Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Craig Eisen Bar Mitzvah
Shabbat B'shalach
February 7, 2004
Not Enemies or Scapegoats, But Allies and Precious Partners
Friends, in last week's Torah portion, finally, after several hundred years of slavery, the Israelites left Egypt. Then it said: Erev rav alu itam - "a mixed multitude went up with them." These were probably people from the bottom of Egypt's social strata who jumped at the opportunity to escape from their fate. The Israelites were leaving, so this erev rav - this mixed multitude of non-Egyptians or the lowest of the social classes of Egyptians tagged along with our ancestors as they left Egypt
Now how should we feel about this group? Two answers coexist side-by-side within Jewish tradition. One school of commentators says that the erev rav were non-Israelites who heard the call of freedom and chose to leave Egypt and join with our ancestors on their spiritual journey. These interpreters say that great credit should be given the erev rav for coming along, and great credit should be given to the Israelites for taking them along. One commentator even goes so far as to say that the reason the Israelites merited being redeemed from Egypt is because they were willing to take the erev rav - this mixed multitude - along with them.
But another school of thought within Jewish tradition has a much more ambivalent attitude toward the erev rav. In this week's Torah portion there are three rebellions against Moses' leadership; the former slaves question God's power and providence. First, when the Israelites turn around and discover the Egyptian army in hot pursuit. Finding themselves between that oncoming army and the Sea of Reeds; they say: "We are going to die out here in the wilderness; it would have been better for us to be back in Egypt." The second time within this week's sedra, the Israelites are thirsty; there is a shortage of water. Again, "we would have been better off back in Egypt; we are going to die out here of thirst." And the third time, there is a scarcity of food before God sends manna.
And every time there is a rebellion against God or against Moses, every time the people regress and say that they want to turn around and go back to Egypt - whose fault was it? According to this school of thought, it was the fault of the erev rav. If we Jews have often been the scapegoat of the nations, then the erev rav have sometimes been the scapegoat of certain Jews. Whatever went wrong during the years in the wilderness, it was the fault of this mixed multitude.
The majority view of our tradition is the one that respected, welcomed and honored the erev rav who went out of Egypt together with the Israelites. Mainstream Judaism has felt the same way towards others down through the centuries who have cast their lot with the Jewish People. This majority view is that the ger - the convert to Judaism, the new Jew, the Jew-by-Choice - is as precious to God - perhaps even more precious to God - than the native-born Israelite. You see, our ancestors heard the thunder and saw the lightening when God revealed Torah at Sinai; but, these new Jews did not. Yet they are willing to come and become part of us. Surely they deserve to be welcomed and treated with dignity.
But not everyone was so liberal. There have always been among the Jewish People - as there are amongst all peoples - those who are suspicious of the newcomer, wary of those who want to become part of our People. Therefore, halacha - Jewish law - provides that when someone enters the ranks of the Jewish People, he or she is given a new name, as if to say: from now on you are a new person. The convert is named Ben or Bat Avraham Avinu and Sara Imeymu - child of Father Abraham and Mother Sarah.
But our tradition says there is no need to call attention to his or her former status. Now the convert is equal in all respects, in all duties and in all privileges to all other Jews. We are never supposed to remind converts of their origin, or their former status. For example, "I knew you when you ate treif food." Such speech is strictly forbidden in Jewish law.
And yet Jews are human, so we do not always live up to the highest ideals expressed in halacha. In the time of Maimonides, for example, a convert named Ovadya had to write to Maimonides and say "People tell me that I have no right when I pray to say 'Our God and God of our Fathers' because Abraham was not my ancestor."
The great Maimonides replied with bluntness and anger. He said to Ovadya: "How dare people treat you this way! Don't they know that Abraham is the Father and the welcomer of all converts? Therefore, of course you may say 'Our God and God of our Fathers.' If anyone has a problem with that," Maimonides said, "send them to me."
I tell you about this debate which has gone on through the centuries about how to treat the ger - a debate which begins, I think, with the question of how to understand the phrase erev rav - because of something which took place in recent years in Los Angeles, California.
There is a very innovative synagogue in Los Angeles called Ohr Torah. It is a new synagogue created several years ago by Rabbi Mordecai Finley. Rabbi Finley is a charismatic figure who has attracted people to his services from all parts of the city. The services themselves tend to be eclectic, incorporating some of the best features of Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist and Reform traditions. Rabbi Finley is a graduate of the Hebrew Union College - my alma mater - the rabbinical school of the Reform Movement. Yet he is also drawn to Kabbalah and Jewish Mysticism. He served in the United States Marine Corps, yet he is a deeply spiritual person.
Most Los Angelinos who know of Rabbi Finley admire him. Yet he wrote a column in the Los Angeles Jewish Newspaper in which he revealed for the first time how deeply hurt he has been by people who say cruel and callous things about him. He was driven to reveal his own family's history and his own feelings, because he recognizes that he is not alone in what he has gone through. Others have had to endure even more painful abuse from ignorant and insensitive Jews. This is what Rabbi Finley wrote:
"At a recent Shabbat, a guest at our services asked the person staffing our welcome table, 'Is the rabbi here Jewish?' What the person meant was, 'Is the rabbi a convert?' Many have shared with me over the years, as our congregation has grown, that acquaintances of theirs have told them, on good authority, that Rabbi Finley 'is not really Jewish.'
"I don't think most people who talk about the Jewishness of converts realize how hurtful their speech is, or perhaps they don't realize that hurtful speech is against Jewish law. Maybe a bit of my own story will show you what I mean.
"My father, Jim Finley, converted to Judaism in late 1968, as part of my family's return to Judaism. . . . Born to Catholic parents and orphaned at a young age, my father's first connection to Judaism came from his great-grandfather, whose family name was Finola, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jew from Spain who moved to Ireland where the name was changed to Finley. . .
"After graduating from high school, my father . . . went to work with the newly-formed Civilian Conservation Corps in Idaho. During World War II, he and his buddy, a Jewish guy named Len Rosen, were drafted. He was shipped over to England, where he met my mother. They were married in a civil ceremony.
"My parents did not know what to do about religion. My mother was raised in a non-observant home. Her grandparents were Orthodox Jews, but her parents were secular.
"After many years of traveling around the U.S., my parents settled in Anaheim, California. I remember our family packing up for the beach on Sunday mornings as our neighbors headed off to church. I asked what religion was. They told me that my Dad was brought up Catholic, but never really believed in it, and that my Mom was Jewish. They said I could be whatever I wanted and they bought me a paperback book called, "The Religions of the World."
"I decided I wanted to be a Buddhist, but when I saw Buddhists immolating themselves in the streets of Saigon in 1966, I decided that wasn't for me. Everything changed in June, 1967. My Mom broke a dish while she was listening to the radio, and I noticed she was crying. I asked her what was wrong. She told me about Israel and about how the Arabs were threatening to invade and kill all the Jews. I asked her, naively, why that concerned us. My Mom and Dad then sat me down and told me about Jews and the Holocaust and Israel. Then they said, "We are a Jewish family and since Mom is Jewish, you are too."
"My Mom's Uncle, Sam, who lived nearby urged them to get me Bar Mitzvah training . . . We joined the local Conservative synagogue. I began Hebrew School and my Dad started his formal preparations for conversion, which took place eighteen months after the Six Day War. My Dad went through the Bet Din and at my Bar Mitzvah, he was on the bima, reciting the Shema. My entire family became active and went to synagogue every Friday night.
"After I got involved in Jewish life, I regularly heard the following:
You don't look Jewish.
Finley? What kind of a name is that?
Are you a convert?
"In my naivete at the time, I did not know that Jews had a special look or special names, and I wondered why Jews were so interested in whether I had converted or not. I would unabashedly explain that my Dad was a convert, until I was told by a rabbi . . . that Jews are forbidden to ask a person if he is a convert or not, or to remind a person of his non-Jewish origin because it implies that there are different levels of Jews.
"I started saying that Finley used to be Finola and that my red hair and fair looks came from my mother's Lithuanian side. Our family decided that my Dad's conversion would not be a topic for public discussion. My parents' circle of Jewish friends either knew or assumed that Dad had converted, so it was never much of an issue. But my life has become a bit different.
"In 1980, I was preparing to move to Israel, and I went to a conference on aliyah. My Hebrew was decent since I had lived on a kibbutz for most of 1977. I overhead a federation staff member say to another in Hebrew, "What's this sheygetz doing here, wanting to make aliyah?"
"Sheygetz is an ugly Yiddish word used to describe a non-Jew. It is the male equivalent of shiksa. Both words come from the Hebrew sheketz, which means an object of disgust, an impure, crawling insect.
". . . Jewish Law clearly says that once you are Jewish, whether by birth or conversion, that's it. Jewish ethics states that you don't bring this stuff up to people, because it can be so wounding. But people do it all the time. I still hear it, and even more lately, as our congregation's reputation grows, and mine along with it.
"A few years ago, I spoke to my parents and asked if I could violate my Dad's privacy and tell people he had converted. I wanted to speak out occasionally on this issue of how to treat converts and would need to bring it up. They gave me their permission.
"I speak out about this at my synagogue because we have a strong ethos of welcoming people and not stigmatizing them because they are not born Jewish or are intermarried. A large segment of our congregation was not born Jewish . . .
"I have let it be known to our Nominating Committee that I expect converts to be generously represented in our officer body and synagogue leadership. I have inherited a passion for justice from my Dad. The fact that my Dad was a convert has made me a better Jew and a better rabbi."
Rabbi Finley is a pretty strong person - an ex-Marine with a healthy self-image, many accomplishments to his credit and a deeply spiritual nature. And yet we can feel the pain and the sense of rejection with which he writes. If this rabbi, who knows so much and has such self-confidence, feels so hurt, can you imagine how many others who are newcomers to Judaism, who enter a new faith community with timidity and apprehension, can you imagine how they must feel when they encounter a slur or a cynical comment about why they have come or whether they really belong or not? Let's understand - while Jews do not seek converts, do not proselytize, we do welcome those who join us of their own free will and out of deep personal conviction.
I shared Rabbi Finley's words with you today to remind you and to remind myself of how cordial, how welcoming, how respectful and how grateful we should be to those who choose to journey with us. I think we should all take what Rabbi Finley has written to heart. Let us vote with those of the commentators on today's Torah portion who look on the erev rav who joined the ancient Israelites when they left Egypt not as enemies or scapegoats, but as allies and precious partners - because that is what they have been. With our welcoming outreach, precious allies and precious partners, brothers and sisters, fellow Members of the Tribe is what they will be. Amen
This message is based on the writings of Rabbi Jack Riemer.
