This “mini Adas” was a set piece of the annual giving fund / photo taken by Rachel Mauro
On the flip side of things, I remembered this year, hearing the shofar blast just one day can increase it’s sense of power. (It was also Rosh Hashanah Day Two, when I sang with the Adas flash choir!) And witnessing the crowds at District Wharf is kind of like witnessing life itself. I spied on two bridal parties taking professional pictures on or near the pier. There were also party goers, tourists, and so many others taking advantage of cloudy days that never quite spilled over into rain (unlike Yom Kippur!)
As we heralded in the new year over at Adas, Rabbis Holtzblatt and Alexander talked about modern Jewish identity. What do we owe strangers vs what we owe our own community? Rabbi Holtzblatt asked. As antisemitism rises, how do we feel at home in the United States? Rabbi Alexander continued.
Rabbi Holtzblatt also invoked 9/11, as Rosh Hashanah began during the 25th anniversary of that catastrophe. “This concept of Tzelem Elohim– of really caring for humanity- each person as if they are infinitely valued feels nearly impossible,” she said. “Would it not be unfeasible, impractical, to really, really, see God in every single other person? It’s why the stories of emergency personnel, firefighters running into burning buildings, flooded neighborhoods, cities destroyed by earthquakes feel so miraculous – like such manifestations of the divine.”
But for those of us who don’t engage in such extreme altruism: “The Torah does not teach us to love the universal by asking us to skip over the particular. It teaches us to love the universal through the particular.”
“The question is not whether we should love our own or love humanity,” Holtzblatt argued. “The question is whether our love for our own can become a way of recognizing the humanity of others.” She went on to invoke Rachel Goldberg-Polin, as she often does, particularly Goldberg-Polin’s response to grieving her own son, murdered by Hamas, as well as the deaths of Gazan children. On a related note, I read Rachel Goldberg-Polin’s memoir earlier this year; if you’re on GoodReads, then my review is here!
Rabbi Alexander equated Jewish at-homeness in the United States with our autonomy to make political decisions. But with antisemitism rising on both sides of the aisle, where do we go? For example: “Are we still home if we have to choose between those who silence & attack us under the guise of their version of human rights, or those who so effortlessly dehumanize us and others under the guise of extremist Nationalism cosplaying as Patriotism?”
The core of his argument is that no matter what, for those of us who whole-heartedly live our Jewish lives, it is “Ivri Anokhi. I am a Jew.” And this also means acknowledging the complexity of our worldwide community.
“Shame eats away my core identity, the center of my very being,” Alexander said. “My Jewish being. I will give it no space. I will not be humiliated. I will not apologize for our extraordinary story. I may too often have to take cover for it, but I will not hide from it, or because of it.”
But he also acknowledged the reality of Jewish groups that have or do embrace dark impulses, from violent war to interior xenophobia. So, how do we find where we belong? “I’m home when I don’t have to be perfect to be accepted,” Alexander concluded. “I’m home when I can proudly claim my people without diminishing our contributions, or wishing away our flaws. When I don’t have to choose one or the other just to fit in. I’m home, when my full Jewish identity doesn’t jeopardize my safety.”
Fast-forward a week to Kol Nidre. I left the robust and security-cocooned community of what I call the “Adasphere” to join my mother at her small congregation in Baltimore. She was also singing!
It had been awhile since I attended services outside of Adas, but so much of my mother’s new community reminded me of my childhood one. Her congregation rents space from a church, meaning that large crosses and other Christian symbols are elaborately covered (except for the stained glass windows, of course. :P) There was one guard, maybe 100 congregants for the holiest night of the year, and generally a quieter service with fewer bells and whistles. I prayed from my old friend, the Reconstructionist machzor!
I also got to see some people who I knew growing up, so that was special. In terms of the service, I particularly liked the alternative aleinu prayer, and positive additions to the al het (adding in some examples of community strengths alongside community weaknesses.)
I returned to Adas for the rest of Yom Kippur, where we spent most of the afternoon in the HaMakom Tent despite the rain. (Later on, we moved inside for the Neilah.)
While still outside, we listened to our habitual Yom Kippur afternoon speakers. I was reminded of the significant community presence at Adas when some of our members, all professionals at renowned institutions, convened to talk about the Israeli elections and the Jewish state’s evolving relationship with the U.S. We were told in no uncertain terms that this was an “off the record” conversation—suffice to say that they crammed in some highlights, and it was certainly more enlightening than getting sucked back into the social media mire. 
But in terms of ending with more spiritual umph, I’ll highlight Rabbi Krinksy’s Neilah sermon. “I worry that we have – understandably, but also dangerously – sometimes obscured the lines between safety and power,” she said. “We ignore either one at our existential physical peril – that is clear. But we confuse or conflate the two at our existential spiritual peril – that is clear, too.”
“We pray for Jewish safety,” she concluded. “We thank God and humans for every instance of continued Jewish safety. But Jewish power requires something more….It’s also in what can emerge when we let the defenses fall and allow ourselves to see those who are under the auspices of what we have amassed for who they are and for the heartbreak they are holding. And then saying – ‘yeah, hey, by the way – me too. I’m broken too.’”
G’mar Chatimah Tovah. Onward to Sukkot! I’m very excited for this song and prayer-filled experience in the Adas sukkah, where we will be visited by one of the hostages, Guy Gilboa-Dalal, alongside his brother. TMI—I’m experiencing some cold symptoms right now. So I hope I can still go, but we shall see!
Wishing the DC Jewish community and the Jewish community at large a meaningful fall holiday season.
