Michael Rubin's Sermons/Derashot

I always relish the opportunity to engage with our community on a Shabbat morning, whether through liturgy, texts of Tanach, or the dialogue of a Derashah. Yes, a Derashah is a dialogue in that even as my voice may most often be the only one vocally heard, I seek a conversation with you through the look in your eyes, the words forming on your lips, if unspoken now, even if I need to search for that behind the lens of the livestream camera or your masks.

And I have often pondered what opening can have the most impact and appeal when trying to convey some significant message, at least in the mind of the Doresh or Doreshet.

Is it a yet unrelated quote from the weekly portion? A poignant story – midrashic, mythical, or actual? Is it a personal revelation, or perhaps an awkward question or challenge to the audience, resulting in uncomfortable shifting in the seats?

So, I will attempt something a bit unusual and offer several openings for my remarks this morning, leaving the determination as to what is effective or not to you:

1. How did you mark Canada Day this year? BBQ? Fireworks? Cottage? Orange-shirted march in downtown Toronto?
2. What is it that motivates us to act in certain situations? At the end of last week’s Parashah, Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron decides that the affront to God that he is witnessing demands to be addressed and, without consultation with either the human or the divine, he grasps a spear and runs through the Israelite man and Midianite woman engaging publicly in lewd behaviour and possibly idol worship. At the beginning of our Parashah, the letter yod in his name has been made smaller and our sages explain this as an indication that the divine element within him has been diminished by his impassioned and violent action.
3. This past week, I viewed the first episode of season 4 of the Handmaid’s Tale. (In consideration of time, I will assume that most of you know the premise of this story, based on Margaret Atwood’s novel.) Of all the horrible, graphic, and humiliating scenes of the first three seasons, one of the most impactful was in this episode, watching the effect on Commander Fred and his wife Serena, lately of Gilead and after their capture by the Canadians, being told that a plane from Gilead has landed and on it is a handmaid (little response, they mumble she will eventually get what is coming to her) and 86 children. I was glued to their faces as we view their dawning realization and shock that the basis of their existence and purpose – bringing children into the world through the surrogacy of handmaids due to mass infertility among women – is being unraveled. Both their present and future are being destroyed.
4. We all look forward to or have experienced a sense of liberation and relief once having received that 2^nd vaccination shot and even more fully experienced that once its full effectiveness kicks in two weeks later. I received my 2^nd shot on June 21, National indigenous People’s Day. Today is almost those 2 weeks later!
5. Lastly, the following is part of a poem by Joshua Whitehead, an Oji-Cree Inidigiqueer poet and academic from the Peguis First Nation in Manitoba:

Mihkokwaniy

my kokum has many names

the indian woman

the whitehead lady

a saskatoon female

but my favourite is:

the beauty queen;
they never meant to call her beautiful

what they meant by beauty was:

cheapdirtybrownprostitutedrugaddict-

alcoholicfirewaterslut

when they write:

"an indian about 35 years old

naked from the waist down

died from asphyxiation

at the queen's hotel

effects of alcohol &sedatives"

they don't mean beauty as in:

mino iskwēw

or: "pleasing the sense or mind aesthetically;

of a very high standard; excellent"

what they mean is

she is beautiful for a squaw in '62

she pleases the body

of white men who burn in the loins

for the teal-shade of a browning bruise;

 

What do all these openings have in common? They have each helped me, through varied focus and perspective, to cope with the vast array of feelings – shock, outrage, shame, ignorance, futility, confusion – to name a few – that I have experienced in recent years since the publication of the report by the TRC, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and, of course, particularly in the past few weeks since the validation of the unmarked graves at Kamloops Residential School and the subsequent additional such revelations.

So, what is it that finally allows us, individually or collectively, to move beyond the momentary emotional response and conclude that a sustained effort at relating to an issue is both possible and necessary? Social media is a relatively new and effective medium, but some disproportionate traumatic event is needed as a catalyst.

We are familiar with the revelations of ongoing abuse which led to the MeToo movement and aware of the impact of the visual witnessed murder of George Floyd in galvanizing the Black Lives Matter Movement around the world.

Why is it that the detailed reports and testimonies of survivors of the Residential School System coming out from the work of the TRC, the ongoing news items on abused, missing, and murdered Indigenous girls and women, the vast over-representation of Indigenous people in the child welfare system, all failed to arouse us as Canadians and as Jews, in any significant numbers and prolonged efforts, to acknowledge and act?

Sometimes, a collective emotional trigger is needed. In this case, the photos of mass graves have served that purpose. We are not the only religious, ethnic, or national group to know the trauma of mass burials, whether marked or unmarked, but we know it well. When coupled with the fact that these graves are those of children, the associations for us are unavoidable.

We often cite the number of 1.5 million children murdered by the Nazis during the war and there are still witnesses among us, although fewer every year, who can testify to that experience. The increasing and worsening horrors of the Nazi persecution and extermination went on for 12 years - half a generation - and an unimaginable amount of time to endure when considering and attempting to understand that reality.

Our incredible resolve and instinct for survival, as well as the determination to establish the State of Israel, have allowed us to rebound and re-establish ourselves with unprecedented levels of success and strength, notwithstanding the devastation wrought on European Jewry and culture, as well as the frightening increase of anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial in recent years.

It is haunting that the number 150,000 is that of those children forced to attend the residential school system, an attempt at cultural genocide, in no other words. I can only imagine, even in those first few years of the implementation of this policy, the dawning understanding and sense of loss among Indigenous families of the impact of these measures, not only of destroying their present, but also their future. The realization that these schools were in existence for much more than a century, must cause us to be in wonder and admiration of the resilience and determination of First Nations, Metis, and Inuit peoples to survive and sustain their cultures and identities. That accomplishment can only be seen as miraculous.

Many may criticize the comparison of our Shoah experience with other such tragedies, whether it be events in Armenia, Rwanda, Ukraine, Bosnia, Cambodia, China, and many other instances of which we know little and have not bothered to understand. But that is what we do as humans. We seek points of reference and grounding by understanding and comparing our own experiences – personal or collective – with that of others. Comparing is not equating. It demands honest and open exploration of what might be similar and what is not.

Only this process will allow us to experience genuine empathy for others, find that common humanity, and act in appropriate ways.

We know how challenging it has been for so many of the witnesses to the Shoah to speak of their past and their horrific experience. It has been similar with many of the survivors of the residential schools, feeling the need to bury their past, leading to much of the inter-generational trauma that children of Holocaust survivors experienced.

 

And there is the emphasis – the opportunity not just to share stories of tragedy and trauma, but to do so to engage in a shared and effective journey of healing. There may be an advantage to sharing your story with someone who has experienced a vastly different tragedy, rather than with someone who experienced something remarkably like yours. The willingness to share and listen is invaluable.

Consider how often we continue to learn and educate about the Shoah - arrange for speakers, witness testimony, book reviews and, of course, offer considerable resources and time to impactful journeys to Poland for all generations of Jews. We also increasingly insist that those who are not Jewish and wish to engage meaningfully with this issue visit Poland as part of Marches of the Living, March of Remembrance and Hope, or other such programs.

We expect Germans and Poles to be educated about what happened on their soil. As I have shared with many of you in the past, some of the most powerful conversations I have had about the Shoah were with German and Polish educators and high school students as part of exchange programs with Israeli students.

Their generational distance from the events of the second world war did not prevent a noticeable awkwardness in much of the dialogue, but the honest and often difficult conversations were significant for all participants. You can only imagine how much more complex and challenging, yet meaningful such interaction was when half of the Israeli contingent was Israeli Arabs, both Christian and Muslim. The diverse and complicated alliances formed, and threads of empathy woven among the students and leaders was utterly fascinating.

Why have we not yet organized Marches of the Living - or something with a more original and appropriate name - here in Canada to visit residential schools and speak with survivors and children of survivors? The horrific nature of the crimes may have been on a larger scale and of greater measure, but the decision by Germany not many years after the war, both institutionally and civically, to acknowledge its responsibility and act on that, is an example of how to move forward in connection with the past. The incomprehensibly positive relationship that has developed and evolved between Germany and the State of Israel since the 1950’s is a demonstration of the potential of healing, if not always smooth or to the satisfaction of all.

As Jews, we share much more than acknowledged with Indigenous peoples, not only through tragedy, but basic concepts and understanding about our place in this world, the importance of family and community, and the responsibility of passing down knowledge, tradition, and values from generation to generation.

No less significant, may be those areas where we differ in our world view, such as our connection with the land. We may have begun with the appreciation in Genesis for custodianship – l’ovdah ul’shomra - something which is a foundational Indigenous value, but have over time, and as early as in the Torah itself, moved to a sense of entitled exclusive ownership, whether in Israel or in the free market modern world.

Another area where we might be informed is gender identity. The concept of Two-Spirit individuals allows for a more ready acceptance of varied and multiple gender identities in Indigenous culture, something that has only come with great struggle and resistance, whether in the Jewish or non-Jewish world.

 

What ongoing efforts have we made to explore those commonalities and engage in genuine dialogue and mutuality? What acknowledgment have we made before or after the TRC of our role in remaining ignorant, at best, of what was going on in the residential school system, and of the ongoing injustices and prejudice that continue to this day, or of remaining passive and unconcerned with whatever knowledge we may have had? Considering our own experience, it is more than negligent of us to have been, and certainly to continue to be indifferent.

 

All this is no less relevant for us as Canadians. We now pride ourselves in a country increasingly known for its diversity, civic order, and peaceful nature. How can we honestly go on with such complacency? To be sure, our reputation has been tarnished by these recent revelations. As is occurring now in the United States in the wake of the Black Lives Matter and MeToo movements, we will be observed and judged on how we respond.

Yes, much has come out of the TRC process, but there are many calls for action on which we have not fully, if at all embarked. I continue to find it incomprehensible and well beyond unacceptable that there are Indigenous communities in Northern Ontario, as well as other provinces, that have not had safe drinking water for years. How can that situation continue to exist in a country with the means and technology available in Canada, the lack of one of the most basic of human needs?

There is every reason to be disappointed with our progress. However, despair is not an option. Should I be encouraged by the words of our Prime Minister on Canada Day?

"Today, we celebrate our country and everyone who calls it home, but while we acknowledge our successes, we must also recognize that, for some, Canada Day is not yet a day of celebration."

Yes, many called to ban any celebration of our national birthday, but most would probably agree that such action would be less than effective. I have been somewhat conflicted by the trend over the past year to officially remove or publicly deface statues of those idolized for their historical significance when that contribution has been in its intent or result the persecution and subjugation of others, whether it be Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Stalin, Saddam Hussein, John A. MacDonald, Egerton Ryerson, or even Queen Elizabeth, recently in Winnipeg.

I have come to see the value in preserving at least some of these offensive structures for the purposes of education. Putting up plaques and visiting to explain who this person really was is a much more constructive way to cope with the past than removing all evidence. But it is also a much more demanding path to follow requiring training and education. I recall walking with my daughter one evening last fall by Queens Park and being present as two young people splashed paint on the statue of John A. MacDonald. Not being as conflicted at that time, I chose not to intervene, but had the opportunity for a valuable conversation with my daughter about this matter, including the right to protest in such a manner.

 The Science Centre, Art Gallery, CN Tower, Distillery, and Harbourfront are all wonderful sight-seeing gems within our city. But imagine a Toronto tour of monuments and statues to better understand some of the missed and misunderstood history of this city, province, and country. That would be worthwhile for any demographic.

Think of the struggles in recent decades to have the Holocaust made a part of the general public-school curriculum. As Jews, we are well aware of the implications of living in a world without friends or allies, and of the danger of allowing ignorance, misinformation, denial, and a lack of education about the past and present to prevail. I can only imagine your answers, those of you who grew up in Canada, if I were to ask you what you recall being taught about Indigenous culture and the residential school system.

I was hired by Toronto Jewish Congress in the summer of 1981 to travel to small Jewish communities in Northern Ontario – Timmins, Sudbury, Sault St. Marie, Thunder Bay – to research the religious – read: Christian - education in the public school system and its impact on Jews who attended, as there were no private Jewish day school options in those communities.

Having grown up in the Toronto Jewish community and attended a Jewish Day School though grade 13 – that number still brings a smile to my face - I recall my sense of shock and abhorrence when interviewing those who had attended schools as recently as the 1970’s and learning of their experiences; being removed from the class, forced to remain for the Lord’s prayer and other Christian expressions of faith and, as one person shared, being forced to sit in a small dark closet while that part of the day’s lessons took place.

And, of course, we would become outraged upon hearing about such discrimination and abuse. How much beyond outrage should we be when considering the residential school experience?

It is only in recent years that concerted efforts have been made by provincial governments to adopt educational materials about Indigenous experience authored by Indigenous writers and artists. What is currently taught in our day schools and who has prepared those materials?

This past week, we included some brief video pieces on Indigenous writing and music during our daily minyanim / services. There is a world out there about which we know so little. If our congregational discussion on this matter ends with this Derashah, then we have missed the point. In a recent conversation with Bob Goulais, Knowledge Holder, and member of the Nipissing First Nation, we spoke about what non-Indigenous Canadians need to be doing. He suggested that we should make a commitment to lifelong learning about Indigenous peoples, residential schools, and the living culture of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit.

It will not be enough to have read a poem by a Nehiyaw, Two-Spirit Trans Woman, listened to the music of an Anishinaabe rapper, or viewed a tik tok by an Inuk woman who has been made the fresh face for companies such as Loreal and Sephora. But that is a good start and a fantastically inspiring way to engage our youth in this process, as well.

There are so many outstanding issues in which we need to get involved – from water to housing to childcare to abuse – and this needs to be done as allies, in partnership with, Indigenous peoples. To do that we need to earn their trust through sincerity and commitment. I hope that we can continue this discussion at Beth David on a practical and sustainable level.

Let me return for a concluding thought to Pinchas. In addition to the small yod in his name in the first verse of our Parashah we read, 

לָכֵ֖ן אֱמֹ֑ר הִנְנִ֨י נֹתֵ֥ן ל֛וֹ אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֖י שָׁלֽוֹם׃

Say, therefore, ‘I grant him My pact of friendship / peace.

 

The only example in the entire Torah where an incomplete letter is considered acceptable and does not invalidate the Scroll for ritual use occurs here. The vav in the word Shalom – peace – is broken in the middle. Our sages explain, perhaps in a similar vein to the explanation regarding the diminished yod, that the sort of peace one achieves by destroying one’s opponent will inevitably be a flawed, incomplete, and diminished peace.

I would suggest that broken vav is more than just an acknowledgement of actions we may have taken on a personal level. It is also the awareness of a collective responsibility for deeds done by the group, community, or nation of whom we are a part and with whom we identify. It is also, perhaps, a powerful statement by the Torah that words uttered, and action taken may leave a permanent mark or stain on both the perpetrators and victims. We must be diligent in striving to speak and act in appropriate and respectful ways.

But that will not always be the case. We must accept what has been done, whether out of neglect or intent, and seek to make amends. We must accept, as well, the scars that remain on all sides of injustice and use those as reminders and guides to simply be better, whether that scar be a statue, a slogan, or a street name. This is true in the personal realm, in the community or congregational arena, and on the national scene.

As Jews and as Canadians, we have arrays of history, traditions, and values in which we have great pride. Canada continues to become a place where diversity is respected and welcomed. But, as Prime Minister Trudeau stated,

“The horrific findings of the remains of hundreds of children at the sites of former residential schools in British Columbia and Saskatchewan have rightfully pressed us to reflect on our country’s historical ailures, and the injustices that still exist for Indigenous peoples and many others in Canada. We as Canadians must be honest with ourselves about our past…. What makes Canada special is not the belief that this is the best country in the world, but the knowledge that we could be.”

A Doresh, is one who offers a Derashah, but can also mean to request or even demand. And, in deference to that additional layer of my pulpit duties, I call upon us all to accept the task of addressing the issue of our past and current relationship with Indigenous peoples, through acknowledgement and action, in a way that:

respects their identity, culture, and human rights;

expresses the declared values of our Canadian civic and national identity;

maintains the integrity of our sense of human responsibility as Jews;

and recognizes and values the shared path we must take.

 

I leave you with a poem entitled, Reconciliation, by Chief R. Stacey Laforme.

RECONCILIATION

I sit here crying
I don’t know why

I didn’t know the children
I didn’t know the parents

But I knew their spirit
I knew their love

I know their loss
I know their potential

And I am overwhelmed
By the pain and the hurt

The pain of the families and friends
The pain of an entire people

Unable to protect them, to help them
To comfort them, to love them

I did not know them
But the pain is so real, so personal

I feel it in my core, my heart, my spirit
I sit here crying and I am not ashamed

I will cry for them, and the many others like them
I will cry for you, I will cry for me

Ill cry for the what could have been
Then I will calm myself, smudge myself, offer prayers

And know they are no longer in pain
No longer do they hurt, they are at peace

In time I will tell their story, I will educate society
So their memory is not lost to this world

And when I am asked
what does reconciliation mean to me

I will say I want their lives back
I want them to live, to soar

I want to hear their laughter
See their smiles

Give me that
And I’ll grant you reconciliation.

Shabbat Shalom