<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>

<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xml:lang="en">
  <title>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</title>
  <link href="http://huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=rabbi-justus-n-baird"/>
  <updated>2013-05-25T12:45:45-04:00</updated>
  <author>
    <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
  </author>
  <id xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=rabbi-justus-n-baird</id>
  <rights>Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.</rights>
  <subtitle>HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Rabbi Justus N. Baird</subtitle>
  <generator>Good old fashioned elbow grease.</generator>

<entry>
    <title>Free Rabbinic Advice to Rick Santorum From a Texan</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/free-rabbinic-advice-to-rick-santorum-from-a-texan_b_1369493.html"/>
    <id>tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1369493</id>
    <published>2012-03-21T12:06:37-04:00</published>
    <updated>2012-05-21T05:12:01-04:00</updated>
    <summary><![CDATA[If you want to rally God-fearing American Christians to vote for you, you don't have to associate with religious leaders who throw non-Christians under the bus.]]></summary>
    <author>
        <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
        <uri>http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/</uri>
    </author>
    <content type="html" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/"><![CDATA[Dear Mr. Santorum,<br />
<br />
I know you're crazy-campaign-busy. If you have other rabbis in your inner circle, please <em>kibbitz</em> (chat) with her or him and ignore this counsel. If you don't have such counsel already, consider asking one of your advisers to peruse this note. <br />
<br />
A little bit about me: I grew up in Texas and now I'm a rabbi. I live in New Jersey with my wife and three little kids. I work at a Christian seminary in New York City teaching people from different faiths to get along (long story).<br />
<br />
News about your <a href="http://www.trippedmedia.com/2012/03/pastor-introduces-santorum-tells-non-christians-to-leave/" target="_hplink">recent campaign event in Greenwell Springs, La.,</a> inspired me to send you this note. To be honest, it was Pastor Dennis Terry's reported remarks that got to me. I know you were there, but just to remind you of what he said so passionately on Monday: <br />
<blockquote>"This nation was founded as a Christian nation, the God of Abraham, the God Isaac, and the God of Jacob. There's only one God -- there's only one God and his name is Jesus. I'm tired of people telling me that I can't say those words. I'm tired of people telling us as Christians that we can't voice our beliefs, or we can no longer pray in public. Listen to me: if you don't love America and you don't like the way we do things, I've got one thing to say: Get out! We don't worship Buddha. I said we don't worship Buddha. We don't worship Muhammad. We don't worship Allah. We worship God. We worship God's son Jesus Christ."</blockquote><br />
Mr, Santorum, here's the thing: it's kind-of true that America is a Christian nation. Snobby sociologists tell us that a little more than <a href="http://religions.pewforum.org/affiliations" target="_hplink">three-quarters of Americans identify as Christian</a>. You don't need to be a number cruncher to see that huge majority. You and I both know that leaves around 65 million Americans who don't identify as Christian, but let's keep things simple and leave them out of the equation for the moment. <br />
<br />
(BTW, could you ask Pastor Terry to clarify who he was inviting to "get out" of America? I felt like he was talking to me and my 6 million American Jewish coreligionists, as well as all my American Muslim, American Buddhist, American Hindu, American Sikh, American atheist, American agnostic and American non-believing friends. None of us believe that Jesus is the Son of God, so I wanted to make sure he wanted to kick us all out.)<br />
<br />
The free, unrequested rabbinic advice I wanted to give to you is this: those same snobby sociologists that counted all the Christians in America also asked them a few questions about what they believe. Since you're trying to get elected president and all, I thought it might be useful for you to have this holy data at your fingertips: <br />
<br />
Eighty-seven percent of American Christians under age 35 believe that non-Christians can go to heaven, and the same is true about 70 percent of those 65 and older.* I know. The first time I read that polling data, I was like, no way! Bad Christians! Haven't you read John 3:16 and 14:6? I mean, come on, you call yourself Christians and yet you think people who don't believe in Jesus can get into heaven? <br />
<br />
I've been wrong before, but my <em>kishkes</em> (Jewish guts) tell me that if most American Christians think non-Christians will go to heaven, it probably means they don't want to kick all non-Christians out of America. <br />
<br />
My point is this: If you want to rally God-fearing American Christians to vote for you, you don't have to associate with religious leaders who throw non-Christians under the bus. In fact, if you hang with too many Christians-who-hate-non-Christians, you might actually alienate Christian voters themselves! That would be so ironic, I know, but I really think it's true -- because most Christians actually hang out with non-Christians. American Christians know someone from work or the neighborhood or their family who is Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, atheist or agnostic and they know they're good American folk too. In fact, two out of three Americans have an extended family member of a different religion. Americans even have more close friends of a different religion than we have kids (2.4 friends* vs. <a href="http://www.google.com/publicdata/explore?ds=d5bncppjof8f9_&amp;met_y=sp_dyn_tfrt_in&amp;idim=country:USA&amp;dl=en&amp;hl=en&amp;q=american+fertility+rate" target="_hplink">2.1 kids</a>)!<br />
<br />
If I could offer you a free soundbite, it would be this: America is both a great Christian nation AND the most religiously diverse nation in the world! That's why we're so great! Disclaimer: I haven't done the message testing on that one with focus groups of voters. <br />
<br />
Last thing: Good luck in the final weeks of the primary. I can't imagine what it's like to be on the campaign bus 24/7. I hope you're able to rest on the Sabbath and pray regularly with devotion. I know in my own busy life that's hard to do, and I bet its even harder for you. May God watch over you and all leaders who aspire to lead this great nation.<br />
<br />
Rabbi Justus Baird<br />
<br />
P.S. Please tell Pastor Terry that I'm Jewish AND I love America and I like the way we do things. Can I stay?<br />
<br />
* I found these figures in Putnam and Campbell's book <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Grace-Religion-Divides-Unites/dp/1416566732/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1332336425&amp;sr=8-1" target="_hplink">American Grace</a></em>. For figures on Christian attitudes toward who can go to heaven, see pp.538-539. For figures on how many close friends from a different religion Americans have, see page 523.]]></content>
</entry>

<entry>
    <title>Eleven (9+1+1) Spiritual Lessons of 9/11</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/eleven-911-spiritual-less_b_956605.html"/>
    <id>tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.956605</id>
    <published>2011-09-10T06:31:45-04:00</published>
    <updated>2011-11-10T05:12:03-05:00</updated>
    <summary><![CDATA[9/11 changed us - whether we were alive at that moment or yet-to-be born. Ten years later, it makes sense to consider what we have learned. This is what 9/11 taught me. ]]></summary>
    <author>
        <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
        <uri>http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/</uri>
    </author>
    <content type="html" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/"><![CDATA[9/11 changed us - whether we were alive at that moment or yet-to-be born. Ten years later, it makes sense to consider what we have learned. This is what 9/11 taught me. <br />
<br />
1.	<strong>Life can end at any moment</strong>. Looking at family photos of the 3,000 people who died that day inspires me to live each day to its fullest and to get my priorities straight, now.<br />
<br />
2.	<strong>Bad things happen to good people</strong>. The struggle to understand why such terror befell one person and not another is part of the mystery of being human. On 9/11, Job's cry was our cry.<br />
<br />
3.	<strong>Crisis opens hearts and invites us to elevate ourselves</strong>. Who can forget the outpouring of compassion and empathy in the days and weeks after 9/11? Our challenge is to act with such generosity of spirit more often.<br />
<br />
4.	<strong>Being vulnerable is part of being alive.</strong> We all need to feel safe and secure, but ultimately there is no way to protect against every danger. Embracing vulnerability with courage makes us stronger.  <br />
<br />
5.	<strong>Ideas and words hold great power</strong>: they can inspire educated people to commit baseless acts of hatred, while at the same time inspire billions to live peaceful lives for generations. Choose and evaluate words and ideas carefully, because eventually someone will turn them into action.<br />
<br />
6.	<strong>How we remember and tell stories matters</strong>. The meanings of 9/11 are still under debate. By telling others what 9/11 means to us, we craft what our children and grandchildren will learn from this event and shape the choices they will make.<br />
<br />
7.	<strong>Holding entire peoples accountable for the crimes of a few is wrong and vengeful</strong>. Justice demands that we track down and punish those who commit crimes, not all those who look like, pray like, or sound like the perpetrators. Those who lash out or discriminate against entire groups are driven by fear and ignorance.<br />
<br />
8.	<strong>Healing deserves compassion, not judgment</strong>. We all mourn, and heal, in own ways. Some move on and others do not. Compassion, not judgment, is the best gift to offer those who hurt. <br />
<br />
9.	<strong>Our lives are surprisingly inter-connected in this chaotic, flat world</strong>. Citizens from more than 90 countries died on 9/11. We can't say "we" so easily anymore, since we are all minorities now. Our task is to thrive with surprising difference close to home. <br />
<br />
10.	<strong>Plane-bombs are no match against resilient people governed well</strong>. Future terrorists take note: the only effective weapon against a regime you don't like is the hope for a better way. Wise change-agents throughout history, like the leaders of the Arab Spring, know that violence never brings about lasting, stable change. <br />
<br />
11.	<strong>The human spirit is breathtakingly resilient</strong>. Many have suffered greatly and choose to live another day. Life is not the same after 9/11, but it will continue, and improve.<br />
<br />
What spiritual lessons have you learned from September 11?]]></content>
</entry>

<entry>
    <title>The Bin Laden Dialogue: An Imam, Rabbi and Minister Struggle Over What to Preach this Weekend</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/the-bin-laden-sermon-imam_b_857842.html"/>
    <id>tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.857842</id>
    <published>2011-05-05T21:07:32-04:00</published>
    <updated>2011-07-05T05:12:01-04:00</updated>
    <summary><![CDATA[Two days after the news of Bin Laden's demise, an Imam, Rabbi and Minister reflect on what it means for people of faith: the 'celebrations,' the burial, and what to preach about this weekend. ]]></summary>
    <author>
        <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
        <uri>http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/</uri>
    </author>
    <content type="html" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/"><![CDATA[<em>Two days after the news of Bin Laden's demise, an Imam, Rabbi and Minister reflect on what it means for people of faith: the 'celebrations,' the burial, and what to preach about this weekend. <a href="http://www.princeton.edu/~msa/chaplain.html" target="_hplink">Sohaib Sultan</a> is the Muslim Chaplain at Princeton University. J.C. Austin is the Director of the Center for Christian Leadership at <a href="http://www.auburnseminary.org" target="_hplink">Auburn Seminary</a> in New York and <a href="http://www.auburnseminary.org/justusbaird" target="_hplink">Justus Baird</a> is the Rabbi at Auburn Seminary.</em><br />
<br />
<P><BR><strong>Preaching Topics</strong><br />
<br />
<em>What should clergy preach about this weekend?</em><br />
<br />
<P><em>For Muslim Communities</em><br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: I think I would reflect on the following passage in the Quran: "Among mankind is he whose speech impresses you in worldly life, and he calls God to witness as to what is in his heart, yet he is the fiercest of opponents. And, when he goes away, he strives throughout the land to cause corruption therein, and to destroy people's earnings and lives. And God does not love corruption." Qur'an 2:204-5<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: I like this framing of bin Laden as silver-tongued yet destructive.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: In his death, it is important to reflect on this type of personality in the human condition, but also to ward off lesser forms of this hypocrisy within our own hearts and lives.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: Could you say more about 'recognizing hypocrisy' in ourselves -- and how a Muslim preacher might find the balance between talking about bin Laden and turning it into an opportunity for personal growth?<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: I think that whenever we see greater manifestations of evil in the world, we have to recognize that they are born out of corrupt hearts, and it is a warning to human beings as to how much destruction one can cause with such a corrupt heart. So, it is an opportunity to refine our inner selves, to cleanse our hearts from hatred, anger, jealousy -- all those things that lead to evil in the world. And these things are especially dangerous when we try to shroud them with religious cloth and ask God to bear witness to our hatred and anger.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: That would be powerful, to find a way for us to see how bin Laden's wayward life can help us reflect on our own limitations and negative behaviors. This would be quite different than labeling bin Laden as 'evil' and 'other' and beyond the pale in some categorically different way.<br />
<br />
<P><em>For Christian Communities</em><br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Many Protestant churches follow the Revised Common Lectionary as their source for preaching, which is a series of readings that cover most of the Christian Bible over a three-year period.  The Gospel reading this coming Sunday is the Road to Emmaus story, where some of Jesus' disciples are leaving Jerusalem dejectedly, not knowing he has been raised from the dead.  He joins them on their walk, though they don't recognize him, and they tell him how they had hoped he would be the one to bring salvation, but he was killed.  He chastises them for not having understood what Jesus was really up to and how Scripture laid it out.  They are quite taken by his teaching, but don't truly recognize him until they persuade him to join them for dinner and he breaks the bread for them. Once they recognize him, he disappears, and they run back to Jerusalem to tell everyone. I actually preached on this a couple of weeks after 9/11, and used it as a way to say that we need to recognize Christ's unexpected presence among us and get back to the city to embody his radical love and grace.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: How might Christians connect that text to these events? <br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: I might focus on the idea of Christ being recognizable in celebration. I'm interested in the kinds of gatherings in which Jesus shows up and makes himself recognizable.  It happens after walking with him, trying to understand Scripture, and attending to basic human needs of sustenance and community.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: I see where you're going: it connects to our conversation about communal gatherings on such occasions.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: This connection literally only occurred to me a few minutes ago, and I'm not absolutely certain it works. Loving your enemy is a long and difficult road, and we Christians often don't start down that road because it takes us where we don't necessarily want to go. Perhaps the first step we can take is not "delighting" in the death of our enemy, which is what I hear when I hear "celebration" and which seems to characterize some of the more visible demonstrations.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: It sounds like you are drawn to this idea of loving enemies, and using bin Laden as a quintessential enemy to sharpen the Christian teaching on the topic of how we behave toward enemies.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: In the Matthew version of the "love your enemies" commandment, that teaching includes Jesus saying "You have heard that it was said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.'  But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer." It goes on to the "turn the other cheek" teaching, and then into "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you ... " I often stay with the version in the gospel of Luke because it doesn't include the line "do not resist an evildoer."  Just praying for your enemy in this case seems challenging enough for us all.<br />
<br />
<P><em>For Jewish Communities</em><br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: Here's a fascinating textual juxtaposition. Jews around the world will be reading exactly that passage about an eye for an eye this Shabbat (Parashat Emor). Leviticus 24:17 is also going to be tempting to rabbis who are looking for a text to preach on: "If anyone kills any human being, he should be put to death." Putting that verse into a traditional context will be important. The Torah suggests that taking life can mean you are liable to be judged with your own, but the rabbinic tradition goes out of its way to set up court systems, rules of evidence and witnesses to regulate -- if not prevent -- the kind of vigilante communal justice that one might try to justify using these passages in Leviticus 24.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: One person I was talking to was arguing that they would want even bin Laden to have his day in court rather than assassination without trial.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: I think you could make a strong Jewish case that even bin Laden should have gotten his day in court. From what I've read, Obama authorized the capture or killing of bin Laden -- and supposedly, had bin Laden not resisted during the raid he would not have been killed.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: There is a similar law in the Quran [about killing those who murder others], but the very next passage says 'If you forgive that is better for you.' In this piece of Torah, is there ever a concept that sometimes forgiveness is better or higher than take the life of a murderer?<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: In this passage [Lev. 24], the Torah doesn't mention forgiveness. In the rabbinic tradition, however, they interpreted the teaching 'eye for an eye' to mean if someone harms you, they would owe you the monetary value of that which they took from you. In other words, if you break my arm, you pay me restitution.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: In one of the prominent Christian scriptures when Jesus teaches us to "love your enemies," there's nothing in there about forgiveness, though such a teaching appears in many other places.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: I'm wondering about the question of healing now that bin Laden is dead. Can there be healing without forgiveness?<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: My first thought is that the person who's loved one was killed in the attacks has one type of healing to go through in this moment, and the average American who has been watching the wars on TV has a very different healing process to walk.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Agreed, Justus.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Yes, that's very true.<br />
<br />
<!--pagebreak--><br />
<br />
<strong>The Burial</strong><br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: How are Muslims responding to the news about the burial?<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: There's a mixed reaction, as one would expect.  On the one hand, it seems the U.S. has taken proper measures to bury bin Laden in accordance to Islamic tradition with the white burial shroud, within 24 hours, etc. On the other hand bin Laden was buried in the sea, which is interesting. Traditionally Muslims bury their dead into the ground, into mother earth.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: So from what you've heard so far, you would agree that the U.S. authorities have gotten the 'basics' right -- except for the location?<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Yes, it seems like the basics were correct, but the location is important. Some are saying that bin Laden should have been buried into the earth. Others say that in this case there is an exception because we don't want to see bin Laden's grave site become another hot spot of conflict.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Say more about the importance of an earth burial.  <br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: In Jewish tradition, there is such a strong preference to bury in the ground (as opposed to cremation) that I've never thought about burial at sea.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: In Islam it is about tradition: burial in the earth is the way the Prophet Muhammad and his companions buried the dead, so the tradition continues. There is also a spiritual notion of walking gently and humbly on the earth because it is where our ancestors are buried and the earth contains our collective histories.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Burial at sea is acceptable for Christians.  My denominational service book (Presbyterian) even includes special prayers for burial at sea.  But culturally, it's quite different; some Christians would react emotionally to the "loss" of the body and lack of clear memorial location, while communities with a strong seagoing tradition would be more accepting and might have emotional resonance with it. Traditionally, Christians bury their dead for the same reasons that Imam Sultan identifies: Jesus was buried and Christians overwhelmingly practiced burial until recent years.  Protestants now accept cremation, though that wouldn't have been the case a generation ago.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: According to at least one legal source I found, burial of Jews at sea is generally prohibited. If someone died at sea, there would be an obligation to try to find the corpse and bury it, if at all possible. (See Beit Yosef, Yoreh Deah 375:7). Imam Sultan, from your reaction, it seems like burial at sea is perhaps a bit odd, but not necessarily problematic from the view of Islamic tradition.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Well, I think it is problematic from the view of tradition, but the issue is not how Muslims should be buried, the issue is how should bin Laden -- a very unique individual -- be buried. Islamic law takes into account what is beneficial for society as a whole.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: This is a helpful distinction -- and one that may prove interesting for our conversation. Are you saying that maybe we shouldn't treat bin Laden 'as a Muslim' in some respects?<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: That's an interesting accommodation on the benefit of society, which seems to resonate with what the U.S. government was arguing, too.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: You know, the question of treating bin Laden as a Muslim is interesting. I feel unqualified to put people outside of Islam, but if there was ever an individual who would fall outside of the faith it would be someone like bin Laden who killed scores of Muslims throughout the world.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: Perhaps a way to frame it is that there are competing interests in this case: There is a responsibility both to the dead, and to society, and in bin Laden's case, those interests may not be aligned.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: There are instances in Islamic law in which a "Muslim" is not given the right to be buried in a Muslim graveyard, and this might be one of those instances.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: Can you share some of those instances that would cause someone to not be buried in a Muslim cemetery?<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: If a person is considered a fasiq (a person who lived a life of complete sinfulness and corruption), there would be a question about their burial in a Muslim graveyard. But, it is tricky as to who makes that decision, so for the most part the question has been put aside.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: So it seems like the authorities found a solution that would address both the desire to honor Islamic burial practices, and the desire to avoid creating physical site that people would visit.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Yes, personally, I think it was the right call.<br />
<br />
<!--pagebreak--><br />
<br />
<strong>The Celebrations</strong><br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: The celebrations have been the focus of the Christian response to bin Laden's death, both critiquing and defending the celebrations. It boils down to Christ's command that we should love our enemies; if you take that seriously, how can you "celebrate" your enemy's death?  Those who have defended the celebrations theologically have argued that they are celebrating justice, not vengeance/death.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: In the rabbinic world I've been following, there is a sense that it is normal human behavior to want to celebrate at such a moment -- primarily because justice has been done. And that such celebrations should be muted, at least, because God does not celebrate when any aspect of Creation dies. The rabbinic tradition contains many teachings about not overly celebrating the demise of an enemy, including a well-known midrash in the Talmud about God instructing the angels to mute their singing when Pharaoh's army drowns into the sea after the Israelites escape from Egypt.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Christians would agree it's normal human behavior.  But our doctrine of sin makes us very suspicious of "normal" human behavior; Paul says that "in Christ we are a new creation; the old has passed away, the new has begun."<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: In the Islamic tradition, celebrating death is considered improper whether that of friend or enemy. There's a tradition in which the Prophet Muhammad stood up for the funeral procession of an enemy. When his companions told the Prophet whose funeral it was, the Prophet replied by saying, "Is he not a human being?" But one could say that the celebration is justified in the saving of human life, that many might live with the death of a murderer.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: So in that story, Muhammad is standing up for treating enemies like humans. Would bin Laden fall into the same category of enemy as the person in that text? Or might there be some kind of hierarchy of enemies, or of evil?<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Well, considering that bin Laden killed so many people including Muslims, I think he would be like the enemy in the story. I was disturbed by the nature of the celebration in some quarters. It was more like we won a Super Bowl than the idea of lives being saved.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: Exactly. What I've seen reminds me much more of pep rallies or frat parties or post-Super Bowl celebrations than theological/spiritual affirmations of the triumph of justice. I think the emotion we're feeling is catharsis; bin Laden had gotten away with evil and he finally had to pay for that. After so few visible victories in the War on Terror, people needed to believe that evil doesn't win.  But I don't think you throw a street party over a moral reckoning.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: There is also a sense of closure for many people. The open wound of 9/11 -- which is surprisingly wide open and at the surface -- feels like it is able to heal a little bit in this moment.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: For many Muslims there was just a sense of relief, if not celebration. For Muslims, Bin Laden has been a very heavy name to carry around for us.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi and Minister</u>: That's interesting -- how might a world without Bin Laden feel differently to Muslims? <br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Well, let me give you an example. On Sunday morning I was leading a children's study group, and I asked them 'What's the most difficult thing about growing up Muslim in America today?' Several of them talked about living with discrimination, and then a boy told me a really sad story. He and his friends were searching their names on the internet to see what would come up. This boy's name yielded no results, so one of his friends said, "I am sure your dad's name would give us results," and then he typed into the search "Osama bin Laden." This name has just been such a heavy weight for Muslims, there seemed to be a sense of relief and hope that perhaps with the man, the burden will also die.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: I don't think many non-Muslims have a sense of this relief that is being felt by many Muslims.<br />
<br />
<u>Minister</u>: I've heard many people express relief, but it's a very different quality; contemporary American Christians have no analogy to this kind of personified burden.  Even the burdens our tradition does have are often dismissed, ignored, minimized, etc.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: For Jews, I think there has been a mix of excitement about justice being done, and FEAR about whether this event will trigger new terror events.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Yes, that sense of fear is certainly there too ... the future is uncertain<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: Many have said that when they saw the American celebrations at the White House and Ground Zero it reminded them of the celebrations after 9/11 in some Muslim communities. I wonder if this will help Americans be less judgmental about what happens in the street -- to see that just because groups spontaneously gather, it doesn't mean that the celebrations represent the voice of a community.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Hmmm ... yes and no. I think the difference is too big to ignore. There's just such a difference between murder of innocents and the killing of a murderer.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: But I can't imagine that those who celebrated after 9/11 thought that those who died were 'innocent.' In other words -- I am hypothesizing that we celebrate when we think justice is being done or when our 'side' is winning -- and that it's a very rare phenomenon for a normal person to be excited when innocents die -- in my mind, that would be some form of psychosis.<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: So how do we react to such an event as a community? There has to be some way for people to come together during a time like this.<br />
<br />
<u>Rabbi</u>: What might we as religious leaders say about 'appropriate' communal celebrations? I can't shake the feeling that 'tone' is everything here -- whether the gathering is public or private, religious or secular, there is something that just feels wrong about cheering this event with chants of USA, USA!<br />
<br />
<u>Imam</u>: Yes, I agree, the chanting of USA! USA! is problematic because it reinforces the type of tribal mentalities that led to 9/11 in the first place.]]></content>
    <link href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/274435/thumbs/s-BIN-LADEN-DIALOGUE-mini.jpg" type="image/jpeg" rel="enclosure"/>
</entry>

<entry>
    <title>What if Jews Knew That Americans Love Them?</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/post_1838_b_837027.html"/>
    <id>tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.837027</id>
    <published>2011-03-18T01:00:09-04:00</published>
    <updated>2011-05-25T18:40:24-04:00</updated>
    <summary><![CDATA[American culture had definitively shifted away from the old stereotypes. Jews are no longer the Other. We are not strangers in a strange land.]]></summary>
    <author>
        <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
        <uri>http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/</uri>
    </author>
    <content type="html" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/"><![CDATA[During Purim, we hear a lot about who hates the Jews (Haman), but what about who likes the Jews? The Jewish holiday that is full of upside-down surprises is a perfect time to confront a difficult truth: Americans love Jews -- a lot. Even more than they love Protestants and Catholics.<br />
 <br />
As a 38-year-old American Jew, I am a product of my generation's anti-Semitism education machine. For me and probably most older Jews, it is difficult to digest the data. But the numbers, which come from multiple respected studies in the last five years, are irrefutable.<br />
 <br />
In their recent and remarkable survey of American religion, <em>American Grace</em>, sociologists Robert Putnam and David Campbell report about the "feeling thermometer" they use to measure how Americans feel about various religious groups. They asked respondents to indicate "how warm they feel toward different social groups on a scale of 0 to 100."<br />
 <br />
In the period they gathered the data, 2006-2007, Americans said they had warmer feelings toward Jews than any other religious group -- even a degree or two higher than Catholics and Mainline Protestants.<br />
 <br />
Readers who might be tempted to doubt the veracity of the data (after all, one of the study's authors, Putnam, converted to Judaism when he got married and raised his children as Jews) must also digest a decade of studies by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, which show exactly the same results: that American attitudes toward Jews are as positive -- or even a few degrees warmer -- as attitudes toward Catholics, and significantly higher than toward any other religious group (the Pew data does not ask about attitudes toward Protestants).<br />
 <br />
Polling reports from the Anti-Defamation League also point toward a growing American love for Jews. In 2009, an ADL nationwide survey of Americans found "anti-Semitic attitudes equal to the lowest level in all the years of taking the pulse of the American attitudes toward Jews. The survey found that 12% of Americans hold anti-Semitic views, a decline from 15% in 2007 and matching lowest figure ever recorded by ADL, in 1998."<br />
 <br />
There are only two ways to interpret these multiple sources of data: either Americans now believe it is completely socially unacceptable to tell a pollster that they don't like Jews, or Americans really do have really positive feelings towards Jews.<br />
 <br />
As a rabbi who works primarily in interfaith settings, I have countless personal anecdotes that suggest we have entered an era of philo-Semitism in America. A large class of evangelical seminary students hangs on every word I teach them about the rabbinic tradition or the biblical prophets. Non-Jews come in to the office, ask me about the collection of Hebrew volumes of the Talmud, and ask me, with deep curiosity and respect, to show it to them. Wherever I go, hosts go out of their way to make sure there is something kosher I can eat.<br />
 <br />
These are superficial examples, of course, but that is exactly the point: at a superficial level, instead of treating Jews with disdain, fear or disgust, large majorities of Americans now have positive associations with Jews.<br />
 <br />
This data, of course, does not mean that real threats to the Jewish people do not exist. Anti-Semitism remains rampant and goes unchecked in countries around the world. Hateful attitudes toward Israel, whether one counts such attitudes as anti-Semitic or not, proliferate. Some Iranian leaders continue to threaten the destruction of Israel and the Jews and are working diligently to obtain the tools needed to carry out such threats.<br />
 <br />
All these realities mean that philo-Semitic attitudes in America are that much more unique and compelling. In America today, threats toward Jews are not external but rather internal; millions of intermarried couples are not raising Jews (even though many are), and levels of participation in Jewish life by post-b'nai mitzvah teens is dangerously low.<br />
 <br />
Paying attention to American philo-Semitism matters so much because young Jews are caught in a major cognitive dissonance: They are taught from an early age that the world hates the Jews, but they feel fully embraced by their American peers. Putnam and Campbell note that since the 1960s "anti-Semitism has continued to fall through generational replacement -- younger people are less likely to harbor anti-Semitic views than older generations."<br />
 <br />
Are American Jews ready for a narrative of philo-Semitism? I recently presented this data to an adult education class organized by a regional chapter of the American Jewish Committee. I asked the learners to rank different religious groups by likability by Americans. Of 20 learners, 19 got it wrong. Middle East scholar Aaron Miller has said, "Jews worry for a living, because the arc of history has taught them to." Is it any surprise we have trouble hearing a narrative of philo-Semitism?<br />
 <br />
American Jews regularly tune in to stories like the Jewish passenger who caused a plane to land early when he pulled out his tefillin, an <em>eruv</em> (community border that allows carrying on the Sabbath) in the Hampton's that is meeting resistance, and a grave marker that was desecrated by hoodlums. Such stories make headlines in American Jewish press precisely because they are exceptional and not the norm, and because they feed a narrative we expect. Yet these headlines do not represent mainstream American Jewish life in 21st century America. <br />
 <br />
Three recent major newscycles, each of which would have been devastating for American Jews two generations ago, suggest how powerful this new context of philo-Semitism really is: Madoff, Mezvinsky and Muslims.<br />
 <br />
Why didn't coverage of the Bernie Madoff scandal spiral into anti-Semitic rants about evil Jewish business practices? With an identifiable Jewish antagonist bilking everyone -- even nonprofit endowments -- it was the perfect setup for anti-Semitic headlines, cartoons and jokes. But they never materialized.<br />
 <br />
And where was the American uproar when the daughter of an American president married Marc Mezvinsky wearing a tallit under a chuppah in a ceremony by a rabbi?<br />
 <br />
And if you were asked to choose the most likely faith group to serve as America's scapegoat, could the answer be in doubt? The same polls that say Americans love Jews also say that Americans are queasy about Muslims, who score the lowest of all religious groups in all the surveys noted earlier. While Jews can put a synagogue wherever they want, Muslims are forced to engage in sophisticated public relations battles in communities across the country if they want to build a mosque. If Chelsea had married a Muslim, what would the headlines and blogs have said? Any Jewish joy about being well-liked in America is dampened by the fact that Americans have found a new scapegoat.<br />
 <br />
Nevertheless, American Jews would do well to accept the fact that American culture had definitively shifted away from the old stereotypes. Jews are no longer the Other. American Jews are not strangers in a strange land.<br />
 <br />
Can Jewish identity survive being so well-liked? Some will cling to old narratives and say that philo-Semitism is just an advanced form of anti-Semitism -- a sophisticated strategy to kill Jews with kindness.  They'll argue that without the threat of anti-Semitism, a central component of Jewish identity, Jews will slowly disappear.<br />
 <br />
I, for one, believe American Jews will survive the transition to being well-liked in America. Like singing in a major key after centuries of singing in minor, it will feel weird at first but it will eventually become authentic. The 4.7 million people who listened to that <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/11/30/dynamite-hanukkah-remix-m_n_789765.html" target="_hplink">Hanukkah song by the Maccabeats</a> have a clue as to what major-key Judaism might feel like.<br />
 <br />
The challenges of Judaism in a major key are great. Fundraising letters that claim the Jewish sky is falling in America must be re-written to attract younger Jews like me who throw such letters directly into the trash. Our educational approaches must shift by teaching young Jews that throughout Jewish history the world has often treated us with disdain <em>and</em> that there have been numerous exceptions to the rule, with 21st century America as the most prominent example. Most importantly, conceptions of Jewish identity that require a negative environment to thrive must give way to positive, more nuanced and complex conceptions of Jewish identity that can thrive in an environment of philo-Semitism. <br />
<br />
It is time for American Jews to see the everyday respect, kindness and fairness that Americans offer to Jews as a sign that Jews in America today are actually respected, well-liked and considered normal. And when we internalize that acceptance, we can do even more to help others who are not yet accepted in America.<br />
 <br />
The Book of Esther mentions no Persian resistance to Haman's decree to destroy the Jews. Is there any doubt how Americans would react to a modern-day Haman's decree? This Purim, as Jews drown out Haman's name with shouts and groggers, let us thank God for our lot in America and commit to building and celebrating Jewish lives that can thrive even when we are loved.]]></content>
    <link href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/257874/thumbs/s-JEWISH-AMERICAN-LOVE-mini.jpg" type="image/jpeg" rel="enclosure"/>
</entry>

<entry>
    <title>Hey, That's Sacred Ground: Let's Talk About Where to Build that Mosque</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/hey-thats-sacred-ground-l_b_593675.html"/>
    <id>tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.593675</id>
    <published>2010-05-28T13:47:00-04:00</published>
    <updated>2011-05-25T16:35:20-04:00</updated>
    <summary><![CDATA[As a rabbi, I'd like to offer two things that seem to be missing from the now public discussion of Cordoba House: a pastoral voice, and a piece of wisdom from the past. ]]></summary>
    <author>
        <name>Rabbi Justus N. Baird</name>
        <uri>http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/</uri>
    </author>
    <content type="html" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-justus-n-baird/"><![CDATA[Every once in a while we witness the perfect interfaith storm. It's always a combination of religion, politics, and one special ingredient, like money, scandal, or, as in this season's storm, collective memory. <br />
<br />
This season's perfect interfaith storm is the proposed mosque and Islamic community center two blocks from Ground Zero in New York City. In a building that has lain fallow since 9/11, when one of the planes' landing gear came crashing through the roof, the project's founders hope to build an Islamic version of the 92nd Street Y, a community center and prayer space to replace a nearby makeshift mosque.<br />
<br />
Last week, when journalists and muckrakers got wind of plans for Cordoba House, as the project is called, the borough and the blogosphere lit up with thoughtful reflection, deep emotion, and unfortunately, bigotry and character assassination. <br />
<br />
Local politicians and the Community Board have given a clear response to the hate speech. The Community Board voted 29 to 1 (with 10 abstentions) to build Cordoba House. Mayor Bloomberg said simply, "Our city's open to anybody, no matter what your religion is."<br />
<br />
But the deep emotional concerns about the location of Cordoba House have not yet been fully addressed. Listen carefully to their words. Patrick Bahnken, head of a paramedics union: "By no means am I saying the folks trying to build this place are responsible for 9/11, but you still have to take a hard look at it and say, how will it look to have this in your face? It's like salt in the wound - a constant reminder of what they did to us on 9/11." Mike Burke, whose brother was a fireman killed in the attacks: "I think the first concern for the families is that the religious beliefs of the terrorists who struck is going to have such a prominent place right around the corner from Ground Zero." Rosemary Cain, whose son was a firefighter killed in the attacks: "I think it's despicable, and I think it's atrocious that anyone would even consider allowing them to build a mosque near the World Trade Center ... That's sacred ground. It's a slap in the face." And from an angry participant in the May 25 Community Board meeting: "This is an insult, this is demeaning, this is humiliating that you would build a shrine to the very ideology that inspired the attacks of 9/11."<br />
<br />
These concerns take on a special urgency on Memorial Day: how exactly can we remember and honor those who were killed? As a rabbi, I'd like to offer two things that seem to be missing from the now public discussion of Cordoba House: a pastoral voice, and a piece of wisdom from the past. <br />
<br />
First, a pastoral voice. To some of those who lost loved ones in the 9/11 attacks, Cordoba House is a slap in the face that generates anger and disgust. In their mind, Muslims perpetrated 9/11, and now Muslims are building a shrine at Ground Zero. <br />
<br />
These 9/11 families understand intellectually that the progressive American Muslims advocating for Cordoba House have no connection, theologically or personally, to the terror-thirsty, militant strand of Islam associated with the 9/11 attackers. Yet, for them, these two diametrically opposed groups are still connected in some way. In an honest moment, most Americans would admit that we share this feeling that all Muslims are connected. Muslim theologians would agree: the <em>ummat al-mu'minin</em> is the "community of believers" that make up the Muslim world. So let's acknowledge that while the followers of Cordoba House and the followers of al-Qaeda have radically different visions of Islam, they are both part of the Muslim world. <br />
<br />
The other clear concern in these voices is that Ground Zero, and arguably the area around it, is sacred ground. <em>My loved ones died here</em>, they are reminding us. Be very, very careful where you walk.<br />
<br />
But what are the boundaries of this sacred site? The architecture of the Biblical Tabernacle is instructive here. The holiest place was the Ark of the Covenant. Surrounding it was the Holy of Holies, and beyond that was the holy place with the altar, table, and lampstand, and beyond that was the outer court, and beyond that was a fence. Sacredness was safeguarded by a series of boundaries.<br />
<br />
These voices are crying out to discuss the sacred boundaries of Ground Zero. Cordoba House is two blocks away, a three-minute walk. Is that inside or outside the invisible fence? And who determines what is sacred? To Muslims, many of whom died in the 9/11 attacks, a mosque is a deeply sacred space.<br />
<br />
Only by acknowledging and addressing these concerns will the storm swirling around Cordoba House be abated. That's the pastoral voice. Now the wisdom from the past. It is sad but true that people around the world have experienced their own versions of 9/11. Lurking in the aftermath of the world's worst moments of murder and injustice is a precious piece of wisdom.<br />
<br />
The International Coalition of Sites of Conscience is a worldwide network of nearly 250 places of memory that remember tragedies as well as triumphs of justice and everyday life. These sites open their spaces for people to talk openly about what happened there and their contemporary legacies.<br />
<br />
One such Site of Conscience is Constitution Hill in Johannesburg. In the 1990s, South Africa decided to redevelop the Old Fort Prison that jailed political prisoners like Mandela and Gandhi alongside those who transgressed now-illegal apartheid laws. The Justices of the Constitutional Court deliberately chose to erect the new court in the shadow of the prison in order to learn from the history of a place that once symbolized the abrogation of justice. From the soil of terror would rise a safehouse of justice.<br />
<br />
Before the site was redeveloped, a series of dialogues was conducted with various stakeholders, including former prisoners and guards, who described their personal experiences and talked openly about what happened there. The community's input shaped the design of the Constitution Hill complex, including a provision for office space for nonprofits to pursue justice. Without these dialogues, Constitution Hill might never have become what it is today: a place offering ongoing public discussions about how, in light of the past, justice should be defined in the new South Africa.<br />
<br />
Another example is <em>Memoria Abierta</em> (Open Memory) in Buenos Aires. For decades, Argentine dictators sponsored violent kidnappings and torture. The terror claimed an estimated 30,000 lives, people who became known simply as "the disappeared." Open Memory has worked to identify hundreds of detention centers and torture sites and mark them as places that preserve memory and denounce authoritarianism. One such site, a former Naval Academy, set off a protracted disagreement among stakeholders, including different victims' groups. Open Memory held a series of forums among victims groups and state authorities, which has allowed the site to be opened in a series of smaller steps. The open dialogues continue today.<br />
<br />
The parallel between these sites and Cordoba House is imperfect; Cordoba House is not intended to be a memorial to 9/11. Yet these stories contain wisdom: any development on or near the sacred ground of collective trauma must begin with listening and dialogue. <br />
<br />
Cordoba House's founders have started the dialogue, which is why the local Community Board recently backed the proposal. But the dialogue needs to go broader and deeper. At a minimum it must include more families touched by 9/11 (some of whom strongly support the proposal), more nearby residents, and all of us who have trouble distinguishing a Cordoba House Muslim from an al-Qaeda Muslim. <br />
<br />
Cordoba House should be built. Right now, however, Ground Zero has too many graves and too few relationships between Muslim-Americans and Americans of other faiths for the project to reach its full potential. By launching a series of community dialogues <em>before</em> the site is developed, Cordoba House can get an early start on becoming a vibrant and world-class facility that promotes tolerance and pluralism.]]></content>
    <link href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/170167/thumbs/s-GROUND-ZERO-MOSQUE-mini.jpg" type="image/jpeg" rel="enclosure"/>
</entry>
</feed>