(Sermon for First Morning of Rosh Hashanah 5780/ September 30, 2019)

This is my tenth Rosh Hashanah in Duluth, enough time to start to feel a little settled in. Some of you, of course, have lived your whole lives here. I bet you really feel at home – especially those of you whose families have been here for generations. And for those of you who are newer to our congregation, or who are visiting us from out-of-town --- Beruchim Haba’im -- welcome – and we hope you will feel at home here too.

However, no matter how heimish an atmosphere we might create here at Temple Israel, we also remember that we are a people whose history is filled with experiences of exile, displacement and wandering.

Torah speaks of Abraham and Sarah’s journey in response to God’s call --- LEKH LEKHA --- “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1).

Somewhat more problematically, those veteran wanderers subsequently force out Hagar and Ishmael to wander in a harsh and forbidding wilderness in this morning’s Torah reading. Abraham and Sarah may be the ones whom we acknowledge as our spiritual forbears. But, nevertheless, we cannot help but identify with Hagar and Ishmael as well when we confront their plight each year on the first morning of Rosh Hashanah.

And in tomorrow morning’s haftarah, the prophet Jeremiah poignantly evokes the memory of our ancestral mother Rachel crying from beyond the grave as she witnesses the forced exile of the Jewish people a thousand years later:

כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר יְהוָ֗ה ק֣וֹל בְּרָמָ֤ה נִשְׁמָע֙ נְהִי֙ בְּכִ֣י תַמְרוּרִ֔ים רָחֵ֖ל מְבַכָּ֣ה עַל־בָּנֶ֑יהָ מֵאֲנָ֛ה לְהִנָּחֵ֥ם עַל־בָּנֶ֖יהָ כִּ֥י אֵינֶֽנּוּ׃

Thus said the Eternal: A cry is heard in Ramah— Wailing, bitter weeping— Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted for her children, who are gone. (Jer. 31:15)

But the Babylonian Exile wasn’t forever.

And the occupation of the Land of Israel by foreign empires wasn’t forever.

Israel now once more --- as was the case in the days of Kings Saul, David and Solomon --- is once again home to the world’s largest Jewish population.

In this Jewish year 5780, we are no longer a displaced people.

And here in the United States – home to the second largest Jewish community on the planet --- we are blessed to be in a country which, for all its faults, has afforded us those opportunities envisioned back in 1790 by President George Washington in his letter to the Jewish congregation of Newport, Rhode Island when he wrote:

May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants—while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.

May the father of all mercies scatter light, and not darkness, upon our paths, and make us all in our several vocations useful here, and in His own due time and way everlastingly happy.[1]

In this secular year 2019, we are no longer a displaced people.

But the memory of exile, of wandering, of forced migration, remains in our guts.

All of us who are Jewish, whether by birth or by conversion, share this history and this heritage of wandering and homelessness.

And so it is not surprising that Jewish voices have been prominent recently among those concerned with the plight of the displaced millions of today: Those displaced millions who find themselves buffeted about by the traumas of war and famine and violence which lead them to follow the age-old path of “LEKH LEKHA” --- to go forth from their native lands and from their ancestral homes to a place they do not know.

But there is much to be concerned about with respect to current U.S. policies around these issues.

Most recently, the Trump administration just last week reduced the annual ceiling for refugee admissions to a record low never before seen under either Democratic or Republican administrations.

At the end of the Obama administration, the cap was at 110,000. The Trump administration cut it to 45,000 for the 2018 fiscal year, and then to 30,000 for the current fiscal year. The new figure just announced for the 2020 fiscal year is just 18,000.[2]

HIAS President and CEO Mark Hetfield issued the following statement last week in response:

“With the stroke of a pen, President Trump plans to once again abdicate American leadership, by playing to fear rather than showing strength. Refugee resettlement saves lives. The U.S. commitment to refugee resettlement has a global effect, setting an example for the world, in a moment when international leadership is sorely needed. Refugee resettlement assures that at least some of those forced to flee their homes have a safe and legal pathway to refuge in the United States. This administration has once again brought our country to a new low, by pledging to resettle fewer refugees than any other administration in history.”

“HIAS, the American Jewish community, and our local resettlement partners across the country have welcomed immigrants and refugees for well over a century, and we will continue to do so long after President Trump is out of office. We will help resettled refugees rebuild their lives, become contributing members of their communities, and walk along the pathway to citizenship. America is a courageous and generous country with a tradition of welcoming refugees. In spite of the administration's blows to HIAS and other faith-based partners welcoming refugees to the United States, we will survive and help refugees thrive.”

The HIAS press release quoting Hetfield’s statement concludes by noting:

“Historically, the annual refugee admissions ceiling has averaged 95,000 per year. This year, according to the U.N Refugee Agency (UNHCR), there are nearly 26 million refugees worldwide, the highest number ever recorded. According to UNHCR, more than 1.4 million refugees cannot remain safely where they are and are in need of resettlement.”[3]

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The Trump administration’s main argument for its slashing of the refugee numbers is that they are doing this because we already have a huge backlog of asylum seekers on our southwestern border. Refugee advocates counterargue that the asylum situation at the southwestern border should not be an excuse for abandoning potential refugees from hot spots around the world.

As the New York Times reports, “they point out that the backlog in the immigration courts is largely the result of cases where the asylum seekers’ requests need to be evaluated, [whereas,] most refugees who arrive in the United States have already been screened and vetted before they arrive.[4]

What about our Southwestern border?

The situation there reached crisis proportions earlier this year, with children separated from parents, and with many asylum seekers treated as common criminals and kept in harsh conditions where some children died. The situation seems to have calmed down somewhat recently, in part because the Trump administration is now compelling asylum seekers to remain in Mexico, or El Salvador, Honduras or Guatemala while their claims are adjudicated. But this has the potential to leave them in danger of being caught up by the violence that they are seeking to escape in the first place.

At a deeper philosophical level, the distinction between migrants and asylum seekers remains problematic. Isn’t extreme poverty and the risk of starvation just as oppressive as being targeted for one’s beliefs or opinions?

Over the last couple of years, many Jewish folks have repurposed the summertime day of mourning, Tisha B’Av, which is when we mark the anniversary of the destruction of the First Temple in 586 B.C.E. and the Second Temple in 70 C.E., and a number of other tragic events, including the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492. Tisha B’Av gatherings on behalf of would-be asylum seekers took place all over the United States, including one that Danny Frank and I attended on August 10th along with approximately 150 other Jews and allies at the Sherburne County Jail in Elk River, Minnesota. A number of would be asylum seekers are imprisoned there after having been apprehended by agents from the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Division (“ICE”) of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

Here in Duluth, an interfaith local advocacy group has been active in this issue in recent months. The Twin Ports Interfaith Committee for Migrant Justice includes representatives from various local faith traditions. Andrea Gelb from our congregation has been particularly active in this group. (More information can be found on their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Interfaith-Committee-for-Migrant-Justice-112495940104721/ )

The group sponsored a walk and vigil in downtown Duluth back in June in which I and a few other folks from our congregation participated. Here is what I said at that gathering:

The Torah in Exodus 12:38 reports that when the children of Israel left Egypt to journey to the Promised Land “a mixed multitude went up with them.” It’s hard not to see a parallel between the mixed multitude who wanted to join up with the Israelites in the time of the Book of Exodus and the mixed multitude of migrants, refugees and asylum seekers who want to come to the United States in our own day and who seek a path towards citizenship. Once we get past the xenophobic tweets of those who would falsely brand them as rapists, terrorists and drug smugglers, we realize that most of those who yearn to come to our country are motivated by the same forces that brought so many of our own ancestors here: The search for a safer and better life. We in the Jewish community can identify with them because we too are immigrants or the descendants of immigrants.

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I must admit that, when it comes to talking from the bima about current political issues, I always feel much more ambivalent and unsure of myself than when I just stick to teaching about our Jewish literary heritage of Torah, Talmud, and rabbinic commentary through the ages. I’m well aware that we as a community are not monolithic in our political leanings. And I’m well aware that all of you can read newspapers and listen to podcasts and stream the internet just as well as I can --- even if nowadays it can be challenging to come to a balanced analysis of the issues amidst all the propaganda and partisanship.

But the stakes are high.

“Unetaneh Tokef”, which we chanted earlier this morning, includes some dramatic warnings:

Who shall live and who shall die?

Who by fire and who by water?

Who shall have rest and who can never be still?

Who by famine and who by drought?

These questions are not just rhetorical for many who seek refuge within our borders.

You might recall that we talked about exactly these same questions on Rosh Hashanah morning one year ago. Here’s how I ended my Rosh Hashanah morning sermon last year. It bears repeating. So I’ll just conclude with those same words I spoke last Rosh Hashanah, simply adding a “plus one” to the mention of the new year:

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As we gather today to mark the Jewish New Year, issues surrounding the plight of would-be migrants, refugees and asylum seekers continue to be fought over in a hyper-partisan way. However, surely there exist legislative and administrative solutions that can address both humanitarian concerns as well as concerns for border security and the rule of law.

Such issues have been with us from time immemorial. Today’s Torah reading from the Book of Genesis spoke of the plight of Hagar and Ishmael as they wandered through the wilderness of Beer-Sheva, but of course all four of the remaining books of the Torah are filled with accounts of our ancestor’s wanderings through the wilderness of Sinai in search of a better life. And, speaking of Genesis --- even its opening saga of Adam and Eve tells of their expulsion from Eden and the trials and tribulations that would follow.

As we move into this new year 5780, may we be granted the wisdom and the perseverance to advocate for our nation to live up to its highest ideals in offering refuge to those in distress, and the chance for a better life to those who would seek to join our society.

May we sort out the means for doing so in a spirit of mutual respect – leshem shamayim – for the sake of heaven.

And may all of us ---- friends, neighbors and the strangers at our gates, be inscribed in the Book of Life for a year of health, happiness, prosperity and peace.

Amen.

[1] https://www.tourosynagogue.org/history-learning/gw-letter

[2] https://kvoa.com/news/2019/09/20/pentagon-is-last-holdout-as-stephen-miller-tries-to-slash-number-of-refugees-allowed-in-u-s/

[3] https://www.hias.org/news/press-releases/hias-statement-proposed-fy20-refugee-admissions-18000

[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/26/us/politics/trump-refugees.html