DINA

Well before I began my official tenure at Midway, I was intent on getting to know the staff, and chief among those staff people was the Religious School Director, Dina Barze’ev Hochbaum.  This was back in the Spring of 1999 and at that time, Dina had been with the congregation for some 13 years.  I was amazed by this simple statistic for two reasons: first, I couldn’t name a single place, even during my school years, where I had been with a single institution for 13 years; and second, I was leaving a synagogue where we had the unpleasant experience of going through six Hebrew School principals in 12 years.  That’s a headache!   I was practically drooling to meet this woman who had endured 13 years of what I, and my other colleagues, would deem the toughest job in a synagogue: Religious School principal.

There are two things I remember about that initial meeting with Dina.  The first is that it took me about five to six, certainly no more than seven minutes to realize that I was in the presence of an incredibly competent educator—organized, passionate, thoughtful.  The second is that our meeting was interrupted at least three times by various people—I can’t recall specifically whom—but people who would just throw the door open looking for something or seeking Dina out for some reason.  After the third interruption, Dina turned to me and said, “You could never have an affair around this place because people burst into rooms without knocking.”  Now that was an unanticipated piece of advice.  Not that I was planning anything, but at least I was forewarned.  We had a good laugh.  I’m happy to say that these days, there’s a greater sense of propriety before entering closed-door meetings. 

With Dina’s decision to retire, another kind of door has flung open.  It’s a door that will lead Dina to a new phase of her life—more time for hiking, for nature that she so loves, for yoga, for private educational consulting, for family—and one that will compel us to deal with the vagaries of transition, and all the uncertainties that such a transition brings.  Transition means “change”—a four-lettered word if ever there was one—but after 27 years of Dina creating Jewish experiences and learning for us, I think those changes will continue to reflect the spirit that Dina has breathed into our school and our synagogue, as they should.

In an America that has grown increasingly indifferent to substantive religious education, Dina leaves us with a school dedicated to Hebrew language, synagogue skills, Bible familiarity, and ritual observance;   in other words, a school of real substance.  Some families have left because the curriculum was too demanding and others may never have considered joining.  And yet, our school has remained incredibly strong in numbers while other schools around us have suffered plunging enrollments.  We didn’t become the school of excellence by accident.  Dina’s commitment to standards and expectations made it so.  And there are still plenty of Jewish families for whom this reverence of substantive learning is important.

At times, I think Dina should have been known as the Assistant Rabbi.  She virtually operated as such for both our rabbi emeritus, Rabbi Finkelstein, and for me.  She need only have programmed for her Religious School but she came up with programs for the whole synagogue.  She need only have taught the kids but she was concerned about parents and adult education as well, exposing adults to Hebrew reading, Hebrew literature and poetry, history, etc.  I made sure she accompanied me to Israel on a couple of occasions so that she could interface with the Israelis during our synagogue trips and care for our travelers, giving them her undivided attention.  When she had to rise before the congregation in praise of a Board of Education Chair, a student, a congregant being honored, a fellow staffer—she was always exceedingly prepared, her words carefully chosen, and the honor she paid those people sincere and genuine.  What a lesson in hakarat hatov, expressing gratitude, she would teach us in her each and every word.

In part, I think she could do this because for her, the position was clearly more than a paycheck.  She is, and I expect her to remain, very much a part of this community.  It was not uncommon for her to show up at B’nei Mitzvah, weddings, funerals, and shivah calls.  How many Religious School directors are so connected?  Dina is. 

When it came time to reimagine our school, Dina was a key player in redirecting our school onto a new and vibrant path.  Without her support and consent, we would not have been able to do what we did.  It was a time of significant changes:  the creation of parent havurot, the two–day school, the emphasis on family services (you can count on one hand how many people in this country can actually lead that kind of service and Dina is one of them).  And out of it all, we were blessed with Lisa Stein, who now becomes Dina’s successor, having really absorbed so much of Dina’s approach toward Jewish education.

Did I mention Dina’s eggplant dish?  Oh my God—to die for!  She is a gourmet cook.  And when my Ellen took ill around 2005, Dina, unsolicited, would show up at our door with casseroles in hand.  But I digress.  Back to Dina’s pedagogy.

Recently, at a symposium she attended at Yad Vashem, Israel’s premier Holocaust museum and research center, Dina presented the Shoah curriculum that she created for our synagogue.  She was given a standing ovation.  Magi’ah lah—she deserved every minute of applause.

Dina has never been afraid to voice an opinion, which is one of the reasons we love her.  She has had a reputation for being tough.  And she is.  Have you ever seen her in the parking lot during dismissal?  She could be a traffic cop on 42^nd Street and Eighth Avenue.  The truth is that anyone who intends to be a Religious School director better be tough—real tough.  This job is not for the faint-hearted. 

Dina does not like Good-byes.  I don’t blame her.  She is a hovevet Yisrael, a lover of Israel.  She is a serious Jew.  She is a compassionate and loving human being.  She is an outstanding mother, wife, and friend.  We need more Dinas in this world and when we have them, we should never let them go.  And so it is for that reason that the Board of Trustees is granting Dina and Charlie lifetime free membership at Midway.  When you have someone like Dina, you never say Good-bye.

CAN WE TALK?

Several weeks ago, I attended a UJA-Federation “town meeting” that brought six members of Knesset to New York to learn more about Federation and the American Jewish community. It was fascinating to hear their differing views on President Obama, Netanyahu, the peace process, and women and Ethiopians in Israeli society. At one point, addressing himself to the challenges of talking peace to Palestinians who refuse to even recognize Israel as a Jewish state, one of the Knesset members said (and here I must paraphrase)—I am very much in favor of appointing Canada as Israel’s official neighbor. But in as much as that appointment may never materialize, we’ll have to speak with the people who live on our borders, and right now, those people are represented by the Palestinian Authority.

It was a lighthearted yet profound lesson in pragmatics. With whom do you speak when there is a conflict? Do you speak to your friends or your enemies? You can speak with your friends all you want, but that will never resolve anything with your enemies.

This past month, Brandeis University rescinded an offer to Ayaan Hirsi Ali to receive an honorary doctorate from the university. Who is Ali? Ali is a women’s rights activist and a vocal critic of Islam. You might recall the Dutch film director, Theodoor Van Gogh, who was brutally murdered for creating a film highly critical of Islam’s treatment of women. That film, Submission, was written by Ali. She now declares herself an atheist, speaks of violence as being intrinsic to Islam, opposes female genital mutilation (of which she is a victim) and honor killings, that is, the “accepted” killing of women for so-called acts or infidelity. In 2005, Time magazine named her as one of the 100 most influential people in the world.

Apparently, the Moslems at Brandeis, and many other sympathizers, were unhappy with the university’s choice. In an editorial printed in The Justice, the university’s independent student newspaper, the author(s) wrote: “By presenting Hirsi Ali with an honorary degree, the University applauds all aspects of her work [bold and italics are mine]. An honorary degree validates the good she has done for women’s rights, yet it also condones the comments she has made against Islam, and therefore against a valued portion of our community.” Really? I don’t think so. There is no specific logical connection between presenting a person with an honorary degree and thereby applauding “all aspects of her work,” unless the university specifically were to say that, and it did not. So why did Brandeis pull the plug on Ali?

I don’t know. I wasn’t in any of the backroom discussions on this so I don’t know. Was it a fear that it would insult the Moslems? Was it a fear that Moslems might retaliate, disrupting commencement ceremonies or physically damaging the campus? Was it a financial threat—the witholding of substantial revenues were the degree to be conferred? Was it something else I haven’t thought of? I don’t know. But what I do know is that the administration caved to the forces that shouted—We can’t talk to her. We can’t listen to her. We only talk to our friends, to the people who believe as we do.

Sad. So much for the Brandeis logo with the Hebrew word “Emet” [that is, Truth] emblazoned upon it.

It should be noted that Brandeis did permit Israeli Apartheid Week on campus, demonizing Israel as an apartheid-like state. It has honored American playwright and screenwriter Tony Kushner, who has referred to the creation of Israel as a “mistake.” It has honored South African Bishop Desmond Tutu, whose anti-Israel statements are well-known. But those programs or honors were ok because they involved the people we talk to.

Can we talk? In this polarized, radicalized, demonizing society of ours, the answer is no. We could possibly talk, but many of us make the conscious decision not to, because that’s the toxic air of western cultural society today.

The Conservative Jewish Movement, often parodied as vacillating, irresolute, wishy-washy, or namby-pamby, is actually the movement that has historically and uniquely looked for the truth in what different people are trying to convey. And the truths, we discovered, are all over the place. More often than not, there’s truth, perhaps only a lentil’s worth of truth, but nonetheless truth, in just about everything that people do say. The truth may emanate from their own whacky and distorted perceptions, but unless the people with clearer perceptions choose to interact, the whackiness and the distortion remain unchallenged. An error in motion remains in motion unless acted upon by some other forceful idea. When we stop talking to “those other people,” whether for personal, professional or academic reasons, the certainty of our own righteousness is almost always a road to Hell. And when something like this manifests itself in an institution of higher learning, where the free exchange of perspectives and ideas is the path we walk to the truth, the consequences are pathetic in the extreme.