Delivered at Shaare Tefilla of Dallas on Shabbos Parshas Vayishlach, 5779
As a rule, I rarely wear suits on Sundays, unless I have to. It is vanishingly rare for me to do so when I’m on vacation. But just a few weeks ago, I found myself doing that very thing. I was about to crash a wedding that was the social event of the year, where I knew no one and where I would hardly understand a word being said. But I’m getting ahead of myself… It has been three weeks since Jessica and I returned from a short trip to Buenos Aires, Jessica traveling for a professional conference and me as her plus one. This morning, I’d like to share with you three lessons I learned on this trip.
The first lesson is one I did not expect, but relearned through a providential chain of events leading up to and during the trip. On the way to build an altar to God in Beit El, the Torah tells us that God blessed Yaakov immediately following the death of Devorah, Yaakov’s nurse. What is the connection between these two events? We had never even heard of Devorah until this moment! Rashi explains that God was offering words of consolation, of nichum aveilim. Technically, Yaakov was not obligated to mourn for Devorah, to whom he was not at all related, but in a homiletical sense, it is clear Yaakov- who had to be a pillar of strength for his family- was feeling an acute sense of loss. Paralyzed by his daughter’s violation and bereft of his nurse’s loving guidance, he had nowhere to turn, so God Himself comforted him. God was showing Yaakov that even- and especially- those who provide care for others need strengthening themselves.
We arrived in Buenos Aires the Shabbos after the Pittsburgh massacre, and were feeling raw; we weren’t certain what kind of meaningful commemoration there would be in shul, and were fairly certain it would not be of the dignified and meaningful kind Rabbi Wolk conducted. Our hotel was two blocks away from Chabad in Puerto Madero, a high end district in downtown Buenos Aires. The Chabad Center itself is in a beautifully renovated former Red Cross building that sits on millions of dollars of real estate. The building lay decrepit until the city gave it to Chabad at no cost for them to refurbish, as part of an urban redevelopment initiative. My preliminary conversations with the shaliach, Rabbi Chaim Oirechman, revealed that he would not be around to host us for Shabbos meals, but that a frum group on a tour that started in Rio was traveling down into Patagonia, and was stopping in Buenos Aires for Shabbos. They were staying near that Chabad House and using it for their Shabbos meals. He provided me with the contact information for the tour organizer and we arranged to join them. The scholar in residence on the tour was Lord Rabbi Dr. Jonathan Sacks. Over the course of Shabbos, Lord Sacks delivered two sermons at the Chabad House (ably summarized and translated into Spanish) and two talks at the Shabbos meals, one on how to deal with rampant and increasing anti-semitism. He also said a beautiful prayer for Kedoshei Pittsburgh in the course of davening. The Lord has the unique ability to make you feel good even if he were to say nothing of substance; this time, his content and uplifting messages inspired me. I’d like to think that Rabbi Sacks felt inspired by meeting me as well, because who isn’t inspired by meeting me? In all seriousness, though, Rabbi Sacks remembered Dallas and was most excited to hear that we have a brand new building and to learn about the growth that represents. And we were not the only Rabbis who received chizzuk. Rabbi Chaim and Brocha Oirechman work tirelessly for the Jews in Puerto Madero, and Rabbi Oirechman also assists his father in law Rabbi Zvi Grunblatt, the head Chabad Shaliach of Argentina, in overseeing the work of the 105 families of shluchim throughout the country and caring for the needs of the large Chabad community in Buenos Aires. He was away because he was at the international Chabad Kinus Hashluchim, gaining inspiration of his own by spending a weekend with 5,000 of his closest friends.
The second lesson is a simple one: It is a vast Jewish world out there!
At the beginning of this week’s Parsha, Yaakov is seized with terror by the possibility that Esav will murder him and his family, so he does what he thinks is prudent- he splits them into two camps. The Medrash Rabbah treats Yaakov’s actions as a harbinger of the future, when the Jewish people would be divided and scattered.
בראשית רבה עו:ג
וַיֹּאמֶר אִם יָבוֹא עֵשָׂו אֶל הַמַּחֲנֶה הָאַחַת וְהִכָּהוּ, אֵלּוּ אַחֵינוּ שֶׁבַּדָּרוֹם.
If Esav comes and annihilates one encampment- this refers to our brethren in the south (of the land of Israel)
וְהָיָה הַמַּחֲנֶה הַנִּשְׁאָר לִפְלֵטָה, אֵלּוּ אַחֵינוּ שֶׁבַּגָּלוּת
The other one will remain- these are our brethren in the diaspora.
It’s a big Jewish world out there, but those of us in the Northern hemisphere often don’t think about what is happening with our “brethren in the south.” Argentina has been on our mental radar a few times- we were horrified by the 1994 AMIA bombing, and we watched with concern from 1998-2002, as the Argentinian economy crashed, rendering many solidly middle class Jews completely destitute. Perhaps we are also familiar with Argentina’s checkered relations with the Jewish people. After all, Argentina is famous for granting safe haven through the “ratlines” to most incomprehensibly evil Nazi masterminds; Dr. Zuroff, who just spent some time in our community, has been to Argentina four times. The Argentinian state “disappeared” many leftist Jews during the Dirty War, between 1974-1983, and it colluded with Iran in covering up its role in the AMIA bombing. This perception yields an incomplete picture, though. Yes, there is still security around Jewish institutions in Argentina, and there are still poor Jews there as well, but today, there is almost no public or state anti-Semitism in Argentina; it is perfectly safe to walk around in a Kippah anywhere, as I did. Historically, Jewish life in Buenos Aires centered in a working class neighborhood called Once (Ohnsay), at one time the Argentine equivalent of the Lower East Side and still the garment district of Buenos Aires. Every Sunday in the early 20th century, you could walk the streets and see Jews thronging to buy one of several Yiddish papers, or lining up for performances at the Yiddish Theater. But alongside Yiddish, the streets of Once reverberated with the sounds of Arabic, spoken by Jews from Arab countries who immigrated in the 1910s. Once is still a heavily Jewish neighborhood; we ended up there on Erev Shabbos, and it felt like a Friday afternoon in in any heavily frum neighborhood, like Boro Park, with young women in sheitels and strollers darting out of any of the many kosher stores, restaurants and bakeries that can be found every few doors. There are dozens of kosher restaurants throughout the city, and yes, the meat is spectacular and shockingly cheap. Buenos Aires is a dirty city, yet somehow manages the delicate balance between grit and charm. Once leans heavily in the direction of grit, but it does have beautiful shuls, both Ashkenazi and Sephardi. One of the main synagogues of the Halabi, or Aleppo, community in Buenos Aires is called Shaare Tefila, spelled almost the same way as we do but with one fewer “l”; the “ll” in the Buenos Aires dialect of Spanish is pronounced zh, so our spelling would be pronounced Shaare Tefizha… It is almost as stunning as our Shaare Tefilla! The Conservative movement has a presence in Buenos Aires and Chabad is strong as well, but overall, I experienced a strong Chareidi feel in the Jewish community, in both the Sephardic and Ashkenazic communities. There are very few religious Zionist Jews left in Argentina; a formerly vibrant community fell “victim” of its own success, as almost everyone from the older generation made aliyah and then, when the economy crashed, there was no longer any economic incentive for aliyah minded people to stay. One of the largest historically religious zionist shuls, Ajdut Israel, in a neighborhood called Belgrano, was founded by religious Zionist German Jews, most of whom died or made aliyah. It is now largely a rapidly growing mainstream chareidi institution. In several different neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, there are many shuls, schools, Yeshivos and Kollelim as well as countless chessed, outreach and communal service organizations. There appears to be a strong baal teshuvah movement in Buenos Aires, particularly among young, traditional Sephardic Argentinians. On Sunday, I went to daven Shacharis at a place called Menorah, a Sephardic outreach organization in a district called Palermo. While there, I met up with my new friend Rabbi Ariel Berim, a member of the Menorah staff and local TV personality who truly knows or is known by everyone, and who had been our “fixer” in Buenos Aires. There were many places we would not have been able to see if he didn’t get us in. As we were wrapping our Tefillin, he asked if I wanted to experience a unique and fascinating cultural event. I’m always interested in attending unique cultural events, so he invited me to attend the chuppah of Hillel Sacca and Tatiana Safdieh. And so it was that I put on a suit on a Sunday and alighted in the neighborhood of Villa Crespo, at a beautiful Sephardi shul known simply as “Camargo” after the street on which it is located. Hillel is the son of Rabbi Isaac Sacca and his wife Esther; Rabbi Sacca is the Chief Rabbi of the Sephardic community. Tatiana is a young woman from a Sephardic home who became observant through Menorah and Rabbi Berim; Rabbi Sacca is president of Menorah. Not knowing a soul or understanding the language allowed me to be the ultimate outsider, but being a Rabbi allowed me to be an insider as well, so I could compare the ways in which a Buenos Aires Sephardic Chuppah differs from ours. First, all seven blessings were recited by a Sephardic Hazzan, accompanied by a boys choir; there was no list of Rabbis or relatives called upon to recite blessings under the Chuppah. The only honor accorded to communal Rabbis was a seat of honor on the bimah next to the Chuppah. Second, Rabbis were not even honored to serve as witnesses to the wedding, as the Sephardic community provides an official witness for every wedding, who is also the communal registrar for marriages. Third, and most significant, was that there was no smorgasbord…
Humorist Bill Bryson has said,
The greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time.
This is especially true if you are Jewish. Seeing other communities that we may not be familiar with “do Jewish” in a way that is so different, yet so similar, to the way we do things was a fascinating experience.
But this trip also taught me another lesson, the opposite of the second one. It is a small Jewish world out there, too! It is most puzzling that Yaakov reacted even more harshly to Shimon and Levi’s murderous act of revenge over the Dina’s violation than he did to the violation itself. Indeed, the Radak takes Yaakov to task over this reaction, saying that his reticence was a sign of cowardice, and that the brothers acted out of fearless principle. Rav Hirsch explains that Yaakov was concerned that, in a small community where everyone talks, the actions of Shimon and Levi served to besmirch the family’s reputation and that surely other, more diplomatic ways could be found to resolve the tragic situation that did not involve mass murder. In the Radak’s conception, Shimon and Levi were also concerned about their reputation, and felt that it could not be known in their community that they were willing to stand by as their sister was brazenly defiled. No matter which side you take, one point is clear: It’s a small world, and reputation counts. When we met the members of the tour group, we discovered that one of the participants was the father of Jessica’s best friend from childhood. We spent a long time playing Jewish geography, and many participants knew people we did, or knew former Dallasites as well, and those who didn’t took an active interest in what our community is about. On Sunday, we invited several of Jessica’s colleagues to join us for dinner at a kosher restaurant. I arrived a little earlier and was seated; it was only 8:30 P.M., which is still afternoon for Argentinians, and I was the only other person in the restaurant aside from a group at a neighboring table. A few minutes later, Jessica and her colleagues arrived, and one of the women at the other table turned to us and asked me, “Are you the Rabbi at Shaare Tefilla in Dallas?” It turned out to be Mrs. Nasrin Kheradyar, Dahlia Abramov’s mother, who is here with us today! Because it is a small world, and because reputation counts, we knew that our community was being judged by the way we behaved, and that we had to be ambassadors and advertisers for Dallas, and for Shaare Tefilla. We know about the concept of Kiddush Hashem– in which the Jewish people are judged by others based on the actions of individual Jews. Jessica and I certainly felt this in dining with her colleagues, some of whom were Jewish; some of the non-Jews had never met a Rabbi before, and even for some of the Jews, it was their first kosher meal in decades. We knew we were the stand-ins for all Jews, and this food was the representative of all kosher food (it was a great representation). But as much as we need to think globally in these terms, should also think locally. Maybe there is such a thing as Kiddush Dallas, or Kiddush Shaare as well, because it is a small Jewish world. The way we conduct ourselves anywhere in the world is a reflection on our values, on our community, and our shul.
All these lessons apply regardless of whether you travel or not; I’m a grateful I had the opportunity to travel to learn them. May we always provide inspiration for those who inspire us, may we experience the vastness and unifying power of the Jewish world, and may we always be the expressions of the best our community has to offer!
shaarerabbi 