CHRONICLE CHRONICLE CHRONICLE - Temple Israel

Rabbi Kaplan
Dear Friends,
I offered
these remarks at
the B’nai Mitzvah
of Mallory and
Joshua Lefkowitz,
and I’d like to
share them with
you. They were
my reactions to
the ceremony held on the steps of the
Ohav Zedek synagogue before the anti-
Semitic graffiti was removed:
I should take this opportunity to
address the unfortunate matter of the
anti-Semitic graffiti that was removed
from the Ohav Zedek synagogue last
week. There were a number of
messages given at the gathering on the
steps of the synagogue last Thursday,
and they were not the same message.
The entire community gathered to show
support and solidarity; clergy and
neighbors and county and state
representatives, Jews and Gentiles alike.
It was impressive, and it was
heartwarming. I received many e-mails
and phone calls from concerned
members of the community and
beyond, including from a non-Jewish
family from our area now living in
Mexico.
But despite the solidarity and the
outpouring of support, the messages
were not consistent. Nobody said they
had to be, but it was interesting
listening to how different people
reacted so differently to the hurtful
words spray painted on the doors
behind them.
One of the messages was the
familiar theme of never again. We won’t
let this heinous crime happen again.
We will find the perpetrators and we
will bring them to justice, we will send
the message that this must not repeat
itself in our community. Another was
that hatred still exists in our ranks, and
we must root it out and quash it. The
words hate and hatred resounded from
the podium that day.
Some of the speakers spoke with
determination, and some with anger in
their voices. There was palpable anger
in the air. Anger at the hatred, anger
that someone would dare to violate
sacred space. Anger that the memory of
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the Holocaust was being stirred up. We
weren’t the ones doing the stirring. In
other words, each year we recall the
Holocaust on Yom HaSho’ah, as we will
again at the end of this month. Each
year we bring back to mind the images
of those flames as we light six candles
to memorialize the six million who
were slaughtered. Each year we hand
out yellow stickers that remind us of the
yellow patches our forbears were forced
to wear to identify themselves as Jews.
But each year we do this of our
own volition, we don’t expect to walk
up the steps of our synagogue and see
those reminders emblazoned on the
doors of our holy sanctuary. It wasn’t
the sign of the Jewish star that so
offended us, it was that it was put there
with the intent to intimidate, with the
intent to remind us.
And we also heard a message of
hope, a simple assurance that we can
end the anger and we can end the
animosity and that will happen when
we take the first step. We must give up
on our anger, we must end the hatred
by making sure that we do not hate.
That means, not even to hate the
perpetrator who did this hateful act.
I don’t think that message got
through to most of the crowd. Because
after it was delivered, the mayor was
introduced, along with a string of
accolades about our local law
enforcement, and then we were told
that those who committed this heinous
crime had been caught, and even
named publicly in front of us and the
TV cameras, and there was sincere
applause. But when I looked down from
those doors at the applauding crowd
below, for a moment I imagined that
they were holding pitchforks and
torches, almost calling for blood.
I know I was just imagining it. I
know that people were relieved. I was
relieved that it wasn’t the work of some
sinister neo-Nazi gang rearing its ugly
head in our community. But my mood
immediately changed and I began to
focus on the two teenage girls who had
brought this community together in
solidarity, although that wasn’t their
goal, I’m sure.
And while many were stunned to
hear that it was done by two teenage
girls, we needn’t be stunned anymore.
It’s true that Mallory stands on our
pulpit next to her brother, and they both
chant from the Torah and Haftorah as
equals, although Mallory is much
prettier than her handsome brother. But
the pride we have in the egalitarianism
that we value in our Jewish ritual is not
the pride we have that we now are
witness to teenage girls committing
horrible crimes and violent acts that we
have heretofore only associated with
unbridled young men.
Yesterday’s national news included
a group of teenage girls who proudly
videotaped themselves luring an
unsuspecting peer into a home to be
beaten and broken for thirty minutes by
her fellow students. She lies in a
hospital bed recovering from the
injuries inflicted with malice and
contempt by girls who have learned to
behave like criminals.
Blurring the differences between
boys and girls, between men and
women has its consequences. Some of
them are good, but some of them are
not. We have lost sight of one of our
most important roles as parents and
teachers of the next generation, to instill
in our young men the respect and
honor that is part of becoming a
gentleman, and to inculcate in our
young women the grace and maturity
and sophistication that is part of
becoming a lady. Youtube does not
teach our children to become ladies
and gentlemen. Myspace does not
encourage the values of ages past that
generate a civil and honorable citizenry.
Judaism plays its part, and today we
are all a part of that education. A young
man must take time from his sports
regimen, from his academic endeavors,
and sit and learn a Prophetic scriptural
reading in an ancient language and
then dress in clothing to which he is not
accustomed and stand before a
congregation and chant those ancient
words. And a young woman must
dismount from the horseback riding she
loves and take time from her young life
and friends and study for this day where
she stands before her family and
community dressed like a princess, and
together they must, for a few hours at
least, behave like the perfect gentleman
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