Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die? Responding to the Refugee Crisis - Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5776/2015

Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die? Responding to the Refugee Crisis

Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5776/2015

Rabbi Arnold S. Gluck

Temple Beth-El, Hillsborough, NJ

Tomorrow morning, we will read these haunting words from the u’netaneh tokef prayer:

“On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed…  Who will live and who will die? Who will have long life and who will die young? Who by fire and who by water?... Who by hunger and who by thirst?... Who will be secure and who will be driven?”

Tradition ascribes these words to Rabbi Amnon of Mayence, who lived in the time of the First Crusade—a horrific time when Jewish communities in the Rhineland were ruthlessly attacked, and tens of thousands were massacred.

           

For nearly a thousand years Jews gathered on Rosh Hashanah and read these words with fear and trembling for what might lie ahead for them and their loved ones. As Jews they were exposed, unprotected and vulnerable, subject to expulsions, inquisitions, pogroms, and ultimately the Holocaust.  Who would live and who would die? Who by fire, and who by water? Who would be tortured, and who would survive?

           

For generations Jews read these words literally, mournfully, plaintively, pleading and praying to be sealed for a year of life and blessing. Today, thank God, most Jews have the luxury of reading this prayer metaphorically, as a reflection on the state of our souls. As my rabbi, Chaim Stern, wrote in our machzor:

“On Rosh Hashanah we reflect,

On Yom Kippur we consider:

Who shall live for the sake of others,

Who, dying, shall leave a heritage of life.

Who shall burn with the fires of greed,

Who shall drown in the waters of despair.

Whose hunger shall be for the good,

Who shall thirst for justice and right.”

It’s a beautiful interpretation of the traditional prayer, but this year, I think we should go back to the original version, not in order to ask God “who shall live and who shall die,” but to ask ourselves. We need to ask ourselves because life and death for hundreds of thousands of people lies not in God’s hands, but in human hands. And we need to ask ourselves: will we stand idly by and witness their suffering, or will we do what we can to save them?

I am speaking, of course, of the refugees from African and Middle Eastern countries, especially from Syria, who are fleeing their homes in desperate search of a better life. Some are making their way on foot, others on flimsy boats, others by truck. Thousands of them will not make it. Many have died already. Some by water, some by suffocation, some from hunger… They are unwanted and despised. They’ve been met with violence, denied passage, and been left exposed to the elements without sufficient food and water.  

In today’s u’netaneh tokef, the question “Who shall live and who shall die” is not one for us to ask of God. It is a question that we must ask ourselves. Sitting here in synagogue, we can do more than contemplate the fate of these unfortunate souls... we can resolve to use our power and influence to affect their destiny.

Our tradition calls us to take action to alleviate the plight of others, reminding us repeatedly to love and care for the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We know the price of callous indifference. We have been the refugee, repeatedly. And how we wished that somehow, someone would have found the compassion in their hearts to save us then! Far too often there was no one.

Anshel Pfeffer, the grandson of a Holocaust survivor and a reporter for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, described his thoughts last week as he witnessed the anguish of the refugees on the dusty roads and in the crowded train stations of Europe on their way to what he called “the promised land of Germany.”

“I was looking … for my grandfather,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself. Driving and then riding the rails through Austria, the country where he had been incarcerated during the Holocaust, I asked myself if 70 years ago, he was waiting for a ride, just like those Syrian refugees at the crossroads. Had police herded him onto a train in the same way, keeping him and his unwashed friends in a separate compartment, apart from the “normal,” genteel passengers. Was he as clueless as to where he was going and whether he would ever get there?”

Pfeffer is well aware of the differences between the circumstances of his grandfather and those of today’s refugees. There is no systematic genocide being perpetrated against these asylum seekers. They are fleeing from their own lands to escape persecution at the hands of their own people. But the comparisons are inevitable, and his conclusion is clear: “We now have a duty to be on the side of today’s refugees who are fleeing warfare and persecution… It’s our duty to the refugees we once were.”

So far neither America nor Israel have taken steps to help absorb this wave of refugees. As a nation founded and largely populated by people who came to these shores seeking freedom, it is unthinkable that our country would fail to do its share. To paraphrase Rabbi Tarfon, “we are not expected to complete the task, but neither are we free to desist from it.” So I ask you to join me in asking our elected officials to take action. There are three immediate steps that I urge you to take.

First: On Sept. 30, the President will be submitting his determination of the number of refugees our nation will accept in the coming year. I urge you to join me in calling the White House and asking the President to add 100,000 Syrian refugees to the number he submits. Today I heard that the White House is talking about capping that number at 10,000. It’s not enough.

Second: Call your members of Congress and ask them to support increased funding for refugee absorption.

Third: Go to the website of HIAS (The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society) and sign the online petition asking President Obama to “Commit to resettling in the United States 100,000 of the most vulnerable Syrian refugees, allowing more individuals and families to start new lives in safety and freedom.”

There are fliers in the lobby that include all the necessary details for you to be able to take these steps, as well as information about three different Jewish agencies that are actively involved in this cause. I encourage you to contribute to one or more of them.

One very bright note in the midst of this crisis has been the response from Germany, which has pledged to open its doors to receive 800,000 refugees. In an article this week in Haaretz, Rabbi Eliyahu Fink suggested that Jews should look to Germany for inspiration this Rosh Hashanah.  “A short 75 years ago, Germany and many of her citizens were efficient murderers,” wrote Fink. “They were stoics with no soul. But two generations later, we’ve discovered that change is possible. If they did it, we can do it.”

But despite the many Jewish voices that have called for a strong Jewish response to the refugee crisis, the current government of Israel has not responded with compassion. To be sure, there are real concerns about the security of Israel’s border with Syria, and there is always the issue of terrorism that must be considered. But given our history and the powerful insistence of our Jewish tradition that we side with the oppressed, it is hard to fathom why Prime Minister Netanyahu has not taken action.

Israel’s involvement in this issue has been going on for years, ever since a wave of refugees from Africa began crossing Israel’s southern border, fleeing war, poverty and persecution in their home countries. Today there are some 45,000 asylum seekers who are stuck in Israel without any formal status, subject to the threat of deportation.

No one is asking Israel to absorb them all. The fact that Israel is the first reasonable place an African refugee can reach on foot doesn’t mean Israel should shoulder the entire burden of resettlement. But it would be a strong statement of our values as Jews if the government would identify a number that it will accept. That would provide a moral basis for Israel to then ask other nations to do their share in responding to this crisis.

Similarly, it would be a very powerful message for Israel to accept even a token number of Syrian refugees. The difference between a Jewish state and a state of Jews is that a Jewish state applies Jewish values to its actions. And Jewish values demand that we not be indifferent to the suffering of any of God’s children. Israel has lived up to this standard on many occasions in the past, from welcoming and resettling Vietnamese boat people during the administration of Menachem Begin, to providing the most effective disaster relief when earthquakes struck in Haiti, Turkey, and Nepal.

I encourage you to contact the office of the Prime Minister of Israel and ask him to take these actions. You can do this online through the website of the Israel Religious Action Center.

Let us not be guilty of the sin of silence or the act of callous indifference. Let us not stand idly by while borders are closed and hearts are hardened. Let us open our hearts and tap into the divine wellspring of compassion that God has given us, and let us act now to save lives.

You may recall the story of the man whose heart broke over the grave injustice he witnessed in the world. Moved to tears he cried out, “Dear God, look at all the suffering, the anguish and distress in your world. Why don’t you send help?” And God responded, “I did send help. I sent you.”

May we hear God’s voice calling us to action to save our brothers and sisters who are suffering, and may we help them to find a home where they can live in dignity and peace.

V’chein yehi ratzon! Amen!