Tag Archives: Muslim

Davening During Jumu’ah

This past Friday, Congregation Beth El joined with our friends and neighbors at the NIA Masjid & Community Center for their weekly Jumu’ah prayer service. Last spring, my friend Ashraf Latif, Ameer of the NIA Masjid, spent Erev Shavuot, during our Tikkun Leil Shavuot learning session, teaching about the Qur’an. After ending his daily Ramadan fast with an iftar, he joined us so that we could compare and contrast the concepts of revelation in Jewish and Muslim scripture. Over the past few years, we have developed a friendship and a commitment to learning from each other about the other’s faith. We also have a shared commitment to standing up for the other. In the winter of 2015, when presidential candidates first mentioned the possibility of a discriminatory Muslim Ban in this country, he was the first person I reached out to – to let him know that his community is not alone and their Jewish brothers and sisters stand with them. This past Hanukkah, when the local South Orange menorah was vandalized, his call was the first I received; he and his community offered to help however possible. Weeks ago, we found each other among the hundreds who had gathered late into the night at Newark International Airport, protesting the President’s executive orders that had banned immigrants for seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the United States. At that moment we truly understood the fierce urgency of now and we reaffirmed our commitment to be there for each other. The first step was our synagogue joining the NIA Masjid & Community Center last week during their Jumu’ah prayers. Our goal was to stand in solidarity with our Muslim brothers and sisters during this time of uncertainty and fear in our country. We intended for the afternoon to be a day of standing with them, but we were blown away by how simultaneously, they stood with us.  

We were welcomed by their entire community. While we initially stood in the back of their prayer space, as to not disturb the ritual and intention of the service, after being publicly welcomed, so many parishioners came up to us to welcome us and thank us for being present. We were comforted by the words of Imam Daud’s weekly sermon, words that focused on standing up for justice, words that mirrored the teachings of our Torah, words that were so similar to what we often learned and taught.

At that moment, I took the opportunity to not just observe or be present, but to pray as well. I whispered words of prayer privately to myself, the text and liturgy of our faith, and concluded with the hope that Oseh Shalom Bimromav, Hu Yaaseh Shalom Aleinu v’al Kol Yisrael v’al Kol Yoshvei Tevel. May the Divine One who makes peace in high places, bring about peace for us and all of the Jewish people, and all who dwell on earth. My prayers may have been in Hebrew and may have come from our liturgical afternoon Mincha service. But there was no doubt that I felt as if I was praying with all those present. My kavanah, my intention, was uplifted by being in a holy space and by being among those present.

After the Jumu’ah service, we were invited to join members of the community for lunch and to get to know each other better. The community members went out of their way to make sure there was kosher food, so that we would feel comfortable eating, labeling a variety of foods as under kosher supervision and as “dairy” and “pareve”. As we took turns introducing ourselves, we came to understand and appreciate our shared beliefs, even if we practice different faiths, and our shared commitment to know the other and care for the other. Furthermore, we acknowledged the communal fear that was felt, but promised each other that we wouldn’t let that fear define us or determine our lot in life. 

I was honored to offer words of Torah and teachings from the Jewish faith to those present at the masjid. Referencing Parashat Yitro, the Torah portion read the following day, I noted that Jethro brought Moses’ sons and wife to him, but Moses went out and greeted Jethro before he greeted his own immediate family. He bowed low and kissed him and invited him into his tent. He embraced his fellow cleric because he understood the importance of their relationship as two religious leaders, as two people of faith. We understand the importance of religious communities coming together. Because to embrace the other, and have the other as a friend, means we see the other in the same way that we see ourselves. And to know the other, is to truly know ourselves. How beautiful to learn from our brothers and sisters of other faiths, and grow in our own faiths as a result. Most importantly, we understand our responsibility to stand up for ourselves and stand up for others, made in God’s image. Doing so ensures that we continue to walk in God’s ways and honor God in the process.

Attending a single service was only a small sign of solidarity. However, it also represented our deeper promise and commitment to stand with our neighbors and support them. As Jews, we know all too well what happens when others are silent in the face of bigotry and discrimination. We refuse to be silent and promise to stand united together.

-Rabbi Jesse M. Olitzky

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Now More Than Ever, We Need Leaders Who Strive for Peace

The past several weeks, events in Israel and Jerusalem have been challenging, troubling, and scary. This comes only months after a ceasefire following a summer-long war in Gaza. The attempted assassination of right-wing Temple Mount advocate Yehuda Glick, and in turn, the killing of the man who tried to murder him, sparked violence at the Temple Mount. This also led to scary terrorist attacks in Jerusalem, with terrorists using their cars as deadly weapons, ramming the car into a train platform and killing two.

The response following these tragic events from Israeli leaders have suggested that they no longer see peace as a possibility or as a priority. Jerusalem Mayor Nir Barkat has called on Israeli police to use “aggressive force” against Arabs who are protesting. He believes that this is the only way to end the wave of violence. I, on the other hand, believe that such force only adds more fuel to the fire.

Additionally, last week, MK Naftali Bennett, arguably one of the most powerful political leaders in Israel and a threat to Netanyahu’s premiership, wrote an Op-Ed in the New York Times, declaring that a Two-State Solution in no solution at all. Prime Minister Netanyahu added this week that Mahmoud Abbas incites violence against Israel and is not a true partner in peace.

What worries me is that, based on the comments of Netanyahu, Bennett, and Barkat, it seems Israel has given up on peace as a priority. Now more than ever, peace must be a priority. Now more than ever, we must work towards peace.

I am unsure what the term “partner of peace” means. We do not make peace with our friends. They are already are friends; peace is unnecessary. We make peace with our enemies. Thus, especially during these heightened moments of violence, we must do even more to pursue peace. Just as we learn in Pirkei Avot, we must be disciples of Aaron the High Priest and not just love peace, but truly pursue it.

Yet, while Israeli officials and Palestinian leaders refuse to make peace a priority, it is reassuring to find a sliver of light at dark moments in our history. I am proud of my mother, Sheryl Olitzky, and the work she does with the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom, an organization geared towards bringing Jewish and Muslim women together to shatter stereotypes and work towards peace. While Israeli and Palestinian leaders seem to have given up on peace as a priority, these women came together on November 2nd for their first conference at Temple University, committed to being change agents, committed to dialogue, committed to understanding, committed to peace, committed to making this world a better place.

After all, we once lived in peace alongside each other. It was only the external factors, the pressure of those around us that altered such a sense of harmony. Jewish tradition teaches that we are descendants of Abraham’s son Isaac. Many in Islamic tradition believe that Muslims are descendants of Abraham’s son Ishmael, with Ishmael serving as a forefather to the prophet Muhammad. Two peoples descended from brothers, from brothers who enjoyed playing together.

In last week’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayera, we find the beginning of such a schism between these two brothers. In Genesis 21:9 we read:

Sarah saw the son whom Hagar the Egyptian had borne to Abraham playing [with Isaac].

Out of jealousy, Sarah kicks Hagar and Ishmael out of their home. Ishmael and Isaac loved each other and played with each other. Chapters later, despite such a separation, they even reunite and re-embrace to come together to bury their deceased father. In their innocence, before they could be influenced by the outside world, they peacefully play together.

Our rabbinic commentators are so uncomfortable about Sarah kicking Ishmael and Hagar out of their home for “playing” that they try to reinterpret to word “playing” as something else entirely: attempted murder, sexual assault, idol worship. Such commentary only reinforces the simple beauty of these two boys – two fathers of two nations and faiths – playing together before they are forced apart by outside factors and peer pressure.

ShalomSalaamPeaceAt our core, we are still brothers and sisters. Our goal is to get back to a point where we can sit together and play together again. That is what the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom achieved last week and continues to work towards. That is the work – the hard work, but necessary work – that Israeli and Palestinians leaders have given up on.

I hope and pray for a time when all of our children can sit and play together, just as Ishmael and Isaac once did. I hope and pray for leaders who, even in the face of violence and hate, will be committed to seek peace, will be committed to a two-state solution, and will be committed to harmony. I pray for leaders who will be brave enough and courageous enough to work towards peace even when it is not popular, even if it won’t get them reelected. I pray for leaders who will remember that at our core, in spite of such terror and violence, we are brothers. May we return to a time when we can play together again, and may the time come speedily in our day.

– Rabbi Jesse M. Olitzky

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The Inevitability, Yet Impurity, of War

War is never easy. It is easier to ignore what is going on when we can go about our lives on the other side of the world, but when we are in the west and hearts are in the east, war is impossible to ignore. Operation Protective Edge, the IDF’s current operation against Hamas in Gaza, began a ground invasion only days ago, following aerial attacks of Hamas terrorists and rocket launching sites for an extended period of time.

War is not the ideal. Peace is what we always strive for, no matter what. We aren’t just told to love peace. We must pursue it, like the disciples of Aaron, to Ohev Shalom v’Rodef Shalom. Yet, war, even when it causes our stomachs to turn is sometimes necessary and often inevitable. That is the situation that we find ourselves in. A Palestinian people in Gaza, truly being held hostage by Hamas and its terrorist regime that is committed to the destruction of the state of Israel.

The Israeli government has stressed “Israel uses missiles to protect its civilians and Hamas is using civilians to protect its missiles.” That is true. Still, it is clear is that there have been an abundance of civilian casualties. They are inevitable when Hamas shoots rockets out of apartment buildings, school playgrounds, and hospitals. That doesn’t mean that we don’t mourn. That doesn’t mean that our hearts also do not break for the innocent Palestinians that are also caught in the crosshairs of this war with Hamas.

We know that war is inevitable at times. We know that war is sometimes the reality. We find war in last Shabbat’s Torah reading. In Parashat Mattot, the Israelites go to war with the Midyanim, the Midianites, for revenge and retribution. In one of the more challenging parts of our Torah, we find examples of revenge, of civilian casualty, of slaying of children. We are reminded that war changes us. We are reminded that even when war is necessary, we can easily get consumed by the darkness of war. We get consumed by the impurity of war. Fascinatingly, in Numbers 31:19, we read:

Everyone among you and among those who are captive who has slain a person shall purify himself.

This doesn’t just have to do with becoming impure by touching a corpse, makes a clear distinction between touching a corpse and slaying another human being. What the Torah is telling us is that killing another, even in a time of war, is impure. Even when it is necessary, it causes us to be impure. Sometimes, it causes the worse to come out of us. It causes radicals to burn a Palestinian boy alive because terrorists kidnapped and murdered three Israeli teens. It causes children in Sderot, who for years have had recess in their bomb shelter-converted playgrounds, to cheer as they see missiles landing in Gaza from the IDF in the distance.

Eleazar the Priest instructs, like with any spiritual impurity found in the Torah, that those who have slain an individual need to remove themselves from the encampment. We do this to start over. We do this to repurify. Regardless of ethics, morals, values, justice, when we kill another, even when it is justified, we must repurify ourselves.

Maimonides taught that “Great is Peace. The whole Torah was given in order to promote peace.” How do we promote peace when we are consumed by war? We ignite the darkness of war by promoting peace. We stand with Israel, and as Israel continues to defend herself from Hamas, and terrorism, may she do all in her power to defend and protect all innocent civilians, Israelis and Palestinians, whose lives are threatened as a result of the cowardly actions of Hamas. And we strive to purify ourselves. We find light in the darkness of war, in the darkness of reality. At a time of darkness, we search for light. And where there is no light, we create that light. We become that light. Just as we are commanded to be an ohr lagoyim, a light unto the nations, we strive to be that light.  We light that light.


Earlier in the week, I came across the “Prayer of the Mothers,” written by Sheikha Ibtisam Mahameed and Rabbi Tamar Elad-Applebaum, two female faith leaders in Israel, one Muslim, one Jewish, both mothers. They encourage on Friday, a holy day for both faiths, an extra candle to be lit for peace.These women, in bringing light to these dark moments offered the following prayer:

CandleLet us Light Candles for Peace
Two mothers, one plea:
Now, more than ever, during these days of so much crying, on the day that is sacred to both our religions, Friday, Sabbath Eve
Let us light a candle in every home – for peace:
A candle to illuminate our future, face to face,
A candle across borders, beyond fear.
From our family homes and houses of worship
Let us light each other up,
Let these candles be a lighthouse to our spirit
Until we all arrive at the sanctuary of peace.

Let the light purify us from the darkness of war. Let such light shine upon us, to renew ourselves as well. Let the light allow us to see the possibility of peace in the distance, even when it seems impossible. And let the light protect all innocent civilians, Israelis and Palestinians, from the terrorism of Hamas, from the darkness, until that peace is achieved. Amen.

– Rabbi Jesse M. Olitzky

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Fasting for Peace

I began my first day at Congregation Beth El with a beautiful minyan. Today was a rare Tuesday morning when the Torah was read since today is also a fast day, the 17th of Tammuz. This minor fast commemorates the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem which eventually culminated in the destruction of the Second Temple. Today’s fast day thus also begins the three week mourning period between the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, the day in which we mourn the destruction of the Temple.

Today was also unique because it was the one day on the calendar in which Jews around the world and Muslims around the world were fasting at the same time. The fast of the 17th of Tammuz fell during the Muslim celebration of Ramadan, which includes sunrise-to-sunset fasts daily throughout the month.

While the fast of Sheva-Assar b’Tammuz and the fasting that takes place on Ramadan are for unique reasons, it is clear that fasting has been a common practice in Judaism and Islam for centuries. Jewish law codes list fasting as a common expression and ritual that shows proper intention before the Divine, in hopes that God will answer one’s requests and petitions. Fasting brings together community. Muslims feel this during Ramadan. Jews feel this on Yom Kippur.

I came across an interesting hashtag on Twitter today, #FastForPeace. At a time when there is too much violence in Israel, when hundreds of rockets rain down on Israel from the Gaza Strip on a daily basis, when there are too many civilians dying in Gaza as Israel attempts to cripple the terrorist efforts of Hamas, we pray for peace. The cease-fire that was proposed by Egypt was accepted by Israel but rejected by Hamas. This has led to more rockets from Hamas and in turn, Netanyahu vows to exert ‘great force’ in Gaza. As the violence continues and our thoughts, minds, and hearts turn east, we fast for peace. We pray for peace.

We pray for a time when we can embrace each other as neighbors, as brothers and sisters, and fulfill the vision of the Psalmist:

How pleasing it will be when we can all sit in unity as brothers (Psalm 133).

FastforPeaceAs I explored this hashtag more, I realized that this was a cause of Jewish and Muslim friends, determined to be defined by that which unites us, not that which divides us. This is a noble effort by peers who believe that the voice of love and peace must be louder than the voice of hate and war.

As the fast enters its last hours and my stomach grumbles, I have found this fast day to be quite meaningful. Truthfully, this fast has not been meaningful for me because I reflected on the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem some two thousand years ago. Rather, it has been meaningful, because it reminded me that even when it seems impossible, we must not give up on peace. We must unite in the belief that peace is possible and in the words of Pirkei Avot, we must not only love peace, we must pursue it.

Let this fast day bring together our communities as one community. As we fast, let us fast for peace. Let our intentions be expressed and our petitions for peace be heard. As our stomachs turn from hunger and our throats remain parched, let us be satiated by a shared vision of peace and harmony. May there be peace in Israel, and in the world, and may we witness it soon.

-Rabbi Jesse M. Olitzky

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