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Passover 2015

On April 26, 2015

The matzah is all done with and this year’s Passover Seder with my Jewish-American-Swedish family is now just a pleasant memory. I thought I would post in this blog my little speech that I started off this year’s Seder with. In light of what has been happening in Europe these past few years I thought some things were important to say. Here’s what I said.

Hi Everyone. I’m very glad to see you all again this year.

I’m going to start off by saying that the past 12 months since last we met to celebrate Passover together, have been very stressful ones for me. Finding out last year, that I was not going to have a job by the end of this year would have sufficed to make my year difficult, all by itself. Then in May, I got sued for nonpayment of taxes on my little piece of property in the US and that alone once again, sufficed to make me very stressed. And finally in October, Håkan had a stroke and spent 2 months in the hospital, sufficing to send my stress levels sky high. So all in all, 2014 was not a good year.

But here I stand, with all of you sitting here with me, once again getting ready to celebrate the seminal event of the Jewish people. Passover, the story of the Exodus of our People out of their slavery in Egypt into freedom so that they could live freely as Jews.

At first I almost decided to not bother saying anything to start us off but then I realized that there was something that needed to be said.

Recently the prime minister of Israel announced to all the Jews in the Diaspora, especially in Europe, that they should return home to Israel. That Israel was the only safe place for us to live as Jews. We read in the news of the fear French Jews have about remaining in France. Synagogues are being attacked. Jews are being killed for being Jews. Anti-Semitism is raising its ugly head once again here in Europe. Even as close as Copenhagen, a synagogue has been attacked and a Jew killed in defending it. So what do we do? Do we flee in fear of what might happen? Do we pack up and move? Do we try to hide, not telling anyone we are Jewish? Do we close our curtains when we celebrate Passover or when we light the Chanukah lights so no one can tell we are different? Is danger just around the corner or is it still a long way in the future but coming nevertheless? Did the Jews in 15^th century Spain, years before the expulsion, wonder if it was possible to continue to live there and maybe they should move? The majority of the Jews in 1930s Germany certainly didn’t think so. Are we being just as blind?

2000 years ago, the Romans expelled the Jews from their homeland, rather than murdering them all, thus casting them out onto the shores of many other lands. These Diaspora Jews found new homes and new ways to be able to continue to live as Jews in spite of the fact that the center of Jewish life, their Temple in Jerusalem, had been destroyed. If the Jews of that time, had simply been annihilated right where they lived as well as the temple being destroyed, then the Jewish people probably would not have survived to today. But we are still here. We learned how to continue to live as Jews in many different lands. We survived precisely because we no longer lived in only one place anymore. I am a Diaspora Jew. I am not an Israeli and I don’t intend to move there. While I come from the United States, my home is here in Sweden, in Europe, and I doubt I will ever move back there again. The Bible says that the Jews will be a light unto the Nations. Well, I say, how can we even begin to be that unless we live among the Nations.

Four hundred years ago, when Kings had real power, the king of Spain wanted us out. Ninety years ago the chancellor of Germany wanted us dead. But governments today, for the most part, don’t feel that way – we are seen as equal citizens with guaranteed equal rights – at least in Europe and the west. And I accept that as reality.

So today I stand here in Stockholm, with my Jewish family, about to celebrate the Passover. When people who I meet or know slightly have asked my for my plans for Easter I feel no hesitation in telling them I don’t celebrate Easter. I am a Jew. I celebrate Passover. And if we have time I tell them what it is that I am celebrating. They always appear very interested in hearing what I have to say about it. I feel that that is my small contribution to the light. And perhaps this coming year will be a better one.

One light at a time

By Hilarie

On December 16, 2014

In Uncategorized

Tonight is the first night of the Jewish holiday of Chanukah. Chanukah is not one of the major Jewish holidays but because of its closeness to Christmas it has taken on much larger importance in the Jewish calander.

The holiday actually has nothing at all to do with Christmas. It celebrates an event that took place approximately 165 years before Jesus was even born. The name Chanukah comes from the hebrew verb meaning “to dedicate” and that is what the holiday commemorates: the rededication of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem after it had been desecrated by the local Greek-Syrian rulers. Jewish forces led by Judah Maccabee (Judah the hammar) revolted against these rulers and eventually won the war against them and restored the Temple. The story goes that there was only found in the Temple enough oil for the holy lamp to be lit for one day but a miracle happened and the oil lasted for 8 days, enough time to make more oil. So today we light candles for 8 days to remember the miracle of the oil. And eat oily foods like latkes and fried donuts.

But the real story, the back story, was probably not so wonderful. Judea, the Jewish kingdom that Jerusalem was the capital of, was a conquered kingdom, ruled by the Greek-Syrian Selucid Empire, the local remains of what had once been Alexander the Great’s empire. During the time when the events of the story happened the lure of the hellenic culture was very strong, even in the Jewish kingdom. The hellenized, secular Jewish faction was in conflict with the Jews who were much more consevative and felt Jews should live strict Jewish lives and not follow the Greek hellenistic way. When Antiochus Epiphanes, the Selucid Emperor, sided with the hellenized Jewish faction, the conservative Maccabees revolted and cast out him and his forces. The whole thing was in effect a civil war, Jew against Jew, with the help of some outside forces. But the religious leaders who came after the war didn’t want to commemorate and keep remembering a civil war, Jews fighting against Jews, so they came up with the miracle of the oil in the Temple and Jews once again being able to be Jews. They felt it was better to remember the positive and put aside what was evil. So to this day, when we celebrate Chanukah we celebrate by remembering the miracle of light. A much better thing to remember as I see it. And when we light the candles on our Chanukias we always add one more candle each night. Each night we add more light!

I now own 3 chanukiah, as the special 9-armed menorah is actually named. The largest is a silver and gilt one that my mother bought for me sometime after the birth of my son – for us to use as a family. The smallest one, on the right, is a gift given to me by my cousin Karel when I moved here to Stockholm so that I could remember my family back in New Jersey while I celebrated the holiday here in my new homeland. The third one, the middle-sized one in the front, is actually my newest yet my oldest. It is the one that my family lit thoughout my childhood and which I only brought back with me to Stockholm after the death of my mother three years ago. The two larger chanukiahs use the customary chanukah candles one buys in any judaica shop. The small one uses birthday candles.

Tonight, the first night, my son Bevin and I will light all three and Bevin will be given a small gift. The holiday is about the lighting of the candles and presents are not really relevant. The giving of gifts on each night of Chanukah is more a response to the gifts children get for Christmas. The more important thing is to light the candles.

In these dark days, when a member of the Swedish parlament says that Jews can never be considered real Swedes, when Islamists and Palestinians claim that the Jewish people have no right to be in Jerusalem, when synogogues are once again being burned, and Rabbis are attached, I am glad I can light my Chanukah lights together with my son, in freedom, in my home, in the land I live in. The candles remind me that Jews lived in Jerusalem over two thousand years ago, before Christianity existed, before Islam existed. Now we live in many countries. We know how to live as Swedes and as Jews. As Americans and as Jews. Being Jewish is a plus situation. It isn’t an either/or proposition. We can be both a true citizen of the country we live in and a Jew at the same time. We know how to integrate without losing our identity. We have been doing it for over 2 thousand years. In this cross-cultural world we live in, this is something we can teach the world.

Saying Goodbyes

By Hilarie

On August 22, 2013

In Uncategorized

Well, today one more door has been closed. Marit Hansson was laid to rest. It was a simple ceremony at Skogskyrkogården (The Woodland Cemetary) on the southern edge of central Stockholm. It’s a very beautiful place, with gentle hills and tree shaded burial plots.

There weren’t many people at the service. When you live to be 92 there aren’t many friends left to see you off. The Swedish präst or pastor was very young, maybe thirty. We got the conventional service – 2 psalms, the Lord’s Prayer, some words about Marit and of course some words about The Lord. The young pastor didn’t know Marit, he didn’t know any of us. He had spoken perhaps once or twice to my husband, Håkan, Marit’s son. So what was he to say? He probably knew that the woman lying in the casket wasn’t a big believer in God or even religion. And he probably assumed that those of us sitting on the hard benches in the chapel weren’t especially religious or serious church goers either. So he just did his job. He seemed kind at least.

As I sat there in the lovely chapel listening to his words, I kept thinking back to my own mother’s funeral just a year and a half ago. Two mothers, two funerals, so close together in time. My mother’s service had a rabbi who didn’t know her either. The rabbi for the congregation she had belonged to had retired many years back already. And since she stopped driving, she was unable to go to services even if she wanted to. The rabbi who did the service for my mother was the one who came with the Hospice care that took care of my mom during her last days. By the time he met her, she couldn’t really respond to anyone, even him, anymore. But he and I had a chance to talk those last days and get to know each other a bit. I was glad and relieved when he said he would be pleased to do the service for my mom.

And it was a good service. Coming so close together, I couldn’t help but to compare them in my mind. Mom had a good send off. We filled the small New Jersey chapel. My mom still had friends young enough to drive the distance to be there. Mom’s baby brother and his wife were there. Their three children, my cousins, came with their families. Even the hospice people came, who I had gotten to know those last weeks. And of course my husband and my son. The rabbi said the words he needed to say, in English and in Hebrew. And he had charisma, he held the stage, he made one feel that he saw you, he was there for you. That what we were doing there in that chilly stone chapel was important. He made me feel welcome, to come up and talk about my mother to the gathering. To bring my uncle up to talk about his sister, to say goodbye to her. And I think that was the big difference between the two services for me. While the Swedish pastor was kind and almost overly polite, he was also so unintrusive, so retiring, so grey, that it was like he wasn’t even there. No charisma. Nothing. Dried up, like dust. And this was a representative for God? Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be able to get me to believe. While on the other hand, Rabbi Bill Krause’s service, though being contemporary, modern and very Reform, made me feel like I was participating in something that was part of a 3000 year old tradition, a rite of passage that was part of life and connected me to my people. It was a good service.

After the paster was finished, we slowly moved out of the chapel into the sunlight. Once outside again, after saying a few words to each other, everyone separated and we drove off to another section of the cemetery to look for the gravesite of Marit’s sister Else. Håkan’s cousin Anne Marie and her husband Tord and their son Fredrik were also looking so we joined them. After locating her gravestone, everyone stood around talking for a bit. I went in search of a stone but all I could find were small pebbles on the walking path so I took a pebble back to where everyone was standing and put it on the top of Else’s and her husband Berth’s gravestone. I explained that when Jews visit a cemetery they leave a small stone to show that they had been there.

There had been 10 of us there at Marit’s service – a minyan. And though it hadn’t been a Jewish service it nevertheless felt good to me that we had at least been able to gather 10 people on a bright sunny day, to say goodbye to Marit.

In defense of a Rabbi

By Hilarie

On April 14, 2013

In Uncategorized

For almost 3 years now, the Jewish Community of Stockholm has had David Lazar as its chief Rabbi. The Community is now on the verge of losing him as Rabbi because they are unwilling to offer him a permanent position and possibly for other reasons unknown to me. I disagree with this decision of theirs. This is the letter I am emailing to the Ordforande (Board Chair). I am only one member of this community of 4300 members but I want to express my opinion. Words need to be spoken and to be heard.

Dear Lena,

Friday evening I went to the Friday evening service in the big synagogue. I admit I rarely go to services but I felt it was important to go, to show my support for Rabbi Lazar. It was a good service: beautiful, spiritual and participatory. By participatory, I mean that the people in the congregation didn’t just sit on the benches like stiff cardboard cutouts, expecting those on the bimah to do all the work. The congregation sang, together, the prayers – filling the room with sound. It was very moving. This was the type of service I’ve been waiting for since I joined the Judiska Församlingen 20 years or so ago.

I’ve been a member for all those years, continuing to pay my dues each year. Not so much because attending services has been so important for me personally but because I feel very strongly that the community should be supported and should continue to exist and be there for my child and his future children. And I am involved in other ways, sitting on the board of Progressive Judendom i Stockholm, being part of Församlingens informationskommitte and taking courses with Rabbi Lazar. I think it would be a terrible thing if 50 years or more from now, people would say that yes there once was a Jewish Community in Stockholm but it no longer exists anymore.

Since the retirement of Rabbi Narrows, the community has had 3 different Rabbis and gone rather long periods without any at all. Rabbi Spector, while pleasant, was in a holding pattern till his own retirement. Dov Vogel was displeased with the community as much as the community was unsatisfied with him. In my opinion, Rabbi Lazar has been the best thing that could have happened to the Stockholm Jewish Community. He has attracted young people back to the Community! He has brought life and spirituality into the services. I think he is the perfect asset needed to drag the Stockholm Jewish Community into the 21st century, kicking and screaming if necessary. And the Community must change if it is to be viable into the next 50 years. It has to offer the young people, the next generation, what they want and need to continue to be Jews. Just changing the Community Stadgar won’t do it!

Of course I can never know what goes on behind closed doors during negotiations. I find it hard to imagine that Rabbi Lazar is here just to earn a lot of money so he is well set for his retirement. He could probably go to the States for that. But for a person to want to make the effort to truly be part of a community, to put down roots in it, he must be offered more than just a promise of a 3-year contract. He must be assured and told “We want you to live here with us, among us, into the future” without a defined end in sight. I feel that to lose this great asset would be a monumental mistake on the part of the leaders of the Stockholm Jewish Community. Please offer him a permanent position as Rabbi of the Stockholm Jewish Community. Those people who have trouble working with him are NOT the ones who are contributing to the continued existence of the Community. They are standing in its way. Don’t let them be the ones who decide it’s fate.

I am glad that we once got to know each other when our boys were very little. And thank you for taking the time to read my letter.

Sincerely yours,

Hilarie Cutler