With the recent launching of Jewish Art Education's (JAE) video on the "Art of the High Holidays", (www.jarted.org/video) my thoughts turn to the importance of expanding the opportunities for appreciating Jewish civilization.
In the video, Rabbi Jack Moline refers to these opportunities as "entry points" into the practice and observance of Judaism. Too often, the religion is considered either as an esoteric and boring service requiring hours of prayer (which may or not have personal meaning) or a brunch consisting of lox and bagels (perhaps with capers).
"The Art of the High Holidays" demonstrates that the religion is so much more. Art has portrayed Jewish practices from 6th Century floor mosaics to the most modern of abstract paintings. With the addition of traditional melodies as well as jazz interpretations, the holidays come alive in an entirely new experience.
It's worth taking a peek at this 8-minute dive into a very different view of Jewish practice and culture. Perhaps one of the images will flash before you during services and provide just the boost you need to make it to the Break-the-Fast.
Enjoy the video and consider supporting this new entry point to the appreciation of Judaism.
"The battle over public sector pension plans has become a proxy for the most acrimonious debate on the financial health of state and local governments and the wages and benefits paid to their employees."
Here is my most recent article on the battle over pension numbers:
Minyan of participants in the Conference of Presidents mission gathers on the Lebanese Border.
Pressed for time, the bus taking a group of American Jewish leaders back to the Tel Aviv airport wended its way through the parking lot of the Rabin Center in Tel Aviv and out the lone exit onto the main road. Except all along the narrow service road Israeli cars were parked under tow away signs, making passage impossible. We were stuck.
So five or so rabbis and middle age and older lay leaders climbed out of the bus and, gathering around a Renault, began to rock it and shove it out of the way. Eventually, we moved it enough for the bus to squeeze through, and we all got back on board, heaving a bit, but proud. Like the nonstop sessions that had just concluded, it was just a little more heavy lifting.
This annual mission of the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations spends four plus intense days meeting with and hearing from the highest levels of Israel's leadership, media commentators and academics on all aspects of Israeli life, with foreign policy the primary focus. We also took a trip to the northern region and watched Hezballah observers as they watched us on the Lebanon border and visited a settlement in the West Bank that has grown to the size of a small city.
As far as Benjamin Netanyahu and his government's representatives are concerned, the issues facing the nation come down to three: Iran, the delegitimization campaign and unstable neighbors. Everything else, including the question of Palestinian statehood, is commentary. Opposition leaders include the Palestinian issue as central to the campaign of deligitimization; in other words, if that question were resolved, much of the rage against Israel would be doused.
However they rank the threats, there is no question that Israelis feel surrounded. "We live in a dangerous neighborhood," Kadima Party leader Tzipi Livni, who heads the opposition, said in response to one of many challenges from the more right-of-center folks who dominate the floor at COP events. "We all know that. You don't have tell me. I've lived here all my life."
At one of the briefings in the northern section, an officer spoke matter-of-factly about the expectation that the next war will likely include missiles landing in Tel Aviv. (Imagine missiles flying into New York.) "But we know where they would be launched from and they know that we know," he said. "The damage that we did in the last war is the best deterrent from there being the next war."
Everyone is worried about the spreading influence of Iran, and indeed, sees Iran around every corner. An alliance with Syria, feeding weapons to Hezballah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza, Hezballah's emergence as the central power in Lebanon -- and now the turmoil among the Arab nations around Israel. Few doubt that the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, whom they think is a front for Iran, will eventually emerge as the strongest force in the country -- even if it takes years. "The Iranians are very patient people," said one analyst. "It takes a year to weave one carpet. They aren't in a hurry." They also believe that Iran wants the atomic bomb to ensure the stability of their regime -- much like North Korea has used the bomb to preserve its own.
Still, amidst all of this worry, some aspects of Israeli life have never been better. Last year was the best ever for tourism, with more than 3.5 million visitors. The high-tech industry is booming, with the number of start-up companies second in the world only to the U.S. Remarkable for a tiny nation. Saul Singer, co-author of Start-up Nation, a book about the Israeli high-tech industry, called Israel a "beta country." "It's a miracle," he says. "It's difficult to explain."
Unfortunately, the apparent prosperity and dynamism is "superficial," said Ari Shavit, a columnist at Ha'aretz newspaper. A dysfunctional government system (admitted even by the majority coalition), social injustice and erosion of the middle class and the nagging Palestinian occupation with no clear route to resolution. "People feel anxiety," he says. "Things are terribly wrong."
Of rising concern is the effort of the Palestinians to move away from talks with Israel and to fight their battle in court of world opinion, claiming that Israel doesn't have a right to exist, that Israel is an oppressor, that Israel is an apartheid nation. Despite the fact that none of that is true, it falls on more and more sympathetic ears in Europe and on American college campuses, especially among the political left. This is the so-called deligitimization campaign, which includes efforts to boycott Israel and even arrest Israeli leaders if they venture into certain countries.
Over and over, the Israelis referred to the special relationship with the United States and their concern that the Obama administration is not as friendly as it should be, given their status as a stable friend in the tough Middle East. The U.S. ambassador to Israel, the former Israeli counsel to New York and others all argued to the contrary, but still the impression remains that Obama sees the Israelis as an obstacle to peace and that the U.S. has lost some of its clout. "The U.S. does not hold the main cards anymore," said one representative of the foreign ministry.
Yet despite the gloom, it is that sense of beating back everything that the world can throw at them that prevails. Shimon Peres, the 88-year-old President, marveled that Israel has converted the desert into an agricultural exporter and his country now sells carrots to Russia ("They are 1,000 times larger than us. They have 1,000 lakes; we have two--one dead, the other dying.") Yes, things are not perfect but that is what pushes Israel on. "The greatest contribution of the Jewish people to the world is their own dissatisfaction," he said.
That's probably why a bunch of old men got out of the bus and pushed an offending vehicle out of the way. So we could carry on.
Dusk was already falling so Cathy and I were ready to leave the poolside reception at the Vice President's residence celebrating Rosh Hashanah when I took one more look at the small house at the other end of the pool. I had been admiring the small structure even as my wife and I were chatting with Vice President Joe Biden and about 130 Jewish leaders on the Tuesday before the holiday.
"Let's go down and take a close look," I said and we walked to the other end of the pool. "It looks really nice." The lights in the small structure were on, twinkling in the beautiful September air.
We walked close but kept a respectful distance, just poking our noses close enough to get a better look.
"It's our pool house," said a voice from a few feet away, where a small group of women were chatting. "Want to look inside?"
Jill Biden, the Vice President's wife, walked over and opened the door. "It's a very special place," said the Second Lady. "Tipper Gore built it so her mother would have a place to stay."
Jill showed us the small kitchen, the bathroom and the couch, which folds out for guests. "I love to come down here," she said.
"Nice place to get away?" I suggested.
"Sure is," she said, with a sigh. "Sometimes Joe and I just come down in the morning with our coffee and sit and relax for a few minutes."
She pointed out that she had had the main room repainted soft blue in keeping with the water theme. We chatted a little about about a few other features and she smiled broadly as we turned to leave.
"Thank you so much," we said, bidding her goodbye.
It was a great ending to a wonderful evening.
We had been invited to the reception a couple of weeks earlier and responded immediately. We arrived a few minutes early on Sept. 7 and parked on the long driveway after our car was inspected by a bomb-sniffing dog and our names were checked on the list.
Then we walked in, had hor d'oeuvres (dietary laws observed) and wine and soft drinks. Vice President Biden spoke for a few minutes about the need for peace in the new year, recited a very nice holiday poem and then announced that he and Jill planned to stay as long as guests were willing.
We chatted with some nice people from Delaware (there were a lot of nice people from Delaware) and some others who were from the Washington area. The Vice President was game. One couple called one of their children and asked Biden to speak to him. The Vice President obliged. Then they called their other son. Again, the Vice President chatted over the phone.
"No more children?" I asked.
"No, that's it," the mother said.
We also talked a little politics. The Vice President told a small group of us about his faith in the good nature of people. He told a story about how Mike Mansfield, then the Majority Leader of the Senate at the time Biden first arrived, advised him, "You can always question a man's judgment, but don't question his motives." Biden said he thinks the American people will ultimately get the politics right, though he admitted, "Some of the things that the Republicans are saying today are terrible."
We had our picture taken with the Vice President, as did most of the other people there. He kissed his friends, shook hands with others, and had a nice word for everyone.
Although the event was supposed to last 90 minutes, the crowd only began to thin out after about two hours. So we started to head out. But that pool house caught my eye.
Originally, I had thought that the invitation call that I received late Monday afternoon, while driving to Whole Foods, was to attend the signing of the health care bill on Tuesday morning. Close, but not quite. It turns out I wasn't going to the actual signing in the East Room
of the White House, but to President Obama's remarks afterward celebrating the signing in the auditorium of the Department of the Interior.
I'm thinking what happened is that the Rose Garden ceremony was canceled
because of unsettled weather. So, they divided the ceremony into the
signing and the speech. I wasn't invited to the Rose Garden, but when
they moved the speech to the Department of Interior auditorium, they
suddenly had empty seats. So they called me, because I had been cleared recently for a previous White House event and they thought that since I'm a shameless political groupie, I would drop everything to
go on virtually no notice. And they were right.
So, off I go.
------------------
After being checked off no fewer than four times on the list of the invitees (yes, the Salahis live), I enter the large auditorium and take a seat pretty close to the stage. It's pretty evident that many of the 600 seats are filled with congressional and White House staffers who worked on the health care bill. Everyone is very excited.
It turns out that I'm not the only one who was a little confused about the nature of the event. A nice lady from North Carolina, a state senator, and her friend, another state senator, also thought they were coming to the real thing. "I canceled all of my appointments and paid $600 for a plane ticket," she says glumly, looking at the huge monitor where we were going to watch the signing. "Don't get me wrong, but my email says attend the signing." She shows me the email. "Where did you come from?" I told her I came from Bethesda. It didn't make her any happier.
"Look," I say. "There's Al Sharpton." I jump up to grab a photo. "Here comes Eric Holder." I had read an article about Holder in the Wall Street Journal on the Metro on the way in. Some civil liberties type had compared him to Alberto Gonzales. Alberto Gonzales!! I figure the Attorney General could use some support. I go up and shake his hand and say that I think he's doing a great job. He smiles and seems genuinely pleased. "Thanks very much," he says. I'm about to say he's better than Alberto, but decide the better of it. Anyway, Peter Orszag, the budget director, is coming in, and I get in position to snap another photo.
The place is getting really crowded and it's about time for the signing, so I go back to my seat. "Are you sure Obama is coming here?" my state senator friend asks me. "I'll be really upset if I flew here to watch this on a monitor." I reach into my pocket and take out my email invitation. It clearly says he's coming to the rally. She's slightly mollified.
---------------------------------
The place gets very quiet and everyone turns to the monitors. First, the vice president speaks and speaks some more and speaks some more and finally introduces the president. The place roars, so I don't hear the "Big F---ing Deal" comment. Obama speaks and the auditorium is roaring. Then he starts signing and signing and signing, but no pen for me.
The lights come on and everyone is alive with excitement, but nothing to do but wait. Hilda Solis, the labor secretary, comes out and says she's going to fire up the crowd. Sorry, her speech is a snoozer. Even, "Si, se puede," falls flat. The labor secretary needs more work on her speechifying. Tom Vilsack, the agriculture secretary, comes out and he's much better. Everyone is getting excited. "Yes, we did," he shouts. Everyone roars.
Finally, the luminaries who had attended the East Room ceremony start entering. It's the mother lode. Kathleen Sebelius, Henry Waxman, Charlie Rangel (feel sorry for him; he seems slightly out of sync), Chris Dodd, Tom Harkin. Snap, snap, snap.
"Who's that sitting next to Valerie Jarrett?" my friend asks. She seems to be getting into the scene.
Finally, Vickie Kennedy and some others come on stage, including a cute kid. Obama and Biden come out and the place erupts. "Yes, we did," people shout and jump from their seats. Biden gives another introduction, and seems more circumspect in his comments, on and off mike. Obama comes to the microphone and the place is roaring. "Yes, we did," people are shouting and rhythmically clapping. It's wild.
Obama gives another great speech. "They say Armageddon is coming," he says, and everyone laughs. "Well in a couple of months, look up. We'll see."
He looks over at little Marcelas Wallace, the 11-year-old whose mother died without health insurance and then began a crusade for health care in her memory. "You're looking real sharp," the president says, noting that his tie and the boy's are the same. I'm thinking, what was I doing when I was 11. What have I done with my life?
Back to the speech. The President kicks into his close. Everybody leaps up. The place is rocking. It's electric. Even my friend is up on her feet. "Please give me a copy of that picture of all of them raising their hands over their heads," she says excitedly.
"I didn't get it," I said sheepishly."But I got a nice picture of Marcelas," I say hopefully. She doesn't seem too interested.
Obama starts down the rope line and I try to make it up up front to shake hands with him. "Yes, I can," I say to my friend as I try to wend my way to the front. But the president turns to leave before he gets to my spot. I'm disappointed but not too disappointed. Shaken his hand before. It's just part of the game.
I turn to take some more photos. Marcelas is right in front of me so I take another shot. Quite a kid.
The place begins to clear out quickly and I go back to grab my coat. OK, now what do I say to everyone I told I was going to the actual signing? I'm thinking, maybe I can fake it. No one will ever really know.
State and local governments have gotten themselves into a fix by promising too much to their employees in their retirement plans and then not producing enough through investment returns to sustain the plans. Some estimate that these defined benefit plans have accumulated over $1 trillion in liabilities. Others estimate that the true liability is three or four times as large.
In my most recent article "Hatching New Ideas" in American City & County Magazine, I look at a number of government plans that have sought innovative solutions to this problem, mostly through incorporating defined contribution plan elements into their retirement systems. The bottom line is that the retirement plans share the risk of investment with their employees. Most governments seem happy with the results. Employees are less enthusiastic.
How governments got into this fix is emblematic of the problems that beset much of our public policy. Legislators are happy to trade wage improvements today for far-off retirement paydays. Unions have garnered some unbelievable benefits for their employees, including some who retire on a higher pension than they made while they were working.
Of course, the reckoning is not that far off. And with the economic crunch that soured investment performance, the inevitable is approaching faster than expected. Look for governments being forced to hike the amount of money they contribute to the plans in order to keep them solvent. Guess where that money will come from.
In an interesting post on Mashable, nonprofits are encouraged to look at all aspects of connecting through texting and, importantly, to look beyond simply using this new technology to raise money. In fact, there are a variety of barriers to texting for donations, including considerable start-up costs, a surprisingly stringent vetting process and the need for a "big" event to attract dollars. For most small nonprofits, this is out of reach.
But what is within the realm are possibilities of using texting to augment existing activities, such as mobilizing volunteers, giving updates on campaigns and attracting your audience to your website. In other words, instead of using texting for grand slams, go for singles.
This only makes sense, especially for smaller nonprofits. The effort and cost behind campaigns like the one that raised millions for Haiti shows the potential for the grandest success for mobile philanthropy. But the real value is in the small ball, using texting to raise interest, not cash, for the nimble, small nonprofits. That potential is still to be realized. But it's time is coming soon.
While it is easy to stereotype and lock images of poor people without access to technology, the truth is that new technologies are bringing services that were otherwise unavailable to large, underserved population groups. Unfortunately, much of this is going on in emerging nations rather than our own.
Mobile banking is an example, according to this report from McKinsey. In fact, the number of people with bank accounts is many fewer than those with mobile phones. The clear answer is mobile technology, which will make help bridge the divide.
Yet, it seems strange that McKinsey writes about this happening in emerging nations, but not so in our own. Cellphones are ubiquitous in this country, yet the capabilities for mobile technology are lagging behind many lesser developed nations.
Nonprofits involved in financial services should examine how they can bring these technologies to lower-income groups, enabling better access and saving habits, using technology rather than fighting it.
The story is the same across the country. The once-booming nonprofit sector is in the midst of a shakeout, leaving many Americans without services and culling weak groups from the strong. Hit by a drop in donations and government funding in the wake of a deep recession, nonprofits—from arts councils to food banks—are undergoing a painful restructuring, including mergers, acquisitions, collaborations, cutbacks and closings.
Clearly, the economic forces are mandating that nonprofits no longer continue with business as usual, but rather must reflect and innovate -- reflect on mission and purpose and innovate on finding new sources of revenue in a world that increasingly demands accountability and performance.
More than ever, the nonprofit world is looking for business practices -- accounting, HR, marketing -- that deliver the outcomes promised. Otherwise the limited funds will be directed elsewhere.
There are so many good causes in the world. The ones that make good on their mission will survive and prosper. That is the message of today's economy. And there is very little indication that this mentality will change any time in the foreseeable future.
Waiting on 16th Street near the southeast entrance to the White House, the woman behind us was fretting on what she would say if she had a chance to talk to the President. "Should I call him Mr. President or Barack," she said. "I've known him so long." We advised her that Google says that you address him as Mr. President and the First Lady as Mrs. Obama. "That sounds good," the woman acknowledged.
My wife Cathy and I were in line on December 16 to attend the White House Hanukkah Party, which itself had become somewhat controversial because the guest list had been reduced from to 400 from the 800 that President Bush had made his custom. From the looks of the line, it looked like President Obama had opened up the guest list somewhat. We had been invited through my current position as President of the Jewish Reconstructionist Federation. One president to another, so to speak.
The security was tight, not surprisingly, given the recent embarrassment at the State Dinner. Our names were checked on the list no less than three times, before we even got to the entrance. Still, the social staff was very friendly and the Secret Service called me back only because I had left my keys at the magnetometer. Desiree Rogers, the White House social secretary, greeted us as we entered, and it was clear very quickly that we were in a very special place. Paintings of Presidents were on the walls of the East Room, Red Room and Green Room. A bust of Lincoln centered the hallway. Alexander Hamilton looked as if he were unhappy about the nation's current financial distress.
Lots of Senators and Representatives sampled the latkes with us, because there are lots of Jewish Senators and Representatives. It says a great deal about where Jews are in America today. The assembly seemed to be attracted to the beef sticks and sushi, all glatt kosher according to the program. It even identified the rabbi who gave the food his blessing.
I said hello to Sen. Al Franken, whom I had addressed prematurely at an inaugural party before the election was settled. Cathy asked him if the Senate, tied up in the health care debate, had finished the reading of a bill, six or seven hours worth. Franken looked dour. "I saw Senator Coburn in the hall and asked him why he was making them read the amendment." Franken said. "Coburn told me, 'It's an important bill. We should hear it.' I asked him then why was he in the hall." Franken saw someone else and went off to mingle.
We wandered in the area where a huge crowd had gathered and it was apparent the President was about to come out. First came the Vice President and then the President and Michelle Obama came out. Everyone clapped. Mrs. Obama had borrowed a beautiful menorah she had seen in Prague that had been saved from the Holocaust. A family whose father is in Afghanistan lit the candles -- six in all. Then the President and the First Lady shook hands -- and more hands -- and more hands. They stayed quite a while and everyone, including Cathy and me, were happy. I could have sworn that Michelle said, "Happy Hanukkah, Bob." Maybe not, but I'm sticking to my story.
We wandered into another room and I said to the military attache that it was a good crowd. "Lots of people in a good mood," I said. He looked knowingly. "I'm Jewish, sir," he chuckled. "Good food always brings us out."
There were a few people to talk to and we sat down with some desserts. Then another military attache came over. "You can avoid long lines if you get your coats now," she said. I smiled. "You did that very graciously," I said.
On the way out, we took another look at the beautiful decorations, listened to the a capella singers offering Hanukkah songs and a small military trio playing Ladino tunes. The night was bright, with holiday lights. For someone who grew up in Milwaukee, of modest means as we say, a great miracle happened here.
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