(Jewish) Community Organizing: Lessons from the Obama Campaign

Regardless of one’s political affiliation, the recent election of Barack Obama as the forty-fourth president of the United States is a momentous event to consider. In a time of dramatic concern by so many, the Obama campaign has given an equal number of people in the world a moment of radical amazement.  There are certainly many lessons to be learned with respect to the Obama campaign in the political context, but the strategies and tactics deployed by the Obama campaign also hold numerous lessons of how we can better organize our Jewish communities.

1.    Positive messages create positive results.  Certainly in 2008 there were numerous negative topics to be discussed, including a war in the Middle East, and a troubled economy at home.  But Obama, while voicing concern about those several topics, nevertheless focused on a message of hope and change. So too must our Jewish community focus on positive messages.  While so much of our Jewish message is framed in the context of “never again,” too little of it is framed in the context of “Yes we can.”  True, there are great challenges facing our community – slowing affiliation, a nuclear Iran and Jewish apathy.  But much is going right as well – and we need a positive message if we expect people to join a positive Jewish campaign for change.

2.    Small contributions count as much as big ones.  Much has been made of the Obama campaign’s record-shattering fundraising.  But what has been remarkable about that effort is how many of the contributors were first-time political contributors and how many made small, but repeated, contributions. Also remarkable was the way Obama’s campaign tapped into the financial power of the netroots community.  Our Jewish community would be wise to quickly learn these fundraising lessons and apply them to our own efforts.  We are missing a tremendous opportunity to engage community members philanthropically in new and different ways – ways successfully deployed by the Obama campaign.

3.    Investment in field operations and social networks matter.   The Obama campaign redefined the power of the ground game in the recent election. Whereas Hillary Clinton focused on the big states with large primaries, Obama also focused on the states that had caucuses, understanding the power of small collections of passionate individuals. By engaging in places big and small, Obama created a network that engaged voters where they were in ways they wanted to be engaged, where in person or online. Sounds like something we would be wise to do with American Jews – meeting Jews where they are, and leveraging emerging social technologies to make those meetings happen.  We need to improve our Jewish ground game, before that game becomes too difficult to win.

4.    Agents of change still need voices of experience. Obama knew that one of his greatest weaknesses was the perception of his inexperience. So what did he do to counter that criticism? He found one of the most experienced senators to serve as his running mate. Rather than fear the influence of a more experienced leader, Obama embraced it. We should apply the same lessons in our Jewish communities.  While we need to embrace the fresh ideas that come from inexperienced Jewish innovators, we need to make sure those innovators embrace the experience and wisdom of our more seasoned leaders.

5.    Words matter. Perhaps the one critical mistake of the Obama campaign was when he commented that voters in Pennsylvania were bitter and cling to their guns and religion.  The Obama campaign credits that moment as a defining one in the campaign – after that episode Obama took a greater role in the campaign and worked to more carefully craft his message.  The care we need to use in choosing words in the Jewish community is no less important. When we refer to the “problem” of intermarriage we would be wiser to describe it as a “challenge.” Just like voters don’t like to be considered bitter, spouses don’t like to consider their marriages problems. If we want to be successful in our campaign for the engagement of more Jews, we should mind our words carefully.

6.    Create multiple paths to success.  Early in the campaign the Obama campaign said they were going to create multiple paths victory, including campaigning in states long ceded to the Republicans. And that is exactly what they did, so that on election night there were multiple ways for the electoral votes to add up in Obama’s favor. If we are wise, the Jewish community will learn from this experience and also focus on strengthening multiple paths to engagement.  If we want the numbers to add up, we need to create new and novel ways of Jewish engagement.

7.   Embrace the complexities of identity.  Obama has a complex racial background, one he embraced and transcended during the campaign. The Jewish people also have a complex background, filled with nuanced and conflicting identities.  Rather than getting mired in identity conflicts, like Obama we need to find common threads that help us transcend our individual insecurities about our identity.  Jewish identity has become a word we struggle to define and often endeavor to avoid. We should embrace the complexities of Jewish identity and perhaps we may find that there will be many more of us to embrace.

8.    Believe.  Obama believed he could win the presidency, and defying all expectations, he did.  People believed in his potential to effect change because it encouraged a belief that change could occur. Perhaps no greater lesson to be learned the Jewish community is the power of belief – belief in one another and belief in our collective ability to make our Jewish community stronger.

So there you have it, eight lessons from the ’08 Obama campaign. Even with these lessons in hand, it is fair to wonder if can we change the way our Jewish community engage individuals with the same level of success the Obama campaign achieved.  The parallels are remarkable – just like the current state of our nation, the current state of American Jewry gives us much for concern, but much more for pride. And while even the greatest challenges may still lie ahead of us, the strength of our Jewish past and the resilience of our Jewish spirit give us much to aspire for our collective Jewish future.

As a Jewish people, can we too achieve our goals?  The answer must be no different that the one boldly spoken by our new president on a clear, and clearly victorious night  – yes we can.

And we must.

A Pause for Reflection in Memory of My Grandfather

For those of who who tune in here for my most recent thoughts on Jewish community, I hope you will forgive one post of personal reflection.  Seven days ago, my grandfather, Wilfred S. Cohen/Shalom ben Yosef HaKohen, was laid to rest in a small cemetery in  Rotterdam, New York.   Born in Brownsville, NY, my grandfather lived ninety-four years, sixty-eight of which he was married to my grandmother. He is survived by  her, four children, eight grandchildren,  four great-grandchildren, and countless memories, stories and pieces of wisdom.

He died in the same hospital in Schenectady, NY where I was born thirty-five years and one day prior, and his life, his love of family and his commitment to his community are examples for me and my children to follow all the days of our lives.  Even in celebrating a life well lived, it is is still difficult not to feel diminished by the loss of a family member and a friend. His life and his memory remind me that my community starts at home with my family, but hat it extends beyond d the door of my home as well.

Below is the hesped I delivered at his funeral.

A Hesped For My Grandfather
Wilfred S. Cohen/Shalom Ben Yosef HaKohen, Z”L
1914 – 2008
25 Cheshvan 5769 / November 23, 2008

At this time, and at this place, as family we feel both big and small. We feel big because we are reminded that as a family we are more than the sum of our parts, more than a collection of names and faces, but a community of individuals that span from east to west, from north to south.  We are more than our own small families of parents, children and grandchildren, we are also brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins too.  In this moment of remembrance of the life of our grandfather, we remember that we are part of a larger family as well, and that while a bit smaller today, our family is nevertheless big.

But individually, we feel small as well. We are diminished by the loss of a husband, a father a grandfather, a cousin and a friend. We are small in the face of a much larger understanding of life, and ultimately death.  We are dwarfed by the number of memories we all hold, the number of stories we share, the number of tales we tell.  In this moment of remembrance of Bill Cohen, we remember that while our family may be big, this passing of a man we love nevertheless makes us small.

In our home we sometimes play a game of big and small, in Hebrew  – gadol and katan. In the deepest biggest voice the girls say “GADOL” and in the sweetest smallest voice they say “katan” – it is a children’s game.

But today in this most adult of moments, as a grandson of Bill Cohen, I can’t help but think only gadol.  And when I think of my grandfather, it is hard to imagine that there could be a man who could better fit the term gadol.  He was big in our lives, big in his pride of his family, big in his opinions and big in his love.

As a Cohen, he also merited the name and recognition as a Kohen, a man of priestly status – and in our family he was truly the Kohen Gadol – the Big Cohen.

While thinking of our grandfather as the Kohen Gadol of our family, we cannot help but think more about the qualities in the man we loved and the soul we remember.  In biblical times, the Kohen Gadol was a man of special honor, of priestly nature and of service to his community.  He wore robes befitting a man of his status, and nothing of his attire was more brilliant than the breastplate, the Hoshen, on his chest.

In the days of his life, our grandfather also wore such a brilliant badge of honor that, in more ways than one, reflected the brilliance of his life and the illumination on his family.

It is written that the breastplate of the Kohen Gadol, which was made in accordance with very specific instructions, had four rows of gems, three gems in each row, making twelve different gems stones total.

Four rows, twelve gems.

Grandpa Bill and Grandma Fran had four children – four rows of gems in their lives. Laura, my father Jay, Marilyn and Bobbi – each a unique and precious gem. And each of those gems begot others, sons and daughter in-laws that were loved like they were and are their own children. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren were in those lines of gems, gems that Grandpa Bill wore proudly on his chest all the days of his life.

But the number 12 holds an important meaning as well, and held an important meaning to Grandpa. Eight Grandchildren and Four great-grandchildren – those gems were also twelve gems that illuminated the Hoshen of our Kohen Gadol.  Jen and David, Eric and Seth, Julie and Adam, Marissa and Michael, Matthew, Morgan, Danielle and Jordan. They were more than names to Grandpa Bill, they were the gems that he kept, along with Grandma Fran, closes to his heart.  Twelve gems on a breastplate of honor.

And how he kept them close.  Until our grandparents moved to Florida fulltime, there was the twice a year “trek of the Cohens”  –  a journey from North to South, visiting each of the children and grandchildren along the way.  The trip from Willsboro to Florida was more than just a trip, if was a journey of family, stopping to talk, to share, and to watch some CNN.  But even in remembering those trips, there was much more than just dinners and cable news. In fact there was always a different kind of CNN – the Cohen News Network, that stopped in each of our homes, reminding us of our links to one another, the stories of our families, and the events in the lives of those we loved. When our grandparents came on those trips they brought more than pies south and oranges north, they brought their love and their lessons. While they may have been passing through on their travels, in the travel of Grandpa’s life, his children and grandchildren weren’t drive-bys, they were permanent points of pride.

We can all remember so many memories, up at camp, on the boat, at the Point, in town, in Florida, in our homes and in our lives. We can remember countless stories of the penny arcades, of the northern New York towns, the Village Bazaar and the bizarreness of south Florida. And even if we can’t remember all the names of our second and third cousins, we remember the names of the people who made an impact on his life, Mr. Paine, the neighbors at the camp, the friends in Florida, so many names.

We remember what he told us. How he told us he was proud, proud of us, proud of one another.  He set an example to us the way he loved Grandma, they way he felt concern for his children, the way he was respected in the communities that he lived in, the way he respected those communities by always giving back and being for them a leader.

My brother Eric, rightly, describes him as a noble man, a caring man, a community man and a family man. But even more than that, to us he was all of that and then some. He was a true Cohen Gadol.

One final story, perhaps not familiar to many of us.   It happened on Wednesday, May 5, 1954.  At the time The Village Bazaar was not even a thought – our grandfather was the manager of Pearl’s in Keeseville. It was the last night of John Prescott’s term as president of the Keeseville Chamber of Commerce, and new elections were to be held. But it was not the most simple of elections as John Prescott, the outgoing President, was discouraged by the attendance and the overall state of affairs of the Chamber. There was some debate whether an election of the officers was even appropriate.  However, after discussion, the consensus was that those who were interested in the matters of the Chamber had been present or otherwise accounted for, and therefore the election was appropriate.  Bill Cohen was elected without a dissenting vote and he was empowered to appoint his own secretary.

So here we are today, and rather than warmth of that spring day, we feel the chill of the onset of winter. We are gathered not to elect, but to remember the president of our special chamber, our Cohen Gadol.  His optimism was correct and foretelling.  In his discretion, he has appointed each of us his secretary, to be a scribe of the memories of his life, of the stories of our days with him, of the hopes he had for all of us.  Like every man, he is laid to rest in his most simple of attire, however, we should not forget the way he wore the brilliant Hashon, with its four rows of gems, and its twelve gems of life, representing his love for all of us.

May his memory be a blessing…. a blessing that is gadol, not katan.

Opinion in the Forward on Enabling Jewish Professionals

In this week’s Jewish Daily Forward there is an opinion piece I wrote about the state of Jewish professionals and what we need to do to encourage them to dream big and believe in their ability to effect change.

The opinion piece can be found here.

In reading week’s Torah parsha Re’eh, we recall how Moses directs the Israelites that if there are needy among them, the Israelites should not harden their hearts and close their hands from helping their needy brothers. And coupled with that directive, Moses also reminds the people that there will always be needy among them.

Jewish professionals embody the fulfillment of Moses’ instructions – they maintain an open hand and a tender heart, and are worthy of not only our encouragement, but also our praise and thanks. While we may always have needy among us – whatever those needs maybe – we should pray that we always have inspired and caring professionals to help the needy, and make our community stronger.

Shabbat Shalom.

Spirit in the Night: Springsteen on Jewish Community

This past Thursday I attended an old-fashioned spiritual revival. It wasn’t at a synagogue or a church and barely a mention of God was heard. But from the moment it started until the last word was spoken, the crowd that assembled was held in an uplifting emotional rapture that stirred the heart, strengthened the soul and made everyone move to the rhythm of the night.

The man who led the revival wasn’t a man of cloth (unless you include denim) and wasn’t passing around a collection plate or tzedakah box at the end of his sermon (unless you include references to the local food bank). But for a large portion of the people in the room, the man up front was guiding everyone thorough an experience that most would characterize as religious.

So who was the leader of this spiritual revival?

Bruce Springsteen.

That’s right, Bruce Springsteen. If you have never seen Springsteen in concert you might not appreciate my description, but if you have seen Bruce in concert, even once, you understand what I mean.

As a Northeast kid growing up, it’s hard not to have the Boss in your blood, so I admit I am partial to the man and his legendary band. The Nashville concert I attended with my friend Adam Rubin on Thursday night was the umpteenth time I had seen him in live and, like the Atlanta show a few months earlier, Bruce didn’t disappoint. Listening to a 3-hour set of classics, mixed with rarities and new classics, the audience was delivered a rare treat of spirit, nostalgia, passion and promise. We laughed at stories, sang our (secular) psalms, clapped our hands and praised the past while screaming for the future. We danced in the aisles…even in the dark.

There was definitely a spirit in the night.

Exhilarated and exhausted, on Friday morning I drove the 3 ½ hour trip back to Atlanta and my family, but on the way home I couldn’t help but think about the show the night before and the lessons it held. Not just how to put on a good rock concert, but also how to connect people to their communities, and particularly the Jewish community. What are the lessons that Bruce could teach professionals and volunteers in the Jewish community about how to touch people in a way that revives their Jewish spirit? Using some of the lyrics from the song the Boss sang that night in Nashville, I offer a few thoughts…

“When I’m out in the streets, I walk the way I wanna walk. When I’m out in the street, I talk the way I wanna talk” (from Out in the Streets).

Lesson #1: People use their own actions and language to define who they are. If we want to walk with them and talk with them, we need to understand them first.

Our Jewish community is filled with a diverse group of Jews with individual experiences and aspirations. They are complex and constantly shifting. If we want to understand what will get them to come in off the street, we need to understand how they act and talk when they are out on the street (and in their homes, and in their social groups).

“Jack the Rabbit and Weak Knees Willie, you know they’re gonna be there; Ah, sloppy Sue and Big Bones Billie, they’ll be comin’ up for air” (from Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)).

Lesson #2: All types of people (and I mean all types) will come out for experiences in the community, so if we want them to come back, we need to have diverse options for their diverse needs and desires.

Members of the Jewish community, especially younger generations, don’t always conform to what the community expects, they expect the community to conform its offerings to their expectations. They have different names than they once had (because of intermarriage) and they have different ways of communicating (because of technological innovation). When they finally come up for air to breathe some breaths of Jewish life, we need to have what they are seeking – or they will seek it elsewhere.

“Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night” (from Thunder Road).

Lesson #3: Have faith in what lies ahead – when we create a constant culture of apprehension and fear about the state of our community, we leave little room for the faith in the magical future that lies ahead.

There is much to be concerned about with our collective Jewish future. How do we engage assimilation in different ways that may be more impactful? How do we prepare for the increasing number of Jewish elderly that we must care for? How do we help support a safe and strong State of Israel? But for all of those concerns, we must make sure that we don’t only focus on the challenges, but also the wondrous experiences of modern Jewish life. There are many magical experiences to have and share and we need to make sure that we encourage and embrace that culture as well.

“Someday girl I don’t know when, we’re gonna get to that place where we really want to go and we’ll walk in the sun” (from Born to Run).

Lesson #4: Community leadership needs to believe in the ability to reach the destination charted for the community, even if we can’t quite measure the timing of that arrival.

In our focus on measuring success in quantifiable terms we sometimes belie the faith we must have to assure the very same success we seek. Especially in the areas of Jewish engagement and enrichment, we need to look longer term with a degree of patience. And our funders (federations, foundations and otherwise) need to find some of that patience too while balancing it with the appropriate level of fiduciary oversight. We might not know when we will get ‘there,’ but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying, or that it will be any less wonderful when we do arrive at that place we seek.

“You can’t start a fire; you can’t start a fire without a spark” (from Dancing in the Dark).

Lesson #5: The rapturous flames of community do not start without instigation – they need a catalyst (or several).

Building community has a slow burning element to it, but it also sometimes requires a fanning of the flames. And those flames don’t always start without there being an encouragement of new ideas, new sparks, that help the burning to create community grow. We need to orient our community institutions to nurture these catalysts and to support them. Support isn’t just financial, it includes encouragement and mentoring too – but when the time for financial support does come we should not be overcautious. If we snuff out too many sparks we won’t have a fire that is growing.

“Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man; and I believe in a promised land” (from Promised Land).

Lesson #6: We need to create personal and enduring relationships between individuals Jews and Israel that transcend childhood and teen experiences.

My friend Ken Stein often reminds me that while we must create connections with Israel at the teen level, we must not lose sight that it is when we create meaningful experiences that endure throughout adulthood we will truly be able deepen our relationships with Israel. So while we invest in programs like Birthright, we must also start younger and maintain those experiences far after the Birthright experience has ended. In our era of Jewish life we have witnessed the return of the Jewish People to the Promised Land- we need to continue to believe in its importance, and create avenues that strengthen that belief in youth and adults.

“I believe in the love that you gave me; I believe in the faith that could save me. I believe in the hope and I pray that some day it may raise me above these Badlands” (from Badlands).

Lesson #7: When building community, we must not lose sight of the religious and spiritual elements that give meaning to the Jewish faith.

There is more to the Jewish community than organizations, activities and experiences. There is also a faith, a belief system and a spiritual fabric, and we would be remiss not to emphasis those elements as we try to raise our community higher. Formal and informal spiritual networks are vitally important for the strengthening of our community because it is our collective faith that has helped us endure all these generations. Belief and prayer are important parts of Jewish life and we need to continue to embrace them as a way to encounter God as individuals and as a community.

“Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life); Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)” (from The Rising).

Lesson #8: The skyline of Jewish life is filled with love and glory even while it sometimes feels filled with tears and sadness. The key is continuing to dream of what Jewish life could be.

We often struggle with the tragedy of the Holocaust in Jewish history and life as well as seek understanding of the countless tragedies Jews have suffered in the past. We mustn’t lose sight of the experiences and lessons of being an afflicted people, but we shouldn’t let it cloud our ability of also being a dreaming people. A people of creators and inventors, and people that find joy in the everyday. We continue to dream of Jewish futures – near, far and ultimate. And we need to continue to keep painting the sky with those dreams even as we guard against the danger that often confronts us.

“Familiar faces around me; Laughter fills the air; Your loving grace surrounds me;
everybody’s here” (from Mary’s Place).”

Lesson #9: The goal of building community is not just to collect as many names and emails as possible, but to bring people together for experiences of joy and the feeling of community.

Ask a dozen people how they define community and you get a dozen different responses. Often time one can describe community as a “know it when I feel it” answer. That is the way we need to remember the goal of community building – not just a means to an end, but an end to itself. When we are all together in community we are closer to God and the wonder of all of creation. Lists of names are important, but not as important as when they are all familiar names.

“We made a promise we swore we’d always remember; no retreat no surrender” (from No Surrender).

Lesson #10: Don’t quit.

Being Jewish isn’t always easy. And building Jewish community is even less easy. But it is meaningfully important – it is our great task as a people. We may struggle, but we mustn’t quit – regardless of the challenges.

So there you have it, some of the wisdom with a little bit of ‘drash thrown in for good measure. Whether you agree with all of the interpretations or none of them, one thing that we all can agree on is that a look at Bruce’s lyrics (and exhortations) present a distinct voice that is able to capture prophetic musings while rooting them in everyday struggles. He is a leader with a voice.

But not to be lost in our appreciation of Bruce is the recognition of the E Street Band. Every night, as Bruce tries to deliver his flock of fans to the Promised Land, the E Street Band is carrying Bruce too. He couldn’t do it without them. And that too is a reminder to all of us that even though we admire our leaders who find the voice to lead, the singer is just one part of a band. To make the music that moves us, it takes many instruments and rhythms, mostly in sync, but not necessarily always. Some times the sound that comes from the band is mixed, but if it’s loud enough it still might push us through the darkness on the edge of town into the promised land. And even the followers of the band help push the whole crowd forward…dancing, swinging and urging the revival to continue.

Like the fans at a Springsteen concert urging the rock n’ roll revival to continue, we all must take a role in the continuation of the revival of our Jewish community. Leaders, band members, followers and fans – we all have a role in building community. Nobody can do it alone… not even Bruce Springsteen.

But it sure is fun watching him try.