Kol Nidrei - 5785/2024 Rabbi Nickerson

Kol Nidrei 5785/2024
Rabbi Joel Nickerson
Wilshire Boulevard Temple, Los Angeles

A Nation that Dwells Alone

After wandering in the desert on their way to the Promised Land, the Jews arrive at the edge of the land of the Moabites.  The king of Moab, Balak, who is scared of the Israelite’s potential power and influence, declares that the Israelites must be cursed.  He summons a well-known sorcerer, Balaam, and offers to pay him handsomely to place a curse on the people of Israel.  But Balaam refuses to curse the Jewish people.  Instead, he blesses them.  He states, “How can I curse those whom God has not cursed? How do I denounce them when God has not denounced them?  As I see them from the mountain tops, gaze on them from the heights, there is a people that dwells alone…’ (Num. 23:8-9) 

A people…that dwells…alone.  A people not considered among the other nations.  

In Hebrew, am l’vadad yishkon.  Israel - blessed as a nation that dwells alone. The Torah seems to suggest that standing alone and being different from all other nations is a blessing.  

It sure hasn’t felt like a blessing since October 7th.  If anything, we have felt the profound sadness of being alone, misunderstood, and ignored as a people.  We have lost allies, colleagues, friends, co-workers, and college classmates.  We have been abandoned by the institutions that educated us or are educating our children and grandchildren.  Being a Jew in America this year has been frustrating, scary, troubling, and complicated.  It has not felt at all like a blessing to be a nation that dwells alone.  It has felt like the curse that the king of Moab hoped would be bestowed upon us thousands of years ago.  

When I was in Israel this summer, studying at the Shalom Hartman Institute, I noticed that Israelis also feel this sense of isolation but differently than those of us here in America.  While we’ve had to face blatant antisemitism, masked anti-Zionists in our streets, college campus protests and encampments, Jew-hatred on social media, a loss of allies, and more, Israel faces the profound challenge of feeling like an isolated nation surrounded by enemies who are chomping at the bit to repeat another Simchat Torah massacre.  There are still hostages being held in Gaza.  There are still daily rocket barrages from Hezbollah in the north, attacks from Iran, and missiles and drones launched from the Houthis in Yemen.  Close to 60,000 Israelis are still displaced from their homes in the North.  People there are still mourning the losses of Oct. 7th and the many who have died since that tragic day.  For many Israelis, the world just doesn’t seem to understand their pain, fear, anger, and sadness.  The world just wants to condemn them, and Israelis are scared about their future.  
If we are to believe in the wisdom and insights of the Torah, then we must choose to see our isolation as a blessing rather than a curse.  But how do we do that?  How do we transform this seeming curse into a blessing?

It begins with surge pricing.  We’ve all heard of, and experienced, surge pricing.  It’s a strategy used by companies to automatically raise prices when demand for a product or service is high and supply is low.  As consumers, we run into surge pricing everywhere - rideshare and delivery apps, when we’re booking an airline ticket, getting tickets to a concert, or shopping online.  

This past year, we experienced “Surge Judaism.”  In the aftermath of October 7th and all that came with it, we have seen an increase in what is called “Jewish engagement.”  Recently, the Jewish Federations of North America conducted a survey to quantify changes around Jewish identity and engagement at this pivotal time in our people’s history.  Of the 83% of Jews who were “only somewhat,” “not very” or “not at all engaged” prior to Oct. 7th, a whopping 40% are now showing up in more significant numbers in Jewish life. Among Jews who are not members of synagogues — which, according to Pew estimates, is 64% of U.S. Jews — 37% say they’d be open to joining one now.  This past year, right here, at Wilshire Boulevard Temple, we had fifty people enroll in our Choosing Judaism conversion program after October 7th.  Fifty!  

But like surge pricing, the default is a return to the average; a return to the regular day-to-day routine.  My concern, my fear, is that we say we are forever changed by October 7th, but our tendency has always been to return to what’s been comfortable, easy, normal.  
We can no longer afford to do that.  

This Great Jewish Awakening will require a plan for “the day after,” and we need to be thinking about that right now because change is slow.  We all have to undergo some serious changes to our connection to Judaism and Jewish identity.

I interpret the statistics about increased Jewish engagement this past year as a sign of an increase in Jewish pride - an increase in an awareness that being a Jew is special.  It’s wonderful and essential to identify with a piece of ourselves that has set us apart for thousands of years and it’s clear that after October 7th, people are looking for ways to understand what that connection can mean for them.  As a college student was quoted as saying, “There’s got to be more to Judaism than bagels and lox if they hate us so much.”  We need more Jews to have pride in their heritage, their history, and their identity.  But pride is just the baseline, and we will need a lot more than Jewish pride moving forward.  

I grew up in Oakland during the era of the Bash Brothers - Mark McGuire and Jose Canseco.  There was Rickey Henderson and Dennis Eckersley.  I had such pride in those Oakland A’s.  I’m so sad they’re leaving Oakland and moving to Las Vegas.  And then there’s my wife Julia’s family, who are huge Lakers fans, with season tickets for almost 50 years.  Maybe you love the Dodgers, Angel City, the Rams, the Chargers, LAFC, USC, UCLA - this city has plenty of options for pride.  We buy their gear, wear their hats around town, cheer for them when they’re doing well, and commiserate with other fans when they’re having a bad season.  We take our kids or grandkids to games, and those experiences become lifelong memories.  A big piece of my pride in the A’s was associated with me going to games with my family.  We think about those times in college when we tailgated before a game or learned our alma mater’s fight song for the first time.  Pride bonds us with a whole group of people who share a connection and history.  

But being a fan and having pride in that team doesn’t mean you actually know who the players are on the team, follow their season in detail, know their strengths and weaknesses, what it’ll take for them to raise their profile in the league, or who even owns the team.  That kind of connection to a team requires a level of knowledge and confidence that sets someone apart from most of us who just have pride in the team.  You die-hard Dodgers, Lakers, Rams, Angel City, LAFC, Chargers, USC, UCLA fans - forgive me if I left anyone out because, of course, that will be the email I get critiquing this sermon - you die-hard fans know what I’m talking about.  The rest of us envy that level of knowledge because whenever you’re in a conversation with someone who is a super-fan and they start spouting statistics and strategies, you nod your head in agreement, pretend you know what they’re talking about, maybe you throw out some fact or opinion that you heard during a highlights reel, and you feel totally inferior inside, feel a little guilt at being a fair-weather fan, and just push through the conversation.  

Pride is nice.  We should all have it, but the real name of the game is having Jewish self-confidence - understanding our history, our game plan, our tradition, our rituals, some basic understanding of our texts, our value system, and being able to articulate all those things when we look in the mirror, when we talk to our family, and most importantly, when we are feeling most alone - in those moments when we are confronted by those who attempt to use our religion, our association with Israel, our history, our mere existence, against us.

In high school, I was the captain of our baseball team.  It was a large public high school in the Bay Area and there weren’t many of us Jews at the school of a few thousand students.  A younger pitcher joined the team and he also happened to be Jewish.  There was another kid on the team who was a great athlete and a key player, and one day, he called this pitcher a “kike”.  There’s always some “trash talk” on sports teams amongst players, but for me, this went too far.  I met with the coach in his office, and I told him that he had a choice to make - he could either kick the kid off the team, or I was going to walk.  In the end, I remained on the team.  

I share this story because I don’t believe it is a story about Jewish pride.  I believe it’s a story about Jewish self-confidence.  Jewish self-confidence is when we take our Jewish pride and make it actionable - when it changes our conversations, our reactions, our weekly or daily routine; when it leads us to take risks and pushes us beyond our usual comfort zone.

I have learned of at least five people who are members of Wilshire Boulevard Temple who are now wrapping tefillin on a daily or otherwise regular basis.  They are doing it on their own, in their homes, without someone from Chabad asking them to do it at their office or on the street.  A ritual practice that has been generally relegated to more traditional Jews has made its way into our community and is being reclaimed by members who, before this year, didn’t know a single thing about tefillin.  That is not Jewish pride - that is Jewish self-confidence - that is claiming a Jewish ritual as your own and not getting caught up in the baggage of whether you know the blessing properly, or succumbing to the insecurity of how you may be perceived by others.      

This past year was the year of showing up; of expressing our Jewish pride; of taking the steps to engage with aspects of our Jewish identities that may have laid dormant for some time or had never even been exposed in the first place.  However, for us to navigate what is sure to be a continued path of challenges and complexities ahead, we will have to go beyond Jewish pride and enter into the more sophisticated realm of Jewish self-confidence.  And that will require each and every one of us to take what we have done this past year and amplify our efforts at least one or two degrees more.  But I’m not talking about just giving more money, re-posting twice as much, or reading more articles.  I’m talking about entering a deeper state of Jewish identity formation; of developing a Jewish muscle that is more toned and flexible than it has ever been before.  Because we are at an existential crossroads, unlike any other time since the Holocaust.  

As Bret Stephens pointed out in a recent op-ed, when discussing Jew-hatred, “Nothing we can do — whether through acts of religious renunciation or cultural erasure or conspicuous achievements or abundant generosity — would ever entirely ease that hatred. If anything, it might aggravate it.”  We are a nation that dwells alone.  We have to be armed with the information, knowledge, and self-confidence to be able to respond when confronted.  We cannot support Israel and be a strong Jewish community here in the United States if we do not know who we are.  We need to be able to answer the haters with absolute certainty and with a confidence that allows us to remain calm, rational, and strong.  

Israel has been relying on the Iron Dome this year.  We need to build up our own versions of the Iron Dome.  We need to protect and defend ourselves against the attacks and the ignorance and the vitriol that is going to continue to bombard us for years to come.  It is not going to simply disappear.  It is never going to entirely disappear.  We’ve had a year to mourn that realization.  Now it’s time to arm ourselves with the skills, information, history, rituals, and spirit with even greater force and passion.  Our Iron Dome will require more than Jewish pride.  It will require a Jewish self-confidence that only comes when we push ourselves beyond our comfort zones.  When the Iron Dome locks in on an incoming missile, it’s not wondering what that missile thinks

or hopes that the missile will just change course and go away

or try and figure out a way to distract the missile 

or try and convince the missile of anything.  

It is clear in what it must do to stop that missile.  

It responds directly, with determination, and without hesitation.  

We have to be that Iron Dome for the Jewish people.  An Iron Dome to protect our Israeli brothers and sisters and an Iron Dome to protect each other here in the United States.  We must become a sukkat shalom, a shelter and dome of peace and strength; a dome of knowledge and precision; a dome of confidence.  

So here’s what you can do.  You can think about one area of your Jewish life to which you brought more Jewish pride this year.  Maybe you listened to a Jewish or Israel-themed podcast.  Maybe you started checking out new news sources.  Maybe you started following some Jewish and Israeli influencers on social media and reposted some of their content.  Maybe you showed up to a few more Shabbat services, hosted an event to raise money for Israel, went to the Nova exhibit, gave money to a Jewish cause, got more involved in a local school, or celebrated a Jewish holiday in a more meaningful way.  Maybe you simply started noticing or identifying as a Jew more openly.   Now take what you did this past year and super-size it.  Imagine what it would be like if you did that AND THEN SOME.  The synagogue will be providing a variety of ways for you to engage in this work throughout the year.

The discomfort of adding new elements to our own Jewish playbook will actually only lead to an increase in Jewish joy.  Because the deeper you dive into our tradition, the more meaning, purpose, love, and hope you find.  It’s everywhere in our texts, in our culture, in our history.  And that is our ultimate goal - to sit in the joy and love and hope that have guided our Jewish people for thousands of years. 

Am l’vadad yishkon.  The Jewish nation dwells alone.  But it is not a curse.  It is a blessing.  It is the blessing that has allowed us to survive through the worst atrocities inflicted on any single group in the course of human history.  With strength, with pride, and with Jewish self-confidence, we will not only be a blessing to one another, but we will continue to be what our Torah calls us to be - an or l’goyim, a light unto the nations.  Become an Iron Dome.  The Jewish people need you.  

Am l’vadad yishkon - “The Jewish nation dwells alone,” but we are never alone.  

We are One.