Rabbi Michael Ramberg, Jewish Student Advisor and Interfaith Center Co-Director: We’ve Been Around Thousands of Years — We’ve Figured a Few Things Out
Through many troubled times, Jewish practices and perspectives have enabled us to find the determination to resist, to protect ourselves and those around us, and to repair the world. I have highlighted a few below. Whether or not you’re Jewish, I hope you will find some ideas for how to navigate the challenges of this moment.
- Community. Jews are so diverse that there is no single Jewish community that includes all of us. But there is a Jewish community for every Jew (and everyone who is friends with Jews!), no matter what you believe, no matter how you practice, no matter the varied identities you embody. That community can be a place to connect and share sorrows and joys, a source of support and strength, and even a base for organizing.
- The calendar. Following the rich Jewish cycle of time at the level of the day, week, month, and multiple years can help us achieve a sustainable balance between work and necessary rest, grief and joy, looking back and looking forward, as well as give us opportunities to be in community.
- Historical perspective. Starting with the story of the enslaved Israelites’ exodus from Egypt, Jews have made a point of remembering the worst of times and the best of times. Keeping these in perspective is vital for orienting ourselves in the present.
- Individual and communal transformation. Of the many tools for repair Judaism has developed over thousands of years, I’ll just mention teshuvah ([re]turning ourselves to the right path) and mussar (practical steps towards ethical refinement).
- Spirituality. (You knew I was going to say this.) While, for various reasons, Jews have downplayed the rich spirituality in our tradition, it’s available to those who seek it, and offers incredible resources for strength and resilience. (For more on spirituality, see this article by Interfaith Center staff.)
If you’d like to learn more about any of these, I’m always happy to talk!
Rev Hojin Park, Buddhist Student Affiliate Advisor: The Power of Inner Resonance
True transformation begins with the discipline of seeing clearly, judging rightly, and acting decisively. By cultivating a long-term perspective and changing ourselves first, we gain the spiritual power to influence our surroundings, our society, and ultimately, the world. While we must do our best in what we can control, it is equally important to observe the “spirit of the times” to execute wise decisions.
Like a stringed instrument that produces its most beautiful sound only when the strings are neither too tight nor too loose, we must maintain our balance amidst uncertainty. The more deeply we listen to our inner voice — the Middle Way — the more wisdom will emerge.
When seeking a standard for right and wrong, we must remember that we are all interconnected within a single universal community. By honoring our unique qualities and the beauty we contribute, we hear the voice of wisdom revealing our role in guiding the world toward peace and flourishing.
Thoughts passed on merely as information are soon forgotten. However, when a thought permeates your life through practice, it evolves into a vow. When that vow touches others’ hearts, true change begins. We see this today in the “Walk for Peace” led by venerable monks; their every word and step create a profound resonance. Their great vow has become a positive influence, inspiring many to join the mindful path of peace. Grateful for this collective energy, I center my mind once more in the spirit of compassion and peace.
Rabbi Mordi Wolf, Swarthmore Chabad, Interfaith Center Affiliate Advisor
Dear Campus Community,
We find ourselves in turbulent times, marked by pain, uncertainty, and deeply held beliefs that sometimes differ sharply. Recently, I’ve returned to a powerful and tragic story in the Talmud (Yevamot 62b) that feels strikingly relevant to our moment.
The Talmud describes a supernatural plague that struck 24,000 students of the great sage, Rabbi Akiva. These were not ignorant or immoral people; they were devoted scholars, driven by a sincere pursuit of truth. Yet their greatness did not spare them from catastrophe.
It’s explained that their failing was not disagreement itself, but the way they handled it. Each student believed that their understanding alone reflected their master’s authentic teaching. They were unable or unwilling to extend respect and dignity to their peers’ differing perspectives. In doing so, they created a culture in which conviction eclipsed compassion, and disagreement became exclusion.
The Jewish tradition has never feared debate. It is built on dialogue, argument, and the preservation of multiple voices, sometimes contradictory, on the same page. What it demands and teaches, however, is that disagreement be anchored in mutual respect and humility. Human experience is complex and layered; truth is rarely singular, and it is never served by diminishing another person’s lived reality.
Our generation is living through a period of sustained tension. Public discourse has grown sharper, identities more contested, and moral questions more urgent. In my three years working in our community, I’ve heard from many who feel pressured to simplify complex realities or to silence their beliefs altogether. The need for strong and honorable convictions is more important than ever, but at the same time, remaining thoughtful and compassionate requires quiet courage.
Holding convictions and holding space for others are not opposing acts; together, they enable our community, and society at large, to flourish.
Rev Alison Schuettinger, Quaker and Interfaith Religious Affiliate Advisor
In my mind and body, before there was climate change, pollution, and injustices too great to infiltrate alone, there was sun, sand, and salt water. Naps in the late afternoon under a colorful towel, engulfed by the billions of tiny grains, on a beach with the word Heart in its namesake. Before iPhones and 24/7 access to everything everywhere in the world, there was my little self unencumbered, held by the Earth more peacefully than a bed.
Raised loosely Episcopalian, I knew the word “church” but never felt it in one. My church was outside in the sanctity of elements. The cells in my physical temple understood inherently that the cells of the weeping willow tree swaying above me, or the physics of the breeze on my skin, or ingredients of the warm sun on my leg were somehow connected to my being. Grass, moss, sand, the ground — grounds me; it is not separate from my internal central nervous system. And to be able to feel this presence, I am still and silent, listening, observing, and curious.
When I sat down on a tree formed worn wooden bench in a simple meeting house for the first time not so long ago, near the glass pane window, light eclipsing the wall, surrounded by silence until someone stood and spoke to the impact of a hurricane on their college town in North Carolina — I knew I was in a communal meeting that felt like home. The ingredients I felt on the beach or under a willow were there.
At the end of meeting for worship, when someone shared updates from the Climate Crisis Committee, I knew I had to join. That I found my people, practice, and place, where stewardship was as common as silence, as divine as the person next to me, no thing or being better than the other.
We call these times troubled, unprecedented, tumultuous, uncertain. I don’t need to list the unique woes and worries of today, you know them already. Perhaps too well. There is an endless list of inequities on this finite planet. Instead, I will say this: I don’t know if there have always been wars, grabbing of resources, and that the scale combined with tools on top of tools, systems embedded into systems that humans have created are exacerbating what’s been there all along — a desire to make meaning of us being here, to make a mark.
When I was a child, the sheer question of why are we here? why do I exist? would send chills up my spine and often bring me to tears. The web of life I know I am a part of is the perspective I choose to inform my every day. Quakerism is one path of non-violence. I don’t have the answers for what to do yesterday, today, or tomorrow, but there is a growing sense of clarity for how to be in the right relationship with the tiny space I co-inhabit.
