Lee Levin is an icon of the community. Huddled in his cave on the extreme right of the political spectrum, he sends messages that attempt to unsettle the perspective of the general community. In his latest salvo, he has imagined a world distorted by the immigration at the southern border. He seems to argue that people who seek to enter the country have no skills, will make no contribution to the American way and will be content to survive on the charity of others. He contends that the rest of us support ourselves.
The only problem with his colorful tale is that there is no truth to it.
The would be immigrants will prove, as have their predecessors, that they will work and contribute to this country in many ways, including the enrichment of a diverse culture.
His depiction of an independent citizenry is inaccurate. Let me provide just two examples.
I have worked since I was 14 and have been for more than a decade the recipient of Social Security and Medicare benefits. While I contributed to the funds that support these programs, my contribution is long used up. My benefits now come from the contributions of millions of other Americans who work to maintain the system.
My family, and all of us, are protected by a police force. Yet all the local taxes that I pay will not provide the salary of a single law enforcement officer. But all of us contribute to make this protection available for everyone.
These are just two instances that demonstrate how the system works for all of us. And this also demonstrates that we do live up to the vision of Emma Lazarus engraved upon the Statue of Liberty. That vision is not available for amendment.
Kaddish.com by Nathan Englander.(Alfred Knopf. 2019)
When Larry’s Orthodox father passes away, his religious sister Dina insists that he take on the responsibility of saying Kaddish for the year to come. Larry, however, has ceased to be religious. He doesn’t want to attend daily minyans for a year, so he trolls the internet until he happens on a website called “kaddish.com” where he can hire Orthodox scholar Chemi to recite the Kaddish for his father.
What happens next is that Larry recovers his orthodoxy and becomes a rabbi and a teacher in a religious school in New York. He marries Mira, an Orthodox woman, has two children, and life is going along well until he become involved with a troubled student Gavriel, who is suffering the recent loss of his own father. To help Gavriel, Larry, now known as Shuli, tries to locate Kaddish.com online. He receives no responses to his inquiries, so he takes a leave of absence from his job and flies to Israel to find the organization.
There in Jerusalem, Shuli cannot locate the organization, but he finds a small Yeshiva and eventually discovers the mysterious Chemi, who is now a rich man making money from the Kaddish requests which he does not fulfill. How Shuli solves all the problems is the finale of the novel. Englander’s focus on the need for Kaddish is not the first time he focuses on the issue. In his first collection of short stories, “For the Relief of Unbearable Urges,” his story “The Twenty-Seventh Man” describes a group of Russian Jewish authors who are about to be murdered by Stalin, one of whom is concerned about who will be left to say Kaddish. His latest novel is another way to look at the need for Kaddish and is well worth the time.
Andrea Kempf is a retired librarian and an award winning book reviewer.
Lee Levin’s article “Allegory of the Southern Border” (July 11) is deeply offensive and misleading and serves as a unique window into the minds of those who are OK with the Trump administration’s horrific mistreatment of immigrant children and adults at the border. He helps me understand the lies people tell themselves that underpin this point of view.
Were Mr. Levin’s parents or grandparents or great-grandparents immigrants? If so, in what way is the arrival of the “many men screaming and pounding on my door” any different from the arrival of his own family, or ours, seeking safety and a better life? His own have been in the “house” longer. That is all.
This “house” does not belong to any individual. And we share a collective responsibility for the well-being of those who arrive here after we do. That responsibility comes with the privilege of citizenship.
Mr. Levin, no one is going to die if immigrants are treated humanely and with compassion at the border.
Real children are already dying there — it is no allegory.
The true risk is that more children and adults will suffer and die each day if we fail to address this crisis. Our country’s ideals will die with them.
I have had two visits for rehab at Village Shalom due to a couple of automobile accidents. Both times my rehabilitation was most successful and turned out to be a positive experience.
The first one was a few years ago. I immediately saw that one of my cousins was at Village Shalom. We had coincidentally been in the hospital about 60 years ago at the same time. At that time when he visited my room, I got him laughing and because he had just had an appendectomy, it caused him a lot of pain. I never saw him again during his hospital stay. During my recent stay at Village Shalom he and I spent most every day together amid the wonderful courtesy and treatment of the staff.
Well, a couple of years later my car and I were disabled once again. I was back at Village Shalom. A good friend was there and we had an enjoyable and humorous time. It seemed like we were back at camp. Again the care was very superior.
I’ve had occasion to visit a number of similar facilities and there really is no comparison with the attitude of the staff and the overall warmth and caring you find at Village Shalom. I feel very lucky that it is here and available.
The welcome news of the remodeling and new construction gave Shirley and me an opportunity to participate in the fundraising. We have been very proud of Village Shalom. The fact that it serves the entire community so well is an additional reason for our personal giving.
My brother Charles has been very involved with Village Shalom from the start, establishing a monthly and annual employee recognition program, as well as being responsible for an exceptional staff lounge, recognizing the value of the loyalty and unexcelled service provided to its residents.
We have been so fortunate with the leadership of Matt Lewis. Matt and his entire team keep Village Shalom as the outstanding place that it is.
I hope you will consider this an opportunity to help create these important new improvements.
The following is a fictional account. But in our country today, it absolutely could happen.
The other night I was awakened by the sound of many men screaming and pounding on my door, demanding entrance. I was badly frightened — I had no idea who any of them were.
A rear window broke and others started pouring in. They had come all at once, in a caravan of about two dozen. I called 911. The police came. They arrested ME!
“This is insane!” I raged. “They were breaking and entering! They are criminals!” Nothing I said mattered.
I was hauled before a judge, who wore a “Bernie for President” lapel button. “The police report says,” he stated sternly, “that your premises are like a concentration camp. The facilities are grossly inadequate. The building code does not permit so many. What can you be thinking, to be so inhumane?”
“But this caravan descended on me out of nowhere! I could not have possibly accommodated all of them!”
“Tough,” he responded. “That’s your problem. And the police report says that one-third of them are ill.
You must get them medical attention at your expense.”
“My expense?” I sputtered. “I pay thousands of dollars a year for health insurance and have co-pays and deductibles. You’re saying I must give them health care for free, while
I can barely afford health care for my own family?”
“You’ve got that right, buddy.”
“I have a homeless brother. An aunt that needs skilled nursing care. A son who can’t afford his own health insurance. Just how long do I have to fully support these non-citizen criminals?
“They are utterly unskilled. Chances are you are going to have to pay for their welfare indefinitely.”
“But,” I protested, “I’m already over my head in debt.”
“So what?” the judge sneered. “And let me add, in all my years on the bench I have never encountered a defendant as monstrously inhumane as you.”
I hung my head in chastened shame. When I got back home, I learned my brother had died, uncared for, in his cardboard box in San Francisco.
Lee Levin is the author of five historical novels and a lifelong conservative.
Regarding Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez comparing the border situation to Nazi concentration camps, she may or may not have said this on purpose to push our buttons. She just got millions of dollars of free publicity and her followers love it.
Rep. Cheney of Wyoming begged Ocasio-Cortez to “spend just a few minutes learning” the history of the World War II genocide, tweeting that “6 million Jews were exterminated in the Holocaust. You demean their memory and disgrace yourself with comments like this.”
Ocasio-Cortez shot back at Cheney minutes after her posting:
”Hey Rep. Cheney, since you’re so eager to ‘educate me,’ I’m curious: What do YOU call building mass camps of people being detained without a trial? How would you dress up DHS’s mass separation of thousands of children at the border from their parents?”
Cortez knows how to manipulate the press. She is neither stupid nor naive. This was the wrong issue to attack her on and she is using the uproar to her own advantage. There had been ghettos before. There had been internment camps and concentration camps. There were concentration camps starting in 1933. But Nazi Germany doesn’t turn to a systematic mass murder really until 1941.
Concentration camps were not a Nazi invention. Anna Lind-Guzik writes “in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, various imperial forces — including the British and Germans in their African colonies, the Spanish in the Caribbean, and Americans in the West — engaged in the practice of rounding up civilians into concentration camps as a tactic to suppress indigenous guerrilla warfare. By isolating the civilian population, fighters had fewer places to hide. Large populations of mostly women and children were held in terrible, quasi-permanent conditions, without trial, and died en masse from disease, malnutrition, and exposure.”
The term itself comes from reconcentración, a Spanish policy deployed against Cubans in the 1890s, which was then reused by the British during the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902.
Using the term “concentration camp” to describe the indefinite detention without trial of thousands of civilians in inhumane conditions — under armed guard and without adequate provisions or medical care — is indeed a false comparison. However as human beings the Holocaust should have taught the world an important lesson about speaking out for humanity when humans are ill-treated. In memory of the 6 million Jews who perished because they were considered less than human, AS A CHILD OF SURVIVORS OF AUSCHWITZ, I will not accept my government treating migrants, especially children, like animals. CALL IT ANY NAME YOU WANT, IT IS MORALLY WRONG. Lock up those who have criminal records or send them back to their country of origin.
The term “never again” should be a lesson which Judaism teaches to the world.
Sagi Rudnick, 2019 Margolis Memorial Essay Contest Winner
The Importance of Interfaith Dialogue
Hans Urs von Balthasar, a prominent 20th century Roman Catholic theologian, once said: “(E)ven if a unity of faith is not possible, a unity of love is.” If I had to encapsulate my views on interfaith dialogue and relations in one sentence, I would choose that quote. The incredibly diverse people of this planet are not, and will not be, united under a single religion. And that’s OK. In fact, I think that’s a good thing. I believe our discourse is richer and our future is brighter because multiple faith traditions exist.
As citizens of the world, we do not have to agree with other points of view. However, we must be willing to understand, appreciate and respect them. Learning how to empathize with those around us in this way is critical. This is especially true regarding different traditions of faith. It is imperative that Jews, Christians and all other religions engage in empathy-driven interfaith dialogue. This is the way we foster love — the tried and true foundation of any successful relationship.
During the fall of my freshman year, my school, the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy, started an interfaith club. The students were informed of this new initiative one morning and were invited to apply to be part of HBHA’s delegation to the club. This was actually an interfaith partnership including my Jewish school, a Catholic school and a Muslim school.
After explaining in a written response why I was looking forward to being a part of this initiative and what I hoped to take out of it, I was soon accepted to be part of the school’s interfaith cohort. I was very excited upon hearing that I would get to take part in the club. I always felt that promoting positive interfaith relations between Jews and other religions, specifically Christians and Muslims, is important. So I relished the opportunity to engage in such relationship- building as part of this cohort of students.
Not long after I joined the interfaith club we had our first meeting. The club consisted of six students from HBHA — the Jewish school; six students from Notre Dame de Sion — the Catholic school; and six students from the Islamic School of Greater Kansas City — the Muslim school. Our very first event was at Pinstripes. The agenda was ice breakers, lunch and bowling. When we all arrived, there was some awkwardness between each group of students.
As we had never previously met, this was normal. But that soon changed as we began the ice breakers. The questions during this event were light and fun; the objective was simply to break the ice and get to know one another. We then had lunch, consisting of cookies and mac and cheese. In order to keep with the Jewish tradition of adherence to kosher dietary laws, HBHA supplied the food. This naturally led to a discussion among the students about the laws of kashrut. This was great because the Jewish students, of which I was a part, got the opportunity to share with the others a little bit about a significant piece of Judaism. After eating we all split into teams, each one having one member of each religion, and bonded over bowling.
This, like the icebreakers, was a great way to promote camaraderie between us and to overall get to further know each other. We then left to head back to school; the 18 of us had successfully laid the groundwork to a meaningful interfaith relationship from which we would all benefit. I couldn’t help but think to myself the following. If the world’s religions could accomplish on a larger scale what the 18 of us had today — simply taking genuine steps toward building a mutual relationship — the world would truly be a much better place.
While every subsequent interfaith club meeting was a success, in this essay I want to focus on two other specific events. The next year, my sophomore year, we focused on engaging in community service as an interfaith cohort. During my freshman year, we all got to know each other and establish a strong relationship. Now as sophomores, we sought to expand upon our newly-formed relationship and harness it in order to personally effect positive change.
My favorite way in which we did this is by volunteering together at Jewish Vocational Services of Greater Kansas City. JVS serves to help settle new immigrants coming to this country and to Kansas City specifically. They do this by providing them with housing, job training and any other resources they need in order to help them build a new life in the U.S. Because of JVS’s incredible work, we saw them as a great place to donate our time and to make a mark.
At JVS, we all split into groups — again with at least one member from each religion in each group. Each group was assigned a different task. My group worked in JVS’s clothing distribution area and our job was to sort articles of clothing that were donated for the immigrants. Sometimes, living in a place of privilege, we can forget the impact of a new coat, a new shirt or new shoes on someone who has traveled so long to live here in the land of the free. Being able to do my part to help ease these immigrants’ burdensome journeys meant a lot to me.
As someone who moved to this country from somewhere else (Israel), I can relate to the immigrants whom JVS serves and to the challenges they have to endure. Equally meaningful, however, was that I was participating in this important work together with Christians and Muslims hand-in-hand. Doing the literal work to aid the immigrants was important. But another very valuable piece was the side chatter that ultimately ensued between me and my fellow interfaith cohorts during the clothes sorting.
This organic dialogue, both about religious topics and not, helped enrich the already rewarding work we were doing at JVS. By the end of our time working I felt so proud of us. We were able to build on our relationship and come together in a tangible act of interfaith-driven social justice to physically improve our community.
The final event I want to delve into was actually a series of three gatherings, all of which occurred during the year after as a junior. As freshmen, we had formed a relationship rooted in mutual respect. As sophomores, we had taken that relationship and translated it into action, improving our community via interfaith cooperation. Now, as juniors, we wanted to really dive deeper into each other’s respective religions, and learn about what makes each unique.
In order to do that in a meaningful way, we decided that the students from each religion would host those from the other two religions at their school. Each group would plan an engaging morning for the other two groups, teaching about their culture, traditions and anything else they saw fit. This trio of gatherings was incredibly meaningful for me, and I got a lot out of it.
The group that presented first was the six Muslim students. When we arrived at their school that morning, we first got a tour of a project gallery that younger students there had created. The gallery was in the gym and it consisted of many poster boards. Each poster board was created by a student at the school and each one depicted an important Muslim figure or story in the Islamic tradition.
Walking around and learning a little bit about these key people and narratives was very interesting for me, and it was a unique way to glean a lot of engaging information. As the Muslim students were presenting to the Jewish and Christian students, one board caught my eye. It was one of Malcolm X, who until that point I had not realized was Muslim. After seeing the projects, some of us had to use the restroom before the next planned event.
While in the restroom, I noticed several hand and feet washing stations, which intrigued me. Several Muslim students followed my gaze and explained the stations’ significance in Muslim tradition — specifically that they are used to prepare one’s self for the prayer services. That made a lot of sense to me, and reminded me of Jewish hand-washing cups that we use before eating bread. After that brief educational experience we all headed to a mosque that is actually part of the school. I, along with the other Jewish students and the Christian students, got to experience a Muslim service — one of the five daily services of Islam.
Next to present their religion were the six Catholic students. When we got to their school that day, we sat in on a few classes. I sat in on a theology class, as well as an anatomy class. It was cool for me to literally put myself in the shoes of those Christian students, and experience a little of how their school and religion work together. We then went down to their journalism area where students were hard at work producing the school yearbook. That reminded me of HBHA’s yearbook, whose staff I have been a part of for all of high school. So that was super interesting as well for me. But the most captivating part for me at their school was when we got to experience a Catholic mass service. Hearing their hymns, seeing their traditions unfold in front of my eyes and feeling the pride each of the participants felt in their religion was really great to witness; the energy in that room was palpable.
This of course leaves the six of us Jewish students. We had the Christian and Muslim students over on a Friday morning. On Fridays HBHA’s egalitarian prayer service conducts what we fondly call “musical services.” In lieu of the traditional morning prayers, on Fridays a group of students incorporates guitars, ukuleles and alternative tunes to foster an even more profound connection to our liturgy and tradition. This part of HBHA life was very meaningful for me and for the other Jewish students in the group. As such, I was really happy that the Muslim and Christian students got to experience that. After this, we Jewish students gave the others a tour of the school. The trio of cultural and religion immersion was a success.
During my time in high school, I have been able to take part in incredible interfaith experiences, and the interfaith club that I joined at inception is only growing. I look forward to continue experiencing cultures and ideas contrary to my own and engaging in interfaith-driven relationship-building at UMKC in the fall.
Sagi Rudnick is a 2019 graduate of the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy. He is the son of Marcelle Mariani and Rabbi Jonathan Rudnick and the brother of Shir-el and Shefer. Sagi will be a freshman at the University of Missouri-Kansas City in the fall and he plans to major in political science and minor in communication studies.
I express my great disappointment in the further leftward lurch of the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle. In the May 30 issue we are confronted by a page 1 piece by Ron Kampeas (Survey of American Jews find anti-Semitism concerns and disapproval of Trump). It discusses a survey by a “liberal leaning Jewish organization … which does polling for Democratic candidates.”
The third paragraph includes “generic Democrat.” The fourth paragraph includes “…strongly Democratic.”
The fifth paragraph applauds Obama in spite of his poor treatment of Netanyahu and his backstabbing of Israel at the U.N.
The sixth paragraph supports two Democratic contenders for the presidency, each of whom, in my own opinion, is highly questionable.
In the next paragraph we are treated to condemnation of Netanyahu relevant to clashes with Obama.
Further along, Kampeas criticizes President Trump on multiple fronts.
Another paragraph begins with “Jewish Democrats.”
In yet another, the executive director of the Jewish Democratic Council of America (whatever that is) is quoted.
This piece knee jerks with “Figures who have been prominent in the Jewish organizational world and in Democratic politics.”
Kehilah (community) can be a powerful force. Communities exist around religion, common interests, race, advocacy, gender identity and politics, to name a few. Community has strengthened my faith, validated and supported my identity, and helped me to become a better human being.
At the start of this month, I visited Kansas City to attend KCPrideFest, a three-day event uniting and celebrating the local LGBTQ community. I came out as gay my senior year of high school at the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy, then left Kansas City a few months later. Most of my life as an out gay man has been lived in college and in my current home in Washington, D.C., so I was particularly excited to come back to the place where I grew up to experience something I never had before, the local LGBTQ community.
For those who have not been to Pride, it is similar to the Jewish Arts Festival. There are musical performances, food stalls and tents with booths featuring the work of different organizations, vendors and companies. Local nonprofits and faith groups filled these tents, showing the resources and safe spaces they provide for LGBTQ people. But as my brother and I walked up and down the rows of organizations, noticeably absent was our kehilah, our Jewish community.
Many area Methodist, Presbyterian, Buddhist and Atheist groups proudly stood at Pride and demonstrated to the thousands of festival-goers that there was a place in their faith communities for those in attendance. But not a single Jewish organization was present. No synagogue, social action group, preschool, religious school or Jewish community organization was represented. Jews such as myself did not see my kehillah anywhere. But perhaps more significantly, people who weren’t Jewish got the impression that the Jewish community does not stand with the LGBTQ community in Kansas City.
I do want to mention that Rabbi Alpert took part in two other Pride events. He was the keynote speaker at a Pride service held at Children’s Mercy Hospital, marking the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising. He also spoke at an interfaith service at Community Christian Church. His presence and active role in these events are significant.
Visibility matters. Visibility is what pride is all about. As my brother and I were walking around, someone stopped us with a gasp and asked, “Wow, is that a rainbow kippah?” They were so excited, greeting us with ‘shalom,’ as we exchanged smiles and continued on our way. The surprise in their voice inspired me to write this article. Imagine how excited they would have been to see a banner with the name of a synagogue or Jewish organization? How many more people did not see my brother’s kippah and left not knowing that there are Queer Jews or Jewish allies or a local Jewish community? Visibility DOES matter.
So many in my generation turn away from Jewish institutions because they do not feel like welcoming places. I see it with many of my friends. For a time, I felt that way too, until I moved to Washington, D.C. The Conservative synagogue I attend is very inclusive, from their programming and religious practices to their gender inclusive bathrooms throughout the shul. The JCC has a designated LGBTQ programming wing, and I’m proud to serve on the board of this group I have been involved in for years. At the D.C. Pride Festival, more than a dozen local Jewish organizations and synagogues are represented. That is the kind of kehillah that allows me to feel fully immersed and accepted in my Jewish community and allows my peers to feel like the Jewish community shares their values. Are Jews my age in Kansas City feeling welcome in the same way?
Someday, I hope to return to Kansas City and start a family. But I want to do so in a place that I, and other gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and queer people know that the Jewish community is actively welcoming us.
I urge the Kansas City Jewish community, the community that raised me to love my Judaism, to step up and step out. Learn from local churches about the ways they bring inclusion into their houses of worship. Initiate LGBTQ family programming in your communal organizations. Create more visibly welcoming spaces in your religious schools, preschools and day school. Show the Kansas City community that the Jewish community is an active ally that values inclusion as one of its most important Jewish values
Jonathan Edelman is pursuing his master’s in museum studies at The George Washington University, after spending two years working as a part of the curatorial team at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C.
I congratulate Rita Blitt on receiving an honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts degree from Washburn University. Rita created and contributed the sculpture that is the centerpiece of the Skywalk Memorial that honors the victims and first responders to that tragedy. The memorial is located at 22nd and Gillham Road. We will be forever grateful to her and late husband, Irwin, for their commitment and generosity.
