AD LO YADAH -- "UNTIL YOU CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE"

by Rabbi Niles E. Goldstein

The joyous holiday of Purim starts on Saturday night, a tale rife with intrigue, power struggles, sex, and violence. Rabbinic tradition tells us that we should celebrate the ultimate Jewish triumph over Haman and his homicidal plans, in part, by imbibing in drink so much that we "can't tell the difference" (ad lo yadah) between the Jewish leader, Mordechai, and the wicked Haman. (We do a pretty good job at our shul of following that teaching.)

What the rabbis don't remind us about is that at the end of the book of Esther, the Jews go out in mobs and, in acts of revenge, massacre thousands of Persians in what are essentially Jewish-led pogroms. Was every single one of those victims a member of Haman's crew? How many innocent men, women, and perhaps even children lost their lives? There is a thin line between justice and vengeance, between lashing out at oppressors in unilateral, violent ways and truly striving to bring about harmony and a just world. The wicked should be punished and contained. But perhaps the rabbis were wrong. Maybe what is needed is not a frenzy of emotion, but level-headed, thoughtful deliberation about our options. That is what may truly separate the good from the evil.

WHAT IS GONZO JUDAISM?

by Rabbi Niles E. Goldstein

When we started The New Shul back in 1999, we wanted to create a downtown shul with a downtown feel--we wanted it to have a bit of attitude, an edge. We weren't interested in building yet another stuffy, boring synagogue, but in forming a spiritual community with a shot of "gonzo," a bold, sometimes irreverent, approach to Jewish life. It's been just that iconoclast impulse—the drive to rebel and take risks—that has served as the dynamic life force of Judaism over the centuries.

What is more "gonzo," more audacious and radical, than introducing monotheism--the concept of an invisible, ineffable, singular God--in the idolatrous context of the ancient Near East? Yet that's precisely what our Israelite ancestors did once they were freed from Egypt. They were revolutionaries, theological rebels. We must reclaim those rebel roots. We need to create a new kind of Judaism, a brash, imaginative, joyful expression of our our spiritual and moral heritage. Like our forbears, let's counter the misguided behavior of this culture. Let's call truth to power, strive for social justice, save the forests and stop polluting our seas and skies. That's religion in the raw--and at its best.

SIZE DOESN'T MATTER

by Rabbi Niles E. Goldstein

Though a lot of contemporary Jewish leaders are worried about our future, our own past suggests we'll be just fine. It's not about numbers, and it never has been. Devotion, not distribution, has been our hallmark as a people. In recent years, the heads of two of our major movements debated about which one could claim more affiliated members. In the face of one billion Catholics and one billion Muslims around the globe, do several thousand Jews really make much of a difference one way or the other? I love the fact that the synagogue I serve is intimate in both size and feel. That is our greatest strength: the fact that we know and actually care about one another.

Two thousand years ago, in the small village of Yavneh in Israel, a few dozen rabbis boldly transformed the Temple-based religion they'd inherited into the more familiar Judaism we observe today. While a tiny minority of the general population, the Jews of Muslim Spain generated a Golden Age during which some of the greatest and most innovative Jewish thinkers, mystics and poets emerged and influenced medieval society for generations. In the sixteenth century, a handful of kabbalists in the Galilee reshaped the Sabbath liturgy into the form that is familiar to us now, whether we live in Fargo or Fez. Size doesn’t matter. What matters is creativity and commitment. The time for whining is over. Let's rededicate ourselves to our mission as Jews. Let's work to mend this broken world.