Rabbi Jacob Schram (Ben Stiller in Keeping the Faith) called Yom Kippur the Super Bowl of the Jewish calendar. It’s probably the most coveted ticket of the year for temple-goers, so it makes sense to say that. To me, Yom Kippur is more like a combination of Lent and New Year’s. If you don’t know, Yom Kippur, which occurred just over a week agond, is the Jewish Day of Atonement, the last chance to make yourself right with God before the books are closed for the year. Yom Kippur also falls eight days after Rosh Hashanah, New Year’s Day on the Hebrew calendar. In addition to repenting for what we’ve done wrong in the past year, Jewish people use Yom Kippur as a time to recommit ourselves to do good deeds in the coming year. Essentially, we’re atoning and making resolutions all at the same time. In thinking about this High Holiday, I realized some of the ways that it’s linked to my thoughts on drugs and drug policy.
Claire and Roy Kaufmann are co-founders of Le’Or, a Jewish activist organization based in Portland, Oregon. Their cannabis seder on April 15 was their second such event. Over 70 individuals from the cannabis industry, along with drug law reformers, clergy, civic leaders, and others were present. In a recent radio interview, Claire described the connection between Judaism and cannabis, the purpose of this annual event, and its relevance to ending the War on Drugs. Here are excerpts from this broadcast. “So, what is Passover? The Jewish holiday of Passover is the most observed holiday, more than Rosh Hashanah, more than Hannakuh, more than Yom Kippur. A larger percentage of Jews go to a Passover Seder than anything else.
Twenty years ago, on the eve of my conversion to Judaism and my marriage, I addressed a letter to my Rabbi explaining why I chose to become Jewish. My Rabbi, Leon Kahane, was a holocaust survivor, a police chaplain, as well as my spiritual leader even before my conversion. In my work as a police officer I had the honor of spending countless hours with him. He tended not just to the Jewish community, but to all those he came in contact with. Despite the many losses he suffered, Rabbi said his experience resolved him to make the world better. He made me a better police officer by reminding me that compassion, justice and redemption are tenets not just of religion, but should always be goals of law enforcement.
I’m an American Jew. I’m descended from Jews who immigrated to the United States from Europe in the early 1900s. Growing up, I attended a Hebrew day school, became a bar mitzvah, celebrated the High Holy Days and Hanukkah, went to a Jewish summer camp, traveled to Israel, kept kosher (at times) and ate a fair share of kugel, gefilte fish, and bagels with lox and shmear. But my Jewish experience has been about more than traditions, holidays, and matzo ball soup. Judaism instilled in me a passionate commitment to social justice which manifested in my role as an advocate for harm reduction.
Our guest blogger, Rabbi Dr. Rachel S. Mikva, is the Herman Schaalman Chair in Jewish Studies at Chicago Theological Seminary and Director of the Center for Jewish, Christian and Islamic Studies. Suddenly there’s bipartisan enthusiasm for criminal justice reform. Forty years after liberal and conservative forces joined to restrict discretionary sentencing, thirty years after launching a futile war on drugs, twenty years after a Democratic president signed the “three strikes” law, the winds are shifting. It is still politically dangerous to be seen as soft on crime, but “smart on crime” is in. We now talk about public safety rather than law and order.
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