May-June 2026

“Receiving (!) Torah”

We don’t receive critique well. We don’t even do so with compliments. We don’t receive gifts well. We don’t even do so with giveaways. We don’t receive input well. We don’t even do so with wisdom.

Receiving can be harder than giving. It requires openness, a self-awareness, poise, and keen listening. So it is of little wonder that Jewish tradition commends seven weeks of preparation before we receive the Torah anew on Shavuot.

The challenge is not in readying the Torah – which our sages regard as eternal. The challenge lies with us.

Like the marathoner training for the big race or the student studying gradually for the big examination, we are advised to take time each day to engage in prayer, spiritual practice, learning, and reflection. We imagine ourselves standing at the foot of Mount Sinai receiving the spiritual inheritance of our People and work backwards to figure out what we need to do in order to be able to heed and discern more of it this year.

May this time of spiritual preparation and renewal open our hearts and minds to receive more than we ever have been able to before.

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March-April 2026

“Purim-Inspired Responses to Antisemitism“

Public intellectual Bret Stephens recently generated a lot of heat and a bit of light by suggesting that the Anti-Defamation League should be dissolved, with funding instead going to positive initiatives for Jewish life. He indicated that many existing initiatives to combat antisemitism were a waste – and that making Jewish communal life even more joyful, connective, and appealing was a better use of time and resources. 

Stephens has a (small) point. Major organizations, with massive budgets and large staffs, have not stemmed the tide of antisemitism, while smaller ones fostering inspired Jewish life remain underfunded. Jewish joy and communities of purpose are powerful counters to antisemitism.

At the same time, a subtler tact would have been more apt: major organizations fighting antisemitism need to revise their approaches, which have not been as successful in recent years. Funders need to support Jewish life at least as much as they combat those who hate us.

More importantly, Stephens creates a false dichotomy. It is possible to fight antisemitism and inspire Jewish life at the same time. Just look at Purim. The holiday was born of longstanding fears from the Persian diaspora and ‘went viral’ across Jewish communities millennia before the internet. It simultaneously teaches of the need to fight entrenched antisemites – and to use them as a foil for uplifting Jewish rituals and communal gatherings at the same time. 

Through a holiday so popular in the diaspora that it went mainstream worldwide, we both teach of the timeless scourge of antisemitism and find ways to extract laughter and love even from those who hate us most. Purim prepares us to fight for ourselves while giving us leave to rejoice, celebrate, and deepen our sense of belonging. Perhaps the underlying challenge of major institutions is that they have forgotten how to bring together both efforts at once. 

Even as we savor the emotional alchemy of Purim, may we impel Jewish organizations to learn from its wise (and hilarious) example. 

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January-February 2026

“On Managing Social and Technological Change Jewishly“

The puckish 19th-century Welsh philanthropist Robert Owen once quipped, “All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer.”

Setting aside contemporary interpretations, Owen makes a keen point about his own time, which was awash in technological, social, and political upheaval stemming from the Industrial Revolution: when everything is changing, nothing feels normal, even our erstwhile friends. Social change impacts each one of us differently and therefore can feel isolating.

Many of us remember getting our first smart phones (or still relish having “dumb phones” and land lines); when Facebook first leapfrogged MySpace and came to define social media; when train voices became automated and Amtrak inaugurated “Julie” as the automated customer service representative.

Much as we already thought we were in the thick of technological and social change, this (secular) year portends acceleration, the likes of which is difficult to fathom. Whether or not we fully reach “artificial general intelligence,” many human jobs are at risk of being replaced; many new ones at the cusp of being created; potential concentrations of wealth and power of a sort we have not seen since the Roman Empire; and an uncertainty that increases the stress of an already stressful time.

Our tradition speaks to these technological transformations in deeply human terms – be it the shift from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age or the era of the scribe to that of the movable type printing press. Here are a few principles that Jewish tradition brings forth:

First: Focus on the human impact. Technology must be in service of people, not the other way around.

Second: Strengthen the social safety net. Universal basic income is not a new idea; it evolved in the pre-modern period and was fully developed in Jewish communities by the European Middle Ages, guaranteeing all Jews a minimum level of food and shelter.

Third: Do not underestimate the impact technology will have on religion. Semaphore systems on hilltops may have enabled our ancestors in the period of the First and Second Temples to communicate about the starting time of Shabbat and holidays. Two millennia later, the printing press standardized Jewish prayer books and created greater uniformity across communities from the Ottoman Empire to the edges of Spain and beyond. Geneticists now study questions of kashrut when animal genes are spliced into otherwise innocuous plants.

Fourth: Allow religion to address questions of technology — and at many times guide them. The immediacy of technology removes our perspective. Our 4,000-year-old tradition gives us a greater sense of change over time and helps us see with greater clarity if and how technology can help people — and whether and how we should adapt to it.

As ever, Jewish tradition speaks to technology. Before we know it, technology may speak back in new and generative ways!

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November-December 2025

“Going All Out for Chanukah”

Every December, it looks like someone spilled a Chanukah catalogue in my home. Chanukah menorahs and flashing blue lights, decals and stuffed animals, and even a toy robot which spins and sings “Dreidel Dreidel” and “Al Ha Nisim.” We’re not quite at the point of having inflatable sufganiyot at our front door, but we might get there soon.

Kitsch, perhaps. Hilarious, absolutely. And quintessential of American Judaism and its pride in belonging.

Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan first suggested expanding Chanukah and its presence in the public square to the grandeur and garishness of Christmas in America. If winter holidays made Jews feel different in painful ways, why not add to the joy that they also experienced?

Chabad followed suit, with “Mitzvah Tanks” crisscrossing cities, blaring Chanukah songs, and public menorah lightings bringing brightness to the darkest days of the year. These have grown to include concerts, comedy shows, and “latkes and vodka” gatherings.

At a time of rising antisemitism and genuine fear, it seems appropriate to consider once again redoubling our shows of Jewish joy and the uplift of a community of communities. This year, we will continue our public menorah lightings on the steps of East End Temple and in Stuyvesant Square Park, as well as with other communities in the vicinity of Union Square.

Please join us in bringing happiness — and more than a modicum of cringeworthy care — to our community and those beyond it. Chag urim sameach — may it be a happy Chanukah for all!

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May-June 2025

“The Oft-Forgotten Celebration of Shavuot”

Shavuot is one of the “Shalosh Regalim” — pilgrimage holidays to Jerusalem, alongside the better-known Passover and Sukkot. It celebrates the receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai and the first fruits of the harvest season in Israel. But while we make time for introspection at Rosh Hashanah, self-flagellation at Yom Kippur and Chanukah lights during the darkest time of year, few Progressive Jews mark this comparably holy occasion.

Why?

First, it may be that other holidays mark historic occasions with which we have greater confidence. There is some (scant) archaeological evidence for the Exodus, and the Maccabees verifiably existed — while the only records we have of Mount Sinai derive from our sacred texts. But more fundamentally, we may be leery of discussing openly what we believe Torah to be (or not be).

Rather than shying away from our own uncertainties or outright skepticism, we should feel empowered, if not emboldened, to give voice to our doubts. It is far better than relegating Shavuot to obscurity to celebrate it as a festival of timeless Jewish literature, early attempts at historiography, Bronze Age theology, the rule of law, national renaissance, or collective autobiography. For whether divine or human in provenance, Shavuot marks the telling of our story not merely as a free people but one seeking agency to tell its own story.

This year, our community is marking it with fitting grandeur, at the Adult Bet Mitzvah ceremony of a distinguished group of members. Each celebrant will bless the Torah and read from it, relate insights about the Torah portion, and reflect on this important moment in their lives.

With great kudos to their teachers Tehilah Eisenstadt, Mindy Sherry, Elyssa Mosbacher, and Cantor Olivia Brodsky, please join us in this celebration of our Adult Bet Mitzvah and all that this milestone signifies: learning, personal growth, community, and yes, Shavuot.

We hope to see you on Sunday, June 1 at 6:15pm at East End Temple (please RSVP to info@eastendtemple.org). Chag Shavuot Sameach!

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March-April 2025

“Empowering Muslim Bridge-Builders“

On my recent trip to Israel, I had the chance to spend a day with Rabbi Dr. Aharon Ariel Lavi on Moshav Shuvah, a “Hasidic Eco-Collaborative” near the Gaza border. While my stay was cut short by a possible break in the ceasefire, his reflections will remain with me for a long time.  

Lavi is part of a group of scholars from a traditional center of Jewish learning, Ohr Torah, which decided to establish an interfaith center. Together, they now study Quran and Shariah (Islamic Law) alongside Torah and Halacha (Jewish Law). They have since engaged Muslim scholars from Morocco, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Pakistan in this learning as a way of delving into the substance of our different laws.  

I joined this group in studying the laws of war in both traditions. It was illuminating. While Lavi affirmed that Shariah rules were “not the Geneva Convention,” they were quite “advanced for their time.” Simply put, the October 7 attacks would have been forbidden based on Shariah. Sexual assault, kidnapping, and the killing or harming of women and children is entirely forbidden. 

This points to an interesting question: How could a fanatical Islamist group like Hamas violate Islamic law in such flagrant ways? 

Lavi points to a possible answer: the lack of understanding of Islam and its misuse by opportunists to advance their political causes. He and the entire Ohr Torah study group believe that the biggest threat to Islam is the relative dearth of scholars and religious leaders who know their own sacred texts — not to mention the contexts thereof.  

Not wanting to appear patronizing to leaders of another tradition, the Ohr Torah Interfaith Center instead befriends and empowers the leaders who do have greater depth of knowledge and the credibility to question Muslim political extremists on a religious basis. 

Their work has become an avenue for Track 2 diplomacy in Israel – building bridges with knowledgeable moderates from across majority Muslim countries. If advanced with care, it could seed a new path to relationship between our traditions. 

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January-February 2025

“Jewish Governors Named Josh”

I am here to announce my non-candidacy for elected office. If a decent rabbi, I would make a lousy public official — or at least one unlikely to withstand the stresses of high (or medium or low) office for very long. Please vote for someone else.

Thankfully, there will be 35 Jewish elected officials in the House of Representatives and the Senate as of this January, all of whom will be far more qualified for public office.

In addition, there will be six Jewish governors, three of whom share my first name – Josh Green of Hawaii, Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania, and Josh Stein of North Carolina. While much could be said about the gender balance of Jewish governors (and governors in general), I am heartened that three out of six who will be holding office had parents with the keen insight to bestow upon them such a dignified first name.

Far more interesting information – often occluded by present anxieties and political polarization – is how American Jews decided to vote in this past election. According to data from the Jewish Electoral Institute (which Professor Stephen Windmueller wrote about with particular insight), Jewish voters prioritized a wide array of issues:

• 46 percent saw the future of democracy as a primary concern.
• 30 percent prioritized abortion access.
• 26 percent focused on the economy, notably inflation.
• 25 percent identified Israel as a major policy concern (albeit not necessarily a primary one).

While data on the proportion of American Jews voting for either major party has been somewhat fuzzy and reliant on self-identification and a willingness to speak to pollsters about both politics and religion, most seem not to have swapped parties in the past decade.

Most importantly, Jews continue to vote at high rates, value their civic participation, and pursue (and attain) public office in disproportionate numbers.

May they continue to do so – and even elect more Jewish governors named Josh. Just not me.

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November-December 2024

“In Defense of History“

One of the most important books that I read in college was In Defense of History by Richard Evans. It describes how relativism and the growing chorus suggesting that all human experiences are subjective is not only demonstrably false but deeply problematic. How we write our past shapes our self-understanding and is as core to our humanity as language, relationship, and the ability for abstract thought. While a written history need not describe why particular events happened, it must relate the events that happened, the evidence that we have for each event, and a preliminary understanding about how one event might relate to another. Without these connections, we were lost — and had lost a key tool with which we could gain in self-understanding.

Alas, as my colleague Rabbi Shoshanah Conover relates, we increasingly are living in a “time without context.” Whatever one feels must inherently be valid, even if it bears little connection to events that took place. “I feel that Ukraine and Russia should make peace” can be disconnected from Russia’s invasion of a country that it historically dominated — and mistreated — under consecutive empires. “Israel’s military offensive makes me angry” can be disconnected from a war that has more than one side and which Israel did not initiate. Anything you feel goes.

Some suggest that there are nefarious aims at play in the rise of “alternative facts,” analysis without data, and the spread of catchy falsehoods about the past masquerading as cordially valid with real history. Rabbi Josh Franklin has suggested that this may be part of an effort to cast doubt on the Holocaust and give credence to Holocaust deniers.

Perhaps in part. But the focus of ahistorical discourse goes far beyond the Holocaust or American history or the study of war and peace. Without a doubt, it strengthens the voices of people who know little and say much — who wish influence or profit or political gain. But it is also a reflection of those who consume such myth with gusto and excitement, namely all of us.

We cannot single-handedly end the misinformation games or remedy this period of enthusiasm for historically disconnected accounts of the past. But we can be more discerning consumers — of books, of media, of social media. We can be more discerning propagators of ideas. We can renew our own study of the past.

As ever, this time of year evokes questions about how we got here as individuals and a community. This year, may we take the endeavor of studying our personal and collective past more seriously.