The Kippah as a reflection of the tapestry of Jewish identity: Erev Rosh Hashanah 2019/5780

Shana Tova. I want to tell you a story about Sherry Gutes. Sherry was in Jerusalem this summer when she lost her kippah.

“It was large, white and lacey, and it had a rainbow ribbon with a Magen David (Jewish Star) woven through it. She had it for about six years. She would save it to wear only on Shabbats when she was in Jerusalem. She felt fortunate to have worn it for three Shabbatot this year. This summer was the last time I will ever wear it. It is gone – forever.

Sherry was with a group as they walked down Agron Street, through the Mamila Mall, up the stairs and through the Jaffa Gate to enter the Old City. Arye, the guide, stopped here and there to explain what they were seeing, its historical and Jewish significance. As they walked through the ancient streets of the Old City, we saw scores of couples and families enjoying a beautiful Shabbat afternoon, walking around, visiting friends, going to the Kotel. Not far from the Cardo area, the original ‘main street’ of the city, It happened.

As the group passed by a group of young boys who were 9 or 10 years old, one boy came up to her, pointed to her kippah, and said ‘Reformi?’ (meaning, ‘Are you a Reform Jew?’) She smiled back and said, in Hebrew, that she just wears a kippah and continued to walk with her friends. 

And then suddenly she was surrounded by at least a dozen more boys, all closing in on her and taunting her. She spoke to them with a firm voice, telling them to back off and leave her alone, but they did not. One of her colleagues ran to get her guide, yet before he could arrive, one young boy punched Sherry in the back of my head while another ripped the kippah off.

The male adults with the boys did nothing to stop this harassment that had now turned to violence. And the women standing on a balcony overlooking this also said nothing.

Sherry and her friends continued walking with their guide and yet the boys kept moving moving closer still. At no time did any adult intervene, even though they were witnesses and they became willing bystanders. A soldier passed by, saw what was going on, and spoke with the boys. They pulled back for a bit. But when the soldier left, and they continued their taunts.

Anyone who knows Sherry well knows that she does not wear a kippah to make any political statement. She wears a kippah to  teach, to daven (pray), on Shabbat and when in a holy place. Jerusalem is at the top of that list of holy places. After this experience, Sherry indicated to the group that she was done with wearing a kippah here, if this is going to be the reaction. She did not want to call attention to herself or, G-d forbid, cause any incident.

But the story continued…

As she was waiting to leave for the evening activity, the Rabbi with the group, who had just been told by some of the colleagues of the incident, looked at her and asked ‘where’s your kippah?’ She told him she was done wearing it, for the reasons stated above. He replied that if I stop wearing it, then the bullies win. He called the incident disgusting and completely unacceptable on every level. Sherry still protested.

And then this Orthodox Rabbi, whom she met just a few days ago, took off his own large black kippah and says ‘then I will give you my kippah to wear’. It was a magnificent and loving gesture that Sherry will never forget.

…Several day later…..She went to the Shuk. The shuk is the place to be on a thursday afternoon when people prepare for Shabbat….And she was wearing a kippah.

As she was about to turn the corner to go onto Agrippas Street and then into the shuk, I stopped at a small shop that carries many styles of beautiful linen dresses that are so common here.  She looked through one particular rack, and a woman working in the store, dressed modestly and with her hair covered, comes up to me and says, in Hebrew, “Please be careful. Shamati (I heard) that they ripped the kippah from the head of a woman on Shabbat b’ir ha-atikah (in the Old City).”

She replied “I know. That was me.”

And she answered “ aht Sherry?” (Are you Sherry?)

Sherry smiled and enjoyed the power of social media at its finest.  A concerned fellow Jew had seen her previous blog post outlining the initial incident. Isn’t that, exactly what the power of a kippah is?!?

It forges a connection between each of us, at the best of moments, and yet, how it makes us wonder…How many times to others dictate if we should or shouldn’t wear a kippah? This is actually beyond the question of a kippah. This is a question of how we see ourselves. Do we let others define us or are we able to find the strength to be who we are. It isn’t always easy. I am not sure what I would have done had I been in Sherry’s shoes. 

The question is, should we show our identity at all? Should we mark ourselves in public? 

In thinking about this remembered that I was once asked the question on an online rabbinic platform “Is it better, if one is going to gamble or do other shady ethical activities (and yes, we all know it is better not to do it at all, but whatever), to remove signs of Jewishness like a Magen David or a kippa before? Or is that worse even? [As your rabbi, let me make it clear that I don’t think Sherry was doing anything wrong when she wore her kippah, but Sherry makes us ask, are there times that we should remove a head covering.] 

I answered in the following way-Let me start say that if there is something that we feel we shouldn’t be doing, then that should be enough not to do it. But given that human nature and our yetzer harah (our evil inclination) sometimes wins out, this question about how best to identify ourselves when we engage in something we probably shouldn’t be doing anyway, is a good one.

Although I appreciated the use of gambling as an example, it seems to make more sense to address the category of “shady ethical activity.” I say this because in terms of gambling there is obviously a big difference between trying a nickel slot machine (silly but harmless) on a vacation and betting on a dog fight (which you should not do, kippah or not!). Therefore, it is not gambling as a general category that I want to address, but the secondary implications. Is a shady activity one that is legal or not? How do you behave when doing that activity? What language do you use? How do you treat others? In my opinion, all of these questions, and so many more, play a role in whether or not you should wear a kippah.

So in answering the question I would like to focus on the role of the kippah. A kippah is worn for many reasons-for some, it is to remind ourselves of God’s presence (an act of piety) and/or to identify ourselves to others as a Jew who believes in Jewish values and tradition.  With that in mind, I believe you should remove your kippah (and other signs of Jewish identity) if you are doing things that are “shady.” However, this only addresses the second role of the kippah. In the first role, removing the kippah will not remove God’s presence or make you invisible.  This is completely between you and God. As for the second issue which relates to your fellow human beings, the kippah should be removed for reasons that can be explained with the introduction of two religious categories.

The first is maarit ayin-giving the appearance that something is permitted “Jewishly” even if it is not.  As above, when you wear a kippah people look at you as a Jew who knows what they are doing, and if you are doing it then, it must be “kosher.” You must remember that you have a responsibility to not mislead people in this way.  The second category is chilul ha’shem literally the desecration of God’s name, implying that you, through your activities, create a bad reputation for the Jewish community because someone could say “look at the Jews they all do (insert “shady ethical activity here).”  This is the reason Jews cringe when they see a Jew in the news doing something bad. Therefore, if you can’t help but engage in “shady ethical activity” you must remove the kippah. 

Finally, this important question shows the power of the kippah and perhaps its third role.  Simply wearing it creates an entire thought process before one takes on any action. These questions are hopefully a buffer between us and shady activities.  

So Why do I wear a kippah?  First, I am connected to the Jewish people and the wearing of a kippah is a marker of that identity of which I am very proud.

Second, that there is something above me, God. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I ascribe to the position that God looks like an old man in the sky, but it does mean that there is a force. I would call it God, in this world that I am in partnership with God and I to try to live a life committed to the sanctity of all life and particularly our Jewish traditions. Wearing the kippah elevates my body and my soul to spiritual heights that I can feel when I put one on.  

Rabbi Josh Hammerman, in his recent book, Mensch Marks (153-153), reflects on the yarmulke bin. You know what he means…the one in some of our cupboards…where we can pull the kippot out at our passover seder or other Jewish moments. The kippot might be wine stained or have crumbs of matzoh from yesteryear but he has a fascinating reflection- He writes ‘On the surface, it seems to pale when compared with other objects. Unlike the tallit, it has no foundation in the Torah and law; unlike the siddur it can be tossed into the garbage. But, as a Jews, we are instantly identified when wearing one, exposed not only as a Jews, but as a pious one. Some say the name stems from the Aramaic expression, Yirah Malka, Fear of the King, based on the talmudic anecdote that Rav Huna never walked 4 cubits with his head uncovered because “the divine presence is always over my head.” And this is more than just humility. It is also about identity. It used to be that if you were wearing a kippah you were automatically identified as one kind of Jew. Kippah choices were limited to the tightly stitched head huggers of traditional zionists, the black velvet of the fervently orthodox, and the less expensive blends found in the typical synagogue bin. But now, as with the rest of contemporary Judaism, one size no longer fits all of us.

I feel such pride with each of these kippot. Looking at them for me is like looking through my living photo album. 

Each kippah reflects the nexus between identity, memory, and a sense of pride in who I am. Who I am as a parent, who I am as a rabbi, who I am as a sports fan  and who I am as a friend, when I am able to put on a kippah from a bar or bat mitzvah or wedding.  

Sadly, the choice of when to wear our kippot today, or not to wear it today, also might come from a place of fear. We know that in Europe, Jews are taught not to wear kippot in public, and I will be honest, though I often wear my kippah in public, there are moments, even here in NYC with the uptick in anti semitism, that it gives me pause. And yet, I think about where we are living today-that we can and do wear kippot to a Mets game and be fully Jewish and fully part of America. That we have kosher restaurants that we can walk into and enjoy is something that I do not take for granted. 

But considering these issues of memory, identity, and a sense of belonging, truly is what our holidays are about. 

This season, which begins now, enables us to connect with these ideas. Let us use these days to dig deep into our sense of belonging and believing. Let us struggle with how we are perceived by others. And let us remember how we behave and how we remember the behaviors of others. 

Of course, we don’t do this by ourselves. We do this vis a vis our relationship with God. God has many different attributes that we recall on these holidays. We recall our God of Judgement. We think of our God as a Shepherd. And of course, we hope that our God, is a God of Mercy-as we look deep into the recesses of our soul, trying to ascertain who we are and who we can grow into, in this new year ahead. 

The high holidays give us a chance to do this and I believe that we can use these days to think about the various kippot we wear as we aspire to live our ideals and the meaning in those kippot. How can I celebrate more by looking at kippot from all of the weddings and bnai mitzvah of the people that I have loved? How can I  show more pride both for my Judaism and for those identities that get woven into the fabric of my kippot? How can I recall the relationships I have had, that have been lost. Let each of us reach into our proverbial yarmelke bin and pull out ones that we haven’t seen recently but we know still give us meaning. So that when we get to next week, and we confront our own mortality with yizkor, we can appreciate even more the journeys we have been on during our years. 

For as Rabbi Hammerman wrote (156) “The kippah is a touchstone to our holiest moments, reminding us perpetually: Under me lived a Jew.”

Let us live that identity this year proudly, securely, and passionately.