(Adapted from a Derasha delivered on Parshas Vayeira 5774)

A little over a month ago, BRS emailed our members our newly adopted Civility Statement that reads as follows:

In the spirit of our mission “Valuing Diversity and Celebrating Unity,” we believe that a community is built on the collective engagement of individuals representing differing perspectives, whether religious, political, or social.  As Boca Raton Synagogue is an environment where all of its members and visitors need to feel valued and welcomed, members are required to comport themselves in a manner which reflects mutual respect and a sense of inclusiveness.

In our Synagogue, we value debate about pressing issues.  This is consistent with the American democratic tradition.  Our sages saw the value of arguments conducted l”shem shamayim” for the sake of heaven,” believing that great minds who engage in respectful debate, will arrive at better solutions.  They valued and welcomed alternate views, as do we.

“Derech Eretz,” good and proper conduct, and mutually respectful dialogue are core values of the Synagogue community.  These create a “safe place” for inspiration and spiritual growth, the central purpose of the Synagogue.  It is a violation of Jewish law and ethics to use harsh language (vitriol) to demonize or to marginalize people with whom one may disagree.   Uncivil expression reflects negatively on our Synagogue as well as on the individuals who engage in such behavior.

Boca Raton Synagogue expects its members to act and to speak with kindness and sensitivity to others. It is only in this fashion that a strong, vibrant, and harmonious community can be created and maintained. Adherence to this policy is a requirement for membership in good standing at the Boca Raton Synagogue.

The statement was authored by a diverse group of our members under the leadership of Jeff Klein.  Their task was simply to articulate a statement capturing something that we all already know and hopefully live, namely, the basic principle and value of civility or, put differently, derech eretz.  The statement was approved by the executive board of the Shul and then by the board of directors.  They agreed, almost unanimously, that though our community has no specific or particular struggle in this regard, there is a general deterioration in society of civility and derech eretz and our community, therefore, would be expressing leadership by making a statement of what membership in BRS means.

The board approved the committee’s suggestions including placing the statement in all of our literature such as the Weekly, in sharing it with guest speakers and scholars in residence as a guide for the tone of their talks, and lastly, in what seemed like a good idea at the time, to have every member sign the statement as an affirmation that this is something real and meaningful for our community to work on collectively.

To be honest, I thought the Civility Statement was as ordinary as mom and apple pie.  Who wouldn’t agree that we need to treat one another civilly and with derech eretz?  I expected very little response and anticipated that if people did have something to say it would be positive and appreciative of the effort to take a leadership position on a growing issue broadly.

Indeed, there was much positive response.  A handful of my colleagues reached out to say that they thought it was a great idea and saw it as a model for something they could replicate in their communities.  Individuals from our Shul wrote or mentioned that they appreciated the effort to create a warm and open environment for diverse views and positions, and that they greatly valued this effort.

However, I was shocked to have received some strong negative pushback as well. Much of the opposition to the civility statement stemmed from the feeling that being civil and having derech eretz is “obvious” and need not be said.   Remarkably, some of those who thought the statement was completely unnecessary expressed their feelings in what I would consider uncivil ways. One person actually took the statement, crossed it out, wrote a note to me on the bottom, saying: “my civility guide is the Torah!!  We don’t need another.  What hubris!”

Another person cynically wrote:

“How about adherence to

a – not beating your wife or kids….

b – not cheating the government, your fellow Jew…etc.

c – giving Tzedaka in proportion to our means…

d – not speaking “lashon hara “

e – not acting promiscuously

f – not using HaShem’s name in vain

g – etc. etc.

Where are these principles also included in this statement which would be critical to being a member of the Shul??”  The email’s author concluded sarcastically, “Of course, minor things such as Chillul Shabbat and Kashruth cannot be included.”

Others, very concerned that they had missed some exciting drama, maybe something a little juicy, emailed me wondering what precipitated the statement.  What happened?  Who did what to whom?  Clearly something happened for the Shul to go to all this trouble.  “C’mon, fill me in” was the message I received from many.

As you can see, the Civility Statement elicited strong feelings and reactions in many directions, so I thought it would be worthwhile to share with you how it came to be and why I think it is important now more than ever.

The Beis HaLevi, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, the first of the Brisker dynasty, felt uncomfortable wearing his Rabbinic uniform when traveling.  Once, he set out on a journey from Brisk to Baranovitch and didn’t want to be recognized, so he dressed in plain clothing, rather than the traditional Rabbinic uniform.  It was a freezing cold Lithuanian winter and the Beis HaLevi was traveling by horse and buggy.  The wind was strong enough to go right through to your bones and made being outside unbearable.  The driver recognized that they would not reach their destination before nightfall and, together with Rav Soloveitchik, decided to stop at a Jewish inn on the side of the road.

They knocked on the door only to be greeted by a grumpy innkeeper who unsympathetically asked what did they want.  They explained that they wouldn’t reach their destination that evening and needed lodging for one night, but the innkeeper was emphatic that he had no room because he was expecting a delegation of important guests.  The Beis HaLevi insisted that they would freeze and ultimately the inn keeper relented and told them they could enter so long as they agreed to sleep on the floor at the end of the hallway and pay an exorbitant sum of a ruble for the night.  Having no other choice, they agreed.

Not long after they settled in for the night, an entourage of Chassidim arrived, led by their Rebbe, the illustrious Reb Aharon of Koidenov.   The innkeeper and his wife rushed to greet the important guests whose arrival they were waiting for.  They provided red-carpet treatment, greeted them with big smiles, lit a warm fire, and prepared hot tea.

After warming themselves, the Rebbe, Reb Aharon realized they had not yet davened ma’ariv and went to wash his hands before beginning the evening prayer.  He made his way down the hallway when he noticed two Jews sleeping like homeless people on the hallway floor.  One of them looked remarkably familiar and upon a closer look Reb Aharon realized that yes indeed, it was none other than the great Talmid Chacham, one of the leaders of the generation, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, the Beis HaLevi.  He let out  a scream as he rushed to ask the Rav of Brisk, what are you doing lying on the floor?

The Chassidic entourage and the innkeeper rushed to see what the commotion was about.  Imagine his surprise when he learned that one of the gedolei ha’dor was in the same inn but sleeping on the hallway floor.  The innkeeper was humiliated: how could he have treated such a distinguished guest so casually and cavalierly as if he were an average person?  In front of everyone, he immediately turned to the Rav of Brisk and begged forgiveness.  “I am very sorry for how I behaved. I didn’t realize that you were the Beis HaLevi.” Without missing  a beat, the Beis HaLevi bluntly responded, “I don’t forgive you.”  The innkeeper was stunned but he asked again, “I didn’t realize it was you, please forgive me.”  Again, the Beis HaLevi said, “I don’t forgive you.”  Now, the innkeeper was beside himself.  He couldn’t think of anything else he could do other than ask one last time, “please, I implore you Rebbe, forgive me for I didn’t recognize you.”

The Beis HaLevi relented on one condition.  “I will forgive you as long as you let me tell you a dvar Torah,” he said.

“In Parshas Vayeira we are taught about two individuals who seem to equally excel at the same mitzvah, hachnasas orchim, gracious hospitality.  Avraham Avinu was 99 years old, on the third and most painful day after giving himself a bris milah, a circumcision.  Despite the blazing sun, Avraham sits outside his tent desperate to welcome guests.  When Hashem finally sends him three angels, Avraham rolls out the red carpet.  Without regard for having just had surgery, he runs back and forth and recruits his wife and son Yishmael to take good care of his guests.   Though they are angels, Avraham thinks they are anonymous, insignificant Arabs and treats them like royalty.  Understandably, the Torah lavishes great praise upon Avraham for his behavior.

Later in our parsha, we find Avraham’s nephew, Lot, seemingly showing the same wonderful behavior as his uncle.  When he encounters three angels, he invites them to his home and refuses to take no for an answer.   When they acquiesce, Lot prepares a lavish meal for them and, like his uncle, treats his guests like royalty.  Soon after, when the wicked residents of Sedom learn of Lot’s guests and demand they be handed over, Lot protects them, risking his life.

One would fully expect Lot to receive great recognition and reward for his excelling at this wonderful mitzvah.  Yet, when Lot was rescued from the destruction of Sedom, Rashi goes out of his way to tell us that it is only in the merit of his uncle Avraham and not in his own.”  The Beis HaLevi turned to the innkeeper and said, “Why would Lot not have the same merit?  Didn’t he exhibit the same behavior?  Why did he need to rely on the merit of his uncle?”

The Beis HaLevi explained: “When Avraham hosted the angels, he thought they were regular men, nobody special.  Nevertheless, Avraham troubled himself right after surgery to care for their needs with enthusiasm, zeal and devotion.  Avraham treated the Arab wanderer as though he were an angel.

Lot, in great contrast, knew from the start he was dealing with angels, emissaries of Hashem.  He treated them like royalty, but who wouldn’t take such good care of angels?  Lot only lavished such hospitality when it served his needs and advanced his personal agenda.  Avraham treated everyone the exact same way and displayed the same honor to a seemingly insignificant stranger as he would to an angel.”   The Beis Halevi looked squarely at the innkeeper and said, “It is no excuse to say that you did not recognize me and therefore treated me so harshly.  It makes no difference who I was, you should have welcomed me respectfully and graciously, as you should all your guests no matter who they are.”

Avraham, our patriarch and forefather, who remains a model for us until this very day, treated every single person the same way.  It is easy to be civil, kind and giving to those who think the same way as you, believe in the same beliefs as you, and vote the same way as you.  But that is not when it counts and that is not when it matters.  Displaying derech eretz, civility and graciousness to someone who is different is where effort is required and it is when our real worth as descendants of Avraham is measured.

The Netziv writes that the book of Bereishis is called Sefer Ha’Yashar because Avraham and his descendants were yesharim, they were straight, honest, had integrity and treated all people properly.  Says the Netziv:  “The greatness of the Patriarchs in addition to the fact that they were righteous, pious and lovers of God as much as possible, is that they were straight and honest.  Namely, they interacted with the nations of the world, even repulsive, disgusting idolators, with love and an effort to improve their lives since they too are part of God’s creation.”

Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov lived before the Torah was given.  We learn about their lives in depth because we are to emulate their interpersonal behavior.  Derech eretz kadma la’Torah.  Proper conduct, common courtesy, living with civility, come before the Torah and is a prerequisite to Torah.  Avraham was called ivri because he was me’eiver, on the other side of every issue from the rest of the world.  He disagreed vehemently and passionately with his contemporaries but nevertheless he did so with civility, derech eretz, and graciousness.

So what precipitated the Civility Statement?  Why now and why ever?  Last year, a woman met with me to explain why she would be resigning her membership to the Shul and not coming anymore.  Of course I took a great interest not because of the money or membership but because there was clearly something going on that was bothering her and her family enough to leave the Shul.

Our meeting came closely after the 2012 presidential election and she explained that her personal views on politics were perhaps not the same as the supposed majority.  She described that even though she didn’t share her views publicly, didn’t lobby, campaign or proselytize, it wasn’t a secret that she identified with a particular candidate.  As a result, she explained, she was treated with animosity, hostility, loathing, criticism, and even name-calling.  She went on to explain that she didn’t grow up in an observant community and was relatively new to observance.   “I come to shul to find a peaceful, safe space,” she explained.  “I come to be with people who want to connect with community and with God.  I don’t come to experience negativity and so I will no longer be coming.”

I was stunned.  While not rampant or widespread, there is no question that some people who feel very passionately about their positions often don’t communicate them appropriately and respectfully.  As I listened to her perspective and experience, I realized how right she was and how responsible I, together with the lay leadership of the Shul, am to help create and maintain a safe, warm and welcoming environment for a wide and diverse array of people.

Around the same time, a member of our Shul forwarded me an email she had received from another member.  The recipient was a single woman who posted on the community message board about a singles event she was organizing.  A married woman in the community responded to her post by writing: “If you’d stop supporting the TOXIC CANCER you might find someone normal in the crowd where we are right now!”  Imagine how you would feel if you were trying to do a noble task of organizing a singles gathering and you receive a hostile email like that.

To be clear, a lack of civility and basic derech eretz is not just about politics.  Talking during davening and preventing others from connecting to Hashem is grossly uncivil.  One person wrote to me last week, “I was in the main minyan and a woman was talking loudly and incessantly to her two friends during Torah reading.  When I asked her if she could kindly not talk so that other people could hear the Torah, she said so nastily: ‘This is MY Shul.  If you don’t like it, you can go elsewhere.’  This was so venomous that I just said to her: ‘It’s my shul as well.’”

Walking right past people who are different from you as if they are invisible and aren’t worthy of a good Shabbos, is uncivil.  Not holding the door, or cutting the line at a Kiddush, is uncivil.  Reading a book while someone is giving a sermon or blocking the view of the speaker from others while you are catching up on davening is insensitive and lacks derech eretz.

A lack of derech eretz and civility is not a local issue.  In Israel, we are all familiar with the horrific behavior in Beit Shemesh a few summers ago.  Shuls across the country are struggling with how people treat one another and talk to and about one another.  Schools are grappling with replacing bullying with derech eretz and common courtesy.

In Congress, just these past few weeks we witnessed perhaps an unprecedented level of bi-partisan incivility.  Grown men and women who are supposedly our leaders called one another every name in the book including anarchists, terrorists, jihadists and more.  They pointed fingers at one another, called each other names, refused to talk or negotiate and put on display for our children a perfect performance in how not to resolve your differences.

Again, to be clear, the Torah, BRS and the Civility Statement are not seeking uniformity.  Diversity is part of our motto and the dignity of difference is fundamental to our community’s mission.  We can disagree vehemently, see things in polar opposite ways, behave differently, vote differently, daven differently, and root for different sports teams.  What we cannot do is turn differences into divisiveness, or respectful debate and dialogue into bullying, vitriol and demeaning language.

We cannot call names and speak dismissively of others.  It is horrible how comfortable we have gotten with referring to public figures with name-calling.  “He is such a moron, she is a total idiot, and they are absolute imbeciles.”  Instead of debating issues and putting forth compelling positions, we have resorted to calling names, thereby reflecting so terribly on ourselves and putting forth such a negative example for our children.

Yes, there will be times that we must take strong positions, make decisions that will have real consequences and implications, but we must do so with respect, dignity and civility.

I must tell you that not only is it inappropriate, incorrect and unacceptable to speak harshly, it is also not effective.  Nobody ever changed an opinion or observance because they were yelled at, called a name or dismissed.  Shlomo Ha’Melech teaches us in Kohelles: Divrei Chachamim b’nachas nishma’im.  The more gentle, refined and respectful we communicate, the better the chance that our position will be heard and perhaps even embraced.  It is not a coincidence that the same Avraham who was the ivri, on the other side of every debate, also succeeded in winning over thousands of followers.  His methodology of respectful debate and the power of persuasion proved incredibly effective.

So why did we have to release the Civility statement, doesn’t everybody know that derech eretz kadma la’Torah?  Why must we state or sign onto the obvious, I was asked numerous times?  The Arizal writes that before davening each and every day all of us should recite, hineni muchan u’mezuman l’kayeim mitzvas v’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha.  Why does the Arizal ask us to say it each and every day, doesn’t everybody know to love neighbors as themselves?  Isn’t it the klal gadol ba’Torah, it is obvious?  And why specifically before davening and not at some other time?

Firstly, you see that just because something should be obvious it doesn’t mean that it need not be said, and said, and said over and over again, every single day.  For the Arizal, we are about to come to Shul, daven with the community, interact with a diverse range of people, and we must remind ourselves that our talk with God is only welcome after we have committed to talk properly with people.  V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha.  “Love my children, even the ones you disagree with, and then – and only then – you can claim to love me,” says God.  “Talk nicely to everyone, even those who you differ from greatly, and then you can talk to me.”

Asking people to sign on to the statement is simply a way of creating a campaign and movement to be mindful of how we talk to one another.  If you don’t want to sign in, by all means, don’t sign it, but I beg you, I implore us all, to do better at living it.  Once again, the BRS Civility Statement did not come about because our community has a particular or acute problem.   All communities and society as a whole seem to have a growing problem and with this statement, BRS was simply trying to tackle it head on, rather than ignore or be indifferent to it.

Why not a statement about not beating your wife, not cheating the government, keeping Shabbos, as I was asked with righteous indignation?  Because our tradition says derech eretz kadma la’Torah, it doesn’t say not beating your wife kadma la’Torah.  Derech eretz is one of the four things that the Talmud tells us constantly need chizuk, not Shabbos or kashrus.

Rather than read an agenda or ulterior motive into the civility statement, I invite you to partner and help us be the safest, most welcoming, and warmest Shul campus in the country.  Let’s continue to disagree, but agreeably.  Let’s continue vigorous debate, but respectfully, not divisively.  Let’s truly be the progeny of Avraham Avinu and treat every human being with dignity and honor and thereby, please God, ourselves be worthy of being called yesharim.

“So, when are the skeletons in your closet going to emerge?  When is your scandal going to break, Rabbi?”  These were the questions I was asked by a friend after a week in which three major Rabbinic scandals came to light.  Over just a few days, it was discovered that the Chief Rabbi of a European country had fabricated his PhD in addition to having plagiarized extensively in his writings.  Then the rabbinic head of a kashrus organization was accused of participating in lewd and lascivious behavior and frequenting establishments of ill-repute.

Lastly, and most shockingly, a well-known scholar, author, rabbinic judge, professor, and former pulpit rabbi acknowledged having created at least one pseudonym under which he had been publishing, writing critical letters to journals, and promoting himself for close to 20 years.  Most egregiously, he confirmed that he had used the alter ego to gain access to, and participate in, a rabbinic organization’s private message board.

My friend simply articulated what undoubtedly many are thinking – are there any rabbis left whom we can respect?  Do all rabbis have skeletons in their closet and scandals just waiting to break?  What has become of the Rabbinate?

The combination of scandals, coupled with my friend’s question, has weighed on me heavily.  Much more than respect, for a rabbi to be effective and successful he needs the trust of those whom he serves.   If people feel the rabbi is not trustworthy, faithful, confidential, or honorable, they will not turn to him for support, guidance or influence, all critical components of his job and calling. The question, then, is what can be done to earn trust, confidence, and support, besides simply staying out of trouble?

I recently had the privilege of addressing the members of Yeshiva University’s prestigious Kollel Elyon at Dr. Lamm’s monthly lunch with them.  I shared with them a message I have shared with every young rabbi I have interacted with: take what you do seriously, but never take yourself too seriously.

It is very easy for rabbis to begin to take themselves too seriously and to believe somehow that they are more important, their opinions matter more, and they deserve more respect and honor than anyone else.    There is an expression I hear regularly and I shudder each and every time it is said to me.  “Rabbi, thank you for taking the time to call me back,” or “thank you for taking the time to meet with me.  I know how valuable your time is.”  I always respond the same way:  “My time is no more valuable than yours and calling you back or meeting with you is exactly how I want to be spending it.”

Many rabbis hear about how valuable their time is and they start to believe it.  They therefore leave people waiting, stand them up, and fail to call them or email them back in a timely fashion.  People come to rabbis with their problems and the expectation that the rabbi can solve them.  This phenomenon can leave the rabbi feeling like he has the answers and access to all of the solutions and he is all powerful.

With all the heartache, complaints, and gossip about him and his family, the truth is that the rabbi also gets a lot of kavod (honor).  People stand for him when he enters and wait for him until he is done for certain parts of davening.  He has access to dignitaries and elected officials, he stands in front of the room each week sharing his sermon to an audience eager for his thoughts, and newspapers may call him for his opinion.

The bottom line is that it is extremely easy for all of this to go to a rabbi’s head and for him to start believing the hype.  One of the most disappointing parts of the Rabbinate, I told the young group of rabbis at YU, is meeting the other members of the rabbinate, many of whom are arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed and self-important.

Our job as Rabbis is to understand and accept the awesome responsibility of answering halachik questions, providing guidance and advice regarding issues ranging from life and death to mundane, and showing up when people need us most such as during life cycle events, times of illness, struggle, or loneliness.  Our mission as leaders is to articulate a vision for our community and to implement the necessary steps to achieving it.

My message to those young rabbis was one that I try to remind myself of every single day – Take what you do seriously and not yourself too seriously.  Your time is no more valuable than anyone else’s.   You are not perfect, you have faults, you make mistakes, and you don’t have all of the answers and solutions to any given problem.

Make sure to have a Rebbe, a mentor and teacher to bounce ideas off of and to push back if you are pushing the envelope too far.  I once asked a prominent rabbi who regularly expresses ideas, and authors articles and books that push the boundaries of tradition, “who is your Rebbe, your teacher that you rely on to give you feedback?”  He had a blank look on his face and said, “I have never really thought about that.”

If you are blessed to be married, make sure that your Rebbetzin understands that part of her role is to keep you grounded.  Walking out of the White House last year from the meeting I was privileged to participate in with the President, my phone rang and it was my wife.  She asked how it went and after I filled her in, she said, “That’s nice.   Listen, don’t forget tomorrow is garbage day and when you get home from meeting the President, you need to take out the garbage.”

Some rabbis think that as events unfold the world is waiting for their interpretation, their opinion, or elucidation.  This phenomenon expresses itself in sermons on politics or current events, but even more disturbingly by rabbis with online profiles who post things such as “I’ll have a post about X soon. Stay tuned,” or “You should really read my blog. I have a post about that,” or “Jews of the Internet, this is a *huge* story. I will read carefully over Shabbat and write up my thoughts after.”

There are an ever-increasing number of rabbis on the web who write opinion pieces on everything occurring in the Jewish and non-Jewish world before it is even done happening or the facts are clear.  They measure their effectiveness by the amount of comments, likes, or followers they receive, rather than the offline personal relationships they are building or the lives they are influencing in a meaningful, substantive way.  The real role of a rabbi is empathy, compassion, and showing up in person, not online.

After the recent tragedy that occurred in our community, a number of people commented, “Being a rabbi is really difficult, I don’t know how you do it.”  What is amazing is that I feel the exact opposite.  Watching people go through pain or suffer a loss and not be in a position to help, support or make a difference must be really difficult.  The rabbinate is the greatest gift for me, for it provides an outlet to try to make a difference in people’s lives and absolutely nothing could be more fulfilling.

Despite the many rabbinic scandals that have broken lately, I implore you to continue to have faith in the rabbinate.  I am proud of my colleagues that are l’shem Shomayim (for the sake of Heaven) and dedicate their lives to being caring, concerned, honest, honorable and of service.  Though I am far from perfect, (some of you take the liberty to remind me from time to time) I hope you will continue to trust me.  I am thankful each and every day that you allow me to have the greatest job in the world.

At the end of the session, during the questions and answers period, the following question was posed: given the challenges that the Reform and Conservative movements are facing, should the Orthodox community celebrate and feel triumphant?

The answer is obvious and clear, I explained, for two reasons. Firstly, if indeed Reform and Conservative are losing numbers, it is not because their membership is fleeing to Orthodoxy. Rather, it is because those individuals and families have decided that belonging to a Synagogue and identifying with the Jewish community is no longer a priority or a value. There is absolutely nothing to celebrate about more Jews becoming assimilated and potentially intermarrying.

As Rav Aharon Lichtenstein once wrote (Tradition, Spring 1982):

“Nor do I share the glee some feel over the prospective demise of the competition. Surely, we have many sharp differences with the Conservative and Reform movements, and these should not be sloughed over or blurred. However, we also share many values with them – and this, too, should not be obscured. Their disappearance might strengthen us in some respects, but would unquestionably weaken us in others. And of course, if we transcend our own interests and think of the people currently served by these movements – many of them, both presently and potentially, well beyond our reach or ken – how would they, or klal Yisrael as a whole, be affected by such a change? Can anyone responsibly state that it is better for a marginal Jew in Dallas or Dubuque to lose his religious identity altogether rather than drive to his temple?”

There is a second reason that it is grossly inappropriate to feel triumphant. The Orthodox community needs to hold a mirror to ourselves and ask: are we indeed doing so well that we can afford to feel triumphant? True, we are blessed to have many successes. But, at the same time, we face many challenges. The lack of religious and spiritual inspiration among our youth, the continued practice of sinas chinam (baseless hatred), the failure of an Observant lifestyle to automatically create a more ethical, kind, compassionate, honest and moral lifestyle, are challenges that must be addressed if we are to celebrate success in the next hundred years and beyond.

The questioner then followed up: Should the Orthodox community be involved with and participate in the larger Jewish community? The answer is a resounding YES, I responded, for four reasons that I believe bear repeating here.

Firstly, if indeed we believe that Torah empowers us to lead an enriched, noble and meaningful life, don’t we want to share it with all of our Jewish brothers and sisters? Participating in the broader Jewish community provides a perfect platform to expose others to a Torah way of life, and perhaps pique their interest in learning more.

Secondly, we have so much to learn from the leadership and membership of the greater Jewish community and must not deny ourselves that education. I personally have sat around board and committee tables of non-denominational Jewish organizations and have walked away inspired by the passion, wisdom, commitment, selflessness, and humility of those gathered to work tirelessly on behalf of our people.

Thirdly, if we want the interests, concerns and the voice of the Orthodox community represented, we must be part of the conversations. I have found that there are plenty of proverbial seats reserved at “the table” for the Orthodox community. The only question is – are we choosing to sit in them?

Lastly, and most importantly, being part of the general Jewish community, with no ulterior motive but just for its own sake, is a core Torah value. Torah, mitzvos and halacha are designed to enable us to live in multiple concentric circles. We are to see ourselves in the context of our nuclear family, of our local Jewish community, of the general Jewish people and as part of all humanity. Being involved with the greater Jewish people, with no agenda other than being counted in helping to shape our collective destiny, is a Torah mandate.

I am so incredibly proud of the participation of our BRS community in our local Jewish institutions. Our members are disproportionally represented in the leadership of our Federation, AIPAC, College Campus Hillel, FIDF, and more. In the last month alone, our BRS members have chaired, been honored by, and attended the FIDF gala dinner, Federation’s big Event and Hillel’s annual gathering. This week, more than 100 of our members will attend AIPAC’s policy conference in Washington.

May the next hundred years bring greater commitment to Torah learning and Torah living. May it usher in an era of Jewish unity, cooperation, and partnership as together we protect the spiritual and physical destiny of our people.

It is hard to think of another place where such a large quantity of people all seem so courteous, kind, pleasant, and polite. Generally speaking, one doesn’t find pushing or shoving, short tempers, a culture of criticism, or impolite and impatient people at Disney, despite having to wait on lines, pay large fees, endure the hot sun, and spend hours on one’s feet.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if our Shuls and Jewish communities could be more like Disney? Wouldn’t it simply be incredible if Orthodox synagogues and communities were known as the happiest places on Earth, and that guests to our buildings couldn’t wait to come back and to visit as often as they could?

How does Disney do it and what could we learn for creating a culture of happiness? A few years ago, I had the privilege of participating in a behind-the-scenes tour of Disney arranged by Yeshiva University. The design and layouts of the parks, the placement of vendors, and the timing of the shows are all meticulously and brilliantly strategized and arranged. But what struck me most was the employee culture and how the attitude of the Disney’s tens of thousands of workers impacts each and every one of their guests.

In every employee only area, there are signs listing the Disney credo. It includes: “I project a positive image and energy. I am courteous and respectful to all guests including children. I go above and beyond.” Disney understands a fundamental psychological principle supported by extensive research – happiness is contagious. Just as if one person yawns others will follow suit, so too, if a person smiles, others around him will start smiling as well. A happy disposition, a positive spirit, and a pleasant countenance are simply contagious.

Whose responsibility is it to spread the smiles? Whose job is it to maintain the happiness effect? There are roughly 60,000 employees at Disney World in Orlando. All members of the staff, from custodial and maintenance, to the ride operators and people who wear the Mickey costumes, are referred to as “cast members.” How many of the 60,000 cast members do you think are responsible for picking up the garbage? The answer is all 60,000. How many are responsible for helping someone find directions or return a lost child to their parents? 60,000. How many are required to smile and spread the happiness? That’s right, all 60,000. At Disney, the cast members know that they each have different tasks, but they are taught that they all have the same purpose: spreading happiness.

Disney has a regular contest among the employees to identify and reward “great service fanatics.” These individuals are nominated by their peers and are celebrated for going above and beyond in being kind, helpful, and spreading happiness.

In this week’s parsha, it doesn’t take long for the Jewish people to climb out the other side of the miraculously split sea before they begin to complain. “What are we going to drink? What are we going to eat? Why did you take us into the desert to die?” Despite the unprecedented and unparalleled miracles they personally had experienced, the people nevertheless struggled to find happiness and began a pattern of complaining.

The Torah describes that lo yuchlu lishtos mayim mi’marah ki marim heim, they weren’t able to drink the water from marah because they were marim, they were bitter. The Kotzker Rebbe says, what or who was bitter? We traditionally translate that the water was bitter and that is what precluded the people from drinking it. However, the Kotzker says no – marim heim is describing the people. They were bitter, disgruntled, critical, judgmental, dismissive, and dissatisfied. The problem wasn’t in the water; it was in the people who had a predisposition for seeing the bitterness instead of looking for the sweetness.

How do we go from a culture of complaining to creating the happiest place on Earth? The answer, I humbly submit, is to tap into Disney’s magic and to promote a mandate in which every single Jew is a member of ‘the cast.’ If we want to be a place that attracts and inspires non-observant and disaffected Jews, we ALL need to be leaders in making happiness contagious in our environs.

In our Shul and community, like in every other one, we all have different tasks. Some are Jewish communal professionals;others are lay leaders. Some are working and some are retired. Some are professionals, while others own businesses, and others are stay at home Moms and Dads. But, while we all have different tasks, we need to see ourselves as sharing the same purpose if we are going to change a culture.

Like Disney we must reward and celebrate those that provide service with a smile and go above and beyond. It isn’t enough to highlight and commend those that excel in learning or in piety. We must reward the “great service fanatics,” among our adults and children who excel at being nice, kind, and thoughtful, and who smile contagiously.

Let’s taste the sweetness of life, make an effort to always have a smile, and be active members of the Jewish people’s cast, thereby converting our Shuls and communities to the happiest places on Earth.

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to make good on an important promise, and in so doing, to follow in the footsteps of our forefathers.   When Yaakov Avinu anticipated that he would soon leave this world, he summoned his beloved son Yosef, and asked him to make a promise:

“Vayikra livno l’Yosef vayomer lo im na matzasi chein b’einecha sim nah yadecha tachas yereichi, v’asisa imadi chesed v’emes, v’al nah sikbereini b’Mitzrayim. V’Shachavti im avosai u’nesasani mi’Mitzrayim, u’kevartani b’kevurasam, va’yomer anochi e’eseh kidvarecha.

He (Yaakov) called to his son, to Yosef, and he said to him, ‘If I find favor in your eyes, place your hand under my thigh and act with me in kindness and truth – please do not bury me in Egypt.  Rather, let me lie with my forefathers and carry me forth from Egypt to bury me among their graves,’ and he (Yosef) said, I will do what you asked.”

Yaakov asks Yosef to carry him up from Egypt and to insure his burial in the Land of Israel.  The parsha ends in a similar manner to the way it began.  This time it is Yosef who asks his brothers to make a promise, the very same promise that he himself made to his father.

“Vayomer Yosef el echav, anochi meis veiLokim pakod yifkod eschem v’heelah eschem min ha’aretz ha’zos el ha’aretz asher nishbah l’Avraham l’Yitzchak u’leYaakov.  And Yosef said to his brothers, I am going to die, please swear that you will carry up my bones from this land (Egypt) to the land that God promised to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.”

Yosef, like his father Yaakov, did not want to be buried in Mitzrayim, a land of exile.  Both of them make those with whom they are close promise to bring them to a permanent burial in the land of our forefathers, in Israel.

Last Friday, our community suffered a great loss in the passing of our beloved and esteemed member, friend, and teacher – Rabbi Gene Klein.  Rabbi Klein led a life filled with challenges, suffering, tragedy, and disappointment and yet, he was one of the most optimistic, positive, and upbeat people any of us has ever met.  Rav Yaakov Chaim, like his namesake Yaakov Avinu, did not want to be buried in exile, and instead insisted on being interred in the land of our forefathers, together with his cherished Rebbetzin, Elka.  A few years ago, Rabbi Klein asked me to make him a promise.  He asked that we escort him to burial in the land of Israel.  Earlier this week, on behalf of our community, I made good on that promise, much sooner than any of us had hoped to.

Though it was already dark and cold, close to 60 people attended Rabbi Klein’s burial in the Eretz Ha’Chaim Cemetery in Beit Shemesh on Monday night.  Many of our teenagers studying in Israel for the year attended.  Former BRS members came from all throughout Israel to pay their respects.  Rabbi Klein’s cousin whom he spoke about often, Rabbi Slezinger, the Rav of Gilo, spoke eloquently about his cousin.   A great, great nephew of Rabbi Klein was there as well, and he, too, shared great memories of many beautiful yomim tovim with the rabbi.

I recognized everyone in attendance, with the exception of three people.  I had never seen them before, and even while I was looking out while delivering my eulogy, I wondered who they were and why they came.  My curiosity was compounded when I noticed them growing emotional as the funeral and burial went on until they each had tears streaming down their cheeks.

After the Kaddish was recited and the burial came to a close, the three mysterious individuals and I had an opportunity to meet.  It turns out that these two brothers and a sister had grown up in Rabbi Klein’s Shul in Englishtown, NJ.  They described that their family had no Jewish background at all and they grew up in a totally non-observant environment.

My new friends exclaimed proudly that they are religious today only because of the love, care, concern, and inspiration of one man: Rabbi Klein.   They reflected nostalgically on what it was like to grow up as one of Rabbi Klein’s children.  He met with each of them a minimum of 12 times before for their Bat and Bar Mitzvahs.  They learned to daven, to love Torah, to keep Kosher, and to value Judaism from this extraordinary man whom they had come to say goodbye to, all of these years later.

Their stories of being inspired by the behavior and modeling of one man sat in great contrast to what I had witnessed just a few hours earlier.  As I’m sure many of you can attest to, airplane travel seems to bring out the worst of some people.  True, there are many who exhibit virtuous conduct by giving up a superior seat to help a married couple sit together, or get up to help someone load his suitcase into the overhead space, or hold a baby so that her mother  traveling alone can go to the restroom.

However, the kindness of some at times seems to be outweighed and muted by the gross inappropriateness and offensiveness of others, often with a yarmulke on top of their head.  Somehow there is a moment on every flight to Israel when I cringe and recoil watching and listening to a visibly observant passenger carry on in a manner that can only be described as an egregious Chillul Hashem.  During those episodes, the look on the faces of those not yet observant says it all – “I want nothing to do with Torah and Mitzvos if this is the kind of behavior those who are observant could exhibit.”

As I flew home, I sat in my seat reflecting on the contrast between Rabbi Klein’s love, affection, derech eretz, and fine middos, with the crassness, obnoxiousness, and insensitivity of some others.  This journey served as a reminder that our very behavior and conduct is pregnant with the potential to leave transformational impressions on others that will either draw them closer to our tradition, or God forbid drive them far away.

Rabbi Klein’s greatest legacy is the thousands of families who were beneficiaries of his kindness and who were inspired by his actions, even more than his words, to live richly Jewish lives.  The greatest honor we can show his memory is to remember our responsibility and obligation to always act with righteousness towards others, and to seek to create a Kiddush Hashem with everyone we come across.

It is not every day that you pull up to a Kosher restaurant in Boca Raton and discover two black SUV’s with tinted windows in the parking lot and Secret Service agents at the entrance. At first, I thought they were there to protect Yocheved and me on our dinner date and help us get some private time together without interruptions. But then I realized that sitting in the back corner, quietly and unobtrusively eating his meal, was Jack Lew, the White House Chief of Staff. Mr. Lew was in town for a couple of days of meetings and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he sought out a Kosher establishment for dinner, as he is an observant Jew.

The hour was late and I knew he was leaving Florida the next day. We had met previously and, after reintroducing myself, I asked a somewhat brazen question: ”Did he have ten minutes to meet with our teens – anytime, anywhere?” The Krasnas were there too, and after I introduced them to Mr. Lew, they joined me in singing the praises of our BRS Pro-Israel Teen Advocacy group, under the inspired leadership of Rabbi Pilichowski. Mr. Lew told me that it was unlikely, but took my card just in case something would change.

Imagine my surprise when after 11 p.m. an email arrived saying he had shuffled somethings around in his schedule and would be at BRS at 9:15 a.m. to meet with the students for 10 minutes. (Oh, and by the way, the Secret Service would be scoping out the BRS campus in the middle of the night.) Rabbi Pilichowski worked his magic, and less than nine hours later, more than 20 teens had an off-the-record meeting with the White House Chief of Staff in the Rand Sanctuary of the Boca Raton Synagogue.

Mr. Lew did not take advantage of this opportunity to campaign for or heap praise on the president and his administration. His words were neither partisan nor oriented to a particular philosophy or party. Instead, he spoke to the teens about something that every observant Jewish teenager – and adult, for that matter – should hear. His message was simple, and yet profound. If you respect your religion, your heritage, and your tradition, others will as well. If you carry yourself with dignity and class, it will reflect well on your belief system, and others will thereby honor your religious boundaries.

He continued by telling the students that at every stage of his career, whether it was during his work for Speaker Tip O’Neal, as part of the Clinton Administration or now, working directly for President Obama, his commitment to Shabbos, Kashrus, and Halacha never got in the way or held him back from advancing professionally. In fact, knowing how important Shabbos is to Mr. Lew, the President will often turn to him on a Friday afternoon and say, “Shouldn’t you be heading out now to make it home before sundown?”

The Chief of Staff’s second message was as important as his first. Just because you are an observant Jew, don’t feel entitled or act in a way that will cause others to be resentful of your lifestyle. If you need to be inaccessible on Saturdays, be the first to volunteer when something needs to be done on a Sunday. If you are not available on Jewish holidays, go out of your way to cover December 25^th through New Year’s. “Recognize,” said Mr. Lew, “every time you need to be off, someone else needs to cover for you and get your work done. Don’t take that lightly and don’t feel entitled.”

He closed by sharing an observation that should be moving no matter what party you affiliate with or how much you may agree or disagree with the current administration. Jack Lew’s father escaped from a small town in Eastern Europe that had no survivors from among those who remained after the Nazis took it over. He came to America barely speaking English and struggling to cling to his tradition and heritage. Mr. Lew described to the teens that just one generation ago his father had to run for his life simply because he was a Jew. Now, one generation later, he sits with the President of the United States in the Oval Office every day as an Orthodox Jew. This is a land of freedom, blessing and opportunity; never take it for granted.

The Chief of Staff’s final remarks resonated deeply for me because they were exactly what I felt on my two recent visits to the White House. In May, Yocheved and I were privileged to attend the Jewish Heritage Month reception in the East Wing of the White House. As we entered the reception together with Jewish leaders from across the country, all I could think of were the centuries and millennia that Jews were denied access to those who ruled over them. Instead of graciously being invited to a seat at the table, our ancestors were kicked out the door of many of the countries in which they lived. And now Yocheved, the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, and I, the grandson of immigrants who fled after Kristallnacht, were invited to spend a few hours in the most powerful building in the world to celebrate Jewish contributions to this great country. As if that wasn’t enough, signs were displayed announcing that the food was “Glatt Kosher, Chassidishe Shechita, Pas Yisroel and all wine was Mevushal.” We were provided the Red Room to daven Mincha, as the Secret Service protected our prayers from being disturbed by noisy people gathering nearby.

Only a week after attending the Jewish Heritage Month reception, I was truly humbled to be invited among a group of Jewish leaders to a meeting in the West Wing under the auspices of the Orthodox Union. The meeting was intended to be with Jack Lew, though the president ended up joining us for the majority of the conversation. That day, too, I was overwhelmed by a sense of amazement and gratitude that we live in such an extraordinary time that the Orthodox Jewish community is considered worthy and significant enough to be hosted by the President in the White House. One can only wonder what might have been different if the American Jewish community had such access to FDR during the Holocaust and how many Jewish lives might have been saved?

Mr. Lew only had time for one question, and our students asked what is front and center on most of our minds: Will America back Israel if she attacks Iran? The Chief of Staff spent 2 minutes answering the question. But to be honest, it was his early remarks that left the more powerful impression on our teenagers, and I believe it will impact them for years to come.

In a time of heightened partisanship, particularly as we approach the election, one thing we can all agree on is that we live in historic times for the American Jewish community. Hakaras ha’tov, gratitude and appreciation, or more literally, recognizing the good, is a bipartisan value and should transcend politics. As Orthodox Jews, we in particular must be grateful for the opportunities afforded to us in this country every single day, opportunities many of our ancestors only dreamt of. We must not take them for granted and we should feel obligated to use them fully to create a Kiddush Hashem everywhere that we go. White House Chief of Staff Jack Lew is doing it, and so should we.

Our tradition states clearly that the main cause of God’s withdrawal from His Beis Ha’Mikdash and the source of the harsh exile we have suffered is the divisiveness and discord found among our people. For close to two thousand years, we have experienced pogroms, persecution, oppression, hatred, relentless anti-Semitism and a systematic attempt to exterminate our entire nation. Throughout those two millennia, we have been reminded over and over again that the main barrier and obstacle to finally ending all of our suffering and heralding a Messianic era characterized by peace and tranquility is simply our inability to learn how to get along and be respectful of one another.

Can we really blame Hashem for retreating from being around us, His children, when we can’t get along with one another Do we as parents not demand from our children that they practice loyalty towards one another, and be minimally respectful and accepting of each other, despite any differences they may have?

God Himself provided us with the tool that is to be the solution. Torah was given as a great unifier, a vision and set of values that we can all rally behind and embrace as one united community. We, as a nation of 2 to 3 million, received the Torah ‘k’ish echad b’leiv echad,’ as one person with one heart.

We recite in birchas ha’Torah “asher bachar banu mi’kol ha’amim, v’nasan lanu es Toraso, God chose us from among all the nations and gave us His Torah.” Becoming a nation and feeling a sense of peoplehood and community preceded receiving the Torah and, indeed, was a prerequisite to it. Authentic and genuine Torah in our time must be learned, observed and practiced with a deep sense of commitment to the wholeness, unity, health and well being of our people.

Therefore, it is a great comfort that as we mournfully count down the remaining few hours to Tisha B’av, we can eagerly anticipate a monumental milestone event that will follow it closely, namely the Siyum Ha’Shas. Ninety thousand men, women and children will fill Met Life Stadium in New York and hundreds of thousands more will join via internet to celebrate around the world in a great display of kavod ha’Torah, respect and honor for our sacred tradition as Shas, the six orders of Talmud, is completed.

Before Shabbos Nachamu, the Shabbos of consolation even arrives, the Siyum Ha’Shas should be just the soothing salve we need to heal the wounds and aches of Tisha B’av. As my friend and colleague, Rabbi Shalom Baum, pointed out to me, on Tisha B’av we will sit on the floor mourning the public burning of hundreds of volumes of the Talmud in France and Italy centuries ago. Just a few days later, we will affirm the vibrancy, vitality and relevancy of that same Talmud at the completion of its study in a similarly very public manner.

There is so much to celebrate and take pride in regarding the Siyum Ha’Shas. Jews of varied backgrounds, levels of observance and world outlook will attend the siyum together. Diverse Roshei Yeshiva and Talmidei Chachamim will sit on the dais, and a video that includes OU (Orthodox Union) Rabbis Steven Weil and Moshe Elefant will be shown. Thousands will gain entry into the exclusive club of “shas yidden,” those who have completed every single folio page of Talmud. Thousands more will be finishing shas for a second or third time, and yet thousands more will begin the marathon of the next seven and a half year journey through the sea of Talmud.

To be sure, there are wonderful stories and profiles surrounding the Siyum Ha’Shas. But sadly, other stories are emerging that, rather than reflect the spirit of unity and togetherness that we desperately need, tell the continued tale of the divisiveness and conflict that caused Tisha B’av to begin with. A prominent Chassidishe Rebbe has forbidden his flock from attending the siyum at MetLife since Zionist Rabbis, such as former Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, will address the audience.

Admirably, a mechitza that costs six figures is being built for this three hour event to make sure that all segments of the Torah community feel comfortable attending. But, in contrast, how much energy and how many resources have been allocated to market and explain this monumental event to the unaffiliated and to help the uninitiated feel invited and welcome as well?

In addition, an alternative “Modern Orthodox” Siyum Ha’Shas has been arranged, and its organizers claim it will reflect a different perspective and approach than the one at Met Life Stadium. Like a lightning rod, this alternative Siyum has attracted immediate controversy, so much so that two prominent speakers who were to address the alternative Siyum have withdrawn from the program.

As we approach the Siyum Ha’Shas, the Torah community has much to be proud of. Deep appreciation and gratitude must be expressed to Agudas Yisroel and their leadership who have worked tirelessly to organize an incredible event that in so many ways is a great Kiddush Hashem. My words are not intended in any way as an indictment against them, God forbid.

But, I believe that if we really long for the geulah, the redemption, and yearn for the Messianic era, the entire width and breadth of the Torah community must ask ourselves – do the values of community, people hood and the unity of Torah not supersede our personal sensitivities and interests? Many may feel: “The program is not designed specifically the way I would want it and it doesn’t include exactly the speakers I would prefer. Attending and supporting it would take compromise and concession on my part.” My response is simple – doesn’t creating unity among diverse people always require conciliation, and isn’t it well worth it?

The Mishna in Pirkei Avos states, “Rabbi Chanina ben Tradyon omeir, shnayim she’yoshvim v’ein beineihem divrei Torah, harei zeh moshav leitzim, if two sit together and there are no words of Torah between them, it is a session of scorners.” Rav Chaim Yaakov Goldvicht z’l, my revered Rosh Yeshiva at Kerem B’Yavneh, explained this Mishna in a creative fashion. The two people the Mishna describes are chavrusos, study partners. They are engaged in Torah learning. So how can it be described as a moshav leitzim, a session of scorners? Rav Goldvicht explained because for these two people, the Torah is not beineihem, it doesn’t bring them together and unify them. Yes, they are learning Torah, but the Torah is not transforming them into more thoughtful, caring people connected to one another.

Rav Meir Shapiro z’l introduced the idea of Daf Yomi so that all Jews, no matter where they are found in the world, would literally be on the same page. Celebration of the Daf in particular, and commitment to Torah in general should bring us together in a united fashion and help put us on the same page, not divide us, God forbid.

As we approach yet another Tisha B’av and bemoan the Jewish condition in the world, let’s pledge to improve ourselves by doing more to care for our fellow Jews. Unity doesn’t come easy. It takes work and it usually requires compromise.

May the Siyum Ha’Shas not only inspire us to learn more and, for those who can, strive to commit to go through the entire shas, But, even more importantly, let us strive to have shas go through us and bring about the unity for our people that is the necessary prerequisite for bringing Moshiach.