High Holiday Thoughts

The rational side of me, normally dominant, concedes that the other part exists, especially at this time of year. As I write it’s the 27th of Elul, the penitential month preceding the High Holy Days. Each day in shul the normally staid services are punctuated with the shofar’s blast. Tekiah! Teruah! Tekiah-Gedola! “Wake up, you sleepers, from your sleeping, and those of you who are in deep slumber, arouse yourselves from your slumber. And Return to Hashem!” The rational side of me says I’m not sleeping, I’m fully awake, aware, curious about my surroundings, exploring possibilities, but the other side, the normally dormant one looks forward to the opportunity to stop being rational. Do I really believe in my heart of hearts that there is a beneficent though awe-inspiring grandfatherly figure in Heaven, sitting on his throne of thrones, a huge book in His hand, staring down to earth, to Providence, within the actual walls of my synagogue at me, judging me, gauging my sincerity of repentance, deciding whether to write my name in his Book of Life? Me, of all people?

Let me tell you of another irrational part of my being. I have a lucky number. I know, I know, how stupid can I get? (The answer, apparently, is “quite.”) Today is my luck number, 27. I was born on the 27th; my street address growing up in a loving household was 27-09; my father’s office address was 207; I was married on my 27th birthday, therefore on the 27th. And all this month of Elul in shul we’ve been reading the 27th psalm. Surely this can not be coincidence. Let us parse (partially).

“The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” I like that, don’t you? It’s like the closing words of the Adon Olam hymn, “Adoni li, v’lo ee’rah.” “God is with me, I fear no evil.” It’s a comforting thought as we wend our way through life’s intricacies, facing challenges and whether true or not, the irrationalist in me wants to believe it, so I do. Then after elaborations on that theme we come to: “Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me.” That gives pause. My mother died 13 years ago, my father this past February. They did not forsake me, I know that; they did not betray me, I know that; if they could have stayed and continued their loving guidance, they would have, but death which strikes without rhyme or reason which blindsides us all took them; I know that, or the rational person in me, the usually dominant one knows that—but today we’re concerned with the irrational half of our psyche, what Jung called the anima. And so, yes, I feel betrayed, but I don’t know by whom—by them for leaving me, by nature for designing us to expire? But though they have left, though their deaths have suddenly made me an adult, it’s comforting on the irrational level to think that there is another father/parent who is there to guide me. And finally there is this: “Wait for the LORD; be strong and resolute!” I particularly like that last verse. It’s a take-off on Moses’ instruction to his successor whose name I bear. Joshua is told to be strong and resolute, so in my self-centered view of the universe at this time of the year, I’m convinced the words apply to me, and through me to those I love—my family, my friends, my students and my teachers.

So, when I sit and stand in shul on Rosh Hashanah, which begins today, and when I repeat the exercise ten days later on Yom Kippur, do I really, really do I really believe in my heart of hearts that there is a beneficent though awe-inspiring grandfatherly figure in Heaven, sitting on his throne of thrones, a huge book in His hand, staring down to earth, to Providence, within the actual walls of my synagogue at me, judging me, gauging my sincerity of repentance, deciding whether to write my name in his Book of Life? Me, of all people? You better believe I do. On those days, anyway.

Shana Tova, Haverim. I hope I’ve not offended any of you this year; if I have, I beg your forgiveness.

A Jewish Police Chief

I’m reading Daniel Silva’s latest Gabriel Alon page turner, The Defector while this column percolated in the back of my mind. It’s my method. Do one thing, let the subconscious do the real work behind the scenes. In a flash the connection was made. On page 314 American, British and Israeli spymasters are trying to figure out how to extricate hostages from an inaccessible location. The American president has offered his services. “Kachol v’lavan” says the Israeli. “It means ‘blue and white,’ the colors of the Israeli flag. But… it also means much more. It means we do things for ourselves, and we don’t rely on others to help us with problems of our own making.” Perfect, I thought. Dean Esserman to a T.

The chief of the Providence’ police force speaks in aphorisms that summarize his beliefs. In two interviews a few permeated our discussions: Fear no man, but respect them all; practice integrity; walk the talk; compassion is not a weakness, it’s a strength.

I had written to him to ask if we could meet, my principal question, from which others flowed was how does being Jewish influence your thinking?

His response in a nutshell was: “Being Jewish is good practice for being a police chief…because you learn to stand alone, because being popular turns out to be pretty easy, but doing the right thing isn’t easy and isn’t going to make you popular.…I don’t always make the most popular decisions but I work hard to make the right ones. That’s why I wear a uniform though many police chiefs don’t; that why I still go out on patrol every week; that’s why I insist my command staff does it. All are first police officers before they are the rank they wear. And perhaps what I’ve learned most is … that the rank on the uniform is not as important as the man in the uniform. You have to earn the trust; you have to earn the respect.”

His office is decorated with memorabilia ranging from children’s drawings to reminders of who he is—the words on the Statue of Liberty, a placard reflecting his own view on life: “Tough times don’t last, tough people do.” And police hats from international constituencies including Jerusalem. When I asked him about Zionism he responded that to him it “means first and foremost you rely on yourself and know that if all you have to rely on is yourself that would be enough.” So I asked, not yet having read The Defector, How is that Zionist? That’s the way you conduct your business here, but within the concept of the knowing who you are and relying on yourself, where’s the Israel part of that particular Zionism?”

He answered by suggesting that his Zionism his Zionism is internal, not a chauvinistic response to harsh realities. “My sense of self and my strength comes from the shoulders I stand on, which are my father and mother before me and my grandparents before them. And though we grew up in a family that was really very involved in the Ethical Culture Society and in the Humanist movement, I know it was also a Jewish home, and it was a family proud of being Jewish. And there was a sense that you get things done by your own work, that ability and achievement come from within you, that integrity, compassion and strength are all on the inside, and that those qualities can all be ones you can stand alone with, that you don’t need to lean on others, and growing up as … a Jewish child in New York in the ’60s and the ’70s that’s how I looked at Israel; stand alone if need be, fight alone, the strength comes from within and the strength and resources to survive and to move forward don’t come from outside the state.” And, I thought, perhaps Ethical Culture was influenced by Hillel’s famous dictum that “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”

Esserman understands that he’s not better than his officers. “This is my office,” he says, pointing to the floor. “That out there, the streets, that’s their office. In this business as chief of police I’ve put officers in harm’s way. That’s what I do. I can’t ask them to do anything I won’t do.” The son of a Judeo-humanist doctor who spent summers tending to the sick in Guatemala and in Ethiopia and China, he continues the process by not staying in the office but going out onto the streets.

Jewish or Ethical Culture, which has had the biggest impact on his life? Probably the latter, but there is a strong element of Judaism reflected in the personality and actions of this not particularly observant Jew, a new aphorism for whom might be Kachol v’lavan.