belief that the czar's army could reach over the waves and recall its deserters...Or was this wiping out of the name simply an expression of the eagerness to become American, to undo the greenhorn condition, to forget what humiliations had been and enter a new world, with a clean slate, where one need not follow in one's father's footsteps...?"
Today, we walk comfortably in our American shoes. We are health professionals, teachers and lawyers...and even vice presidential candidates. But we have compromised our tradition and traded away pieces of our heritage along the way. My father's father, Menachem Monis Liben, came to this country as a poor teenager. My grandmother, Golde, was five years old. In America, they became Morris and Gertrude. They named their children Mildred, Sydney, Norman, and Stanley. Its funny that we have come to think of these very Anglo-Saxon names as Jewish. Think about it. If I didn't know these people myself, I'd swear they were the characters in the latest Masterpiece Theatre costume drama. (Lady Gertrude, Lord Stanley is waiting for you in the drawing room)!
In marked contrast, who would have expected that the first Jewish couple campaigning for the White House would be Joseph and Hadassah! Most Americans never even met a person named Hadassah! Do you remember who Hadassah was in the Bible? That was Queen Esther's Hebrew name. Yes, Queen Esther had two names, one she used in public, and her Jewish name, which she used in private, as many of us still do today. "Esther" was a originally a Babylonian name, derived from a pagan god, "Ishtar." The Rabbis, however, see a connection to the Hebrew word, Seter- which means hidden, because Esther, like the maranos of the Middle Ages, hid her Jewish identity while living in the palace.
Some of the highly successful Jewish professionals I know remind me of Esther in the palace. The pay is good, but there is tremendous pressure to conform. And whether the accepted image is the grey flannel suit, or khaki casual, it is better to fit that image, dressing, behaving and working the same hours as everyone else. Taking off for the lesser known holidays, or truly making the Sabbath a day of rest, or even allowing oneself seven days of shiva after a death, can in some offices brand one as a slacker. As a Rabbi, I don't have to make the workplace compromises that most of you regularly face, so its easy for me to talk. But I have learned the following from listening and talking to others. First, the sad truth is that Jewish bosses and co-workers are often less accommodating than non-Jews. Some of them feel threatened by Jews whose priorities and choices are different from their own. Congregants have called me frantically on Erev Yom Kippur asking my help, because a Jewish employer would not let them leave work early enough to make Kol Nidre. Jews in the workplace have to support each other's right to make room for Jewish practice in their lives. For if we don't, how can we expect others to do so?
Non- Jewish offices are often more accommodating. Each year, my wife circulates a calendar of Jewish holidays, and educates her office concerning the days on which she cannot work. And they don't dare question the significance of holidays with exotic names like Shavuot or Sukkot. Actually, what really confuses them is why she shows up to work on Chanukah!
These days, there is not a single lunch meeting that Fran attends at which she is not accommodated with a Kosher or vegetarian option. These days, her law firm will at least schedule meetings around the Passover Seder, in order not to inconvenience Jewish associates, and even occasionally reschedule functions around Shabbat, in order to accommodate the only Shomeret Shabbat in the firm, my wife.
Twenty years ago, these modest accommodations for a religious Jew would not have been thinkable in that work environment. That's how much things have begun to change. And the presence of high profile observant Jews, such as Lieberman, but hardly limited to him, make it easier for all of us who need to explain and interpret Jewish observance to the outside world.
I kvelled this summer, listening to National Public Radio commentators explaining Tisha B'Av. And on TV, Tom Brokaw was talking about Pikuach Nefesh and Shabbat observance!
Have you seen the bumbersticker that says, "Gore-Lieberman 5761." I love it, politics aside, for the cultural statement that it makes. It says that a Jew today can be fully engaged in the American political process, can keep faith with our covenant with America as citizens of this country, and at the same time see life fully through the prism of Jewish time, space and meaning.
Being Jewish and being American is no longer a zero sum game.
In the twenty first century, one doesn't have to curtail one in order to give fullness to the other.
Let me share a secret with you. When I first heard the news about Lieberman' selection (I happen to be a Gore supporter), you know what my first reaction was? "Oh God, no! What were Gore's advisors thinking? What, do they really think that the rest of America is like New England?"
But I was wrong. Polls and pundits continue to attest that Americans respect Lieberman for his religious convictions, even if they do not share them. It was true for conservative Catholics in Connecticut who supported Lieberman in the Senate, and it appears to be true across America. And we know it to be true from our own experience. People respect us when we take our religion seriously. They think better of us, and of Judaism, when they see that we are willing to inconvenience ourselves for what we believe. We call that "Kiddush Hashem" in our tradition: Sanctifying God's name.
When Hadassah Lieberman was growing up in Gardener, her parents didn't permit her to attend school dances on Friday nights. Her place was at home, with her family, at the Sbabbas dinner table. So in her senior year, her friends petitioned the school to move the prom to Saturday night. And the school did. For the benefit of one observant Jewish girl.
If we petitioned our local high school to do the same, would we have a consistent record of Shabbat observance, of loyalty to our tradition, of Kiddush Hashem, to back up our request?
We elevated Sandy Koufax to hero status because he wouldn't pitch the World Series on Yom Kippur. At the time, it felt like an overwhelming statement of Jewish self- assertion. But that was one game in an entire career. When Joe Lieberman was nominated for the Senate, he taped his own acceptance speech in advance and had it played in absentia, rather than break Shabbas. And, barring issues of Pikuach Nefesh, issues in which lives hang in the balance, Lieberman consistently chooses Shabbat and family over the United States Senate, every single week.
Remember that the next time you have to choose between Little League tryouts or Shabbat, or between sending your kid to school and going to the office, or coming as a family to Shul on a midweek YomTov. We have opportunities to express our Jewishness, to reinforce its importance in our lives, and to Sanctify God's name, every time we make those difficult choices. But we don't earn anyone's respect when we fail to meet those challenges.
I think that the biggest challenge today is an internal one. It used to be that anti-semitism would not let us forget that we were a people set apart. But America, as the Lieberman phenomenon underscores, is different. Virtually all doors are open to us, and nothing is forcing us to stay Jewish. We are all Jews by Choice. What kind of Jews will we choose to be?
Forget about anti-semitism. Forget even about our debt to those who died in the Holocaust. What are the positive reasons that will inspire us and families, to choose a more Jewish life, even though it takes serious effort to do so?
O.K... How might Joseph Lieberman answer that question? At his 35th Yale Class reunion, the writer Gail Sheehy conducted a survey of the group, in which she asked, "what do you do to relax?" Lieberman surprised himself by answering, "I observe the Sabbath." In his book, In Praise of Public Life, Lieberman elaborates:
"In the helter-skelter push and pull of Senate life, Hadassah and I have found that our religious observances provide very welcome relief, particularly the Sabbath...It is a day a part when my family and I are able to reconnect with one another and with our spiritual selves, to pray, to talk, to read, to rest or just to plain enjoy ourselves... In fact, I usually don't wear a watch on the Sabbath. I treasure that time, twenty four hours of no meetings, no telephone calls, no television, no radio, no travelling, no business of any sort."
For Lieberman, Shabbat is part of a larger picture of Judaism which, in his words, provides "a foundation, order, and purpose to my life. My parents, and my Rabbi...taught me that our lives are a gift from God...and with it came a covenental obligation to serve God with gladness by living as best as we could, according to the law and values that God gave Moses at Sinai. The summary of our aspirations was in the Hebrew phrase, tikkun olam, which is translated as "to improve the world," or, "to repair the world," or more boldly, "to complete the Creation which God began."
Tikkun Olam- to complete the creation which God began. The Lieberman family may need the Sabbath to create a respite from their busy lives, as we all do. But their Judaism is not compartmentalized, separate from the rest of their life. No, it motivates and infuses Joe Lieberman's political career and his daily life with meaning.
I think we all want what he has- a life in which the meaning of our work, our family, and our personal aspirations cohere and add up to something greater than ourselves. And, as we enter the year 5761 in America, there are many other people who want it to. Do you remember the Jenna Elfman character in last spring's movie, Keeping the Faith? She was a cell phone-toting yuppie professional who worked so hard that, in her words, if God had hired her, he would have finished creation in five days. But she comes to realize that her hectic life cannot hide its emptiness. She is attracted to the Rabbi in the film because the Jewish commitments and faith that give him grounding and meaning.
The message in the Lieberman candidacy for 5761 is that Marrano Judaism is over. We no longer need to make excuses for our Jewishness, or to relegate it to a discrete corner of our lives. People respect, and are interested in the message we have to bear. Its time reclaim that tradition and that message for our own.
That message is found in a three and a half thousand year-old covenant of Torah, in a practical embrace of life, and in a vision of tikkun olam: of being partners with God in perfecting the future. These are gifts that we have to offer to America, and to ourselves. In a world starved for substance and meaning, Judaism can give us the foundation and wholeness that we crave. Its not always simple, its demanding. You have to learn Hebrew and study ancient texts, and rearrange your life around a sacred calendar that is different from you neighbors; but you didn't really think that the important things in life would come cheap...
Do you remember the words of the Safam song, World of Our Fathers? Its about the Jewish immigrant experience in America. The final verse goes: "There were times, so many times when I feared that all was lost. We had come so far so fast, that I wondered what the cost. But now I see my father's world begin to rise In my great grand-children's eyes."
My friends, we are the great grandchildren. This year, study with us. Celebrate with us. Let the Jewish calendar and life cycle begin to give shape and meaning to your days. Together, we can begin to fulfil the words of the Mahzor: "L'taken olam bemalchut Shaddai: to perfect the world under the Kingdom of Heaven."
LESHANNAH TOVAH TIKATEIVU V'TICHATEIMU