Josh makes a splash (on the lighter side)

What a long day! Who could have guessed that I would have ended up in a dunk tank? Amongst the many things I tried to pack into this day was a fundraiser for an organization For the Kid in All of Us that sponsors The Toy Party and their new event Backpack in the Park.

I arrived with a backpack full of school supplies in tow and within 5 minutes I was accosted by 2 friends explaining they needed me to get into the dunk tank. The DUNK TANK?! My first response was no. Excuses flooded my head, "I am having dinner with my dad. I have no change of clothes?" They said, "We have a swim suit and a T-shirt." OY! I wanted to say no, but then I had the silly thought that maybe this was good karma. (Not that I think the world works this way.) And so I changed and perched myself on a board above my ersatz mikveh/ritual bath. I was standing in for Rep. Karla Drenner who was recovering from surgery. With both of our clout, and my adorable/abrasive humor, I made a good deal of money For the Kid in All of Us. Several people paid 15 dollars for the pleasure of dunking me even if they missed all 9 times. I had a good time heckling the throwers. I yelled at a woman that she was a disappointment to lesbian softball players everywhere and I told a transgendered woman that she threw like a girl. Both paid 15 bucks to dunk me! My friend Allen instead of throwing the ball at the button, threw it at me directly. (All in good fun, folks--they were friends so they laughed) Perhaps this was not so good for my karma after all.

Afterwards, I had dinner with my dad and his wife. The day before I had lunch with my mom. Not being morbid, just rounding the bases like one should. What has been more anxiety-provoking than the trip itself has been how many people have said, "Don't go!" This trip just peels back a veil that we all live with: Life is unpredictable. It is always good to touch the bases and say your I love yous. We don't do that enough as it is. Now those folks who chase twisters or dive with sharks, their lives may have a bit more predictably, but every day is filled with some kind of danger. We just have to ask, "How do we want to live our lives?"

When it is all said and done, I suppose being told "You're a good sport!" as the Backpack party organizers did for my willingness to jump in the tank is about as good as anyone can expect.

By the way, I leave tonight. Pray with me for peace.

I close with a Turkish poem:

ON LIVING (PART 1) by Nazim Hikmet

Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel for example--
I mean without looking for something beyond
and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.

Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it so seriously,
so much so and to such a
degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind
your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people--
even for people whose faces you've never seen
even though you know living
is the most real, the most
beautiful thing.

I mean you must take life so seriously
that even at seventy. for example, you'll plant
olive trees--
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't
believe it,
because living, I mean weighs heavier.

The Diameter of the Bomb

The Diameter of the Bomb by Yehuda Amichai

The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
and the diameter of the its effective range about seven meters,
with four dead and eleven wounded.
And around these, in a larger circle
of pain and time, two hopsitals are scattered
and one graveyard. But the young woman
who was buried in the city she came from,
at a distance of more than a hundred kilometers,
enlarges the circle considerably,
and the solitary man mourning her death
at the shores of a country far across the sea
includes the entire world in a circle.
And I won't even mention the howl of orphans
that reaches up to the throne of God and
beyond, making
a circle with no end and no God.

I leave tomorrow night for Israel. Today I have come into my office, to prep the outlines for the next 2 b'nai mitzvah and the High Holy Days. A friend called, offering to be a voice of reason, "You don't have to go, you know."

The world is grieving right now. The shooting in Seattle, the missle in Abulafia, the Masjid that has been hit, the displacement in Lebanon, Gaza and Israel, the hunger, the darkness, the distance between peace, and all of the death. The responsibility, the blame, the lack of regard for one's own citizens and the lack of regard for the other. The "We will push Israel to the sea" vs. "Dismantle and Destroy"

Sometimes I wonder if I am wishy washy at best or crazy at worst. Bombarded by emails from the right proclaiming the evil of the Arab/Muslim/Terrorist world (they seem interchangeable in the way people use them, but it is so complex and we know not true) and from the left proclaiming Israel's reckless unethicality and blood lust. I wonder like Tevye who is brought to make a decision and he ends up saying to one, "You're right!" and then he listens to the other and he says, "And you're right!" Except, I am saying inside, "You're wrong! And You're wrong!" I keep wanting to say, "... but what about this fact or what about that incident."

How do people close their hearts and accept a reality called, "Well, that is just what happens in a war?" Are there those of us who can speak up and say, "No, these things are unacceptable." Or are we just an idealistic, irrelevant voice that creates more chaos? I am not a soldier, I am a rabbi. Cling to life, seek life...not death. Is it really kill or be killed? I don't ask that with irony or rhetoric, but earnestly. Is that the answer we have truly come to?

For the last few days, people at the gym, at restaurants, even at a dinner party have pulled me aside with some form of the question and with the same parameters: "What is going on in the Middle East and explain it in 2 minutes." Do I even try? Do I just scream and hope they will figure out the details encoded therein or should I just explain how this will affect gas prices and their pocketbooks? Sarcasm rarely is the answer I know, but it works for the Colbert report.

Never have I looked forward to Tisha B'Av in Israel as much as I do now, which will begin my second night in Jerusalem. A holiday that commemorates the pain of Destruction and Exile, is so relevant. It is a container for my pain, my confusion, my disappointment in my local Jewish community and in the local progressive community, which only is a thread of the larger conflict. Fingers pointing in every direction needing to justify their own blindness. This Tisha B'Av, the diameter is wide and I pray that it contain the pain and guide us toward restoration.

As I finish packing, I look forward to this makeshift community I join of GLBT people of faith who have known destruction and exile, as well as, harbor in their own ways.

I leave us with the another poet from the prophetic Israeli writer Yehuda Amichai:

THE PLACE WHERE WE ARE RIGHT

From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.

The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.

But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.

The Entire World Is Just a Narrow Bridge

The entire world is just a narrow bridge-the essential thing is to have no fear.- Nachman of Bratzlav

My friend Charlie saw me at the gym when he half-seriously and half-jokingly shielded his eyes from looking in my direction. “You’re breaking my heart. Don’t go!” He is not alone in this feeling about my impending trip to Israel. Part of me, finds it hard to articulate why I am going because it just “is” what I would do. But for family, friends and congregants who are concerned, I believe they (you) deserve a better explanation.
Initially, I debated about going to World Pride but it seemed as if there was little interest in other folks from Atlanta attending. Without a critical mass, I decided not to go due to important work at the synagogue in preparing for my upcoming sabbatical. I then got a call the day after I decided I was not going, from Rabbi Steve Greenberg, a man whom I admire though we connect Jewishly very differently (at least on the surface). He invited me both to participate in this upcoming World Pride on a trip with Jews and Christians and to possibly use this as a seed for a possible collaborative project/trip next summer during my sabbatical. I said, “Yes.”
Then the threats came. The internal ones. Flyers for Molotov cocktails, rabbis encouraging violence, and bounties issued for the murder of World Pride participants were all potent ingredients for raising eyebrows and churning stomachs. Normally, I would have brushed them off, except last year at Jerusalem Pride, three men were stabbed. Though, this was anxiety provoking, I knew that this was not a trip to change. Fear has been a tactic of the suppression of all liberation movements. To ease the tense worrying of friends after being asked if I was changing my trip I replied, “The only thing I am changing is my outfit. I am no longer wearing my GAY RABBI shirt, with the red bull’s eye.” Yes, my sense of humor is not always appreciated.

Joking aside, attending this march was no different in my mind than what people did in Selma and in Montgomery. Gay rights need to be acknowledged as part of world human right’s agenda. People around the world are being tortured and murdered for being gay or transgendered. How could I not go? Besides, there are many legitimate considerations for people to weigh when making a decision like this; mine were far fewer as a single man in his 30s with no children. Even more powerfully did I feel that I needed to represent those whose concerns and responsibilities prevented them from attending. The World needs more GLBTQ people to stand up and say we deserve human rights as full children of humanity and God. If not a Gay rabbi then who? This March was planned for Jerusalem. If not a Gay rabbi then who? Besides, I was hoping for some really good sermon materials and the best way to get some is to make some.

But then the conflict in Gaza erupted which was soon followed by the war between Hezbollah and Israel. This began to challenge a different part of my identity. As a Jew, I was brought up to connect Israel’s fate with my own. This has not come without critique or expectations concerning Israel’s actions in the world. Actually, it is because of this link that I feel compelled to speak what I hope Israel’s responsibility is in the world and to question or challenge when it is not living up to its founding values and ideals. But this comes with the clear assumption that Israel deserves to exist, live and thrive.

I could not cancel my trip. As someone who is thinking about spending part of my sabbatical in Israel studying and working with groups that promote peace, all my Jewish values are rooted in a commitment to Israel, the Israeli people and a continual hope for peace. Even though I have my own anxieties, ultimately I cannot deny my truth: This trip upholds all the beliefs I hold dear.

This became true when I thought about my trip to Israel for Tel Aviv Pride during the first year of the 2nd intifada where Israel was being riddled with suicide bombings and most of the country was clearly on the right. Likkud was in power, the memory of Rabin still felt fresh and I was saddened that the glimmer of peace was hiding behind these clouds. At this rally for GLBT pride in Rabin Square, the majority of the speakers spoke out for the necessity of peace with the Palestinians and the creation of a Palestinian homeland as well as the need to protect and create safe haven for gay Palestinians. And I felt at home in this community, for what they stood for, what their vision of Israel should look like. This was my home within my second home.

As the WorldPride Jerusalem 2006 organizers wrote,

"Holding WorldPride in Jerusalem, the city at the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, is a significant opportunity for our diverse community to raise a different voice, a voice for progressive moral values,inclusion, and pluralism."

How could I abandon these people? The people of the Open House who have been working for human rights on many communities’ behalf. What kind of message would I be sending to them? This little sliver of the Israeli populace, how could I add any more to their burden knowing that my presence, any of our presences would be meaningful? It is a community like this, this narrow bridge that I recognize as my people. It is not out of a need of heroics or bravado, but to offer a sense of solidarity to GLBT Israelis who long for and work towards global GLBT rights and peaceful coexistence.

And thus I go with Nachman's tune in my head..."...the essential thing is to have no fear."