The beach in Israel is probably the last place one would expect to have an encouraging experience that raises one?s hopes for the future of the Jewish people. With masses of half-naked sun-bathers lying about, even the most dedicated of minds is unlikely to remain focused for very long on weighty issues such as the fate of our people.
Nevertheless, on the eve of Yom Kippur, just a few hours before the onset of the fast, my wife and I loaded our kids into the car and headed off for the seashore. Our reason for going, however, had nothing to do with bathing in the sun. Since we do not live near a body of water, we were unable to perform the ritual of Tashlich (when one symbolically tosses away one?s sins) on Rosh HaShanah, and we wanted to complete it before Yom Kippur was upon us. Hence, our little family outing to the beach.
As we stood there tossing a year?s worth of sins into the Mediterranean, a young Israeli woman approached and asked if she could photograph us with her camera. A sudden sense of solidarity with the world?s great athletes coursed through me and, though I found her request a wee bit odd, I nevertheless agreed and proceeded to unload a few more sins with a couple of neatly-placed curveballs into the ocean.
When I asked her what she found so interesting about a bunch of Jews throwing bits of bread into the water, she told me that she thought it was ?beautiful? to see our family taking part together in a religious ritual. She asked me what it was all about, its meaning and significance, and seemed genuinely inspired by the whole scene. Though her knowledge of Judaism was sadly lacking, she proudly told me that she intended to fast on Yom Kippur, as did most of her friends, though her two fellow beach-mates were unsure as to what they would do. With the hour growing late, and the kids growing restless, we quickly wished each other an easy fast and parted ways.
When I thought about the whole incident afterwards, I could not help but think of how much work needs to be done to reach out to the next generation of young Israelis, many of whom are growing up with an uncertain, and perhaps uneasy, relationship with their own Judaism. Some are no doubt deeply hostile to anything that smacks of religion, but others, so many others, would be open to exploring their heritage if someone would just offer them the opportunity to do so.
Numerous programs have been launched in recent years aimed at providing non-religious Israelis with a chance to learn more about the faith of their forefathers. While these programs no doubt reach many people, they often require potential participants to take the initiative and seek them out, thereby forsaking numerous opportunities to attract other audiences less inclined to take that first step by themselves.
Israel is fortunate to be blessed with a Chief Rabbinate headed by two highly articulate and impressive men who represent Judaism with dignity and eloquence. Both have gone to great lengths to make Judaism more appealing and more attractive to the public at large. However, the Chief Rabbis, like any chief executives, are busy men and they must juggle a range of responsibilities from attendance at State ceremonies to overseeing the rabbinical bureaucracy. If we are to make significant progress in the battle against Jewish ignorance among Israel?s youth, additional manpower will be necessary.
Indeed, it is time to start ?thinking outside the box? and to inject more creativity into outreach efforts. Currently, chief rabbis are appointed throughout the country based primarily on geographical considerations. In other words, each municipality has one or two chief rabbis charged with overseeing the religious infrastructure in each city. Perhaps we should consider using other criteria as well.
Why not appoint a Chief Rabbi for New Immigrants? Or a Chief Rabbi for Israel?s Youth? Manned by people who are passionate, creative and committed, such offices could go a long way toward addressing the problems of their ?constituency?, which might otherwise be overlooked or even ignored. They could operate under the auspices of the Chief Rabbinate, utilizing the existing resources and infrastructure to reach out to these important population groups and offer them a chance to learn more about their religious patrimony.
The stretches of Israel?s coastline are filled each day with untold numbers of people similar to the young lady who photographed my family and me last week. If there were a Chief Rabbi for the Beaches, then perhaps she, and others like her, might very well go home with something far more meaningful than just a sunburn.
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Michael Freund served as Deputy Director of Communications & Policy Planning in the Prime Minister?s Office from 1996 to 1999 and is author of a regular column in the Jerusalem Post.
Nevertheless, on the eve of Yom Kippur, just a few hours before the onset of the fast, my wife and I loaded our kids into the car and headed off for the seashore. Our reason for going, however, had nothing to do with bathing in the sun. Since we do not live near a body of water, we were unable to perform the ritual of Tashlich (when one symbolically tosses away one?s sins) on Rosh HaShanah, and we wanted to complete it before Yom Kippur was upon us. Hence, our little family outing to the beach.
As we stood there tossing a year?s worth of sins into the Mediterranean, a young Israeli woman approached and asked if she could photograph us with her camera. A sudden sense of solidarity with the world?s great athletes coursed through me and, though I found her request a wee bit odd, I nevertheless agreed and proceeded to unload a few more sins with a couple of neatly-placed curveballs into the ocean.
When I asked her what she found so interesting about a bunch of Jews throwing bits of bread into the water, she told me that she thought it was ?beautiful? to see our family taking part together in a religious ritual. She asked me what it was all about, its meaning and significance, and seemed genuinely inspired by the whole scene. Though her knowledge of Judaism was sadly lacking, she proudly told me that she intended to fast on Yom Kippur, as did most of her friends, though her two fellow beach-mates were unsure as to what they would do. With the hour growing late, and the kids growing restless, we quickly wished each other an easy fast and parted ways.
When I thought about the whole incident afterwards, I could not help but think of how much work needs to be done to reach out to the next generation of young Israelis, many of whom are growing up with an uncertain, and perhaps uneasy, relationship with their own Judaism. Some are no doubt deeply hostile to anything that smacks of religion, but others, so many others, would be open to exploring their heritage if someone would just offer them the opportunity to do so.
Numerous programs have been launched in recent years aimed at providing non-religious Israelis with a chance to learn more about the faith of their forefathers. While these programs no doubt reach many people, they often require potential participants to take the initiative and seek them out, thereby forsaking numerous opportunities to attract other audiences less inclined to take that first step by themselves.
Israel is fortunate to be blessed with a Chief Rabbinate headed by two highly articulate and impressive men who represent Judaism with dignity and eloquence. Both have gone to great lengths to make Judaism more appealing and more attractive to the public at large. However, the Chief Rabbis, like any chief executives, are busy men and they must juggle a range of responsibilities from attendance at State ceremonies to overseeing the rabbinical bureaucracy. If we are to make significant progress in the battle against Jewish ignorance among Israel?s youth, additional manpower will be necessary.
Indeed, it is time to start ?thinking outside the box? and to inject more creativity into outreach efforts. Currently, chief rabbis are appointed throughout the country based primarily on geographical considerations. In other words, each municipality has one or two chief rabbis charged with overseeing the religious infrastructure in each city. Perhaps we should consider using other criteria as well.
Why not appoint a Chief Rabbi for New Immigrants? Or a Chief Rabbi for Israel?s Youth? Manned by people who are passionate, creative and committed, such offices could go a long way toward addressing the problems of their ?constituency?, which might otherwise be overlooked or even ignored. They could operate under the auspices of the Chief Rabbinate, utilizing the existing resources and infrastructure to reach out to these important population groups and offer them a chance to learn more about their religious patrimony.
The stretches of Israel?s coastline are filled each day with untold numbers of people similar to the young lady who photographed my family and me last week. If there were a Chief Rabbi for the Beaches, then perhaps she, and others like her, might very well go home with something far more meaningful than just a sunburn.
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Michael Freund served as Deputy Director of Communications & Policy Planning in the Prime Minister?s Office from 1996 to 1999 and is author of a regular column in the Jerusalem Post.