FEAR, COURAGE, RESPONSIBILITY - A DIARY OF RABBI AVI WEISS’ TRIP TO VENEZUELA

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

As our plane lands in Caracas I go over in my mind the reasons for our coming here.  Our goal is to express solidarity with our sisters and brothers; to learn facts on the ground; and to speak with community leaders, rabbis and clergy of other faiths with the goal of helping to map out future policy. 

I’ve been at this for many years—traveling to Jewish communities in times of crisis and I realize that  it doesn’t get any easier, since I’m beginning to feel the physical aches and emotional concerns that come with age, especially considering my history of heart trouble.  More than ever, I realize how much I love my family and how hard it is to leave them.  Still, I’ve come hoping to make a difference.

I’m traveling with Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld, a great young rabbi who “gets it” on every level.  He should be the next national leader of rabbinic spiritual activism.  In many ways he already is. 

I’ll also be joined by Rabbi Adam Scheier of Shaar Hashomayimsynagogue in Montreal.  Rabbi Scheier, a Yeshiva Chovevei Torah graduate, carries himself with dignity and passion.  He is both smart and caring, and unafraid.  He’s a model for other rabbis to emulate.

Our other traveling companion is Gabe Ledeen, a Marine veteran, who completed two tours of duty in Iraq, and now writes for several major national publications.  Not only was he there to watch our backs, but he himself would turn out to play a critical role as we interacted with the Venezuelan Jewish community.

Just the idea that Jews are being attacked in Venezuela emotionally upsets me to the core.  I pray my students come to understand that this kind of trip is part of what it means to serve in the rabbinate, that the best speech is not what we say but what we do, and that rabbis should not leave advocacy to Jewish defense agencies.  Their work is important, but rabbis see these issues from a religious, spiritual perspective, giving its politics different meaning.

On the ride from the airport to the home of our hosts, Rabbi Pynchas and Henny Brener, we saw abject poverty.  Little houses, shanties, one on top of the other, one up against the other, all built into the hillsides.  Here live the poor, people with so little.  I wondered, how is it possible for people to live this way, and yet, for a large percentage of the world, this is the normal way of life.

Winding our way down the major two-lane highway – which is similar to how the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem highway looked almost fifty years ago when I first traveled on it as a yeshiva student in Israel – we came into the city of Caracas itself.  At one traffic light, we’re approached by a middle-aged man begging as he held onto an infant.  Rabbi Brener later told us that beggars often pay parents for the rights to carry their children so that they will attract more sympathy as they ask for help.

The city, at least the part I saw, was not very beautiful.  What stood out and continued to stand out throughout the trip, were the fences and walls.  Everywhere, yes everywhere, there were fences and walls.  Caracas today is a city of crime.  Fences and walls are everywhere, serving to protect those inside.  We have come to visit the Jewish community in terrible straits, but beyond the Jewish community, Caracas suffers on a broader level from high levels of crime including kidnappings and muggings.  Crime is so pervasive that few people walk the streets, concerned they will be victimized. 

This is especially true of the Jewish community.  Jews not only fear the petty criminal, but being subjected to abuse because they are Jewish and identify with Israel.  Today, the Jewish community is a target of a vicious campaign instigated by Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez who compared Israel’s entry into Gaza to Nazi aggression.  In fact, on the cover of the most recent edition of PDVSA, the monthly magazine of the Venezuelan state oil company, there is a picture of a concentration camp with a watchtower and barbed wire.  Flying over the camp is an Israeli flag.  And the caption blazoned across the picture reads, “NUEVA ADMINISTRACION” (under new management).

Our first stop was the home of Rabbi and Henny Brener.  Rabbi Brener is the Chief Rabbi of the Ashkenazi community, where he has served for the past forty years.  He studied at Yeshiva University where he was ordained, and his first pulpit was in the United States, where he served for twelve years, so his English is fluent.  A man of great stature, Rabbi Brener has been deeply influenced by the culture of America, and the spirit of Israel.  It is a culture and spirit of hadar Yisrael, Jewish pride.  He, amongst all the rabbis in Venezuela, as wonderful as they are, knows how to stand tall and strong in the face of adversity.  Having spent a Shabbat in Riverdale and spoken at our synagogue just recently, I’ve developed a special kinship and respect and love for the man.

Rabbi Brener lives in a comfortable area not far from his synagogue, Union Israelita de Caracas. Living on an upper floor, one can look out from his terrace and see that even Caracas has Godly beauty.  Waiting for us as we entered his home was, Rabbi Brener’s wife, Henny whom I also knew from her visit with her husband to Riverdale.

Not only were the Breners there, but the penei, the leaders of the community as well. The Breners had arranged that we meet them.  Henny had prepared an elegant lunch.  I thought of the many trips I had taken around the world speaking out for Jewry.  On most of these trips, we ate salami and canned beans.  This trip would be different.  For the first time, an establishment figure (Rabbi Brener), and an activist to boot, had arranged every detail.  In our two day trip we would be sitting down to many catered meals. 

From the Breners we went in chauffeured cars to visit some of the synagogues that had recently been attacked.  Congregation Tiferet Yisrael, the largest Sephardi synagogue, was defiled on January 31, 2009.  It was a raid carefully orchestrated by nineteen assailants, a kind of commando attack.  For me, it points to deep complicity on the part of the government.  It’s not only that Chavez’s anti-Semitic rhetoric created a climate that inspired these attacks, it was much more.  I believe this was virtually state-sponsored terror.

The synagogue is surrounded by high walls.  Police vans and trucks with countless police are now stationed outside.  But I wondered whether the police were the protectors or part of the problem, since several of the nineteen assailants were police themselves.

In the lobby of the synagogue were large, blown up pictures of the desecration.  Silver from the Torah on the floor; Jewish books ripped apart.  I have little doubt that the Torah scrolls themselves were thrown to the ground, but that may have been too painful to display in pictures.  On the walls were scrawled anti-Semitic slogans – “fuera, muerte a todos” and “Israel malditos, muerte” – “get out, death to you all” and “damned Jews, death to you.”

The synagogue itself is large, airy and beautiful – quite modern.  Its rabbi was not there to welcome us because he had flown to Israel that morning.

Next was the Beit Shmuel synagogue.  Surrounded by high walls, this synagogue was attacked on February 26, 2009.  This time, a grenade was hurled over its outer wall. Pockmarks from the fragments thrown off from the explosion were clearly visible on the inside walls.

Some suggest that the perpetrators had no intention to injure anyone, as the grenade was thrown after midnight.  I’m not so sure.  The Beit Shmuel houses a kollel of about twenty students.  They often burn the midnight oil, learning well into the night.  It’s quite possible that this was well known, and students would step out of the synagogue to take in some fresh air in the early morning. As Gabe, our ex-marine pointed out, when you throw grenades, dangerous things can happen. 

The kollel is Agudah type – everyone in black hats.  We davened mincha.  I decided to recite the kaddish in memory of my dear friend Bernie Glickman, who just passed on from a terrible cancer. In the past, Bernie had accompanied me to so many Jewish communities around the world. I have no doubt that Bernie would have been with me, watching my back.  I resolved to recite kaddish at every public service I attended in Venezuela. 

After Mincha we broke out in the song “venahafoch hu.”   The kollelniks immediately joined in and started to sing “Layehudim hayta orah.”  These songs come from Megillat Esther (the scroll of Esther which we had read the day before on the Purim holiday) and talk of the power of Am Yisrael to overcome and bring light to ourselves and to others.

But the moment for me that was the most touching was when we moved from the inside of the small synagogue to the outside yard.  I wondered whether the kollelniks would take the risk and come out.  They did.  We danced with great intensity, exchanging words of greetings and solidarity.

For me, this visit was especially meaningful.  The attack on Beit Shmuel was considered minor, with barely a response in the United States.  But it wasn’t minor.  Grenades can kill; and they certainly serve to intimidate.  Thank God, AMCHA called a rally immediately after this attack.  It was a second rally, held at the Venezuelan Consulate at Fifth Avenue and Fifty First Street, and was much smaller than the first one, called after the Tiferet Yisrael attack.  Only forty people came – but it was intense.  At the end of that rally, we plastered signs which read “Shame on Chavez” beneath his picture, which hung from the inside of the window, fronting the consulate.  And now, we were able to tell those who learn and pray at Beit Shmuel that we had spoken up on their behalf.  

We embraced the students and spoke to the head of the kollel, a young rabbi who had studied in Ner Yisrael in Baltimore.  He lives close to Beit Shmuel.  He described how in the middle of the night he heard the blast, and how his little children awoke, frightened, and began to cry.  He continues to lead his community in Venezuela with great courage, but wonders how long he’ll be able to stay.

That evening we were joined for dinner in Rabbi Brener’s synagogue by other community rabbis.  Here I saw what I have believed for years – rabbis have the unique opportunity and honor to lead and shepherd their communities not only in good times, but through the bad times too. 

After dinner we met with the Venezuelan equivalent of the Presidents Conference, CAIV, the Confederation of Jewish Associations of Venezuela. I have never been invited to speak at the Presidents Conference here in America, but in Venezuela, I and the other rabbis were their treasured guests.  Clearly, we met them because Rabbi Brener had carefully prepared and facilitated the gathering.

Our agenda was simple.  To have an open discussion on tactics and to share our position that public protest outside of Venezuela, and congressional hearings, would serve to protect Venezuelan Jewry. These tactics are the subject of great debate in the United States, with defense agencies claiming that the leadership in Venezuela opposes such public posture.

Some defense agencies in the United States feel that congressional hearings could result in a backlash against Venezuelan Jewry.  So powerful is this position that it has been adopted by my own Congressman, Rep. Eliot Engel, whom I consider not only a dear friend, but the strongest supporter of Israel in congress today.  As Chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on the Western Hemisphere, Rep. Engel is in a position to call for these hearings, but has decided not to do so because Venezuelan Jewry opposes it.

That’s not what we heard that evening.  What we heard were voices that said while we can’t demonstrate here, you must help us by raising your voices loud and clear in the US.  The consensus ran along these lines, we must do what we must do, and you must do what you must do. 

As far as congressional hearings are concerned, virtually everyone believed that Chavez – who was described as “crazy,” “wicked,” “cruel” – was especially vulnerable to criticism.  Chavez may not care about the United States, but he has a messianic complex, he wants to be seen as the savior of the world, one of the leaders argued, he’d be very sensitive to accusations that he is violating fundamental human rights.  This is especially true, argued another, as long as one keeps to the facts and Chavez’s own words, as would occur in congressional hearings.

Here I saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears how well meaning people in the American Jewish establishment had misrepresented the views of Venezuelan Jews.  The position that Venezuelan Jews oppose congressional hearings is simply false.  We closed the meeting holding hands around the table as we intensely sang “Am Yisrael Chai.”  In fact, the Venezuelan community has conducted itself, during these difficult times, in the spirit of “the people of Israel live.”  When Chavez demanded the Jewish community condemn Israel for the Gaza war, it adamantly refused.  “We are Zionists,” the leadership of CAIV proclaimed, “we stand and will always stand with Israel.”

The long day was finally over.  I was overwhelmed by two feelings.  This is a community under siege, living in deep fear, but in the same breath, it is also a community exhibiting great courage.

Fear is everywhere.  I saw it in the eyes of young people, yeshiva students and leadership.  All they want is a fundamental freedom.  The freedom from fear.

And yet, there was courage too, starting from the top, from Rabbi Brener himself.  Here was a community that told  President Chavez, we will not be bullied into casting Israel off.  Israel is part of our destiny, and being Jewish is part of our very essence.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

We davened this morning at the Ma’or Hatorah School.  We prayed amongst teenagers who davened fervently, the service lasted well over an hour.  As Rabbi Herzfeld quipped, here they say every word.

I spoke to the students in Hebrew after tefillah about our sense of unity with the community.  This was our most important mission – to let young and old know that they are not alone.  Several students told me they live in fear, and here at the school and wherever we went, we were embraced by sincere gratitude for our visit.  I for one was continuously moved by our hosts, who in the midst of such darkness were so gracious and welcoming.

As the trip unfolded, I slowly began to realize that Venezuelan Jewry was not some kind of “hole in the wall” community to be pitied.  The synagogues we visited yesterday are large, reaching thousands of people, and the Me’or Hatorah school we visited this morning reaches about one hundred charedi families.  Its annual budget is two million dollars.  That’s not simple to raise year after year, and yet, its leadership has succeeded in raising these monies.

Rabbi Brener arranged for us to see Cardinal Jorge Urosa Savino at his home in Alta Florida.  The Cardinal is also the Archbishop of Caracas. A man who appeared to be in his fifties, he greeted us warmly. 

But as soon as we sat down, the Cardinal excused himself, explaining that he was carrying his cell phone and fearful that our conversation would be overheard through it, he excused himself to place the cellphone in another room.

Rabbi Herzfeld told the cardinal that in his meeting with the Charge d’Affairs of Venezuela in Washington, he was told that the Venezuelan government believed that the church was behind the attacks against the Jewish community.  The cardinal was incredulous.  He told us that a year ago, a grenade was thrown at the residence of the Papal Nuncio.  He also told us that Chavez had personally attacked him in the most vile way in the media.  And he told us that immediately after the synagogue attacks, he had reached out to Rabbi Brener and the Jewish community to express his solidarity.

I expressed appreciation to the cardinal for all he did.  Putting forth that an attack against any house of worship is an attack against every house of worship, I asked the cardinal to consider taking the defense of the Jewish community to another level.  Specifically, that he call for a special Sunday to be set aside wherein every church in Venezuela would speak out on behalf of the Jewish community.  Moreover, I suggested that the cardinal reach out to the Pope himself, asking that he raise a voice for Venezuelan Jewry.

God has a peculiar sense of humor.  For years I had been a great critic of the church, ranging from Pope John Paul’s embrace of Waldheim to the presence of a convent at Auschwitz.  But here I sat with my colleagues, opposite Cardinal Urosa, in the spirit of brotherhood.  I thought of my rabbinical students at YCT who have taught me so much.  Many have forged relations with non-Jewish clergy students; Catholic cardinals have even visited our school.  As I told the Cardinal in Caracas, we may be of distinct religions with distinct beliefs, yet we have faith as a common denominator; the commitment to speak from a particularly spiritual bent.  No tyrant, no dictator can stifle voices of moral conscience if we would but have the courage to speak truth to power.  I parted from the Cardinal who is an avid baseball fan – Venezuela is baseball crazy – embracing him and asking him to step up to the plate.

The best was left for last, acharon acharon chaviv.  Our last stop was the magnificent Hebraica / Community School.  The entire complex is once again surrounded by high walls.

Hebraica is the equivalent of an American JCC or Y.  Only Jews can be members. 75% of the community is affiliated with Hebraica.  Across the road within the same complex is the Community School.  The school attracts students of all backgrounds, making a conscious effort to embrace young men and women on all levels of observance and background.  Many of the boys do not wear kippot.  Still, the food is kosher and the general religious tone is orthodox, but an orthodoxy that is uncompromising in its openness and non-judgementalism.  I felt right at home.

We first met with the lay-head of Hebraica.  His account of what’s been happening at Hebraica was heartbreaking and frightening.  A few years after Chavez came to power, a government policy of intimidation against the Jewish community began.  On November 29, 2004, government anti-terrorist agents came into the school precisely when the students were arriving.  These security agents were ostensibly looking for arms hidden in the school.  Of course, none were found. 

The leadership of the school had come running, concerned that the government agents would plant explosives and then place blame on the Jews.  They therefore attempted to follow the agents throughout the search.  The day chosen for that raid coincided with Chavez’s visit to Iran.  As the lay-head of Hebraica pointed out, it was as if Chavez was giving a gift to Ahmadinejad, telling him, in effect, I agree with you and your position on Israel, and on Jews – to whit, look what we’re doing in Caracas.

I pointed out that November 29th is also the anniversary of the UN resolution to partition Palestine that led to the creation of a Jewish state.  The lay-head and his assistant seemed stunned to hear this fact.  The assistant left the room, returning moments later declaring that she’s googled the date, and it’s commemorated by Palestinians as a dark day on their calendar. 

The lay-head went on: three years later, on Dec. 1, 2007, government agents again invaded Hebraica, just a day before Chavez’s attempt to amend the constitution so he would have almost limitless power was rebuffed by voters.  The leader told me that this may have been Chavez’s attempt to intimidate the Jewish community not to vote, as most supported the opposition.  The agents explained that they were tipped off by an eyewitness who claimed that he saw someone bringing boxes into the facility in the dead of the night.  That witness has yet to be produced.  As the agents left, one turned to this lay leader and said, “be careful, next time we’ll be sure to find something.” 

Pulling out his card that identifies him as the head of Hebraica, he said – I brought this card for you to see.  But our security has told me I should not carry it.  With kidnappings rampant, if a kidnapper will see that I’m Jewish, a leader in the community, he will demand more ransom and perhaps even kill me.

Hebraica is a magnificent facility; the most advanced Y I’ve ever seen.  Its facilities range from a gigantic swimming pool to tennis courts, baseball fields, soccer fields, even a bowling alley, cultural and art facilities, and more.  Hebraica is the key center of the Venezuelan Jewish community.  And I thought, it’s so magnificent that it’s the facility that Chavez would no doubt love to expropriate and give to his supporters.

Over lunch again, beautifully catered, we met with the leadership of the school.  Enrollment in the past 10 years has dropped from 2300 to 1200 students.  It’s part of a significant exodus of thousands of Jews to Israel, but mostly to Miami.  Here we heard how Chavez’s anti-Israel stances have reverberated in the school.  After Chavez expelled Israeli diplomats from Venezuela and the Israeli consulate was closed down during the Gaza war, Israel insisted that all its teachers sent by the Jewish Agency to teach in the school return home, fearful that they too could be kidnapped.  It is difficult, the school leaders said, to find replacements.

The school’s leaders explained to us that Jewish students don’t walk to school.  They do not ride on buses.  In fact, there is hardly a decent public bus system in Caracas.  Instead, students are taken everywhere by their parents – shuttled by private car from home to school to friends and back. 

In my talk to the older students, I shared with them the emotions of rallies held on their behalf in New York.  With Rabbi Brener as translator, I shared three terms – ahavat yisrael, gvurat yisrael, and hadar yisrael. 

Ahavat yisrael or achdut yisrael is the unity of Israel, the solidarity and oneness we feel for each other.  In the midst of these challenging times, we were here to lovingly declare, “we are with you, we are one with each other.”

Gvurat Yisrael is the strength of Israel, the ability to overcome.

And then, there is hadar yisrael.  Precisely when Chavez and others in the world would have Jews walk around bent over, weak, embarrassed to be Jewish, is the time to walk tall and strong with hadar, with Jewish pride.

I told the students that upon returning, we’d begin a pen-pal program between teenagers in New York and students at the school.

Gabe, who had completed two tours of duty in Iraq and had just returned to Israel, told the students that under his command in Iraq were young men and women not much older than them.  These young men and women in the American Military had to grow up quickly and make difficult decisions.  And you, Gabe said to the Venezuelan Jewish students, are faced with the same challenge. You must make difficult decisions and can do it, and can overcome – he inspirationally concluded.

And then it was Rabbi Shmuel’s turn.  It was his time and he knew just what to say.  Shmuel the creative, brilliant, gutsy and all-caring activist rabbi turned to the students with these words, “just remember, it’s young people who have shown the way, and you can show the way.”  It didn’t take long for the students to rise and begin singing and dancing “Am Yisrael Chai” – a powerful, powerful moment.

The time had come to leave.  I turned to Rabbi Brener, who reminds me in certain ways of my father (I can offer no greater compliment) and asked him for a blessing.  He placed his hands on my head, offered a blessing.  We embraced and parted. 

As we passed the shanties on the way back to the airport, I could see the mountains in which these little houses were embedded.  And I could see the blue sky and the crystal clear Caribbean Sea.  What a contrast.  The beauty of God’s world, and the far too prevalent poverty.

My mind wandered as the faces of Venezuelan Jews, my brothers and sisters, leaders and students, older and younger flashed before me.  Each was no longer a number, but a person we had come to know. 

I thought of the fear they live with; of students who must be chaperoned everywhere, of a lay-leader who couldn’t carry his card identifying him as the leader of Hebraica.

And I thought of their courage.  Of the Beit Shmuel students dancing in the open courtyard, of a lay leadership that said no to Chavez when he demanded they disassociate with Israel. 

And I thought of our responsibility.  The thirty hours we spent in Venezuela gave me a glimpse of what it is to live in a dictatorship led by a bully.  Our imperative is to speak out for our brethren.

Not only is Chavez a threat to Jews, but with Hezbollah and Hamas pouring into Venezuela to help secure the country, Venezuela could become – as one Venezuela Jewish leader told me, a springboard for the next 9/11 attack against the United States (God forbid).

Yes, we have a responsibility to speak out loudly and clearly in front of Venezuelan embassies and consulates throughout the world, and in the halls of Congress.  We have a responsibility to insist on congressional hearings and to insist that Secretary of State Clinton and President Obama speak out for Venezuelan Jewry forthrightly and clearly.  We have a responsibility to send the simple message to Chavez – we hold you accountable; and the voice of moral conscience will follow you everywhere.

As our plane took off and I looked over the Venezuelan terrain, I thought of what was for me the most powerful moment of our trip.  It took place as we were looking out at the large athletic fields of the Hebraica JCC.  There in the distance flew the Venezuelan flag, and aside it, the Israeli flag. 

“They’ve tried to split us from Israel,” the head of Hebraica told us, “but never, never will we give in to that demand.  That flag will remain flying there forever.”