Rabbi Jon 's Website and Blog

This is a Dvar Torah I wrote several years ago, originally published on a Jewish site called socialaction.com and currently on-line at myjewishlearning.com.

It's all coming to an end. That must have been Jacob's
thought as his life and the book of Genesis drew to a close. In Egypt,
far from the land of God's promises. Wondering about his children and
their future. Would they preserve the covenant passed down since his
grandparents, Abraham and Sarah? Which of his children could be the one
who would take hold of the torch? Jacob knew very well that with his
children, things would now be different–not Joseph, not Reuben, not
Judah, none of them individually would be in their generation what
Jacob had been in his–the one. 

A golden age was coming to an end, and all Jacob knew for certain
was that the future of a unique set of values and principles would be
entrusted to the likes of Menasheh and Ephraim, his very Egyptian
grandchildren, whom he was about to bless.

I have often felt as though I missed the golden age of civil rights and social justice
in America. I was born too late to march in Washington or Selma, never
heard Dr. King speak in person. I arrived at the Jewish Theological
Seminary years after Heschel had died. Sometimes, I imagine myself as a
college student deciding to head to Mississippi for Freedom Summer. At
least, that's how I like to see myself, risking my life for ideals in a
struggle where the right side won and it's there in the history books
for all to see.

Where is today's Freedom Summer? Where would I go to sign up for the
cause that will go down in history? What could I do today as dramatic
and life-threatening as Mississippi?

Today, there is no single cause to rivet our attention. Environment,
globalization, voting rights, equality in education, economic justice,
racism; each seems like its own world sometimes. There is no central
address, and no moral and spiritual leader who is the voice for our
age. Often the causes feel more like organizations than ideals
sparkling in purity.

We live after the golden age, apparently. But rather than moan, we have to find a perspective, and a way to act.

Jacob and his children teach me that the end of a golden age does
not mean the end of ideals. Golden ages are important, and they
inspire–but they are the exceptional periods. Genesis, after all, is
only one of the five books of the Torah.

The rest of the Torah tells of life lived after the first great
ones, and in fact much of the remaining story centers on a generation
once more removed, not only from the patriarchs and matriarchs but from
the Exodus from Egypt, the great liberation experience.

Are those generations inferior because they did not speak
individually with God, leave family and homeland on a mere promise, or
debate justice with God over Sodom? Of course not. They had in many
ways a more difficult task: to make manifest principles that their
ancestors had only just discovered.

Dramatic as first steps might be, the tenth and hundredth present
their own challenges. Exciting as it may be to meet the charismatic
founder, the true test of a vision is whether people in general can
sustain it, propound it, and live it.

So I read my copy of "Letter from Birmingham Jail" and fantasize
about decisions I might have made–but then I have to face the choices
and opportunities here and now.   I choose to focus on doing something about poverty in America by
engaging and training a new cadre of Jewish teens, and studying Torah
with them as it relates to wealth, work, and community. I work hard at
that, and from time to time create something new in the world, a path
for young Jews to follow that enables them to see how they can change
our society.

In and of itself, that won't land me in the history books. But if in
time the books tell the story of a new generation committed to service
and social justice, I'll recognize myself as one of the unnamed
great-great-grandchildren of Jacob, an heir doing his part to further
the visions of the golden age.

There is an old story that traces the Sh'ma, arguably the most
central Jewish prayer, to Jacob's deathbed. According to the legend,
Jacob let his children know his doubts and fears about whether they
would continue in his path. They answered him: Sh'ma, Yisrael–"Listen,
Israel," addressing Jacob by his God-given name–"the Lord our God, the
Lord is One." We will carry on your vision, they say. And in the
process, the first "ungolden" generation writes the words that have
unified Jews ever since.