Been a long time since I rock & rolled

Sorry for the delay in posting. I've had a lot on my mind, and while I know the whole point behind these intranets-type things is to just SAY what's on my mind, I wanted to kind of chew on it for a while.

One of the things that's been on my mind lately is last Tuesday's adventure. Last week, Rabbi Beals from Beth Shalom and I hopped in his car and took a spin down to Dover, along with most of the other rabbis and lay-leaders of the Jewish community of Delaware. Why? Because Jack Markell, the first Jewish governor of the First State, was hanging a mezuzah at Woodburn (see the press release here). I've been trying to process the experience ever since.

First, let me explain that, as official state events go, this was pretty low-key, even intimate. Woodburn is a lovely colonial home right on the King's Highway, and while I'm sure there was security present, we basically parked the car on the street and walked right in. It feels as historical as you might imagine, with the official silver on display, portraits of all the first ladies of the state, a fire burning in the fireplace, and most everything having some kind of plaque on it. And despite that fact, the space itself was really quite warm. It helped that we all knew each other (more on that in a minute) but there really was this sense that we were hanging a mezuzah at someone's home, not at an official event.

Of course, part of that was because this was meant to be a low-key, quasi-official event. Governor Markell is as authentic a person as you can have, an appropriate governor for a state where, as Delaware magazine put it, you don't have six degrees of separation, but more like two or three. He's thoughtful, friendly, at ease and really very much himself. Though some of that might have been from being in a room full of friends (he and his family have been active in the Jewish community in Wilmington for decades) I'd like to think that's really just who he is. He talked about what it meant for the people's house to become a home for him and his family, what it meant to hang a mezuzah on the door (and an outside door to boot), and how he wished his dad were there to share in the achievement (he had passed away in recent memory).

For me, what really contributed to that sense of intimacy was the fact that the ENTIRE Jewish community of the state was represented. Not just the rabbi from Dover, or Governor Markell's rabbi (though it was Rabbi Grumbacher's privilege to officiate) or the head of Federation or of the Rabbinic Association; nearly every rabbi was present, as well as most of the lay leadership of the whole state. It is truly an amazing thing to be able to stand in a room with the entirety of a community represented, and know (with a great deal of pride) that we all get along. Certainly, we have our differences, but we really have none of the strive or divisiveness that can come from being in such close quarters. The rabbis get along, the synagogues get along, and we talk to each other. The fact that all the shuls in Delaware go dark so we can worship together in one place once a year speaks volumes of the values of this community, as did our being there in Woodburn last week on a rainy afternoon.

I know I keep harping on that sense of intimacy, but it really was striking, especially considering where we were. Delaware's anti-semitic history isn't so far in the past as to be forgotten; plenty of people remember the days when Jews weren't allowed in the country clubs, to hold high positions either in government or at the more prestigious places of employment. I've been shown deeds to homes (built in the 20th century mind you) that explicitly state that no Jews should ever own them. Even when we were house hunting, we came upon an older ranch that I was sure had been owned by Jews. Sure enough, we found the mezuzah--on the back door, hidden from view. So to be standing there in a house where, not too long ago, the idea of a Jew occupying it (never mind both the governorship and the lieutenant-governorship) was beyond imagination, and watch as that governor affixes a mezuzah to his own front doorpost was truly an awesome moment, in the literal sense of the word.

Rabbi Steve Saks from Adas Kodesh said it best when he remarked that to hang a mezuzah on one's door was an act of courage; it is a sign to other Jews that this is a place of familiarity and safety, but also exposes the Jew to whatever bigotry might be present in that community. To hang such an object on the People's House one week before Purim, a holiday where we commemorate our triumph over ancient hatreds and suspicions, is an act of audacity and courage. What's more it makes this mansion for the Governor truly a home, and a House for ALL the people. I'm still amazed and in wonder that I got to be present for this piece of history.