We all remember
where we were August first, when the I-35 bridge collapse became
news. We each have our own narrative – where we were,
who we were with. Some were at a baseball game, others at the
Guthrie. We were here at Temple in meetings; some of you were
at home. We all have our narratives. And each of us was called
by out of town friends and relatives to make sure that we were
all right and to ask our own narratives about where we were.
As time and moments
went on, we began to hear the narratives of the people who were
on the bridge. None of us will ever forget the yellow bus tilting
on concrete. It had dropped thirty feet - an amazing thing to
witness. We will never forget the stories of those 50 children
who were taken off one by one by a young youth director, and
the bus driver who was injured making a safe stop. She said
it was like the bus was given wings by God.
We heard about the
young, Jewish man who, thinking it was the end, recited the
words traditionally said: the Shema. We heard the story of the
Somali woman with her young child, the Greek dancer who had
so much ahead of her, a new love, a wonderful life. And we heard
about the father of four who successfully got out of his own
car, but died trying to help others. He died as he had lived
his life – helping others.
This is such a poignant
story for us. It is because it is in our community. It is right
here. We all have driven on that bridge. We all could have been
there – it could have been any one of us. We understand
the randomness of life in this experience.
We also heard the
incredible stories – many stories from this congregation:
the story of someone stopping at McDonald’s, putting their
car five minutes behind the bridge collapse; the person who
was in such a hurry, they decided to not stop at a planned destination,
and so they continued on their journey and put themselves five
minutes ahead of the bridge collapse.
It’s amazing
to think of the appropriate response to such a tragic reality.
In this congregation, we responded the way we’ve responded
to many other tragedies – to 9/11, to the Tsunami, to
Katrina, to all the things that happen in the world. What did
we do? We extended ourselves out to our interfaith community
and prayed together.
Within 24 hours of
the bridge collapse, we were here, praying together. There was
a reading from the Koran that was beautifully chanted, there
was a reading from the New Testament, there was Protestant liturgy
and the recitation of a song heard in many churches, “On
Eagles’ Wings.” And yes, we sang the Misheberach
in Hebrew. Imam Hamdi El-Saraf, a close friend, said at that
service: “When a concrete and steel bridge goes down,
we must build a human bridge.” And that night, we built
a human bridge. It was healing and amazing. A man came up to
me immediately following the service - in a gray shirt, and
I’m not sure why I remember his shirt, but I do - and
he said to me, “Rabbi, thank you. I was riding my bicycle
and was a first unofficial responder and I cannot get the sights
and the sound, and the deafening silence out of my head. Thank
you. Thank you for helping me through it. I needed these words
and I didn’t even know it.” It was a powerful experience.
A few weeks later
I was invited to speak at the dedication of the new mosque on
the north side. You should know that the Minneapolis landscape
is very different today than it was yesterday. Mosque Masjid
An-nur, which means “mosque of light,” has been
built in the traditional architecture, a mosque that resembles
mosques that we have seen throughout the world: a dome and a
minaret, and it is beautiful in its simplicity. We gathered
in the sanctuary – Jews, Christians, Muslims, and we celebrated
a new beginning for this community. And there, the bridge became
even more poignant for me. When I got up to speak, I said, “The
bridge knew no distinctions. There were Muslims, there were
Jews, there were Christians on that bridge. And so, we as a
community must gather together to create that human bridge that
Imam Hamdi spoke about in order to make this world a better
place.”
We, people of several
faiths, joined with one voice in response to that accident,
that tragedy. But in today’s reality, interfaith dialogue
is getting more difficult and there isn’t one voice any
longer. And so I want to spend this Rosh Hashanah speaking with
you and talking about the commitment our congregation has made
to interfaith dialogue.
Rabbi Minda made
the choice to place the entrance to this sanctuary on Hennepin
Avenue to inform the community that Jews and Judaism were here
to stay. We, as a congregation, are going to be present in our
world, are going to be involved in interfaith dialogue. We face
Hennepin Avenue so that the churches down the street will look
up and know that we are a presence.
And let me tell you,
when we come together, it is wonderful, but it can also be a
struggle. I see both optimism and pessimism as I look out from
2007, from this new year of Rosh Hashanah, to what interfaith
dialogue will look like in the future. Forty plus years after
the Vatican II, there is a great deal of optimism. We as a Jewish
community feel blessed that Vatican II opened doors to dialogue
that had not ever been opened before. It has allowed us to be
in communication with the Catholic community.
We are lucky to have
a close relationship with the Basilica of St. Mary. Father O’Connell
has spoken from this pulpit many, many times. He has spoken
about Judaism, and his love for our people. He taught us about
Catholicism. I have been invited to the Basilica on Good Friday,
one of the holiest days in the Catholic calendar, to tell the
story of the Jewish people, as was Rabbi Edelheit, when he was
the Senior Rabbi here. On that night, the church collection
is gathered and given to the Holocaust museum. I have spoken
at the Basilica on many Sunday mornings. I was invited to be
a presence, to be a friend. Father O’Connell is a trustworthy
friend, and I know that John Bauer, the person who is succeeding
Father O’Connell, will continue in that tradition. The
Oratorio, for all of us who heard that magnificent piece, “To
be Certain of the Dawn” was a culmination of the years
of relationship with the Basilica. Together, we addressed the
horror of the Holocaust and opened ourselves to the hope of
the future. It was truly a time of healing and understanding
between our two communities.
Pope John Paul II
was a powerful leader in interfaith dialogue and loved the Jewish
community. It’s interesting to note that the Latin word
for “pope,” pontiff, means “bridge builder.”
That’s exactly what a leader should be. I have concerns
about the Catholic community which are shared by some Catholics,
as well. Under Benedict XVI, there’s a movement towards
a more conservative tradition. This manifests religiously, but
may be seen politically as well. We’ve seen him bring
Latin mass back, and make statements about Jews and the history
of Jews which seem to be moving us backward, not forward. Pope
Benedict XVI has presented a supersessonist experience and perspective:
a belief that the one way to God is through Catholicism. I’m
concerned about an uncertain future.
Our relationship
with the Protestant community also holds hopes and concerns.
Reform Jews have a deep history with mainline Liberal Protestant
congregations. We have a long mutual history of work for social
justice, ending poverty and homelessness, and making the world
around us a better place. We hold common the belief in an evolution
of liturgy and of scripture, understanding that interpretation
continues with time. There’s a long history here between
Temple Israel and the Protestant churches on Hennepin Avenue.
It is something to be proud of.
But of course, my
concerns center around Israel. I believe there’s been
a breach in our relationship, for many mainline Liberal Protestant
congregations articulate a concern and a critique, of Israel
as an aggressor, seemingly not understanding how we as Jews,
feel a connection and love for the Jewish state. I am concerned
by the attitude that I have experienced in those congregations
from many of the people in the pews - that they believe they
have an answer, that they are part of finding a solution. There’s
a great deal of complexity in the Protestant community today
between mainline Liberal Protestant congregations and the Evangelical
community. I think sometimes we are caught in the middle when
there is a conversation about Israel.
The Evangelical community’s
stance on Israel is an interesting one as we emerge into the
future. I do appreciate and applaud their support for Israel.
It means a lot to me, especially in this growing unfriendly
environment towards the Jewish state. They seem to be changing
a perspective on the Jews, our place when the Messiah comes,
but we don’t have a history with this community, so I
don’t know exactly whether to believe the words that they
say when they have such a long history of belief that Jews will
be left out when the Messiah comes. I have a concern about their
literal reading of scripture, as Reform Jews that‘s problematic
for us. We understand scripture in the context of history, not
in the literal words that are there. And I am ultimately concerned
about their assertion that it is the Jewish-Christian coalition,
and only that coalition, that is necessary for the future. In
today’s world, I believe we have to include the Muslim
world and community. In my mind, we will not find any solution
if we isolate ourselves from the Islamic community.
The Muslim community
is an interesting place to be. There are a lot of positive experiences
we’ve had, and interestingly enough, they couldn’t
have happened without 9/11. When 9/11 happened, the Muslim community
realized that they needed to bridge the gap that was happening
between themselves and the rest of the religious communities.
Imam Makram El-Amin and I have served on more panels since that
time than I ever experienced prior to 9/11. And Imam Hamdy El-Saraf
also made his way in our community. Our friendships are deep
and wonderful.
I’m not sure
if any of you know, but at Blake School this past year, there
was a Jordanian exchange student who wrote a vitriolic column
in the student newspaper about Israel. The school called me,
and so, I asked Imam Hamdy El-Saraf, who is from Egypt originally,
to come into a 9th grade classroom to speak about Israel. It
was an amazing class, not only for the students who were there,
but the Jordanian young woman came up to us afterwards and was
in awe to see the two of us discuss Israel, to really listen
to our strong feelings and beliefs about the Middle East, and
to be able to disagree, but to continue to believe that the
utmost goal is peace. She couldn’t believe the experience
that these children had in Minneapolis. I, too, was moved. It
was an amazing experience for me to hear an Egyptian-born Imam
validate my love for Israel. And I know it was a powerful moment
for him when I assured him that I believe in a two-state solution,
that the Palestinian people will have a state of their own.
We walked out closer than ever.
As you can see in
our program today, there’s an opportunity to go to the
Mosque on Saturday evening, September 22nd, to break the fast
together. Ramadan begins today, just as Rosh Hashanah does,
and they will be on their 10th day of Ramadan. Our communities
will break the fast together. I invite you to join us. I know
there are strong traditions about breaking the fast, but please,
make an exception for this year. It is crucial that we be together.
We’ll break bread together, we will pray together in the
new Mosque.
It’s a wonderful
thing to look at both the positive and the negative of our communities.
It is a complex world, but it is interesting to note that it
is the Muslim and Jewish communities that often have a problematic
source. When I went to Israel with twelve colleagues of mine,
it was really my relationship with Imam Makram that came under
the most political fire. We got caught in the political atmosphere
of the place. We arrived in Israel. It was fifteen hours of
travel, as many of you know who have been there before. He was
not allowed to enter into Israel, but was taken in for questioning.
Now, I understand the security issues, and I absolutely support
Israel and those security concerns, but I have to say that seeing
my friend being taken away was hurtful, and was very problematic
for us as we went forward.
I, on the other hand,
was not able to go into Bethlehem with the rest of the group
because I was told that at 11:30 at night prior to our journey
into Bethlehem that there was the possibility, according to
the IDF, that a Jewish civilian would be kidnapped there at
that time. I decided it would not be a good idea, and the IDF
agreed with me. But again, my friend was very disappointed that
I wasn’t able to see the Palestinian side and hear from
the Palestinians who live in Bethlehem. It created a tension.
But I promise you we continue to work towards understanding
one another. Neither of us is willing to leave the table.
There are amazing
things that we do in our interfaith community. We have the interfaith
forums every year, and it is a wonderful opportunity for dialogue.
But I have to say, the demographic of people who come are people
who are thoughtful, are great, and are usually 60 years and
plus. That represents a problem. Not that we don’t love
to have them – they are very aware of the issues, but
what I am concerned about are the 20 and 30 year olds, who assume
diversity is a part of their world, but have never really gotten
into the complicated conversations that you have to get into
when you really want to be in relationship with someone who
is different than yourself.
And so, my hope is
to create a program - and we’ve just begun talking about
it - where we take people from each community, the same number,
in their 20’s and 30’s, and we take a year to study.
First studying about their own traditions, and then being in
dialogue with leaders such as the downtown colleagues of mine.
And that then we will take that trip to Jerusalem, to the Galilee,
and to Bethlehem together. So that we can encourage our young
people to understand the complexity and the dynamic of interfaith
dialogue.
It is a difficult
world out there. There are moments of hope, and there are moments
of frustration. I know that this congregation will remain a
part of this dialogue, even when it gets difficult.
Peter Hausmann, who’s
the man who died helping others, was a wonderful person. And
when his daughter came back from doing social justice work at
a youth group event in Louisiana, she came back feeling very
let down. The poverty there was so invasive and evasive, was
so complicated, and she did so little while she was there. And
when she returned, he said to her, “You didn’t save
the world, but I know you saved somebody’s world.”
That is what our relationships are all about. We as a congregation
might not be able to save the world, but one by one by one by
one, we will be the Jewish voice at the table, we will be the
Jewish voice with pride and care, and we will listen to the
other voices so that we can all come together and perhaps make
this world better. There’s a wonderful quote from Reb
Nachman of Bratslav, and it says: Kol haolam kulo gesher tzar
me’od. “All the world is a very narrow bridge, and
the most important thing is not to be afraid.” And so,
when a bridge of concrete and steel goes down, you and I together
will build a human bridge. Happy New Year.
