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As Ecclesiastes says, there is nothing new under the sun. So too with antisemitism: it has existed in one form or another for as long as Jews have. Nevertheless, we are now in uncharted waters when it comes to antisemitism in the United States. The impetus? Kanye West and Kyrie Irving’s recent forays into Jew-hatred, coupled with the tools of social media. Allow me to offer three key lessons learned through the debacle.

Valentine's Day may not be a Jewish holiday, but why waste any opportunity to spread the love? Our tradition teaches us that love is transformative.

OK--that might be a paraphrase. But in Deuteronomy 31, we *do* read similar words about the transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua: chazak ve'ematz, "Be strong and courageous." Now, in this tense and liminal political moment, that advice may be needed more than ever.

We’ve reached the end of our first week of classes during what will surely go down as one of the strangest years of HUC’s history. In all the Zoom classes—none of which could have been predicted or were what we had hoped for—we may yet find something altogether unexpected and special.

If you’re a “Hamilfan” like me (a fan of the hit Hamilton musical, recently added to Disney+’s catalogue), then you’ll recognize these yearning words—which allude to Micah 4:4—sung by George Washington’s character in the song, “One Last Time.” This transcendent phrase, oft-uttered by the real Washington, addresses the one-dollar Founding Father’s hope that all who dwelled in America, himself included, might someday be able to enjoy repose in those soon-to-be-united states.

It’s been an incredible journey, everyone! During the past five years, when I have had the extraordinary pleasure of serving at Temple Beth Or, I’ve come to consider our synagogue my Jewish home. The relationships I have formed here have been life-changing. They have changed who I am—as a rabbi and as a person.

As Jews, we ought to know the feeling of having a target on our back; it's been there for most of our existence. Being Jewish has been enough of a reason to be killed during large swaths of Jewish history, much like being black remains so for far too many people in 21st-century America.

In one of my favorite talmudic stories, the great Rabbi Eliezer, one of the most learned sages and revered teachers of his generation, is excommunicated from rabbinic society for obstinance. Save for a few minor exceptions, he spends the rest of his life distanced from his former peers, unable to learn from them—or teach. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 68a) recounts how, on his deathbed, he laments all the missed opportunities of the foregoing years.

As it turns out, we’re far from alone. Even in the midst of a pandemic, we’re part of a Jewish tradition…it’s just a little different than the usual.

Good texts change us. Their words and ideals stick in our minds; they challenge our expectations, forcing us to grow; they make us think differently about the world. So, it only makes sense that the Jewish tradition encourages us to recite special verbal formulae when we reach the conclusion of such formative experiences.

The last few years have not been easy for those in the Jewish community. With rapidly rising rates of antisemitism in the United States, it may feel harder than ever to be Jewish…

It may be easy to get caught up in the small things, to think that the world or God owes us nothing but positivity; however, in Judaism, we aren’t supposed to take anything for granted. A periodic reminder of this oughtn’t need to come in the form of someone else’s suffering, but good opportunities for learning and growth come in all forms.

The “super” in superhero is not—at least how such characters are commonly portrayed today—a trivial matter. The average person essentially cannot just become a superhero. It defeats the purpose; it breaks the genre, it undermines the whole concept. However, that doesn’t mean that we cannot aspire to superheroism in our own ways… we, am Yisrael, are no average people. We have an origin story, and—as a consequence of our past fate and fortune, we can harness certain super powers. No, we’re not like Storm from the X-Men—Jews can’t control the weather. We can’t even make the Bengals win a football game. If only. But, I’m here to tell you, that in this coming year of 5780, you, as a Jew—you, too, can be super!