​Today is commonly referred to as Yom HaShoah - the Day of the [Nazi] Holocaust. While the day marks Jewish calendars every year on the 27th of Nisan, two weeks after making our final preparations for Passover seders. It was originally commemorated in 1949 on a different date and while the date for this commemoration was and is still debated amongst Jews, today's date on the Jewish calendar became the legal holiday in the State of Israel in 1959 to commemorate the Nazi Holocaust, and has since been the most popular observance amongst Jewish communities anywhere.

The full name of the day is Yom HaZikaron laShoah ve-laG'vurah - The Day of Remembrance for the [Nazi] Holocaust and for the Strength/Boundaries/Limits. This last piece refers to the resistance of Jews and many others to the Nazi Holocaust and to nazism in general. There was a great deal of Jewish resistance to the Nazis before, during, and since World War II. And it will continue.

In the State of Israel, sirens glare throughout the land on this day to prompt a collective two minute moment of silence. I have been in Israel on Yom HaShoah, and it is powerful. People pausing mid-conversation as cars and buses come to a halt, many people standing or making their bodies more upright. There is power in collective remembrance. 

And while the Nazi Holocaust is over, antisemitism is still with us. It is utilized today for the advancement of fascist, authoritarian, xenophobic, co-hetero-patriarchal, ableist white nationalist movements that fight to stay in and gain power today. And it shows up in many places and in many ways. Including graffiti on synagogues this week.

Today let us not only remember the victims of the Nazi Holocaust - the countless numbers of Jews, Roma, queer and disabled people, Serbs, Poles, Russian, Jehovah's Witnesses, incarcerated people and those who resisted the Nazis, and more. May we also remember, and perhaps even celebrate, the many acts of resistance made against nazism, fascism, authoritarianism, demagoguery, and oppression. Let us rededicate our life and our love to ensure there is never again such atrocity for ourselves and for anyone - not without us to contend with, at least. May today recommit us to community care, relationship transformation, and ensuring that we, nor any stranger, shall experience oppression that is not strongly and actively resisted.

Finding Liberation This Season
As many folks know, I returned from pilgrimage just 12 days ago. The trip leaders were very intentional about the language of pilgrimage. We were not tourists, but we were there to commune with and build relationships with the people we were meeting, the history of the land we were on, and the acts of terror and resistance and joy and beauty and life that have been resonating from there for decades. We were invited, as Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman has written: “Pilgrimage…requires an attitude of reverence toward the site one visits, an acknowledgement of its sacrality, and the performance of sacred rites recording the fact that one has been there.”

There are many ways that I participated in this sort of honoring and documentation. I took notes, made art, took photos, and wrote reflections - of record and remembrance, not of sight seeing. 

Passover is a time for pilgrimage as well. On the Jewish calendar there are three sacred seasons of pilgrimage to the Holy Temple - Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot. They are referred to in Hebrew as the shalosh regalim - colloquially meaning the “three pilgrimage festivals,” but literally translated as the “three feet, or foot paces.” Perhaps mirroring what the Hon. John Lewis was connecting when quoting the African proverb “when you pray, move your feet” or what Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel was connecting when he said “it felt like my legs were praying.” (Watch Susannah Heschel speak here on her dad’s march with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

In Hebrew, there is another word for pilgrimage - a cognate to Arabic’s hajj: chag, from the Hebrew root kh-g-g. We might know this word to mean “holiday,” as in “chag same’ach!” Holy Days are thus ritualized pilgrimages of time and space - we travel in time to a moment and place of celebration, commemoration, joy, song, resistance, and yes, sometimes terror as well. With each Jewish holiday, we get a glimpse into Jewish time, and all the places where the events of the holiday. 

This week we travel together, in our unique and individual ways, to the narrow place(s) and hope that liberation will once again come. We are invited into the idea that we are not actually certain it will. And perhaps the context of the world right now is making that possibility feel very real. Oy.

When we work together, keep one another in mind, work toward liberation, and refuse to leave without each other, we just might be on this pilgrimage together. In body, mind, heart, spirit, and soul.

Join us at Kadima for Passover, or find your own way in with the people you can go there with. And may we all emerge again together. See you there, and if we miss each other, see you on the other side of the sea, I hope. 

Shabbat shalom and chag same’ach,
R’ David

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While in the past I have kept up with the happening in Israel/Palestine regularly, I have only just been learning and still have much to learn about recent events, including in the Palestinian town of Huwara which has been described by the New Israel Fund and B'Tselem as a pogrom.

All I can say in this moment is enough. Kadima was founded on peace in the Middle East and self-determination for Jews and Palestinians. If there are ways you are working for these goals or want to now, please be in touch, as the time nears when Kadima must have the capacity, time, and investment in these issues. Join a WhatsApp group with R' David if you are interested in connecting about this, or email R' David and expect a week or more response time.

In the meantime, may we find a way toward justice in name of a shabbat shalom.

Let Us Once Again Remember to Forget (But Also Remember to Show Up!)
Repost and edited from March 10, 2022

This week is Shabbat Zachor - shabbat of remembrance. It is one of the 11 “special shabbatot” of the Jewish year (outside of Rosh Chodesh). It is the Shabbat in which we are reminded to forget “Amalek.” Amalek is commonly thought of as the arch nemesis of the Israelites in every generation, and we inherit this special shabbat to remember to forget them. Oy.

But Who is Amalek? In Genesis 36:12, the original Amalek was a boy born to Eliphaz, son of Esau, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, on his dad’s side. On his mom’s side, all we know is his mother, Timna, the daughter of the chief of Seir, the hill lands east of the Jordan. According to midrash, she was denied conversion by Abraham himself and, according to the ancient rabbis, Abraham was actually punished for this exclusion, telling us that she was indeed someone who genuinely wanted into the community and should have been allowed in. This exclusion mirrors the exclusion of Esau, Amalek’s grandfather as well.

For Amalek, to be from ancestors who were excluded from Jewishness, we may end up with a different take on him and his descendants being cast as the villains of the Israelites. Jews have been using this trope (which we can resist) for a long time to do terrible things, including on Purim itself in 1994 which garnered international solidarity, despite a lack of nuance or actual connection to the character or lineage of Amalek.

As such, we need to again learn from the lessons of the Book of Esther and flip the script. As we lead up to Purim this coming Saturday night (party!), Monday evening (megillah!), and baking for your neighbors and geogroups (Tuesday and Wednesday - on your own, make it a surprise!), how might we begin to re-experience those whom we have been taught to think of as enemies with more compassion and understanding? Using a trauma lens, using transformative justice and abolitionist teachings - for the death and destruction at the end of the story need not be repeated, and perhaps is even there to show us so clearly what not to do. As we say on Purim - let us turn things upside down.

Purim Same’ach - see you for a helluva party on Saturday night/motzei Shabbat and for megillah reading on Monday evening! And don’t forget to redistribute your wealth on Purim - it is a specific mitzvah!

L’chayim,
R’ David

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Obligation, Access & Desire
I am trained as an educator, counselor, facilitator, and organizer. And these roles have served me and met me well. They are some of the primary attributes that Reconstructing Judaism (RJ) and the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College (RRC) promote. So pardon me as I attempt something I am neither good at nor trained in. So it feels, at least.

Obligation is a tricky subject outside of Orthodox Judaism and the “post-halakhic age,” which Rabbi Jack Cohen z"l called the 21st century in his 2010 book. To make an analogy we talk about with Kadima’s 5th and 6th graders, Jews can sometimes be like soggy cornflakes in the milk of assimilation.

There are many ways out of the milk that our people have and still valiantly attempt, for the sake of self-determination, anti-assimilation, cultural preservation, tradition, joy, wisdom, connection, and community. Thank G-d.

And still, without obligation, the entire project could simply be a whim (who says I can’t worry?). As a Jewish leader who invests and believes in these many ways out of the milk and more, it can feel precarious sometimes, and often I see the slippage back into the cereal bowl. I’ll speak for myself - I often slip back into the bowl and take a milk bath. Oy.

It happens to me after High Holidays sometimes. It happens to me, a little bit, after the after-glow of each glorious holiday, event, gathering, discussion, service, learning, teaching, concert, dance party, and shiva. The glorious presence of immersive Jewishness fades and a milk wave can overtake me.

Thank G-d (or whatever you thank) that there is regularity built into Jewish time (and its intersections with my paid work). I have been waking up this week and davening. I have been participating in a daily meditation led by K’ Keshira haLev Fife. I have been teaching mishnah and torah and preparing for shabbat. I have been saying kaddish with others. Thank G!d. 

I am thinking about all of this in the context of our communal loss. I am still processing mads' death and have been doing so with mentors, teachers, students, loved ones, and in intentional solitude. The outpouring of mourners and those supporting us through shiva was both comforting and uplifting, all while still further devastating. And then at our first minyan for shloshim this past Friday, we got to a minyan before we closed, honoring so many losses together.

Barely having a minyan this past Friday got me thinking about our obligation. How our presence matters to each other and how showing up actually enables us to activate our tradition as a means of care for grief.

If we are not providing spaces that are accessible for you, then we need to fix that. If we haven’t made it clear that coming as you are is exactly right, then we need to fix that. If we haven’t expressed that having your camera off and your sound down and not interacting is a perfect expression of showing up, then we need to say that. And if we haven’t made it clear that you are very welcome, your presence is a gift, and your name on a black zoom square is enough - while you walk your dog, while you do your kid"s bedtime, while you're playing a game, while you're eating dinner, while you're thinking about other things, while your reading your book, while you're cooking food for yourself and/or others, and/or while you are present, then please, know it now.

Come, if for no other reason, because you matter to each other and there are literally parts of our tradition we cannot do without you. And if you do not need those parts today, your need for them is inevitable. And I want them to be there for you when you do.

That's it. Some call it an obligation. Some a mitzvah. Others the inescapable network of mutuality. Others might just say it’s showing up for each other and ourselves. However you say it, I hope we can find one another engaged in it.

But here is my goal: we have 10+ people at a Kadima event at least once a week through Passover as a practice of showing up. If you'd like to be a part of this two-month experiment, take a good look at Kadima's calendar and figure out the three-to-four events you might come to between now and then. Make it one or two if you need to and five or six if you can.

With gratitude and toward one another,
R’ David

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Shiva is for stories & songs & prayers.  It is also for caretaking--reaching towards one another’s grief and saying: I can’t mend this for you, but I can hold your hand if you want. I can remind you to drink water.  I can put a plate of food in front of you.  Maybe you are having trouble cooking or eating and there is someone here who lives near enough to you who wants to make a little extra for dinner tomorrow. Grief needs a yenta sometimes, let us know if you need a match during this next period of shloshim. 
 
mads knew the holy work of the shadkhin (the matchmaker).  We know this because we are together because of her work.  We know how to do this because mads showed us.  We know how to do this because we learned it with and beside mads. We know how to do this because we don’t just share a friendship or a kinship with mads, but a tradition.  It is important to remember that we know how to do this, because it is also true that we don’t know how to do this…and so much of us doesn’t want to know how to do this right now.
 
When shiva began, R’ David shared that the shoresh—the root of the Hebrew word we use for funeral or eulogy…what Abraham did for Sarah when she died—means to wail.
 
It is good to speak of mads.  It’s good.  It is hard to speak of mads right now too. To eulogize…to realize that what we have are the tellable memories & not her.  Sometimes we need help.  When our own throats are too constricted by grief to sing to our dead, sometimes for any utterance at all, it used to be that the Jewish women of Yiddishland would show up for each other as ritual wailers.  These women were revered and feared and loved—a combination that mads truly appreciated. (mads was a student and teacher of all of those things—reverence, fear, love—and a seeker of Jewish women’s ways).  These wailers/lamenters were seen as Jewish ritual leaders and also understood as a bit magic.  They were the ones you wanted to advocate for you in the court of heaven—you wanted her voice turned towards sky on your behalf. 
 
I shared this tkhine (women’s prayer in Yiddish) on Wednesday about the wailer, set recently by Rabbi Noam Lerman:
You don’t shame a broken heart,
You witness pain from the one who laments,
And when the wailer calls out, you listen closely
A tsubrokhen harts tustu nisht farshemen(4x),
Du zest di payn fun di vos yomern (2x)
Un ven der kloger ruft tustu him derheren
אַ צובּראָכען האַרץ טוסטו נישׁט פֿאַרשעמען ,
דו זעסט די פּײַן פֿון די וואָס יאָמערן(2),
און ווען דער קלאָגער רופֿט טוסטו אים דערהערען
Tekhine Teshuva, Tefila, Tsedukah, Published in 1916 in NYC by the ש’’ס תחינה– רב פנינים Hebrew Publishing Company, page 162. Melody and translation by Noam Lerman
 
Shiva and the ways that come after are for the living, yes.  But there is an important slippage in our tradition between what we do for the living and what we do for the dead.  mads knew that the dead and the living need each other right now.  So, we do shiva & shloshim together on both sides of the veil.  Some of us feel so close to the dead right now…or always…some of us feel distant…always.  Right now, we are finding ways to give each other permission to wail (& laugh & sing & remember) and permission to be quiet, to hold silent, to be low to the ground, lost, numb—to let others wail for us.  We will take turns. It is a dance. It is a game of tag.
-Maia Brown, 2/2/23 // 11 Shvat 5783

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2/1/23

Dear community,

Time continues to move, though, perhaps you too are experiencing a bit of time-outside-of-time this week of shiva for mads. The shiva period is half over. She died a week ago tonight. Since Friday, hundreds have gathered over these first many days. We have said kaddish for her every day. We accompany her and we accompany one another. Her teaching and memories and values accompany us.

So much singing, crying, hugging, laughing, and loving. Kadima has been holding space, and many others have convened space to support one another and honor mads. We have been so blessed to be joined by mads’ aunt Naomi and cousin Ariela as well as folks from Tzedek Lab, Jewish Studio Project, Social Justice Fund, the Kohenet Community, Community Alliance for Global Justice, Black and Pink, European Dissent, The Village of Hope, Rites of Passage and more. Our togetherness to remember, honor, connect and comfort is a m’chaya - a giver and place of life (Yiddish). Thank you for your togetherness. May it impact us always.

I wanted to provide a check in for us all as we navigate the week. While our relationships with mads vary greatly, there has been a sense that everyone who has shared anything about her truly knew and loved her essence. In every one of my meetings and study sessions, people have been sharing their condolences and comfort. Some have commented that she “feels present” this week. May she always. We are grateful to our friends Rabbi Adina Allen and Jeff Kasowitz on behalf of the Jewish Studio Project community for sharing this slideshow of mads in action making art and learning Jewish text. For songs, shiva sheets, blessings, and slideshows currently collected, visit this shared folder.

And, as while shiva is time-outside-of-time, it is also within time. It will end. As we prepare for that eventuality, know that we will hold Friday night gatherings for shabbat candle lighting and the recitation of the mourner’s kaddish (as well as space to connect and remember and honor) through the mourning period of shloshim - the 30 days beginning the count at the beginning of shiva: February 10, 17, and 24 - times and details on the Kadima calendar.

And, there is a great deal of mourning in our midst. We mourn the lives of so many who died from violence this past month alone: We remember the eight victims of the Half Moon Bay shooting on January 21; the 11 victims of the Monterey Park shooting on January 23; Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, murdered January 18 in Atlanta, GA protesting Cop City and defending the Weelaunee Forest; the ten Palestinians murdered on January 16 – nine in Jenin and one in Al-Ram near Jerusalem; and Tyre Deandre Nichols, murdered in Memphis, TN following his arrest on January 7, as police footage made visceral this past Friday - on International Holocaust Remembrance Day remembering the 6 million Jews and at least 5 million others - the disabled, Black, Roma, Slavic, and more. (With thanks to R’ Ariana Katz for compiling most of this list.)

People have been asking me: “how are you doing?” And I have been hearing it as “how am I doing?” What uplifts me? What sustains me? What keeps me going? Fuels me?

At Kadima we have been asking this question collectively. As such, below you will find some ways we are beginning to reactivate community care mechanisms from Team Yitro to Chadesh, from Mutual Aid Kadima to a collection of Kadima therapists, grief counselors, death doulas, and care professionals - be in touch if you would like to be paired with a Kadima care professional at this time or any other. We are asking us to participate in these efforts in some way over the next month. Join us for Community Care Dinner Swap, Chadesh intergenerational gatherings on grief, offer yourself as a doula or care professional, ask us for something you need.

Sending love and care during this period of collective mourning and on this first day of Black History (and Futures!) Month and Jewish Disability Justice Month.

L’Chayah Bracha - to life that is blessed,
R’ David

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