Super-Jews!!!

Michelle's Drasha-- from this past shobbos at the Reshet Ramah Shabbat Dinner--

In 1933, two Jewish guys from Cleveland, Ohio, introduced the United States of America to something astounding.  It wasn’t a bird, it wasn’t a plane—it was Superman.   Also known as the Man of Steel, Superman has superhuman strength and can leap tall buildings in a single bound.  He arrived on Planet Earth as an infant, after being sent away from his home planet by his parents in order to save him from the death and destruction of his people.  He was discovered and adopted by an American farmer, and was raised among a foreign nation.  As his powers developed, Superman was encouraged to keep his identity a secret so he would not be discovered and persecuted because of it, so he took on the alter ego Clark Kent—a nerdy journalist who is weak and doesn’t have X-ray vision.   Superman becomes a liberator and champion of the oppressed, using his superpowers to defend and rescue the people of Earth.  Despite his amazing feats and the acclaim he receives from the public, Superman maintains his disguise as Clark Kent in order to avoid harm coming to him or the people he cares about. 

             If this story sounds familiar, that’s because it is.  The idea of traveling from our homeland to a foreign place for safety and protection is prevalent in the history of the Jewish people, as is the idea of concealing our identities.  In fact, the Jews of the 1930’s, when Superman burst onto the scene, were doing just that—many Jews were leaving their family’s homelands in search of a safer place to live, and immigrants in new countries were concealing their Jewish identities in order to avoid prejudice and persecution.

            The very history of the Jewish people begins with a story of travel and hidden identity.  God tells Abraham to leave the land of his father and to go to a place that God will show him.  Later, Abraham finds himself in a situation where he must lie about his wife, Sarah, for their protection. 

Abraham is not the only patriarch to lie about his relationship with his wife--in this week’s parsha, Toldot, when Isaac and Rebecca travel to Gerar, Isaac informs the men of the land that Rebecca is his sister, not his wife.   הַמָּקוֹם אַנְשֵׁי יַהַרְגֻנִי פֶּן אִשְׁתִּי לֵאמֹר יָרֵא כִּי הִוא אֲחֹתִי וַיֹּאמֶר (vayomer achoti he key yareh laymore ishti pen yahargoonee anshey hamakom) Isaac is scared that if he tells the truth about Rebecca, the men will kill him so they can be with her.  In this story, just as in the story of Superman and in the narrative of the Jewish people, we see an example of hiding who we really are for protection against persecution and harm.

            Of course, this parsha also introduces us to what is probably the most famous biblical example of mistaken identities—As Isaac lays sick in bed, Rebecca helps Jacob dress up like Esau in order to steal his father’s birthright.  Jacob puts on the clothes of his brother and covers his arms with animal fur so that he will feel hairy like Esau—and the trick works.  Isaac, though skeptical, exclaims ועֵשָׂ יְדֵי וְהַיָּדַיִם בקֹעֲיַ קוֹל הַקֹּל (hakol kol ya’akov v’hayadayim yadei eysav). “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau”, and bestows his blessing upon his younger son.  Although it is possible to argue that in this story Jacob lies for personal gain, he also hides himself in order to ensure the continuation of the Jewish people—and that isn’t so different from what Abraham, Isaac, Moses, Esther, or the Jews of Europe or Spain have done.

         Twice in this parsha we see instances of our patriarchs, the founders of our religion, concealing their true identities. We see even more examples of hiding our Jewish selves to avoid persecution or harm throughout the rest of the Torah and throughout Jewish history.  Many of us in this room have probably had to hide our true selves at one point or another.  Maybe we had to hide the Jewish aspect of ourselves, or maybe it was a different aspect—maybe our involvement with Greek Life, or Science Olympiad, or our secret desire to be the winner of Iron Chef—or maybe, some of us in this room have, at times, been pressured to hide the “Ramah” aspect of ourselves.  We are all here tonight because of the role that Ramah plays in our lives and because of the importance we place on it, But how many times have we been sharing camp stories with non-camp friends, only to be met with disinterest, displeasure, or even the words “shut up” because our non-camp friends don’t get it and don’t want to hear it.          

            If we’re hiding parts of our identity, pretending to be something we’re not, or pretending not to be something we are, then that makes having meaningful Jewish experiences difficult.  Every summer, Ramah camps provide staff and campers with a safe space in which to be their true Jewish selves, a space in which it is not necessary to conceal our identities, but rather where it is encouraged to explore all of the nuanced aspects of ourselves in order to grow and develop into complex, proud, Ramah Jews.

            Many, if not all of us, in this room, spend 10 months of the year yearning for the safety of Ramah, because we aren’t our true selves anywhere else.  During the year some of us have to hide the Ramah aspects of ourselves, or even the Jewish aspects of ourselves, but when we get to camp in June, we don’t have to hide any more.  Many of us have long journeys to get to the safe haven that is our Ramah camp, but we make it each year because of the amazing community we have once we get there.  This group can be that safe space for us to continue to explore, grow, and develop our true selves while we are waiting to once again make the long journey back home.  In this space, we are safe to have conversations, and seek support—to explore all the aspects of our identities. 

Hiding our identities has been a common and important part of the Jewish narrative, from Abraham to present day.  My hope, my blessing, for this group of young professional Ramah alumni is that in this space together, we do not feel that we need to hide.  I hope that we are able to create together an intentional community where we can feel safe to be our true selves.  I hope that from this Shabbas onwards, Reshet Ramah will be a group of Supermen, and not a group of Clark Kents.  Shabbat Shalom.