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Excerpts from Rabbi Malkus’ Remarks to the CESJDS Class of 2024

Class of 2024, you are an extraordinary group. You came of age in turbulent times. And I watched you meet the world’s challenges with compassion, with humor, and with a commitment to serving others. And as we gather today to send you off, some on your senior Capstone trip … to college … and beyond, I offer a simple, parting message:

I hope you will remember to always know who you are. Because when you know who you are, you will be resilient, confident, and grounded as you navigate the future challenges you will invariably face.

When I say know who you are, I don’t mean that you should already know everything about yourselves. In fact, the opposite is true. You are just beginning a phase of life when you will grow and change – more than you can imagine today.

Yet while your futures are unwritten, you already possess a strong sense of self. You hold values and beliefs. You are part of a vibrant Jewish community, and, as part of that community, you have grappled with what it means to aspire to a higher, collective purpose.

You each have an inner voice shaped by your families, your experiences, your study of Jewish tradition and history, and your personal background. And I urge you to always listen to it.

The Ancient Greeks wrote “Know thyself,” on the Temple of Apollo, which was really an instruction, according to Plato, to “know your soul.”

And the Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once said that it is not enough to ask questions. He said one must ask the question that “seems to encompass everything [we] face.” One must always ask, “What am I here for?”

Why am I making my point with so much emphasis?

Because the most uncertain times are when it’s most important to seek clarity within yourself. Perhaps more than any other graduating class in recent memory, you have a lot of experience dealing with uncertainty.

I’ll start with the pandemic. Your eighth-grade Capstone trip to Atlanta and Montgomery was cancelled because of COVID. Your freshman year of high school was online for the same reason.

So … after consulting with Dr. Vardi and Mrs. Landy, we’ve decided to cancel this year’s graduation …

As pandemic restrictions eased, antisemitism rose in cities and on campuses across the country. That troubling trend has not abated. And then, this fall, on October 7, war came to Israel. That day forever marked our lives, our families, and our Jewish community.

If the events of recent years and months have made anything clear, Class of 2024, it’s that our world today requires you to know yourselves. In high school, you have thrived and shown your resilience under some of the most difficult learning conditions in recent memory. The fact that you made it to graduation…should teach you something about your inner strength.

Amid rising antisemitism, especially on campuses, we all fear for our recent and soon-to-be-graduates. Yet two instances gave me relief and faith that you too know who you are.

A few months ago, Caryn and I were visiting our son Eitan, who graduated from JDS last year and is now a student at the University of Pennsylvania. The University’s President at the time, Liz Magill could not affirmatively answer questions in a hearing before the United States Congress to say calling for the genocide of Jews violates the University’s anti-bullying and harassment policies. Like any Jewish parents, we were worried and concerned that the climate on his campus was hostile to Jews. Yet Eitan told us that he felt physically safe and mostly comfortable at school. He knows who he is as a Jew, and why he believes in Israel. His self-knowledge gives him agency and strength, no matter what others around him may say or do.

And then, in December, we held a panel of recent alumni to speak with your class about their experiences with antisemitism on campus. Our former students explained that while antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiments are real, they each felt personally certain of their Jewish beliefs. Growing threats are not the totality of their daily experience at college. Their point was not to deny that antisemitism is a serious problem – it is. But rather they each conveyed how a strong sense of self and Jewish identity will anchor you, and help you face the world as it is.

Look no further than the days after October 7. Within a week of the massacre and outbreak of war, Israeli families reached out to JDS. We opened our doors to 45 students. We did so because we are part of the Jewish people, and because we care deeply about our brothers and sisters in Israel. We did so because of our school’s core values of Ahavat Yisrael/Love of Israel and V’ahavta L’rei-a’kha/Love you neighbor. We also did so because when people are in need and suffering, we help them. When our 2019 alum Omer Balva was killed while serving in the IDF, we came together to support and comfort the Balvas – and all who knew, and loved Omer.

So the JDS class of 2024 has known uncertainty – and you have met it. Even your very last day of school was upended by a snowstorm!

These challenges have not been easy. But you are resilient, and they have made you who you are. As you go into the world, you will face other challenges, ones we can’t predict. But no matter what happens, your sense of self – of your values, of your worth, of your identity, and of your beliefs – is something no one can take away from you. Your sense of self is your strength.

Many of your parents, like I did, graduated high school in the eighties. Despite the collapse of the Soviet Union and the AIDS epidemic, we often remember those years as being more certain and less complicated. You grew up in a more complicated world. As a result, I believe you have a better handle of who you are today, compared to your parents or me, back when we graduated high school. If at my own graduation you had told me I would become a rabbi, earn a doctorate in Jewish education, and become the head of a Jewish day school…well, I wouldn’t have believed you. When I was in college we didn’t have Netflix but we did have TV shows. LA Law, Ally McBeal, and Matlock were all the rage and glorified practicing the law and I thought about that as a career pathway. In fact, I was close to enrolling in law school after having been accepted to school in Chicago. But the way I found my path was by listening to my inner voice telling me who I am and what I really needed to pursue professionally. I hope you will do the same.

Since October 7 and the start of the war, I have had occasion to study the work of the Eish Kodesh, Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shipira, who was the Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto. The Eish Kodesh is a collection of sermons on the weekly Torah portion that Rabbi Shapira shared with his followers in the Ghetto. You can imagine how difficult his task was each week…to somehow lift up his fellow Jews, so vulnerable to hatred and persecution.

In recent months, our Jewish community has also felt vulnerable. I have felt vulnerable. And while I don’t equate our present reality to the experience of the wartime Jews of Warsaw’s Ghetto, Rabbi Shapira’s teachings have given me strength at this time of Jewish vulnerability.

He wrote: “We have learned that an angel who is sent down to this world needs seven days of purification before it can return to its previous exalted state. For Jews this is not so. On the contrary, the Jew is actually capable of worshiping and bringing God's dwelling place down into this very world, as was clearly the case with our patriarchs, and again at Mount Sinai, and in the tabernacle, and in Jerusalem's Holy Temple. Indeed, the heart and body of every Jew is the most fitting place for the dwelling of God. This means that while angels are altered by contact with the world, the Jew remains unaffected; they resist change. The Jew who worships God with obstinacy is acting out of the consequence of our connection to God -- of whom the prophet spoke and said (Malachi 3:6), "I am God; I have not changed."

The Eish Kodesh teaches us that despite the suffering of Jews we as individuals can bring God’s presence into the world by remaining true to our values. I read this text universally, so an individual, Rabbi Shapira says, can remain steadfast in the face of suffering unaffected by the world. Despite our vulnerability we can have agency in the world.

Know who you are. Know what you value. As you grow, and go out into the world…your sense of self and values are a deep reservoir of strength. 

Rabbi Shalom Noah Barzofsky, the Slonimer Rebbe explains in his Torah commentary that since human creation began … no two people have been alike. Each comes into the world with a special purpose, a task that is their own. No one can fix what is someone else’s tafkid – their work, their purpose, in the world. God gives each of us the traits we need, but we have to know what our purpose is.

Today, we celebrate your many accomplishments. Tomorrow, you go forth into the world as high school graduates. As each of you seeks your own purpose, your tafkid, I urge you to look within. Trust what your family has taught you, trust what you have learned at JDS. Trust who you are and what you believe. Trust your own instincts about right and wrong. They will carry you where you seek to go.

Mazal tov!

Celebrating Hanukkah at a Time of War

On Tuesday, December 5, like many of us, I was outraged and incredulous that the leaders of three of the most elite academic centers in both the US and the world could not take the simple step of saying that calling for the genocide of Jews violates their policies of bullying and harassment. How is it possible that 80 years after the Holocaust, these leaders could not simply and clearly denounce antisemitism on their campuses?

Just a few weeks ago, Caryn and I were visiting our son Eitan who is a student at Penn, whose president Liz Magill was one of those who could not affirmatively answer the question that was posed at that Congressional hearing. Like any Jewish parents, we were worried and concerned that the climate on campus was hostile to Jews and so it gave us a sense of some relief when he told us that he felt physically safe and mostly comfortable at school. When we heard his full answer we understood that he felt that way because he knows who he is as a Jew, because he is well educated about Israel, and because he is part of a large and strong Jewish community at Penn. He has a clear sense of agency and strength despite the environment.

In the lead up to Hanukkah, I saw a number of emails from Jewish organizations suggesting that this Hanukkah we might consider lighting an extra candle for the hostages, or that we might institute some change in our holiday celebration because, how can we really celebrate when Israel is at war and there are still close to 140 hostages still being held by Hamas.

So while for many the question of how to celebrate at a time of war is about lessening our joy this Hanukkah, I want to spend the next few minutes exploring with you what is, I think, a more difficult question: how we might navigate this time where many of us are feeling vulnerable and at the same time also feeling incredible strength from the Jewish communities we are a part of and also because, despite all of its challenges, Israel as a country is strong and has its own sense of agency to answer the question that the college presidents could not.

Since October 7 and the start of the war, I had a recent occasion to study the work of the Eish Kodesh, Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shipira, who was the rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto. The Eish Kodesh is a collection of drashot on the weekly parasha that were shared with his followers in the Ghetto and so you can imagine how difficult his task was each week to somehow lift up his fellow Jews. I have felt vulnerable and, while in no way is it the vulnerability of the Jews in the Ghetto, Rabbi Shapira’s teachings have been giving me strength at this time of Jewish vulnerability.

We have learned that an angel who is sent down to this world needs seven days of purification before it can return to its previous exalted state. For Jews this is not so. On the contrary, the Jew is actually capable of worshiping and bringing God's dwelling place down into this very world, as was clearly the case with our patriarchs, and again at Mount Sinai, and in the tabernacle, and in Jerusalem's Holy Temple. Indeed, the heart and body of every Jew is the most fitting place for the dwelling of God. This means that while angels are altered by contact with the world, the Jew remains unaffected; he resists change. The Jew who worships God with obstinacy is acting out of the consequence of our connection to God -- of whom the prophet spoke and said (Malachi 3:6), "I am God; I have not changed."

Not only are we able to withstand any and all challenges, we are always, no matter what the external circumstances, capable of bringing God into this world. This is what it means to be stiff-necked and obstinate at the level of "I am God; I have not changed."

The Eish Kodesh shares that despite the suffering of Jews as a whole that we as individuals can bring God’s presence into the world by remaining true to our values. The Jew he says remains in the face of suffering unaffected by the world. Despite our vulnerability we can have agency in the world. So one way I think we can celebrate Hanukkah at this time of war is by connecting directly to the values we hold and to the multiple stories we tell of Hanukkah itself. So what are those stories?

Well, one version of that story is told in the Talmud, where the rabbis in Shabbat 21b teach us that Hanukkah is about miracles and particularly about the miracle that enables the Hasmoneans to light the Menorah in the defiled Temple again for not just one night but for eight. But if we look closely, the text specifically tells us that Hanukkah is not meant to be a time of eulogies or fasting but a time of celebration. Despite the tremendous suffering of the Jewish people at the time, Hanukkah is meant to be a holiday of faith in God, not a holiday of suffering.

But can we always rely on miracles at times of suffering and war? Even the rabbis themselves were uncomfortable with this notion that we should rely on miracles. In another section of the Talmud, we read the following: Rebbe Yannai said, A person should never stand in a place of danger and say: “A miracle will be performed for me! – lest a miracle is not performed. And if you say that a miracle will be performed for them, they will deduct it from their merits.

In a time of danger, we must not take it as a certainty that a miracle will come. Prayer alone is not a valid security plan. And even if we do experience a miracle, it will be “deducted from our merit.” To understand what this means, the Talmud turns our attention to a verse in last week’s parashah (VaYishlah) about Ya’akov, in the moment right before he goes to meet his brother Esav, whom he fears still wants him dead. He says to God,

בראשית לב:יא
 קָטֹנְתִּי מִכֹּל הַחֲסָדִים וּמִכׇּל־הָאֱמֶת אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתָ אֶת־עַבְדֶּךָ.

Bereishit 32:11
 Katonti from all the goodness and from all the truth that You have done for Your servant.

We usually understand this verse as Jacob asserting his unworthiness of God’s constant protection, but Rav Hanan (Ta’anit 20b) reads the words hyper-literally. He sees katonti and finds the word katan (small). Ya’akov admits: living a life that is dependent on constant miracles from God has made me lesser—it has diminished me.

The same may be true for us. The need to pray for a miracle leaves us feeling lesser, emptier, even more hopeless. We don’t want miracles, we want agency and a clear, actionable way forward. Even when we feel a miracle has been granted, that we were saved from an acute danger by the grace of God, we are left feeling out of control, which can lead to panic and anxiety. Miracles can be demoralizing.

And in fact, while the rabbis of the Talmud tell the story of Hanukkah as one of miracles, the Books of 1 and 2 Maccabees tells the history of the war between the Hasmoneans and the Syrian Greeks as one of the Maccabees great military victory. In the face of the ancient antisemitism of the Greeks forbidding Jewish practice and defiling the Temple, the Jews of that time took the path of action rather than rely on miracles to alleviate their suffering.

But, when we have power, we have to use that power responsibly.

Rabbi David Hartman wrote an influential and also extremely controversial paper in 1982 in the wake of the Israel-Lebanon War and particularly to address the massacres that took place in the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatilla. Israel had a commission investigate if the IDF was responsible for the atrocities that took place there and found that while it did not commit those, that Ariel Sharon bore responsibility.

Hartman asked a question in the wake of this which was: what would be the guiding paradigm for Israel and Judaism as a whole. Would the notion of Auschwitz, where suffering and a feeling of lack of agency, be how Israel and Jews acted in the world, or would Sinai be the dominant narrative? Sinai, the receiving of the Torah, according to Hartman is about viewing ourselves as having both agency and moral responsibility for our actions in the world and not viewing the world from a place of victimization.

As we celebrate Hanukkah this year, I think it is in the spirit of both the Aish Kodesh and Sinai that we must face the challenges of antisemitism in this country and security in Israel. We have to stay true to our values and ground ourselves in who we are and use that grounding to take action, use our strength to prevail against the kind of thinking that shutters when asked to condemn Jewish genocide. That is also the kind of thinking that empowers our college students, despite their vulnerability, to confidently assert their Jewishness on campus.

Read more from Rabbi Malkus' Blog